A Magazine
Quickly her hand brushed away the tear forming at the corner of her eye before returning to the frayed edge of the blue fabric held by her other hand. A smile formed as her finger lightly dragged across the threads as memories flashed of the times the shirt was worn.
The memories she had were of the good times. The first time he’d put the uniform on and stood proudly in their living room on the coffee table, his chest puffed out unnaturally to showcase the family crest. Trying to seem as if he wasn’t looking for his father’s approval, instead like he was certain he already had it. Or the time he tried to stand still as she sewed the pieces together after a battle which had caused him no harm, but the suit had suffered a rip which caused her son to panic as if injured. Thinking, as most young boys did, it would be enough for his mother to forbid him from even leaving his room again.
All memories of the sweet moments for Superboy, because Lois Lane had never been able to join her son and husband when they’d fought. For most of the battles, she was limited to watching on the television with most other viewers or sitting at work biting her fingernails as she waited for news on the battles not known by the majority of the world. There was a little bit of lingering bitterness at the fact, especially considering before her pregnancy she’d found herself included frequently in the middle or at least outskirts of the fights. Perhaps for the best though, for unlike her husband who of course she worried about when he fought, if she’d watched her son fight she’d likely have found her way to an early grave from a heart attack brought by her anxiety.
Holding the shirt up once more she took in the size and smiled bittersweetly to know her baby would never fit in something so small again, every day he looked more and more like her husband and his brother, filling out in both mass and height to become a man. Her baby would not be Superboy for much longer, a fact Lois Lane would soon have to accept or risk becoming ‘that mother.’
Carefully she folded the uniform and placed it back into the locked box Jon kept under his bed, a chest filled with memorabilia from his childhood to present. As she placed it down, she pushed her hand upon it as if accepting its place in the box of memories and the pressure caused paper to crinkle under it. Paper which had not been there the last time she’d snooped through the box.
Curious, she pulled the old uniform aside to catch the edge of a small stack of magazines. Lois pulled her hand back as if she’d just been caught with it inside the cookie jar. Which to be honest was almost exactly what was happening, aside from the being caught part. Jon knew she was aware of his passcode; he’d been the one to share it, and he knew she often visited memory lane but perhaps he thought she did not frequent his mementos nearly as often as she did. It was the only explanation she could come up with as to why he would hide such magazines in that particular box.
Like all mothers, despite knowing confirmation might be worse than simply thinking, she quickly looked around the room to ensure she was alone. As if a snake would strike with venom when uncovered, she pushed the uniform and the blanket beneath away slowly at the corner. When the large white letters of the title were uncovered, the wrinkle on her forehead deepened as she queried what she was seeing, unaware of a magazine with a title that started with those letters. Deciding to rip off the band-aid, she quickened her efforts.
But she was forced to turn when the magazine was finally exposed with the appearance of her ever-loving husband.
Clark walked into the room, concern causing his body to be tensed as if prepared for a fight. “What’s wrong?” When his eyes traveled around her body and settled on her hands which she held behind her back as if they contained something, he seemed to relax.
Lois could kick herself; she’d lived with the man for almost two decades. Stumbling upon the magazines undoubtably caused a shift in her heart rate, drawing the attention of her husband to her questionable behavior.
“Nothing,” she lied. Trying, but likely failing, to give an air of indifference by settling the uniform over the magazine once more. Lamenting the lost opportunity as she closed the chest, lifting it with the intention of returning it under the bed.
Clark smiled then, a mischievous glint in eyes as he walked over to place his hand on the box to prevent the action.
“Find something of interest,” he joked, able to read his wife after so many years of marital bliss.
Quicker than she could process, the chest was reopened, and he was looking down at the contents with his own curiosity. Not wanting to embarrass her son by admitting what she saw she stayed quiet, staying behind her husband instead of indulging her own curiosity. Acting, she hoped, as if there was nothing to be found.
The rustle of papers caused her eyes to snap to the back of Clark’s head, knowing he’d finally discovered the same thing she did. Smiling she knew he would quickly cover the magazines to keep from having the uncomfortable conversation with his wife. It had happened once before when Conner had come to live with them. After the first girl was brought home it was agreed it was Clark’s domain. She was supposed to be allowed to believe her sons were still sweet innocent babies and Clark was never to betray that illusion.
So, it was a little weird when he lifted the magazine out of the box and began to thumb through the first one. WITH HIS WIFE RIGHT THERE. The outrage was completely replaced by hurt as he hummed in appreciation, causing her to lash out and lightly shove his shoulder from behind. “Hey!”
“What?” He turned with a look of innocence, one which came naturally as it did with their son, an unfortunate inheritance. Lois looked away from his face as she realized the magazine was still open with the cover exposed for her to finally see.
Grabbing the magazine from Clark’s hand, she flipped quickly through the pages to make sure it wasn’t a fake. Needless to say, each page proved it wasn’t, in her hand was a copy of a French fashion magazine with Adrien Agreste on the cover.
Unsure what to make of it, her head flipped up to her husband to find an explanation. There wasn’t one there as her husband was already immersed in a second magazine, flipping through the pages with his lip pinched and his head bobbing every so often as if appreciating the images he was seeing.
Despite being a journalist, fashion magazines were not her forte, but she was aware enough to know nothing should have caused such a reaction from her husband. Nothing except for perhaps a hidden copy of the type of magazine she’d first suspected. Reigniting her ire.
Quickly, although nowhere near as quickly as her husband or son, she moved around him to look over his shoulder. The movement was awkward to begin with and what she saw caused her to trip. The descent to the floor was both graceless and flailing.
