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Chapter Text

“If I do this,” Clark said, hovering near the threshold of the Talon’s upstairs apartment, “you promise you’ll let me pick the movie tonight?” 

Lois grinned at him. “Smallville, if you do this, you can pick the movie every night for a week.” 

Without preamble, she took his arm and tugged him into the stairway. He let her, leaning into her the way he always did, so that she’d feel like she was actually capable of manhandling him. The sound of Clark’s terrible fate drifted up from the lobby before the door had a chance to shut behind them. 

It was karaoke night at the Talon. 

A crowd was gathered around the raised stage in the lobby, the one that was usually covered in chairs and coffee-sippers. The day-to-day decor was now stripped away, replaced by standing speakers, microphones, and a screen. Two familiar faces were giggling into the microphones. 

“Oh, my God,” said Lois. “Sweet little Jimmy Olsen can’t carry a tune in a bucket. Who knew?” 

Clark tilted his head. “Anyone with strong inferencing skills, Lo.” 

She slapped his arm and grinned. “I wish I had my camera. It feels selfish to keep this version of ‘Islands in the Stream’ secluded in Smallville.” 

Clark laughed. Jimmy and Chloe were halfway through the Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers classic, bobbing up and down to the beat. They’d even taken sparkly cowboy hats from the prop table someone had set up behind the speaker system. 

“ Islands in the stream,” they sang, grinning at each other. “ That is what we are! No one in between, how can we be wrong? Sail away with me to another world, and we rely on each other…” 

Jimmy tilted his head back. “ Ah, ah!” 

Chloe laughed and continued the verse. “ From one lover to another!” 

“Ah, ah!” 

When their cue music faded out, Chloe wrapped her arms around Jimmy and kissed him. Her microphone bumped against his shirtsleeve, sending scuffed feedback through the monitor. She giggled and pulled away, and the crowd applauded. 

Clark, who was feeling unusually relaxed, whooped. Beside him, Lois laughed and slapped his arm. “Once a quarterback, always a quarterback,” she said. 

The crowd parted as the next karaoke victim mounted the stage. A small squeak of recognition broke through the opening notes of All-American Rejects’ “Dirty Little Secret,” and Chloe was on him in an instant, tugging Jimmy along like a terrier. 

“Clark!” said Chloe, pulling him into a hug. 

“CK!” said Jimmy, pulling him into a second hug. 

He and Lois exchanged sideways looks. 

They’re trashed , her glance seemed to say. 

Completely sloshed, his eyes agreed. 

“I can’t believe you came,” said Chloe, wrapping her arms around Lois and kissing her on the cheek. “Are you going to sing?” 

Lois grinned. “Clark is.” 

Jimmy lit up. “CK! Man, good for you. What are you thinking? I bet you could do a mean Remy Zero.” 

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Clark said. “I was thinking something a little easier. Like the ‘Tequila’ song, you know?” 

Chloe gasped. Her eyes lit up and she clapped her hands together. “Clark’s going to play the guitar!”  

Clark’s eyes widened. 

“Smallville,” said Lois, an unsettling note of delight creeping into her voice. “You play guitar?” 

Before he could say no of course I don’t, Chloe’s drunk, he was interrupted. 

“Yeah!” said Chloe. “His dad made him play to teach him how to handle things gently, since he’s so strong.” 

Clark shot her a look, eyes wide. 

“‘Cause of all the farm stuff,” Chloe added quickly. 

It wasn’t the best excuse, but tipsy Jimmy and giddy Lois seemed satisfied enough. 

Jimmy grinned at him. “That’s so cool, CK. My folks tried to make me play the harpsichord, but it didn’t stick.” 

“Harpsichord?” said Clark. 

“It’s like a piano but smaller.” 

Clark blinked. “No, I know what a harpsichord is –” 

But Jimmy had already turned away, boisterously cheering for the karaoke act onstage as they hit their final note. Clark pocketed this newfound piece of Jimmy lore, deciding that he would rather not spend the night in a conversation about the Olsen family’s special relationship with harpsichords. 

One of the Talon’s managers, a tall woman with black hair that touched her waist, came onto the stage. “Thank you all for coming to karaoke night at the Talon! We’ve had some great performances, but the night is still young, so pick out a favorite tune and get up here. My name is Charity, and I wanted to take a minute to remind you all to be patient with our staff tonight. This is our first night of operation with a liquor license, and we’re still working out the kinks. So drink up, sing out, and be nice!” 

The crowd applauded. Some put their drinks in the air, sending sticky cocktails and beers sloshing onto the tables and floor. Clark took a moment of silence for all of the Talon’s staff. 

