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artyandink · 3 days ago

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farm baby .ᐟ.ᐟ

↳ SYNOPSIS: you needed some help over at your farm after WES sprained his arm, and it was the first time you actually noticed that CLARK was a tank— like, how does one person do their farm chores that easily? you were stuck here looking like a wet, muddy squirrel while PANDORA and CLARK looked like they came fresh out of a pantene commercial. someone stop you before you start throwing hands, or mud, just to bring them down to your level.

↳ PAIRING(S): wes x betty, clark x bonnie (friendly) (clark | bonnie)

↳ WARNINGS: nothing, just farmboy and farmgirl being cute

↳ RADIO STATION:

↳ night shift by jon pardi

↳ am I wrong by nico & vinz

↳ sunshine by onerepublic

wanna meet everyone again .ᐣ.ᐟ click here

Since your dad had injured his arm in a farming accident, Mr and Mrs Kent had ‘lent’ Clark over as a help for you and your mom while he recovered— and Clark wasn’t salty about it at all, you were his best friend and hung out with him, Pete and Chloe every day, so of course he’d help. Besides, even though you and the Kents had neighbouring farms, there was more help than rivalry, so it was a healthy thing, where if one was in need, the other would come to the rescue.

It was when you’d actually seen Clark working was when you realised that yeah, he was freakishly strong, walking around the farm, lifting hay bales and fixing tractors without breaking a sweat, while you looked like a huffy, sweaty mess, hair plastering to your forehead. Not a great look.

He was an absolute sweetheart as well, a ‘darling’, as your mom called it, as he was all boyish, sunny smiles and farm boy demeanour, helping you out with the farm until even the next day’s work was done the day before. Was this guy a machine or something? You didn’t care, it at least allowed Lex, Pete and Chloe to swing by for an evening of relaxation or homework help, which was nice.

“Hey, Bonnie?” Clark called, popping out from nowhere, carrying a hay bale, and again having not a single drop of sweat from working in the Smallville heat— honestly, dude was made of titanium. Here you were, looking like a sticky squirrel in flannel.

“Where d’you want this?” He asked, nodding to the bale with that shine in his eyes that was always there, the one which told you that he was probably the kindest person you’d meet. Then again, that was a given, with how he’d relentlessly worked day and night with your dad out of commission.

Honestly, any more of him not becoming a wet rat while working and you’d probably throw a hissy fit. “Over there.” You pointed to the very messy stack of hay bales as you groomed PANDORA. You, in comparison to Clark’s pristine state, looked like a squirrel in mud. Great.

Clark did the thing boys annoyingly did all the time, where he’d effortlessly lift the bale and place it on top of the rest of the stack without so much as a flicker of his expression to acknowledge the weight, grunting under breath, “There you go.”

Clark chuckled when he saw you, your face and hair drenched in sweat as you petted poor ol’ PANDORA, your horse looking slightly amused herself despite her being downcast. “Lookin’ hot.” He teased, grinning and crossing his arms, making no secret of his amusement at your current frazzled expression.

“Ha ha, real funny.” You rolled your eyes playfully, petting PANDORA’S coat as you sat by her. “Now, stop bein’ a male model and c’mere, sit.” You patted the hay beside you, a smile stuck on your face— well, you couldn’t help it when Clark Kent was with you.

Clark chuckled at your response, shaking his head and rolling his eyes in good nature at your joke, before obeying your order and walking over and sitting down beside you, his smile still on his face as he bumped his shoulder with yours, teasing a little more. “Stop bein’ a girl model then,” He answered back, chuckling lowly as he tilted his head at you, bumping his shoulder with yours again, before his eyes slid over to look at you, his expression turning a little more… affectionate.

You smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder, sighing and using your other hand to pat PANDORA, linking your arm with his. “She’s lonely.” You mumbled, “Dad ain’t here.” PANDORA was a little under the weather, considering how Wes wasn’t doing his rounds on the farm and coming to see her especially, so you were spending more time after school working in the stables and the fields, which was where Clark came in after Martha spotted you slaving away with the hay bales.

“Just don’t lift any tractors,” — was what Johnathan said to him.

Clark chuckled softly when you leaned into him, a small smile appearing on his face as he linked his arm with yours when you slotted it with his, his free hand gently squeezing your own in comfort, fingers intertwining with yours. It was so very natural for the both of you, like a rite of passage after knowing each other for no short than since you were children.

“Yeah, I bet,” He answered softly, his smile saddening slightly as he realised you were going through a tough time with your dad being injured, and gently rested his head onto yours, pressing his cheek to the top of your head. “You been holding up okay?” He asked quietly, concern in his eyes.

“Yeah, m’fine, I see Dad whenever I come home, but ‘DORA?” You nodded to the raven-coated horse as you stroked her mane, with her nickering in response and nuzzling your hand— Clark liked to think of you as an animal whisperer, or at least PANDORA as a human whisperer, cause sometimes there was the feeling like you knew what she was saying. Those big eyes were definitely sad. “She’s not as happy, I can feel it.”

Clark smiled a little when you spoke, his expression turning a little softer as he, too, regarded PANDORA, watching as you so sweetly brushed its mane. You’d always been an incredibly caring person, and right now, he couldn’t help but think of how adorable you were with animals.

He turned his head a little, pressing a small kiss to the top of your head, smiling softly. “Yeah, she’s missing your old man, huh?” He murmured quietly, his words tinged with comfort in an attempt to cheer you up a little.

