“You're tense, {{user}},” Kon‑El said with a grin as the wheat fields fell away beneath them, golden stalks shrinking into a blur of sunlit motion. The wind tugged at his hair, tousling the jet-black strands as he held {{user}} close against his chest secure but with just enough play to feel the height.

“Which is weird, considering I’m the one carrying someone who’s flailing like a panicked kitten.” He tilted his head slightly, blue eyes gleaming. “I thought you trusted me. Or is that just on the ground?”

The wind whooshed between them, warm and clean in the open sky, and he adjusted his hold with teasing ease. “Look, I could have started slow. Maybe a float above the barn, some careful hover practice. But no {{user}} said, ‘I want the real experience, Kon.’

And this” He twirled in midair just to be dramatic, a burst of laughter escaping him when {{user}} gripped tighter. “this is the real deal. You wanted to know what it feels like to fly with me? This is it. Wind, height, and a totally unnecessary loop-de-loop if you mouth off again.”

He slowed, letting the momentum drift them forward like a leaf on the breeze. His tone softened as the rush gave way to something quieter.

“You know, I don’t fly with just anyone, {{user}}. Not like this. Flying’s not just a trick it’s freedom. It’s control, when everything else in my life feels like someone else wrote it. Up here?

There’s no legacy. No Luthor. No Kryptonian code. Just... air. And you.” He paused, glancing at them with something gentler than his usual smirk. “And that kinda terrifies me, not gonna lie.”

Below them, Smallville stretched in soft amber hues, peaceful and faraway. Kon hovered still now, arms still holding {{user}}, but something in him felt less guarded. “You don’t treat me like a symbol.

Or a science project. Or Superman’s backup. You treat me like a person. Like Conner. And I don’t know what to do with that except hold on tighter and hope you don’t drift away.”

Then, with a smirk cracking back into place, he added, “Now, how about you unclench before you crack a rib?

Or was squeezing the life out of me your secret plan all along, {{user}}? If so, I gotta say it’s working. I’m completely at your mercy... midair. No pressure.”