Charity smiled and clapped her hands together. “Okay! Who’s next?” 

“This guy right here!” 

Clark felt Lois’ arm on his, and he flushed. All of the eyes in the coffee house turned to him. 

“Well, step right up,” said Charity, waving for Clark to join her onstage. She moved away from the mic to punch at buttons on the karaoke machine. “Tell us your name and pick your poison.” 

“He doesn’t need that thing!” shouted Jimmy. “That’s my man, CK! Clark Kent. He can shred on the guitar.” 

“Jimmy!” Clark looked to Lois and Chloe, expecting some indignation on his behalf. Instead, he found a matching set of grins. The whole room was watching him, cheering in liquored-up glee. He said, “I don’t even have a guitar.” 

“There’s one right there,” said Chloe, pointing to a beige Taylor strapped to the wall above the stage. 

“That’s just for decoration,” Clark hedged. 

Encouraged by the crowd’s enthusiasm, Charity took the guitar down from the display and plucked a string. A thick, acoustic chord echoed through the Talon, and a cheer went up. “Sounds functional to me.” 

Someone began to chant, “ GO MUSIC MAN, GO!” The rest of the crowd followed suit, and Clark closed his eyes. 

Lois leaned in, placing her head on his shoulder. In a low voice, she said, “Smallville, if you do this, I’ll let you pick the movie for the rest of our goddamned lives.” 

A flush moved through his body, and he told himself it was from embarrassment over what he was about to do. 

“Deal,” he said, and moved towards the stage. 

Charity handed him the guitar. He took it gently, holding the neck the way a normal person might hold a feather. A strap was fixed to the back of the wooden base, and he slung it over his shoulders. With a light strum, he discovered that the guitar was somehow still in tune, eliminating any last-minute excuses he might have been able to latch onto. 

Clark took a step and leaned into the mic. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Clark Kent.” 

The Talon erupted in applause. From the back of the room, he heard Jimmy shout, “ That’s my boy!” 

He brought his hands to the guitar’s neck and tested out a chord. To his surprise, his fingers were trembling slightly. Well, he thought. Jumping from the Daily Planet to Ollie’s apartment is no big deal, but busking in Smallville is where I draw the line? 

Steeling himself with a breath, Clark leaned back into the mic. “This is a song my dad taught me to play when I was little. I hope you like it.” 

He clamped his fingers onto the strings that would produce a C chord and began to sing. “ If you’re travelin’ in the North Country fair, where the winds hit heavy on the borderline, remember me to one who lives there, she once was a true love of mine.” 

The rowdiness in the room began to settle as he played. Raucous whoops were softening into happy smiles. He spotted Chloe, her head on Jimmy’s shoulder. 

Behind them stood Lois. Her arms were crossed and her head was tilted, but her eyes had lost their devious sparkle. They still shone, but with a lighter curiosity. He fixed himself firmly in their gaze, and the tremble in his hands faded. 

“ If you go when the snowflakes storm, when the rivers freeze and summer ends,” he sang, mind fluttering through images of Lois in the snow. Wrapped in three of his flannel shirts to feed the chickens, pretending she’d only borrowed two. Bent over in the slush to rub Shelby’s belly when she thought nobody was watching. 

Pale and blue on the floor of the Fortress, gasping on sharp air as she waited for him to return from the Phantom Zone. 

His lashes drooped, conforming to the heavy set of his face. “ Please see if she’s wearing a coat so warm, to keep her from the howlin’ winds.” 

Lois’ lips parted, and he hoped it wasn’t his imagination. He watched her, singing the next verse just for her, just about her. He hoped she knew. 

“ I’m a-wonderin’ if she remembers me at all, many times I’ve often prayed,” he sang, thinking of all the stolen glances he’d taken over the years. Lois in the sun, Lois in the moonlight. “ In the darkness of my night, in the brightness of my day.” 

Her lips gave the softest smile, and Clark nearly toppled off the stage. It struck him like a cymbal crash, this inevitable truth he’d been dancing around. He was totally, completely, head-over-heels in love with Lois Lane. 

The revelation nearly took his breath away. He stuttered as he sang the last verse, not hearing the jingling bells above the door as they let in a new group of customers into the Talon. 

“ ...Remember me to the one who lives there, for she once was a true love of mine.” 

Applause rang out, but he barely registered it. His chest was rising and falling as he watched Lois. He gave her a grin, the kind only she could pull out of him. Dimples and teeth and the works. 

He moved to take off the strap of his guitar when he saw her. 

