Before Wes, well, graduated, grew up, got married, had kids and moved to a farm, he used to be Smallville High’s star quarterback, hottest jock, lady magnet and overall party animal, which was when he met you to match. You, the girl who had more fire in her than a flamethrower, a rave queen, extraordinary woman who he fell hopelessly for at first sight, and you turned out to be his prom queen, his girl and later his only lady. Honestly, he’s one lucky-ass bastard.

Wow.

What came with the territory was also his kid growing up, so in the kitchen of his house residing on the farm he saw his daughter, yours and his baby girl, getting all giggly with that Clark Kent— might have to sic Logan on him just for good measure. Even if Clark was a good kid, for good measure.

He just couldn’t believe you’d both come this far from who you were— he wasn’t the careless jock anymore, plus he’d played championship games and won them, becoming America’s small town hailed golden boy and retired too, to be closer to you. If this man could be labelled anything, it was the most smitten, love-stricken, hopelessly devoted man that America could ever have to offer.

“Look at ‘er out there, honey.” His chin rested on your shoulder as he looked out the window at your daughter out laughing with Clark, holding your hand— it felt so surreal, didn’t it? Yeah, just being here, all calm, it felt like his own, personal slice of heaven.

“Should I be worried?” Wes grinned, kissing your cheek, laughing against it— what was he laughing at, you ask? The fact that the two giggly kids out there were the replica of you and him back when you were young and stupid, that’s why he was laughing, because he still felt that way with you.

Even after all this time, he couldn’t help the way he looked at you, couldn’t stop the love that he felt.