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Clark wiped the sweat from his brow and reached for his bottle of Gatorade, draining it in one greedy gulp. It was September, but an Indian summer, and the heat was oppressive. It was the first time he'd ever felt anything like this, considering that Eric had "borrowed" his powers in the winter. He'd been learning to suffer through the scorching temperatures and humidity, even remembered after a summer of mistakes to slather forty-five suntan lotion on himself and to keep drinking fluids.

There was so much to keep in mind and be aware of, now that he was human. It was overwhelming some days.

There was no way to prevent sore muscles. Oh he could eat extra bananas for the potassium and stay hydrated. He could build up tolerance with months of practice doing farm chores as any other person did, but after four or five hours of setting fence posts, digging deep into the unyielding earth, his arms ached and he could barely lift them. He'd wanted to get all of this done for his dad, even if they had hands now. It was important to his father that his son learn to work the land and keep up with family traditions. Clark, after all, wasn't sure what he was going to study. He'd taken Kal-El's acceptance at Met U. It wasn't like anyone would noticed the difference. He'd considered Central Kansas in junior year because it was cheaper but, with his "brother's" stipend, money wasn't a worry anymore.

At least that was nice.

Clark was learning to deal with Kal-El, with his strange other half who looked like him-save for his blue eyes and the brand Jor-El had left on his chest-but it was disconcerting. For all intents and purposes the Kryptonian was him, sounded like him, had all the weaknesses he'd had before he'd been made mortal. Hell, he even felt the same way that Clark did about their mother and, if Kal-El were ever going to be honest with himself and his attitude, his brother still craved Jonathan Kent's attention.

Sighing, Clark sat down in the dirt and turned the Gatorade bottle upside down, lapping up the last few drops. His father had had a nightmare under the LuthorCorp bacteria's influence, dreamed of Kal-El conquering the world. After half a year, Clark knew that Kal-El wasn't like that. Sure, he was arrogant and stubborn, had the sense of humor of cardboard no matter what Chloe and mom said, but he wasn't evil. He was smart and incisive, and spent his time patrolling the world at large (he could fly and Clark wished he could have tried that one just once), saving people nightly.

A future dictator wouldn't do that.

Still his dad insisted Kal-El had to be stopped and that scared Clark, that fanaticism. Scratching at his nose, which, damn it was peeling yet again, Clark shook his head and tried to stand, groaning when he realized his legs refused to budge. He'd have done better trying to stand on Jell-O.

It was then that strong arms grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted him up as if he weighed nothing at all. Rolling his eyes, Clark glanced at his brother, trying to shake off the feeling of looking in a mirror that it always invoked. "What are you doing out here?" Focusing properly on Kal-El, Clark frowned. His brother was dressed in boots, jeans, and flannel. The jeans and boots black of course, Kal-El's favorite color. The flannel was gray plaid pattern. Unlike him, Kal-El had never been fond of primary colors. "Makeover much?"

Kal-El shrugged. "Sull-I-Van suggested that I help you with your chores."

Clark shook his head, hating the way that Kal-El said Chloe's last name, enunciating it with Kryptonian syllables. It seemed stupid to him as many things that his brother did. "She made an ultimatum?"

"No, not exactly. She and mother merely implied that I'd be happier complying than abstaining."

Clark laughed, despite his mood. "They threatened you. I know mom; she can be way scary."

Kal-El tilted his head at him stiffly, as if he were a hawk or another bird of prey. It made Clark slouch in on himself a bit. "You are exhausted. Let me finish the posts. I can shove them down in minutes."

"I remember that one," Clark replied and, no, his tone wasn't bitter. If anyone asked, it was wistful.

Before him, Kal-El blurred and he could here the slams of the posts through the ground, a bit like mini-explosions, feel the ground shake beneath him. When his brother was done, he was leaning on the post closest to him, grinning. "And now you may come in before noon. Mother has made lemonade and Sull-I-Van...she has been allowed to watch."

"Good, cause last time she put salt in it and it sucked."

"Agreed, my intended is not very domestic."

Clark snorted. "Keep talking like that, C3PO."

"She is my intended. Just because Lana has left you for art school in New York City does not change that."

"Believe me, I know and I am not jealous. I just miss Lana, a lot. Being dumped does a number on a guy's ego."

"Especially because you thought being human would change her fickle nature?"

"Just," he said, sighing and dragging a hand through his bangs. "I thought this whole thing would be simpler."

"You know," Kal-El started. "Jor-El would give you your abilities back. Surely six months without them and eighteen months in stasis is enough for you to learn your lessons."

Clark glared at his brother and gestured to his chest. "Did the brand teach you?"

Kal-El glared back at him, his eyes flashing red. "I suppose not. I merely wish to remind you that the offer Sull-I-Van and I have broached with you still stands. Should you ever want to be yourself again, you need only ask."

"Like you," Clark corrected, grabbing the shovel and starting to the barn. Kal-El kept a human pace beside him.

"Like your true nature," Kal-El corrected solemnly before blurring to the house.

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