Standing by herself at the Talon’s entrance was Lana Lang. She wore a Smallville High t-shirt and jeans, looking like she’d stepped out of one of Clark’s teenage daydreams. Her hair was down, and she was looking up at him wistfully. 

He was happy to see her, but in the way that he was always happy to see an old friend. There were no jelly legs, no butterflies. He wasn’t sure when his feelings for her had changed, but it was no new revelation. 

Clark nodded at her, and she smiled. He wasn’t in love with Lana anymore, but he had been once. He could still read her like a book. And oh, shit, she thinks that song was about her. 

The last thing he wanted to do was lead her on. Hey, he was glad that she was out of her relationship with Lex, but not because he wanted her back. He wanted something different than the unhealthy spin-cycle they’d been trapped in together. He wanted – 

Lois. He wanted Lois. 

Clark glanced back into the crowd to find that Lois was no longer looking at him. Her attention was on Lana, who had been noticed by Chloe and Jimmy. Something in her demeanor had deflated. The smile she’d given him before had completely evaporated, replaced by something manufactured. 

Oh shit, he thought again. She thinks that song was about Lana! 

Nope. Clark Kent had dealt with his fair share of ridiculous misunderstandings, and he was not about to let a poor song choice at karaoke night become one of them. Not fucking today. 

Charity was approaching the stage, clearly ready to announce the next karaoke-r, but Clark beat her to the mic. 

“Thank you,” he said, pulling the crowd’s attention back to him. He found Lois’ eyes in the crowd and latched on. “I’d actually like to play another song, if that’s okay.” 

The drunk crowd cheered like this was the best idea they’d heard all night. He heard a distinct “GO MUSIC MAN, GO!” 

Clark smiled. “Great. Here’s some more Dylan.” 

And okay, maybe it was a little mean to turn his entire body towards Lana as he started to play, but he desperately needed to get the message across. 

“ Go away from my window, leave at your own chosen speed,” he sang. “ I am not the one you want, babe. I am not the one you need.” 

Lana’s eyes widened, but he kept going. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he was not about to let her walk out of the Talon believing that he still spent his nights waxing poetic about their relationship. 

“ You say you’re lookin’ for someone who’s never weak but always strong, to protect you and defend you whether you are right or wrong, someone to open each and every door…” He took a deep breath. “ But ain’t me, babe. No, no, no, it ain’t me babe. It ain’t me you’re lookin’ for, babe.” 

Without bothering with any of the other verses, Clark stepped off the stage, handed the guitar to the first empty-handed partygoer he could find, and walked straight to Lois. Her eyes widened as he took her hand. 

“Smallville, what are you –?” 

He interrupted her with the firm press of his lips against hers. 

She relaxed and leaned into him. They melted into one another, oblivious to the distracted crowd singing along to the opening notes of a Journey song. When he pulled back to look at her, her eyes were wide and happy. 

Distantly, he heard another, “GO MUSIC MAN, GO!” 

Lois bit her lip and smiled. “I’d say something about getting a private room, but…” she trailed off, glancing up. 

Clark gently took her hand and began to lead her towards the stairs. “Read my mind, Lo.” 

As he reached the landing of the staircase, he saw Lana talking to Chloe and Jimmy. Their eyes caught for a moment, and she nodded her head. She gave him a small smile, and it occurred to him that he might not be the only one relieved by the end of their romance. 

He rested his forehead against Lois’. His heart was racing. 

She kissed him again, softly. “You’re meteor-infected, aren’t you?” 

If it had been anyone else, he would have jerked away. But it was Lois, and she was summer air. As easily as moving between one breath and the other, he said, “Yes.” And then, “No. Yes and no. It’s complicated.” 

“Well, nothing about you is simple, Smallville. I learned that pretty quickly.” 

“How did you know?” 

Lois took his hand and held it between them. She opened his palm and ran her soft fingers across the pads of his fingers. “No calluses,” she said. “I’ve been around my fair share of guitar players. Even the crappy ones have rough fingers. But not you.” 

Clark laughed softly. He shook his head. Of all the ways to work out his secret… “Only you, Lois.” 

She kissed the place where a human would have rough, raised skin in the shape of guitar strings. “Let’s go upstairs,” she said, eyes glimmering in a way that sent a stripe of heat through Clark’s belly. “You can tell me all about it.” 

He lifted her in his arms, and she giggled as he carried her up the staircase.

Chapter Text

“And that,” said Jimmy, sliding a slice of cake towards himself, “is the story of how your parents fell in love. All thanks to your Uncle Jimmy.” 

Nine-year-old Lara Kent sighed. “I love that story.” 

