Chapter Text
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Jimmy woke up the next morning, still feeling groggy and worn out. He staggered out to the living room to find Clark still sleeping heavily. There was still a wheeze to each breath, but he sounded much better. He was sweating profusely. But Dr. Crosby had advised that was a good thing. It meant his body was trying to eject the toxin that made him ill.
Jimmy shuffled quietly to the kitchen. He checked the fridge and grimaced. They were gonna hit the grocery store after work yesterday. There was nothing Jimmy felt safe giving Clark on a queasy tummy. He dressed after a shower to make a run to the grocery store. He slipped quietly out of the apartment.
"Oh, Jimmy dear!"
The photographer twisted around to see his elderly neighbor. "Oh, hi, Mrs. J,” he smiled wanly.
"Is everything alright? I saw you and Clark got in late last night. He looked ill," she had a worried frown on her kind, weathered face.
"Clark had a really severe asthma attack. Had to take him to the doctor. It turned into an all-day event," Jimmy admitted. Some of his own worry slipped out despite himself.
She stepped across the hall. "Are you ok, dear?"
Jimmy shook his head. “It really scared me..." he confessed.
"Oh, sweetheart," She folded him into a warm hug.
Jimmy curled into her. She reminded him of his grandmother. He missed her so badly. He wished he could call her to rant about it all. Her loss felt suddenly just as acute as the day she passed. “Everyone I love dies..." he choked out. A few tears welled up and spilled over. "And he c-couldn't breathe. He was so sick. He just…he nearly died recently…"
Mrs. J. rubbed a hand soothingly up and down his back. "He made it through yesterday with you beside him." She let Jimmy hug her a moment longer. She gently guided him back to look at his face. "Now... what do you need, dear?"
Jimmy stepped back. He brushed tears away while clearing his throat. "I was headed to the store. I don't have anything he can eat. Queasy stomach."
"Let me take care of that! I'll make him some homemade chicken soup too,” she smiled.
"You don't have to do that, Mrs. J!"
"Hush, Jimmy. I'm happy too. You treat me better than my own grandchildren,“ She waved him down. “And Clark is one of the kindest souls I've met. Now go on. I'll take care of the shopping."
"Ok but please take this to cover it," Jimmy relented. He fished 60 dollars out of his wallet to give to her.
She didn't argue only because Jimmy knew she was on a fixed income. She waved him back into his apartment. He toed off his shoes with a relieved sigh. He hadn't wanted to leave. Fear that he'd come back to a cold, not breathing Clark had been causing anxiety to rear its ugly head.
"Jimmy?" Clark's voice sounded rough and barely recognizable.
"Yeah, babe!" Jimmy hurried across the apartment. Clark was pushing himself up to sit, looking bleary-eyed and worn out. "I was gonna run to the store. Mrs. J is going for me," Jimmy explained helping Clark sit up. "How're you feeling?"
"Weak. Lungs hurt. Stomach's not happy."
"Ok. Do you think you can manage a shower? Dr. Crosby said to keep the sweat off since you're oozing kryptonite out," Jimmy squeezed Clark's shoulder.
Clark nodded tiredly. "Yeah. Shower sounds good."
"C'mon, up. Shower first. Then I'll make you some toast," Jimmy helped haul Clark to his feet.
This whole situation had been the first time Jimmy really got a sense of how big and heavy Clark truly was. It was like trying to move a wobbly brick house. He steadied Clark then helped him get to the bathroom. Showering was an interesting ordeal. Jimmy grabbed one of the table chairs and made Clark sit.
It was a testament to how bad Clark was feeling that he didn't even argue. Jimmy thoroughly washed Clark’s thick hair and scrubbed Clark twice over. He got Clark dried, into a pair of sweatpants and a soft grey Henley. Clark was returned to the couch under the sun lamp. He made sure Clark took a hit from the inhaler Dr. Crosby had provided. The dosage amount was insane. But it worked to get Clark to stop wheezing.
