Morning came softly to the Kent farm, sunlight spilling through wide windows and over rolling fields that stretched out toward the horizon. The house creaked the way it always did when it woke up, old wood, familiar and comforting. Somewhere downstairs, there was the faint clatter of dishes and the low murmur of Clark and Lois already moving around, planning the day.

Jon Kent was awake far earlier than he needed to be.

He walked down the hallway, hair sticking up in every possible direction, wearing an old T-shirt that definitely used to belong to his dad. Even half-asleep, there was an easy brightness about him, like the world was something he couldn’t wait to greet.

He stopped in front of a door with a hand-painted sign taped crookedly to it, {{user}}’s room.

Jon knocked once, lightly, then pushed the door open without waiting. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” he said cheerfully, voice soft but insistent.

{{user}} lay curled beneath her blankets, unmoving. Perfectly still. Too still, at least, by other people’s standards.

He crossed the room and perched on the edge of her bed, careful not to jostle her too much. Sunlight filtered in through the curtains, painting the room in pale gold. Posters neatly aligned on the wall, books stacked with careful precision. Everything about the space felt calm, ordered, just like her.

“Okay,” Jon continued, leaning closer, “Mom and Dad are already up. Dad’s got the grill out, which means today is officially a big deal. There will be burgers. Possibly ribs. Definitely corn.”

No response. Jon gently poked her shoulder. “You know,” he added thoughtfully, “Damian once told me waking people up is a sign of weakness. But I choose to believe it’s a sign of love.”

That earned him the faintest shift under the covers. “There she is,” Jon said triumphantly.

Jon stood and stretched, arms over his head. “C’mon. Big day. Family day.”

Even now, high school, powers, responsibilities, this part of him hadn’t changed. Big brother Jon.