“Me too,” agreed her sister, freshly-six-year-old Joanie Kent. She slid her own slice of cake to Jimmy, silently requesting that he separate the cake from the icing, which he did without having to be asked. “Can you tell it again, Uncle Jimmy?” 

“Joanie,” said her sister. “He’s told it three times already.” 

Joanie shrugged. “It’s my favorite story. It’s so romantic. And it’s my birthday so I get to pick the stories.” 

From the other side of the table, Clark snorted. “It is romantic, sweetheart. It would be even more romantic if your Uncle Jimmy wasn’t the king of embellishment.” 

Joanie took a bite of her icing. “What’s embellishment, Daddy?” 

Lois, who was sitting beside her husband, said, “It’s when people add details to a story to make it sound cooler than it actually was. Now, your Aunt Chloe and I, we’re journalists. We would never do that. Uncle Jimmy and Uncle Oliver on the other hand…” 

“Hey, hey, hey,” said Oliver, waving the buttercream-covered knife he’d been using to slice Joanie’s birthday cake. “There’s no need to drag Uncle Oliver into this.” 

“You said you met almost all of the Spice Girls at a party in Central City last month,” said Lois, stealing a bite of Clark’s cake. “You met two.” 

Oliver licked the icing from the knife. “Two out of five. That’s almost all.” 

“I think Uncle Oliver needs to take a look in your math book,” said Clark, reaching over to gently pick a clump of icing from Lara’s hair. 

Beside Jimmy, Chloe said, “I think Uncle Oliver needs to take me to his next party in Central City. Which Spices did you meet?” 

“Posh and Baby,” said Oliver. He dropped back into his seat, taking a piece of pink cake with him. 

“That’s definitely almost all, Lo,” said Chloe. 

Oliver hoisted his fork into the air. “Vindication!” 

Joanie and Lara laughed. Clark watched them, watched his family, and felt a welcome wave of peace wash over him. Afternoon sun soaked the farmhouse kitchen, and the smell of Lois’ perfume and store-bought buttercream filled the air. This moment alone was enough to wipe away every bad memory that had ever taken place in this kitchen. 

The bells above the screen door jingled, announcing the reentry of Martha and Kara. Clark stood and moved to help clear a place for them to set the large packet Kara carried. 

Joanie arched a brow, looking so much like her mother that it almost made Clark laugh. “What’s that?” 

“Well,” said Clark. “I know we said that you’d opened all your presents, but that might have been –” 

“An embellishment?” Lara supplied. 

Clark laughed. “Quick learner.” He nodded for Joanie to join him, loosening the strands of the package’s bow for her to easily unravel. “This is a special present, from all of us. Go ahead and open it.” 

Joanie did. Inside the package was a vintage acoustic guitar. Its strings were new, its dark wood polished. Beneath the guitar was a bound book with a hand-painted, watercolor color. Joanie gasped, and a stunned smile began to spread across her face. 

“It’s your Dad’s old six-string,” said Lois, coming beside Joanie and smoothing the hair from her forehead. “And it was your Grandpa Jonathan’s before that. Grandma found the original proof of purchase – you see it? – and Uncle Oliver took it to the best guitar-fixer-upper guy in Metropolis.” She tapped the book. “Aunt Chlo and I wrote out the story of Daddy and I’s first kiss, and the story of Daddy’s first guitar lesson with your Grandpa. We tried not to use many embellishments.” 

“Except for ‘go music man, go,’” said Chloe. She patted Jimmy’s arm. “The story’s just not the same without that addition, babe.” 

Jimmy scoffed. “That’s so not an embellishment. I heard that with my own two ears.” 

“Those two ears were full of lemon drop martinis.” 

Lois continued, opening the book to the few laminated pages that peppered its middle. “See these pictures? Uncle Jimmy snapped these.” 

There were several shots, some in color and some in grayscale. Lois and Clark napping together on the porch swing, Lois singing along to something – probably Whitesnake – as she raked hay in the barn. Clark on their wedding day, playing her “Wedding Song” on the guitar they were now giving their daughter. 

She flipped to another page. “And Aunt Kara translated the words to both songs Daddy sang in the story, ‘Wedding Song,’ and your lullaby song, ‘Mr. Tambourine Man,’ into Kryptonian and copied them with her calligraphy pens.” 

Lara reached over and turned the book to show its cover. She smiled at her little sister. “And I designed the cover.” 

Joanie’s eyes lit up. “That’s what you were doing up in the hayloft all that time! I was so mad at you for making me stay out.” 

Lara smiled, cheeks dimpling. “Do you like it?” 

“Like it?” said Joanie. She looked around the table. “I love it! This is the best thing I’ve ever had in my whole life, ever ever ever.” 

