Title: The Breakable One
Fandom: Superman & Lois
Rating: PG
Length: ~1530

Summary: Jon’s injured and tired of being babied. Jordan catches the brunt of his frustration.



“Are you sure you don’t need anything before I go?”

Jon rolled his eyes at his mother. It was a mistake, because it made his headache worse, but he tried not to let it show. “I’m fine.”

Mom stroked a hand through his hair, carefully skirting the sore spot. “Not fine,” she countered. “But you will be. Just take it easy tonight. Call for your brother if you need anything.”

The shadow hovering near his doorway shifted. Jon fought the urge to roll his eyes again. “I know. I’m good; I promise. You should go before you miss your interview.”

“Okay.” Mom gave him a kiss on the forehead and turned to go. A minute later he heard her talking to Jordan in the hallway. “Watch out for your brother, okay? Dad’s just outside in the barn if you need him.”

He couldn’t hear Jordan’s reply, which was frustrating because he knew that if their positions were reversed, Jordan could hear every word.

A few minutes later the front door opened and closed, and Jordan stepped into his room. “Hey. You need anything?”

“I’m good.” Jon pointedly looked back at his phone, the ‘leave me alone’ vibe firmly in place.

Except Jordan couldn’t take a hint. “You know, looking at the screen might make the headache worse.”

Jon lowered the phone to glare at him.

Jordan held his hands up in surrender. “Okay. Just trying to help. I’m right down the hall if you want me.” He backed out of the room.

Finally alone, Jon let out a heavy sigh and closed his eyes. He didn’t feel well, but he hated the suffocating feeling that came with his family’s hovering.

The irony was that he was in this situation because he’d refused to leave Jordan alone. On a weekend trip to Metropolis, his superpowered brother had gone to confront a guy trying to rob a couple on the street, and Jon hadn’t wanted him to be without backup. This had somehow resulted in a concussion from hitting his head on the concrete.

Truth be told, he didn’t remember it all that clearly. He might have lied to Mom and Dad about that, just a little.

The brain scans—both the one at the ER and his Dad’s freaky x-ray vision—said he was okay. He just had a headache, and some soreness. But his family was treating him like he was made of glass.

It truly sucked to be the breakable one.

But Jon was not an invalid. And he wasn’t helpless, either. He certainly did not need his brother’s help for something as simple as a trip to the bathroom. Sure, the room dipped and dimmed a little as his head pounded when he first stood up. But once he had his equilibrium, he was steady enough making his way down the hallway and taking care of business.

He was washing his hands when there was a light tap on the door. He hadn’t closed it all the way; he could see Jordan peering through the crack. “You okay?”

Jon heaved an annoyed sigh, turning off the faucet with more force than necessary. “Fine.”

He opened the door, but found Jordan hovering, blocking his exit. “You’re not supposed to be out of bed, remember?”

Jon started to snap some quip about bedpans, but then had a better idea. He pressed a hand to his temple and blinked at his brother. “Remember what?” He made a great show of looking all around the hallway. “Where am I?”

Jordan stared at him. “What?”

“This doesn’t look like Krypton.”

Jordan’s mouth dropped open.

Jon cocked his head at his brother and mustered up his best look of confusion. “And who are you?”

Jordan’s eyes went comically wide before he yelled, “Dad!”

Jon winced. “No, no – Jordan, I’m just…”

Too late. Dad had zoomed up before he’d even finished the sentence. “What’s wrong?”

“Jon’s confused.” Jordan’s voice was tinged with panic.

“Jon?” Dad looked at him, and if Jon had briefly considered continuing the charade, he changed his mind at the palpable concern rolling off of them both.

“That’s me. Jonathan Kent. Here in Smallville. With Jordan, and Superman,” he gestured at them. Under the intensity of their silent stares, he added, “Really, I’m fine. It was just a joke—a bad one. Obviously.”

Jordan’s face went through a complicated series of emotions. He settled on a pissed-off sort of wounded. Then he reached out and smacked Jon’s arm.

