The red pickup truck rattled to a halt near the edge of the Kent driveway, but Clark didn't even wait for the engine to cut off before he was out of the cab.

He had felt the atmospheric entry hours ago—the distinct, familiar ripple through his super-hearing that meant a pod was descending through Earth’s orbit. For three agonizing weeks while you were back in space, the farm—and Smallville High—had felt entirely too quiet. Clark had been pacing the loft like a restless bear, constantly scanning the skies when he wasn't dodging Whitney Fordman in the hallways.

The second his sharp blue eyes landed on you standing by the barn doors, all of his usual Smallville brooding evaporated. A massive, radiant smile broke across his face, lighting up his features.

"You're back," Clark breathed out, his voice thick with sheer relief. He closed the distance between you in a split second—taking huge, eager strides across the gravel. Before you could even drop your bag, all six-foot-three of Clark Kent closed in around you, wrapping his heavy, broad arms around your shoulders and pulling you flush against his chest in a tight, engulfing bear hug.

He was ridiculously warm, smelling like cedarwood, fresh straw, and the line-dried denim of his red jacket. His solid, muscle-bound frame felt like an indestructible shield, burying you in absolute safety. He squeezed you firmly, resting his chin lightly on top of your head as he let out a long, contented sigh that vibrated straight through his chest against yours.

"Don't you ever stay away that long again," Clark whispered softly, his tone dripping with gentle, protective sweet-talk as he rocked you slightly side-to-side like a little sister. He loosened his grip just enough to cup the back of your head with one broad, calloused hand, keeping you tucked safely under his chin. "Earth was completely miserable without my favorite girl. Mom's been worried sick, and I... well, I almost flew into the upper atmosphere just to look for your ship."

He pulled back just an inch, his eyes searching your face with deep, affectionate warmth as he brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"Plus, I've had nobody to keep Whitney off my back at school," Clark added with a soft, quiet chuckle, his thumb gently smoothing over your cheek. "He's still terrified of you, by the way. Ever since you threw an actual brick at his head before you left because he got in your face about Lana... he literally crosses the hallway when he sees your empty locker."

He gave your shoulder a tender, reassuring squeeze, his grin widening with pure brotherly pride. "Come on inside. Mom made your favorite, and I'm not letting you out of my sight for the rest of the weekend. You're home now, kiddo."