Clark met Lois’ eyes. Parents of the year. 

“Will you teach me how to play, Daddy?” 

Clark smiled. “Of course. You’ll be lapping me by the time you’re seven.” 

Chapter Text

Clark had seen the barn in a variety of states over the years, but he had never seen it quite like this. Tidied, all the tools moved to one of the secondary barns to make way for the makeshift stage he’d thrown together. A line of white folding chairs taking up the space where the tractor and till usually sat. 

Ribbons and painted banners hung from the rafters, and old mason jars full of wildflowers had been positioned at the end of each row of chairs. Above the makeshift stage was a banner Lara had painted. It read JOANIE KENT’S EVENING OF SONG. Little handmade programs sat on the edge of the stage, ready to be distributed to the guests who would be arriving any minute. 

Lois came into the barn, dressed in a cherry-red sundress and platform sandals. She smiled when she saw Clark, and the sight of her took his breath away. 

“You look amazing, Lo,” he said, moving towards her. He caught her gently in his arms and kissed her. Even her lips were cherry-red and cherry-flavored. 

Lois brushed her nose against his. “I know,” she said, making him laugh. “You’re not too bad yourself.” 

Clark ran a hand down the front of his white button down. The hem was tucked into his darkest pair of blue jeans, which fell over the laces of his nicest work boots. Lara and Joanie had made it clear that this was not a formal event, but he still felt as though he should wear something other than a flannel or a regular t-shirt. “Where are the girls?” 

As if on cue, two sets of quick footfalls and giggling voices came into the barn. 

“Look, Daddy!” said Joanie, spinning in her blue jeans and Frozen tank top. “Momma curled my hair!” 

Clark smiled. Lois had styled their youngest’s head of black hair into a fountain of ringlets. “It looks great, sweetheart.” 

“I did my own,” said Lara proudly, patting the intricate braid that ran around the side of her head and down her back. His oldest was one of the most independent and self-sufficient kids he’d ever met. She reminded him a lot of his father. 

“It looks great,” Clark told her, wrapping both girls into a hug. “You both look great. And more importantly, you are great. Your mom and I are so proud of you for putting all of this together.” 

Lois joined the hug. “Momma would be more proud if you weren’t making her sing…” 

Lara and Joanie giggled. For a moment, Clark closed his eyes and sent up a silent thank you to the universe for this, for his family. Never had he thought he’d be this lucky. Yes, he was Superman, but he was Joanie and Lara’s father. He was Lois’ husband. Those titles would always be infinitely more important than any badge that came attached to a red cape. 

Gravel churned in the driveway. Joanie and Lara squealed in excitement. Clark stepped to the side and took Lois’ hand as the girls raced to the stage to retrieve their bundle of programs. They stepped out of the barn to see who their first guest was. 

Oliver Queen grinned at them from the seat of his Porsche. “Uncle Ollie has entered the building!” he said. “And he’s ready to deliver the worst version of ‘American Pie’ the world has ever heard.” 

Lois and Clark barely registered his words, too focused on the woman in his passenger seat. 

“Ollie,” said Lois. “Why do you have Taylor Swift in your passenger seat?” 

# 

Clark stood at the edge of the stage and did a security scan with his X-ray vision. He knew almost everyone who filled the white chairs in his barn, but that didn’t mean one of them wasn’t secretly possessed by an alien supercomputer or prehistoric flower pollen. He had a family to protect and, thanks to Ollie, a surprise A-list celebrity. When he felt the coast was clear, he nodded to Joanie, who gave him a hug and mounted the stage. 

The buzz of conversation between their family, friends from town and the Planet, and friends from the girls’ school lulled. All of the attention was on his daughter, who was beaming into the mic Ollie had lent. 

“Hi, everyone! My name is Joanie Kent. Thank you all for coming to my Evening of Song!” The audience applauded, and her cheeks turned rosy. “My big sister Lara made the programs you’ve all got, so take a look at them. We’ve got a lot of fun acts for you tonight. First, I’m going to sing a solo for you.” She turned and took the guitar she’d gotten for her birthday. “This is the first song my Dad taught me to play because it was the first song his dad, my grandpa Jonathan, taught him to play. It’s called ‘Blowin’ in the Wind’ by Bob Dylan.” 

She adjusted the guitar strap and took a deep breath. Before she started singing, though, she clarified, “But I’m going to sing the Joan Baez version. ‘Cause I was named after her a little bit.” And then she began to sing. 

Clark took his seat on the front row beside Lois. He reached for her hand as their daughter sang a song about hope in the face of hardship. Joanie’s small fingers moved stealthily along the neck of the guitar, and Clark recited each chord inside his head as he followed along. G,C,D, again, again. They hadn’t moved on to string picking, but Joanie was strumming in perfect time. 

