More Young Justice Trash

Close Quarters (Part Three)

-Clark is not doing a good job-

"Oh...." Lois pushed her hair back over her ear, glancing between Him and the clone. "Oh, Clark."

He winced. "Lois, let me explain..."

"Is he your son?"

"What-- no! It's really complicated..."

Lois leaned into the closet; he looked almost exactly like Clark, only a little younger, and a little off, though she couldn't identify why. He was a little violet in the hollows of his cheek, panting for air. He looked only about fifteen, or sixteen, somewhere around there, a frown etched on his lips, and his eyes big and wobbly. "Hey, Lois Lane, good to meet you." She went to grab the kid's hand, but he started backwards, clutching his wrist. "Clark hasn't mentioned you."

"Lois, can we talk? I can explain."

"Can it, Smallville." She forced a smile at the boy, like she might at a baby at the supermarket. He didn't respond. "What's you're name, kid?" Nothing. He just stared. "How do you know Clark? Is he your dad? What are you doing in the closet?"

The kid stared at her, a blank droopy look on his face. He started shaking out his hand anxiously. This quickly developed to a tic in his neck, jerking his head. His eyes left her and stared at Clark.

She followed his eyeline. watching Clark fidget. "Lois, this is my... Brother."

"Brother?" She asked. "You don't have a brother."

"I... can we talk?"

"You've told me you're an only child! You've outright told me you wished you had a sibling growing up!"

There was a thunk as the kid retreated backwards into the closet as far as he could, arm's crossed over his face and neck.

"Lois, please?"

She looked back and forth between the boy, twitching and blocking himself off defensively, to Clark, watching the boy with fear.

"Okay..." She looked back at the kid. "Do you wanna... come out of there?"

The boy's wide eyes narrowed, eyebrows knitting together defensively. "NO!" He barked, speaking for the first time, arms crossing.

"Okay..." She followed Clark, watching the boy as they turned the corner. "So," She whispered, setting her purse and jacket on the table. "What's this about?"

"He... I didn't want to house him, but there were no other options because no one else has the ability to manage him..."

"Wait, wait, who is he?" She hushed, throwing up her hands.

"He's... my brother? right?" That sounds suspicious. "He's like, sixteen. He's never been out of his... out of town. And now I have to house him, I barely know him and he's in my house and my life and he's not easy to manage at all..."

"Okay, okay, okay." Lois interrupted, watching him concernedly. "I can tell you're freaking out."

"I'm not freaking out."

Lois nodded. "I think I understand..." She noticed Clark's eyes flare, and glanced behind her to see the kid peaking around the corner of the bedroom. Realizing he was spotted, the boy puffed up his chest, crossing his arms again. She stared at the boy, he was a little worse for wear in the light: eye bags, neglected hair and skin, and what looked like a severe vitamin D deficit.

He looked like what Clark could be if he was born in metropolis, instead of being a sweet Kansas boy with parents that still called her to ask how she was almost a year after she'd last saw them.