A knock came just as Jimmy handed off a plate of toast to Clark. "It's open!"
Mrs. J came trudging in with two bags of groceries. Jimmy hurried over to relieve her of those. She bustled over to Clark.
"My goodness, dear. Look at you," Mrs. J fussed. “You’re so pale. You'll fade away!"
Clark smiled weakly. "Hi, Mrs. J."
Jimmy set the bags down on the kitchen island. He looked over to smile fondly...and froze. Clark didn't have his glasses on. They sat abandoned on the coffee table. Mrs. J fussed over the big man for a few moments. She didn't seem to notice that minor detail. She pushed the fall of Clark's heavy dark hair up to rest a frail palm to his forehead.
"You are so warm, dear. Is it wise to have this heat lamp on?" She frowned up at it.
"Doctor's orders." Jimmy piped up. “Burn out whatever is making him sick...”
Mrs. J frowned at that. "Your hair is so heavy and thick. It'd probably feel good to trim some of that off. You're a bit shaggy, dear."
"My mom usually does," Clark murmured. "She's been busy..."
"Well, Tiesha on the 3rd floor is in beauty school. She needs practice. I'm sure she could do a trim," Mrs. J remarked. "Let's get you better first."
Clark nodded tiredly.
"I'll make you some chicken Soup. You rest, dear. You too, Jimmy," Mrs. J stepped away from Clark to shoo Jimmy out of the kitchen.
Jimmy climbed onto the couch. He pulled Clark's legs over his lap. They turned on the TV. Jimmy found reruns of the Andy Griffith Show. Clark settled into a comfortable position. He slipped into a doze. Mrs. J's cooking was pleasant background noise. It reminded Clark of home.
Time slipped by.
"Alright, boys. Come eat," Mrs. J called.
They were surprised to find it was past noon. They roused and made their way to the dining table. Bowls of soup were set in front of them with a sleeve of Ritz crackers. A ginger ale was set out for Clark. She sat down to eat with them.
Both smiled at the setup. It was just like being a kid again with their maternal figure caring for them when they were ill. It seemed every American mother was given the same tools to heal an ailing child: passed down through the generations to show care and give comfort. The chicken soup tasted like home. Though neither would admit it wasn't the best as their maternal unit. But it was good and exactly what Clark needed. They thanked her profusely for cooking for them. They’d have leftovers for days.
"I let Perry know you were doing better,” Jimmy told his boyfriend. "He gave you the rest of the week off."
"Ok... you?"
"I gotta go back tomorrow."
Clark nodded in understanding but looked disappointed. "I can take care of myself."
"I'll come sit with him, Jimmy," Mrs. J said decisively. “And make sure he takes his meds and eats."
“I don’t want to inconvenience you, Mrs. J. I’ll be alright on my own,” Clark protested weakly.
The older woman scoffed gently. “I don’t mind at all, Clark. It feels good to have someone to take care of. Let an old lady fuss over you.” She patted Clark lightly on the shoulder.
Clark smiled and ducked his head. “Yes, ma’am.”
Jimmy smiled. “Thanks, Mrs. J. He's really bad at taking care of himself."
"Hey..."
"You are, babe."
Mrs. J smiled at their playful interaction. “You're such good, sweet boys."
They flushed at her kind words. They finished their lunch. She chased them out of the kitchen to clean up. Afterward she left them resting on the couch. She promised to check in later. The rest of the day slipped by in fits of dozing and TV marathons.
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Mrs. J came back the next day later in the morning after Jimmy left. She got Clark up, made sure he showered and fed him. After, she called Tiesha to come up to cut Clark's overgrown hair. Tiesha was a 20-something young woman with deep dark eyes, caramel brown skin, and a heavy-set figure. She was a first-generation American. Her parents immigrated from Nigeria. She was delighted to chat with Clark in Hausa and talking about the food in Nigeria. She sat him in a chair, draped a cape around him, and plucked his glasses off his face. She was so distracted speaking with him that she cut a little shorter than she meant to. She hummed in concern. Clark assured her it was alright. Tiesha set to evening it out.