Not for the first time, Clark was glad that his daughters’ Kryptonian powers hadn’t really developed yet. According to Jor-El, they would, but not until puberty. Lara had accidentally propelled herself across the cornfield in a superspeed blip last month, but she’d been otherwise dormant. Little Joanie would have plenty of time to master the guitar before adding super-strength into the mix. 

She finished her song, letting her final chord ring out. Applause echoed through the barn. Clark and Lois – and really, everyone else – were on their feet, cheering. 

Joanie smiled. “Thank you! I’m glad you liked it. Now, I would like to invite my first guest onto the stage. Please welcome my big sister Lara and my cousin Mark!” 

From their seats beside the other kids on the front row – “the trouble section,” as Lois called it – Lara and Mark jumped up to join Joanie. Mark was Chloe and Jimmy’s son, a blonde, bespeckled beanpole a year younger than Lara. Lara sat on one of the stools Clark had set on the stage, and Mark slid out the cajon drum he’d stashed behind a hay bale before the show. 

“This is the opening song from our favorite movie,” announced Lara, smiling as she settled in beside her sister. 

“ Clueless!” Mark added. 

Lois buried her forehead in Clark’s shoulder. “Why did they have to tell the world that I let my daughters who are definitely not thirteen watch PG-13 rom-coms?” 

“It’s culture, Lo.” 

Onstage, Joanie adjusted the capo on her guitar. She said, “This is ‘Kids in America’ by Muff.” 

“And also the Jonas Brothers!” said Mark, before tapping out a 1-2-3-4 beat on his cajon. 

This was a number Clark hadn’t heard yet. He was only allowed to be privy to the acts he was a part of, and had to swear not to use his super-hearing for a sneak preview. Now, he was glad he had honored his promise. 

The kids had spent hours and hours rehearsing in the barn, and it had paid off. Joanie’s acoustic was a perfectly fine supplement for the electric guitar used in the recording, especially hooked up to Ollie’s sound system. Mark kept time on his cajole, and they split off in three-part harmony, sharing verses and adding small synchronized dance moves here and there. 

It was impressive. “They should take this on the road,” he whispered to Lois. 

“It took them three days to nail down a song choice,” she whispered back. “And their first idea was that Katy Perry ‘Peacock’ song. I think they should stay local for now. 

Clark smiled and leaned back, enjoying the rest of the song. When it was over, the crowd gave the trio another standing ovation. 

Next, Joanie called her Uncle Ollie to the stage. He stood and made his way to Joanie, waving jovially to the crowd as they cheered and cat-called. After leaning down to give his adoptive-niece/goddaughter a hug, he slid onto the stool Lara had vacated. 

“This is my Uncle Ollie,” said Joanie. “He’s really good at shooting bow and arrows. He taught me and Lara, but Lara’s a lot better at it than me. He asked me to let him do that instead of singing, but I told him no.” The audience laughed. “But I told him he could sing his favorite song. His real favorite song is by Britney Spears, but we’re pretending that it’s not. This is ‘American Pie’ by Don McLean.” 

Before the song could start, Lois leaned over and said, “You know it’s ‘I’m a Slave 4 U,’ right?” 

Clark clamped down his laughter as Joanie began the opening riff. 

Oliver cleared his throat. “ Long, long time ago, I can still remember how that music used to make me smile. And I knew if I had the chance, that I could make those people dance, and maybe they’d be happy for a while…” 

He wasn’t half-bad. Clark was more impressed with his daughter, though. She strummed lightly as the lyrics became sadder, fading into silence on the first “ the day the music died.” When she picked it up again, her strums were faster, more enthusiastic. She matched the pacing perfectly, and he was so proud. 

When the final few choruses began, the entire barn was on its feet. They sang along, all eleven verses, as Oliver clapped his hands over his head and Joanie whipped her curled hair back and forth. “Bye, bye, Miss American Pie, drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry, and them good ol’ boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye, singing ‘this’ll be the day that I die, this’ll be the day that I die.’” 

They brought the house down. “How about that?” Oliver called. “Let’s give it up for Miss Joanie Kent!” 

Joanie brought up act after act, and they never disappointed. Kara sang “Aquarius” from Hair – she had developed a fondness for musical theater – and accompanied herself and Joanie with a tambourine. Jimmy and Chloe sang an acoustic version of “Telephone” by Lady Gaga and Beyonce (Chloe as Gaga, and Jimmy as, of course, Beyonce). The entire Justice League had shown up for the occasion, and Bart and A.C. had offered up their talents with ABBA’s “Dancing Queen” and the Beach Boys’ “Surfin’ U.S.A.” respectively. 