Since his powers had appeared, Jordan always pulled his punches. This one was still controlled—but more forceful than usual. On a normal day it would have stung. In Jon’s current state, it was enough to knock him off balance. He stumbled.

“Jordan!” Dad exclaimed, grabbing Jon to steady him.

“Sorry!” And he looked it too, guilt now warring with the hurt look. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I probably had it coming.” Jon leaned back against the doorframe and tried to pretend he hadn’t almost just fallen on his face.

Dad pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”

“I heard that rumor.”

Dad frowned. “Concussions are nothing to mess around with, you know.”

Jon grimaced. “Yeah, I know.”

“Do you need help back to your room?”

“No. I can make it.”

“I’ll make sure,” Jordan said flatly. He was still glowering.

Dad glanced between them again, then nodded. “Good.” He squeezed Jon’s shoulder briefly before heading back down the stairs.

He was hardly out of normal human hearing range before Jordan said, “You’re a jerk.”

Jon grinned weakly. “That’s some strong language there, bud.”

“Shut up,” Jordan grumbled. Still, he hovered close.

Which was probably a good thing, as Jon was a little dizzy again. He made it two feet before he had to reach out to steady himself with a hand on the wall.

Jordan was instantly there, looping an arm around his waist. He took John’s weight, carefully helping him back down the hallway. “I’m still mad at you.”

Jon huffed. Jordan could have just picked him up and carried him if he wanted, without breaking a sweat. But he didn’t. He tolerated Jon’s slow pace, patiently supporting him all the way to his bedside and lowering him gently to the mattress.

Jon swung his legs up and leaned back against the pillows before he reached up and grabbed Jordan’s wrist. “Hey. Don’t be mad, okay? I’m sorry.”

Jordan sighed and sat down, shifting to lean against the headboard beside him. “I know it sucks to be the one everyone babies.”

“Did you just call me a baby?”

Jordan snorted. “Let me rephrase. It can be really frustrating when everyone wants to protect you so badly that they hardly let you breathe.”

Jon hesitated. He remembered all the times he and his parents and handled Jordan so carefully in his anxiety, trying to keep him from being stressed and calm him after he’d panicked. Jordan had often gotten pretty cranky about the kid-glove treatment.

This wasn’t so different. They’d just switched roles. John sighed. “Guess I’m used to being the protector, not the protectee.”

“And I’m used to the opposite. I’m sorry if I was smothering you.”

Jon lifted his shoulder in a slight shrug. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I scared you.”

Jordan nodded slowly. “You really did,” he admitted. And Jon knew they weren’t talking about his petulant little joke in the hallway. This fear had been a shadow in Jordan’s eyes since Jon had woken on the street corner with an unconscious mugger a few feet away.

Jon shifted to press his shoulder against his brother’s. He couldn’t promise not to do it again—protecting Jordan was too ingrained in him. “I’ll try to remember that you’re the superhero, and I’m more… breakable.”

“I’m not a superhero. That’s Dad’s department.” Jordan was quiet for a moment before a mischievous spark lit his eyes. “But you are kind of fragile.”

It was Jon’s turn to smack Jordan’s arm. His brother didn’t even have the decency to pretend it hurt; he just laughed.

“Well, since I’m so fragile, I guess you’re gonna have to take over my chores for at least a couple of weeks.”

Jordan shrugged. “I can live with that.” He pulled out his phone, slouching more into the pillows, like he was settling in to stay a while.

Jon was surprised to find that he really didn’t mind anymore. He grabbed his own phone, but admitted to himself that Jordan had been right before. Looking at the screen made his headache approach migraine levels. So he shut it off and just laid back.

“You should get some rest.”

Jon made a vague sound of assent.

“Want me to go?”

In response, Jon let his head drop to Jordan’s shoulder.

Jordan huffed fondly. “I’ll take that as a ‘no.’”

Jon didn’t bother to reply. He just closed his eyes, and breathed.

As he was drifting off, he felt Jordan shift him around to a more comfortable position. When his brain tried to resent how easily Jordan manhandled him, he told it to shut up, pressed his forehead into his brother’s warmth, and went to sleep.