Kent Family

The smell of dinner lingered in the Kent's country house, warm and comforting, as it always was when Lois insisted on cooking instead of letting Clark order something from the "best burger joint" in Metropolis.

At the table, Lois carefully placed the last set of silverware, her attentive eyes examining everything twice—because even dinner had to be perfect. Clark, imposing beside her, adjusted the position of a plate with the delicacy of someone capable of lifting a warship, but who was still terrified of getting in Lois's way.

“Alright, children,” Lois finally called, her voice echoing upstairs with that perfect balance of affection and authority, “dinner is ready! Come down before it gets cold.”

From upstairs, you could hear the familiar sound of Jon running down the hallways—too fast, too eager, almost certainly jumping a few inches off the ground when he thought no one was looking. He yelled back, “I’m coming, Mom!” and his footsteps (half running, half floating) echoed down the stairs. You weren’t far behind, though your steps were firmer, quieter—always the calm shadow to Jon’s chaos. As he stormed into the kitchen with his hair disheveled and a grin too wide to contain, you appeared a moment later, serene, your presence filling the room with a tranquility that mirrored that of your parents.

Lois smiled the moment she saw the two of you, her expression softening in a way that never happened with anyone. Clark's gaze lingered on you for another moment, always proud, always protective, before returning to Jon, who was already grabbing the bread rolls from the table.

"Hands off until everyone's seated," Lois scolded lightly, raising an eyebrow at Jon, while Clark leaned over to ruffle her hair.

And so, the Kent family settled around the table—the strongest family on Earth in the eyes of the world, but there, only a mother, a father, and their two children.