A group of Joanie’s friends from school came onstage to sing the newest Taylor Swift song, performing synchronized dance moves in matching costumes. Clark and Lois held hands as the girls sang, wearing matching grins. They hadn’t told Joanie about her special guest. She was going to flip. 

Martha came onto the stage holding a vinyl record sleeve. She kissed Joanie’s cheek and said, “This is a song Joanie’s Grandpa Jonathan used to sing to me,” she said, holding up the record. “We would dance around the living room together, and he’d tuck me against his chest. Finding time to dance was a little harder after we were blessed with Clark, so he would put his arms around me for a moment in the kitchen or on the way out the door and sing me a line or two.” She paused, a fond, faraway look in her eye. “Anyway, he sounded much better than I do, but I like to think he’ll be singing with me. Here’s ‘Make It With You’ by Bread.” 

As Joanie struck her opening chord, a small riff she’d spent hours practicing, Clark felt a soft hand on his bicep. Lois rested her head on his shoulder and ran her thumb gently across his skin, up and down. It was a touch that said I love you, let me give you comfort. She’d loved his father, too; she understood how overwhelming the sound of his memory could be. 

“ Hey, have you ever tried really reaching out for the other side?” Martha sang, closing her eyes and running an absent finger across the record in her lap. “ I may be climbing on rainbows, but baby, here goes…” 

Clark couldn’t count the number of times he’d heard this song growing up. His mother hadn’t been exaggerating. Jonathan sang it to her over coffee, belted it to her from the seat of the tractor. A part of him expected to find his father leaning against the barn door, gazing at the stage with the same fond expression he always wore when Martha was around. An expression that Clark liked to think he sometimes wore himself, when he looked at Lois. 

“ Life can be short or long, love can be right or wrong, and if I choose the one I’d like to help me through, I’d like to make it with you,” Martha sang, a smile spreading across her face. “ I really think that we could make it, girl.” 

When the song was finished, the barn audience took a collective beat of silence before breaking into applause. Martha wiped her eyes and blew a kiss to the crowd. As she passed by on her way back to her seat, Clark caught her hand. He stood and wrapped her small body in a hug, letting himself float in his childhood memories, just for a moment. 

Clark settled back into his chair. He leaned over to kiss Lois, but paused at the expression on her face. 

“Crap,” she said, eyes wide. “I’m next. How the hell am I supposed to top that, Smallville?” 

Clark couldn’t help himself; he giggled. His wife was adorable. 

Lois narrowed her eyes. “This is not funny.” 

“Hey, you approved the set list.” 

She huffed. “Lara ambushed me after the Bachelorette tell-all. That’s hardly fair, I was so amped I would have agreed to anything.” 

Clark giggled again. 

“It’s not funny,” Lois said again. 

“It’s a little funny.” He nodded at the stage, where Joanie was adjusting the capo on her guitar. “You’re up, baby.” 

She grumbled but moved to the stool Martha had vacated. 

Joanie hugged her with her free arm, and Lois kissed her cheek. “This is my Momma,” Joanie announced. “She’s the best. This is a song she sings to me and Lara before bed sometimes. It’s called ‘Here I Go Again’ by Whitesnake.” 

Clark smiled. He loved Lois’ hair metal lullabies. 

Lois got to her feet. “This is the kind of song you really should stand for,” she informed the crowd. She nodded at Joanie. “Let’s rock, baby.” 

By the end of the song, the entire barn was clapping in time. Clark looked back to the row where most of the Justice League sat. A.C. and Victor were sitting beside Oliver, whose efforts to clamp down his laughter had left him red in the face. A.C. held up his hand in the universal surfer signal for “ that’s rad, dude” and slapped Ollie on the back. 

Lois returned to her seat, grinning. “Crushed it,” she said, leaning against Clark. “Your turn.” 

She was right. It was time for the final act – well, final as far as Joanie knew – and Clark was in the hot seat. He stood and climbed the stage he’d assembled. The view was a lot different than it had been that morning, when it was just him and an empty barn. He walked to the back of the stage while Joanie made her introductions. 

“For our grand finale, my Dad is going to play a song with me!” she said, bouncing on her toes. “He’s a lot better at it than I am, ‘cause he’s older. My big sister wrote about it in the program, but he and Momma had their first kiss because he was so good at playing the guitar.” 