“She’s the real daddy’s girl around here.” You laughed a bit, squeezing his hand— just an unconscious action, really. “I’d be surprised if she wasn’t. Upset, y’know.” Your free hand kept on petting her head, watching PANDORA blink slowly at him, probably reading him— no, actually, she was.

Clark chuckled at your words, amused as he looked over at your expression and laughed when you laughed, his smile slightly lopsided when you squeezed his hand, fingers squeezing back in response to your action, his heart fluttering a little at the sight of you.

“Yeah, doesn’t shock me one bit, honestly.” He replied softly, smiling at the sight of you fussing over your horse, before his eyes slid back to you again. That expression of concern returned, his expression growing a little sadder as he thought about how stressed you were probably feeling.

You noticed the silence and looked up to Clark, head tilting as your big eyes went puppy-like in confusion— sparkles, furrowed eyebrows. “Hey, sweet boy.” You poked his cheek gently. “Where’d the smile go?”

Clark smiled a little at your actions, chuckling softly when your eyes looked like sparkling puppy dog eyes, tilting his head a little as you poked his cheek. “M’fine, m’fine.” He mumbled out automatically, his words slightly mumbled under breath, his cheeks flushing a little as you called him ‘sweet boy’.

A teasing nickname you’d started when he was 14, which, even though he’d tried to shake, had stuck with him, a red blush on his cheeks as he smiled at you, before it fell again and he sighed. “Just worried, that’s all.”

“Worried about what?” Your arm that had linked with his patted his forearm, leaning your chin on his shoulder. “Talk to me, unless you’ll be stubborn.” There was no one more stubborn than a Kent.

Clark chuckled at your words and the slight accusation (which was very true, but he’d be stubborn and won’t admit to it, even though his cheeks burned a little at being called out), leaning his head to rest on yours, closing his eyes and sighing heavily, before he opened them again.

“Just worried about you, y’know.” He mumbled softly. “You seem down cause of your dad being injured, and I…” he trailed off, his cheeks growing pink, his eyes flickering over your face, “I don’t like it when you’re sad.”

“I guess it’s natural, I always thought Dad was, like, invincible.” You grinned slightly at the thought, at the memories of never seeing your dad sick, of when he’d lift you on his shoulder or throw a rugby ball to Logan like he did in his championship days, “But s’okay, I’ve got my other favourite invincible person with me.” You ruffled his hair. “It’s like you’re made of steel.”

Man of Steel.

Clark gave a small laugh, an affectionate smile taking over his face as you spoke, his cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink at your words, grinning when you ruffled his unruly locks. “Pfft, m’made of steel, am I?” He teased, his tone lighthearted as a chuckle escaped his mouth. It was a comment that had been said many times in his direction.

“Only for you, then.” He responded, grinning a little wider, his eyes dancing affectionately as they flicked up and down your face— how did you do it? Clark was yet to uncover how you always managed to make his worries melt away with one little smile and a joke from you.

“That makes me feel special, thank you.” You giggled, nudging him, both of you basking in the evening sun, casting shadows and that wonderful dewy-looking glow— mind you, you had an amazing view of it from your farm.

Clark smiled, chuckling when you nudged him, his eyes returning to your form as you basked in the setting sun. He just… smiled, taking in the sight of you and the golden glow of a beautiful evening, the sun bathing you both in this beautiful warm glow that made you look, I don’t know, Lex level expensive. He didn’t take his eyes from you, simply taking in your expression, the small laugh that escaped your lips, the beautiful view of the sunset lighting up your face…

“God, you’re gorgeous.” He breathed out quietly.

The statement came from his mouth so suddenly, and he suddenly felt a lump in it upon saying it— it was the type’a thing he’d say to Lana, not you, not that you weren’t gorgeous, but he just couldn’t fathom where it came from. But you just… you looked to him, eyebrows raised with a small grin, still stroking PANDORA as she nickered beside you, almost like a small tease to his slip up. “You’re gorgeous too, Kent.” You said back with a soft chuckle, gently touching your temple to his, not sceptical, reassuring. After all, you were the town’s southern belle.

His heart was fluttering as he felt you gently knock your head against his affectionately, his eyes flickered from your eyes back to you, a soft expression that he couldn’t control from appearing on his face. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He mumbled out quietly, his expression still soft as he smiled, his arm squeezing yours gently as he continued looking at you, lip caught between his teeth. “Not as gorgeous as you, though.”

“That’s a high bar, yeah.” Then you let the silence linger a bit, hang in the air like a hovering blanket of sorts, trying to find the words— what? It’s not like only the Kents were stubborn. “Thank you, by the way. For the farm.” You smiled genuinely. “I’d be run ragged if it wasn’t for you.” You opened my arms for a hug, and like come-frickin’-on, how could he refuse that grin on your face?

“C’mere.” He chuckled, beckoning you over, and he felt at home, wrapping his arms around your waist and squeezing you tight against his chest, burying his face into your neck, his eyes closed as he inhaled your scent. “Hey. ‘S not a problem.” He murmured. “We’re both farm babies, it’s a rite’a passage.”

Your head popped up from his shoulder with a slightly confused giggle, head tilted, nose bumping against his. “Did you just call us farm babies?”

He raised his eyebrows in challenge, corner of his lip quirking. “Objections?”

“None.” And there you went again, burying your head in the crook of his neck, breathing in the earthy scent which made Clark him, feeling him shift you so you were sitting on his thighs, hand holding your dusty cheek like he was protecting you, cheek resting on your head. It always felt like that, really, like Clark was protecting something or the other.

You didn’t mind; it was part of him.

𝒇𝒊𝒏 ❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

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