A/N: First story of the year! YAY! Well...for here anyway. I've been venturing through the Yj anon meme again. The winter break just made my muse go into hibernation, and I had finals last week. So please ignore my horrible structure that I call a story. Enjoy!

Prompt:

Superman and Superboy are forced into a bonding session, and Superman really doesn't know what to say until Superboy asks him, "What's it like to fly?"

And suddenly, it seems a little easier.

Gen please!

Danger was supposed to be a word used to describe the questionable survival of a person's existence. At least that's what Clark thought. So why did his mind scream "Danger" when Bruce told him that he needed to stop by Mount Justice for an urgent meeting, only to find himself forced into one of the Belle Reve collars and led into one of the interrogation rooms?

"Sit," the Batman commanded gruffly, pointing one gloved finger to the steel (and very uncomfortable) looking chair.

"Is there a reason why I'm being treated like a prisoner?" Clark peered at his fellow League member.

"I have been patient enough as it is, Clark, I have left you enough time to approach the boy, but you left me no choice but to force you."

"What are you talk-"

The only other door in the room slid open with ease to reveal a grim looking Black Canary and a scowl wearing Superboy. Granted, Clark didn't seem to be the only one who didn't know what was going on since Superboy's eyes widened in shock and gave the blonde woman a questioning glance. Only a curt nod was the boy's answer. When did Black Canary and Superboy establish silent communication?

The clone, his clone, walked up to the table and pulled out the identical chair that was across from Clark. Even if he knew it was a failure, Clark tried to give Bruce the same questioning look, but the cloaked figure just grunted, before gesturing between the two of them with one word, "Talk," and swirled towards the doors, not before smacking Superman in the face with the end of his cape, and walked out of the room. Black Canary threw them an amused look before walking out as well.

It was awkward as hell, given the way Superboy stared at him unblinkingly.

"Um...Superboy..." He reached up to loosen the necktie that had started to tighten around his neck uncomfortably.

"Conner."

"What?"

"I'm off duty. My name's Conner."

Clark blinked in surprise, "Oh...Well, I actually have no idea what just happened..."

Conner, apparently, shrugged, slouching in his chair and crossing his arms, "Black Canary and Batman want us to bond, and to prevent you from breaking and running away they put you in that choker."

Something in his gut started to hurt, and Clark had to look away from his clone.

"I don't see any point in this, really. I've come to terms with you not having anything to do with me."

"Look...C-Conner, it wasn't my intention to-"

"I understand, Superman. I've been doing a lot of thinking, and I understand. You, who have believed to be the only Kryptonian left living and then suddenly thrust into the same reality where that becomes a lie? I get it. And the fact that I am your clone, another you...just seems unnerving to you.

"Sure, it's taken a lot of talking with my teammates and breaking stuff to see why you kept on avoiding me, but now I get it. So really, again, I don't see any point in Black Canary and Batman doing all of this."

Clark, at some point, had started to stare at the teenaged clone in front of him, really studied him with the utmost wonder because that's what he had tried to get across to everyone who had given him crap about all of this. And this boy, the one person he had been avoiding was the one to understand all of it, and because of that, the guilt in his gut weighed down on him more than all the nasty looks that the rest of the League members had given him. (Batman didn't count because he just gave him the same looks as he had prior to their knowledge of Superboy's existence.)

"I'm...sorry...Conner. I just...it hit me like a Kryptonite sledge hammer when you told me you were my clone. It was difficult to process that bit of information."

Conner nodded with a grim smile.

"And for that I'm sorry that I hurt you."

"Okay." That one simple word had made the tension in the room ease away, but the odd silence that followed made Clark squirm a bit.

"So, how's school?" Both had the unspoken agreement that there would be no telling when they would get out, so it was best to start talking as Batman had told them.

"It's alright..."

"Sports?"

"None at the moment."

"Girlfriend."

"I'm dating Miss Martian."

"Oh...congrats?"

"Thanks."

Ten minutes passed and the conversation had ended as it had began. Uninteresting questions answered by just a few words. Clark guessed it was genetic since he wasn't much of a social person, even if his occupation was a reporter, socializing just to socialize wasn't much his forte. That was until Conner asked him one inquisitive and thought making question.

"What's it like to fly?"

That was confusing, shouldn't he know? "I thought you..."

A shake of the head was his answer.

"How old are you?"

"Physically, 16. Literally, 3 months."

Realization spread through his face and he chuckled softly. "I didn't start flying until I was 18. So you've got two years on you. But to answer your question...it's like falling with style."

"..."

"Right...okay. You haven't seen Toy Story then. Uh, flying is like feeling a great big fan blowing against your whole body. The weight that you normally feel from your own body disappears. It's addicting the first few times you try it. The freedom, and control of your own body of how high it can go is exhilarating."

Conner was lost in thought at that. No doubt trying to imagine what it's like.

"If you want, I could take you flying some time. It may not be the same since you wouldn't be in control, but it's pretty close."

"Yeah..." Conner replied softly, "I'd like that."