Embellishment, Clark thought. He reached for the wooden guitar the manager of the talon had lent him. It was the same guitar that had hung above the stage that fateful day in 2006. He smiled as he strapped it over his shoulder and took the stool beside his daughter. He and this guitar… look how far they’d come. 

“It’s called ‘Songbird’ by Fleetwood Mac,” she said, imitating the British accent of the track’s introduction on Lois’ old vinyl record. 

Clark began with a soft riff on a barred chord, the kind Joanie’s hands were still too small to play. The sweet sound echoed through the high ceilings of the barn, and he began to sing in time with his daughter. 

“ For you, there’ll be no more crying. For you, the sun will be shining, because I feel that when I’m with you, it’s alright, I know it’s right…” 

After Joanie’s birthday, Clark quickly realized that the true gift hadn’t been given to Joanie, but to those around her. To him. It was always a joyful sound, hearing his daughter make music and express herself. Making music together, gently guiding her tiny hands across the strings… it was a memory he would treasure forever. He understood, as he often did now that he was a father, the swell of love and pride his Dad must have felt every time they played Dylan together in that old loft. 

“And I wish you all the love in the world, but most of all, I wish it from myself,” they sang. His voice cracked for a moment as tenderness tugged at his vocal chords. He cast a glance into the audience and saw that Lois’ face was wet. “ And the songbirds keep singing like they know the score, and I love you, I love you, I love you, like never before, like never before.” 

Clark was aware of the applause, but he wasn’t listening to it. As he looked out over the audience, all he cared about was the smile on Joanie’s face, the dried paint on Lara’s loving artists’ hands, and the happy tears on Lois’ lashes. His beautiful family. His world. 

He looked down at the guitar in his hands. All because of this old thing. 

“Thank you all for coming,” said Joanie. She leaned into the microphone and waved. “Drive safe, and remember, my sister painted a watercolor music staff on the back of your programs, so don’t throw them away!” 

Clark stood. “Actually,” he called, halting the audience who had begun shuffling for purses and coats. “We have one more song for you. Trust me, you’re going to want to stay right where you are.” He nodded to Oliver, who rose with Victor and A.C. and moved up the stairs to the loft.

Joanie looked to Clark. She frowned “What are you talking about? I thought you were the last act.” 

“Well,” said Clark, “we had a last minute addition. She really wants to sing with you. We would have given you a heads-up, but I didn’t want to mess up your flow.” 

“Who is it, Daddy? Is it Miss Lana? She said she would, but she’s in Paris.” 

Clark shook his head. “No, it’s not Miss Lana.” He cast a glance at the loft. Oliver gave him the thumbs up. “You trust me?” 

Joanie nodded and took his hand. Clark stood tall, signaling the crowd to pay attention to him – it was a skill he’d picked up as Superman. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a very special guest this evening. When Joanie first heard this young woman’s music, she asked me for a guitar. And well, here we are. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Taylor Swift to the stage.” 

His daughter watched in wide-eyed awe as the blonde singer moved through the cheering audience, escorted by the Justice League, and came to the stage. She leaned down to Joanie’s level, smiling. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Taylor.” 

After a moment of open hero-worship, Joanie straightened and fixed her face in a grin bright enough to electrify the farmhouse for a week. “Joanie.” 

“Lara told me that you like my music,” Taylor said. “Thank you for listening. That makes me really, really happy. She also told me that one of the first songs you learned to play on your guitar was one of mine. Could we play it together?” 

“Of course!” said Joanie. 

Clark beamed as he moved off the stage, back to his seat. Mastering a Taylor Swift song had been Joanie’s first goal after mastering Dylan. Some of the chords Taylor Swift used were more complicated than the chords in songs like “Blowin’ in the Wind,” and it had taken Joanie a good amount of time, but she could now play half of the Speak Now album in her sleep. 

“Okay,” said Joanie, addressing the audience. “This is my new friend Taylor Swift. She’s the reason I wanted to learn how to play music.” 

“Hi,” said Taylor Swift, waving at the crowd. “I’m Taylor.” 

“This is a song she wrote called ‘Superman,’” Joanie continued. “We have a joke in my family that my Daddy’s, uh, kind of like the real Superman, so this one’s always been my favorite. We’re going to play it for you, if that’s okay.” 

The crowd cheered.

Lois and Clark? They were on Cloud 9. Forget parents of the year. They were parents of the freakin’ decade. Century, even. 

Taylor Swift and Joanie began to play. “ Tall dark and Superman, he puts papers in his briefcase and flies away, to save the world or go to work, it’s the same thing to me…” 

“Sounds a little like someone I know,” Lois whispered, leaning against him. 

Clark smiled and kissed the top of her head. “This tops being Superman any day.”