"I'll, uh...I'll get some clothes from Clark's room, I'm about his size." Wes said quietly, not wanting to drive home too hard that that was very much not the case at the moment. "Be back as quick as I can."
Nick nodded numbly, allowing himself to slip (at least momentarily) out of crisis mode now that things were in motion. Though he heard the clatter in the background of Wes dressing and then leaving, his focus had shifted entirely to the terrified toddler whose tiny curled toes dangled well above the carpet as he sat frozen on the edge of the couch.
"Nuh...Nick?" Clark raised his shimmering eyes to those of his friend, chin quivering as he sniffled miserably. "I don'...I don' wanna..."
"No, hey, Clark...please...please don't cry..." Desperate to soothe his friend, Nick went with his first instinct - which was to pluck Clark off the couch by his underarms so he could pull the boy into a great big hug. The toddler tensed. He was shocked that Nick could pick him up, mortified that his once equally-statured friend could now - with one arm wrapped around Clark's slender back and the other supporting Clark's tiny tush - easily carry his sleight weight. But he grew calmer with every nuzzle and whispered word of reassurance, and soon Clark's soft curls were tickling Nick's neck as he rested his head on the bigger boy's shoulder. Nick, for his part, could barely believe that the cuddly little guy in his arms was the same boy he'd confessed to and fooled around with the night before - much less his full-grown, buff, self-confident roommate. Nick's heart swelled with protective love for his friend, as he laid a reassuring kiss on the toddler's impossibly smooth cheek. He vowed he wouldn't let Clark get hurt by another of his mistakes ever again.
"Fanks, Nick..." Clark peeped when he was finally composed enough to speak, the blush on his dimpled cheeks giving away how much he hated his babyish lisp. "Doncha need ta work on da gun?"
"Only if you're okay." Nick pulled back to give Clark a look which insisted that he would be happy to comfort his friend for as long as he needed. The toddler nodded and managed the tiniest of smiles, prompting a huge grin from the eleven-year-old in return. "There's my big brave boy!"
My big brave boy! Clark beamed. For some reason he really liked the sound of that, even if he suspected that Nick was teasing him a bit by saying it. There was, after all, very little reason for him to feel big or brave. The truth of that became all too real when Nick set Clark down on his tiny bare feet. The two-year-old wobbled a moment from the vertigo of having lost a foot and a half of height before he dare cast his eyes downward at the evidence of just how little and young he'd become. The stubby fingers and bite-sized toes, the flabby weak limbs, the soft round tummy, the nub and half-walnut tucked between his pudgy thighs...though every new detail threatened to drive him back to tears, Clark knew that real heroes were at their strongest when everything seems at its worst.
He suddenly remembered the Superman pose he had put on yesterday, back when he was a whole ten years old. Superman was the hero he most wanted to be because he's strong and he can fly and because Clark had the same name as Superman's secret identity. If I was Superman, Clark thought, I would fly all the way around the world and beat up all the bad guys, then I would fly to the moon and to the other planets to meet the aliens and be friends with them if they're nice but beat them up too if they're bad. I wonder if aliens talk like people. Maybe Superman can talk to aliens 'cause he's an alien too. Maybe I'm thinking like a kid 'cause of like that thing that happened last night when I was scared of the dark, but it's not like I was REALLY scared I just wanted to sleep in Nick's bed 'cause he's so big an' smart an' cool an' -
"Clark? You okay?"
The toddler snapped to attention to see Nick looking at him with concern.
"You've, uh, just been standing there and staring off into space. And also..."
It was not until Nick gestured with his eyes that Clark realized he'd been chewing on a tiny finger much like any other very small child caught up in infantile ruminations. The little boy turned beet red as he let it slip free from his lips, squirming in shame as he stared at the ground.
"Sowwy..."
"Hey, it's okay." Nick chuckled and ruffled Clark's dark mop of curls, then extended an iPad in his direction. "I'm gonna get to work on the gun - here's my tablet so you can watch something in the meantime."
Clark pouted as he took the device, which seemed impossibly huge in his tiny chubby hands. Though he resented the insinuation that he were a rugrat that needed to be distracted by a screen, the toddler was in truth relieved to have something to focus on. A chill went down Clark's tiny spine when he considered how easily and quickly he had drifted off into childish thoughts - it felt to him as though the effects on his consciousness were that much more powerful now that he was that much younger. Determined to maintain his maturity, Clark perused with a stubby finger the infinite offerings made available to him by his bevy of streaming services. A documentary would be just the ticket for keeping his mind sharp...but at the same time, some of those cartoons looked really fun...