In the Kent household no one ever fell to the ground though, not when super speed could prevent it. Like so many times before she found herself in Clark’s arms, his face looking down at her with a soft smile before kissing her as he returned her to the upright position.
Knowing what had caused her stumble, her husband handed her the copy he was perusing. She flipped it open to one of the pages finding images of Adrien modeling clothing from his father’s past collection. Most people were aware of Adrien Agreste, in America he wasn’t as well-known without the television spots, but his father had purchased ads in the American media, making his face recognizable as he was one of the few youth models for young girls to idolize. Since learning of his connection with Bruce’s daughter Lois ensured she was even more familiar with him.
Undeniably he was an attractive young man who would grow up to be a gorgeous heartthrob, but no competition to her Jon of course. Made obvious by the photos taped next to the images of Adrien.
Blue tape held down pictures of her son in similar poses as his new friend. If not for the fact they were taped down with their edges lifted she might have thought them apart of the magazine itself. Flipping through the pages she found several such photos, leading her to believe her son was attempting to compete with his love rival.
At least that was her thought up to the point where the images were no longer of him alone, but of Jon and Adrien together.
The solo images started with outfits Lois recognized as being a part of Jon’s limited clothing collection, but when they started to pair together their clothes looked complimentary, ones she did not recognize as Gabriel's stuffy style or from Jon’s country closet either. By the sixth photograph it became obvious why, as Jon wore a shirt with a stylized M in place of a pocket patch.
Like a young schoolgirl she giggled. What they’d stumbled upon wasn’t quite the normal teenage stash she’d imagined, but it was reminiscent of a similar conundrum. A huge teenage crush.
As quick as the smile formed though it disappeared just as quickly with the realization Lois was currently packing her son’s room to take him into the home of said crush to reside for the school year. She was supposed to be in the dark, the image she held of her baby was supposed to remain innocent. Yet here she was offering her son’s wish gift wrapped and ensuring by the end of the year there would be no innocence left.
“Are you sure we should be sending Jon off to Gotham with everything going on? We could always let him fly to school every morning and just claim he’s residing at the manor,” she tried. Knowing she was the first to turn down an earlier suggestion of the same just a year ago.
Clark took the magazine from her hand and returned all of them to their son’s hiding place before wrapping his arms around Lois from behind. “They all leave the nest eventually,” he murmured into her ear before placing light kisses across her neck.
For some reason, totally known to her, she did not appreciate the bird metaphor. “Yes,” she rolled her eyes, “but we were supposed to have six more years.”
“Two, Lois,” he pressed another kiss to her neck, closer to her ear.
“No, six,” she turned in his arms so she could face him as she looked sternly up at him. “He may appear to be almost 17 but we both know his original birth certificate says 13.”
Arms wrapped around her waist, flipping her away again and bringing her body to meld against his. “It’s not fair, but we got him back and he’s not going anywhere. Not really, anyway. We missed a fair amount of his childhood, but he turned into an amazing young adult…and speaking of young,” he pressed a kiss to her neck, she could feel his smile grow against her, “we’re still pretty young ourselves. Could always try to expand the family again.”
Lois scoffed, slapping at her husband playfully against his chest as she turned before wrapping her arms around his neck and allowing him to lift her. With his strength it wasn’t a hard feat.
“We are sending our son into the home of his crush, with questionable adult supervision. I am more concerned our family will be expanding that way.”
Clark’s breath caught uncomfortably as terror flashed in his eyes, before he seemed to think of something funnier than the idea of their son becoming a teenage parent. Lois’s feet returned to the ground as Clark bent over as his shoulder’s shook from his unspoken joke. Staring at him she waited for him to share, not finding anything to do with such a prospect humorous at all.
Finally, he collected himself enough to say, “well, she has been blessed by the goddess of creation.”
It was all Clark could manage before he was bending over with his hands resting upon his knees as he laughed unrestrained.
A large O formed upon her lips in outrage, but she could not help her cheeks from rising with a hint of a smile. It was funny, but also not. Lois wanted grandkids eventually, and perhaps in was Bruce’s fate to have the chosen of the Goddess of Creation who might continue the trait of a large family.
It took a minute for her husband to collect himself and pull her back close to his body. “Lois we have nothing to worry about. Though we missed some time educating him, so far he’s proven himself to be very smart. Still, we can’t ignore he is a boy of a certain age, but I’ve already had the ‘talk,’ and he knows how to take precautions. Not to mention, I’m fairly certain he loves her enough to not jeopardize her safety by putting her in that kind of position with all of the threats out against her and her family.”
The truth of his words was obvious, as well as the fact Marinette was probably smarter and definitely younger, but she still felt uneasy. “But is it a good idea to have him staying with the Waynes considering all of the threats against the family. This is different from the normal Gotham Rogues, this is not against the Bats, but the Waynes themselves.”
“It’s no different than the threats we face here in Metropolis. Plus let’s face it, that’s our future daughter-in-law, I would be there too to help protect her if doing so wouldn’t risk possibly bringing more trouble to their doorstep.”
“Somehow I always knew from the day you met Bruce our lives would forever become entangled. I guess I just never realized the different ways.” Her thoughts first went to Conner and then Jon before her eyes turned back to the box on her son’s bed and her head was filled with the image of Adrien Agreste.
“I’d hold off on designing the in-law suite in the manor just yet,” she whispered to her husband. “Your son is in love with Marinette, but we know she is in love with Adrien.”