"You look quite handsome with shorter hair, dear,” Mrs. J remarked.
Tiesha agreed. "You do. Much better!"
The news blared in the background. "Superman: Missing for days! Is the Man of Steel gone for good again?" The anchor declared.
The three of them looked over at the TV. A close-up picture of Superman was plastered on the right side of the screen next to where the anchor sat at his news desk.
Clark hummed tiredly. “Wonder where he's at..."
The two women looked back at him. He absently went to push his glasses back up. He frowned when he hit nothing. A cough seized his chest. The women's eyes met over his head.
"I wonder," Tiesha muttered.
"Here's you're inhaler, dear,” Mrs. J handed the big man the medication. “Do you have asthma attacks often?" Mrs. J asked, glancing at the TV where the anchor was discussing the last sighting of Superman.
Clark accepted the inhaler and sucked down a dose. "No... not since I was a little kid... first in years. Don't get sick often...”
Mrs. J asked in concern, "Were you around something that set it off?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"You’d do best to stay away from it," she remarked. She grabbed the broom to sweep up Clark’s shorn hair from the floor.
"Yes, ma'am."
"You have such thick, heavy hair," Tiesha did one last check of his hair.
The front door opened.
"I'm home, babe!" Jimmy called. He stopped up short at the sight of so many people in his apartment. "Oh, hello..."
He got a chorus of hellos in response.
"What's going on?" Jimmy toed off his shoes and set his camera bag on the table. He came in further. "Your hair!”
"Do you like it?" Tiesha smiled.
Jimmy came around to stare at Clark. His boyfriend gazed up at Jimmy waiting for his opinion. "I mean... you look so good but...um..."
"Superman continues to be absent despite casualties rising from—," the news anchor carried on in the background.
Jimmy twisted around to look at the news story. He looked back at Clark.
"Babe... "Jimmy tried to act calm. "Where are your glasses?'
"Up there. I can’t cut his hair with them on," Tiesha gestured at the kitchen island.
"He needed a haircut. Tiesha was nice enough to help." Mrs. J smiled. She picked up Clark's glasses and handed them back to him. "I think Jimmy might be a bit jealous of how many people can now see your handsome face without all that heavy hair."
"Yeah," Jimmy muttered. “That’s exactly it."
Clark put his glasses on. He smiled at Jimmy. "You really like it?"
Jimmy's stomach quivered like a teen staring at his crush. Clark was gorgeous. It wasn't fair. "I really do."
"Well let us clean up and get out of your hair," Mrs. J teased.
Tiesha giggled. She took off the cape and brushed Clark off. She smiled and flushed happily when Clark thanked her. She refused any pay for the haircut. The ladies left not too long after that. Clark re-located back to the couch. Jimmy followed.
"You're worried," Clark remarked. He reached up to brush his fingers through the shorter length. “It hadn't been this short in a while. It is shorter than I wanted.”
Jimmy reached out to tug gently at the "Superman" curl that refused to be tamed. "Part of your disguise is your hair. And I've noticed some of the Planet people paying more attention to you."
"I haven't."
Jimmy snickered. "Of course not. But you're good-looking. Now you look like a model. People are gonna be staring."
Clark flushed a little. "It’ll grow back."
"Yeah...until it does though I'm gonna be fending people away from my man," Jimmy joked.
"Long as you know I'm "your" man,” Clark smirked.
Jimmy couldn't resist pressing a brief kiss to Clark's chapped lips. "I definitely do."
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By the next day, Clark was back at work. He still had an occasional cough, but three days of recovery was all he could take. He was not used to doing nothing. Jimmy gave up trying to talk Clark into staying home at least one more day. The photographer made Clark promise he’d go home if he started to feel bad again.
Clark didn't put the Superman suit on under his clothes. It felt too restrictive to breathe freely in just yet. He slung on a black suit with a subtle pinstripe and a pale blue button-down shirt. He kept the top button of his shirt popped and left off the tie. Jimmy helped to style up his hair to keep his stubborn curl up and off his forehead. He looked effortlessly hot. The chunky glasses weirdly added to the appeal. It was all Jimmy could do not to climb him.
Apparently, the bullpen felt the same. As soon as Clark stepped off the elevator, it seemed like all eyes shifted to him. Or so Jimmy felt anyway. Clark seemed oblivious. He headed towards his desk with his satchel over his shoulder, eyes caught on the TV blaring the morning news report.
"Damn, Kent!" Lois spoke up.
Clark looked over; brows scrunched in confusion.
She was standing up at her desk. She had a notepad and pen in her hands. "You look good, Smallville. Didn't know you had a suit that fit right. The new hairstyle's really working for you too. You look like the next GQ model," Lois stated in appreciation and teasing at her friend. “Why don't you dress like this more often?”
Clark flushed, setting his bag down. "I don't like all the attention. And I just threw something on."
"Well your 'no effort’ look is better than the frumpy stuff you normally wear. Should dress like this," She stated decisively. "I can actually see your collarbones. Don't think I've ever seen those..."
He scoffed then coughed.
"Clark, how are you feeling?” Richard appeared next to the bigger man's desk. He shot a slightly annoyed look at Lois, who didn’t seem to notice.
"Better. Thank you for asking,” Clark smiled. He straightened his glasses. "I appreciate your help the other day. The inhaler helped me make it to the doctor."
Richard looked pleased. "Just glad I could help. You looked like you were in a bad way."
Their eyes met. Something in Richard's gaze made Clark frown just a little. There was a knowing to Richard's blue eyes. Clark smothered a cough. "Well thanks again. Sorry if I acted weird. Everything’s kind of a blur." He looked down to pull his laptop out of his bag.
Richard shook his head in disbelief. He caught Jimmy giving him a worried, anxious look. “It was no trouble, Clark. I know you’d do the same for me.”
“Of course!” Clark exclaimed immediately.
"And I agree with Lois. The new look is good on you," Richard gestured at Clark’s outfit.
"Kent! Thought I gave you the week off!" Perry barked from the door of his office.
Clark looked like he'd been caught being bad. "I got bored, Boss."
Perry leaned against his office doorframe. "Feelin' alright?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Good. Well glad to have you back but if you try to die in here again I'm sending you to the hospital. And don't you dare try to claim worker's comp!" Perry pointed.
Clark grinned. “No, sir. Understood."
"Write me up your report on that drug dealer. I want it on my desk by the end of the day," Perry ordered. He paused, and cleared his throat. "Nice hair." He stepped back and then closed the door of his office.
"Welcome back, Kent." Lois laughed.
"Thanks, Lois."
"If you need anything..." Richard tapped the top of Clark's cubicle.
"Appreciate it, Richard." Clark dropped down into his chair. He looked over at Jimmy. The photographer was frowning just a little. "What?"
"You do look really good..." Jimmy said, biting his lower lip.
Clark smiled and flushed just a little. "Thank you, Jimmy."
Lois made a gagging noise. The two snickered. Richard shook his head in amazed confusion.
"Clueless," Crystal muttered nearby.
Clark gave her a wondering look, but she was already wandering away. Clark shrugged. Jimmy was relieved everyone was already moving on: attention caught up again by whatever project they'd been assigned. Things moved quickly in a news environment. They didn't have time to linger on things for long. Which definitely worked in Clark's favor. Hopefully, he could keep the attention off himself.
Which Clark did fairly well, but Superman did not...
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To be continued...
Kind comments and kudos are always so appreciated!
Here's the look I'm picturing for Clark with his freshly cut hair and simple suit.
