"I wanna see Nick!" Clark chirped. "I wan' him to know dat I'm okay."
"That's very mature of you - I'm sure he'll appreciate it." Wes commended the toddler. "Would you like me to carry you inside? Or do you wanna try walking?"
"I...I..."
Clark gripped Wes' shirt a little more tightly and burrowed a little deeper into his warm, comforting embrace. Much as he was loathe to leave those big strong arms, he didn't want to resign himself to being completely dependent on the kindness of the tender and patient young man. Though Clark was dizzied by merely glancing at the ground - how could it possibly be that far away? - he mustered his courage and reached a resolution...with one compromise.
"...howd my hand?"
"Of course, sweet boy." Wes chuckled as he kissed Clark's forehead, charmed by the plaintiveness in the toddler's tiny voice. He gently lowered Clark until his bite-size toes dug into the soft tickle of the plush carpeting, the two-year-old whimpering and wobbling as he attempted for the first time to balance himself while diapered. The soft thick padding that spread his pudgy legs apart also forced him to find a new center of gravity, and it was only after several seconds of experimenting - his tiny palm enclosed securely in Wes' great big hand all the while - that Clark finally found a stance he could work with.
Clark took a literal baby step, testing his infantile strength and recalibrating before taking another, and another, and another. With each step he grew more comfortable and confident, and before he knew it Clark was leading Wes out of the room. The toddler beamed up at Wes at this realization, his smile somehow only growing brighter and wider when Wes grinned back and squeezed the delicate little hand wrapped in his. Clark marched gallantly down the hall, able even to ignore the audible crinkles he produced with each proud step forward. He was too busy marveling at the radical new perspective from which he was seeing an all-too-familiar environment, the walls on either side stretching up like sheer canyons towards a ceiling that was as bright and high and white as the snowy morning sky. That said, Clark's attention shifted instantly to his target once he crossed the doorway into Nick's room, the two-year-old so eager to see his best friend that he broke away from Wes' grip and toddle-ran the rest of the way to where the preteen was working.
"Boo!"
"GAH!" Nick jumped in his chair, startled from his work by Clark's cry. He spun around to find his roommate standing there in nothing but a t-shirt and a diaper, giggling his little head off at his successful scare. "Uh, Clark? Are you okay man?"
"Nevah bettah." Clark declared. "Wes was weawwy nice to me."
"Oh." Nick looked up as Wes appeared behind Clark, prompting the toddler to gaze up adoringly at the smiling young man. "That's...I'm glad to hear that. Aw, wow, he even got you a t-shirt that...Wes, how did you find one that fits him so well? You only saw him for a second before leaving."
"Well, I mean..." Wes, flustered, scratched the back of his head. "Since my sister had her boys I've had to make emergency runs to Target for kid's clothing more times than I could count. I guess I've gotten pretty good at eyeballing what'll fit a kid and look cute on them - not that this little ball of adorability needs any help."
Clark squirmed in delight as Wes ruffled his messy mop of chestnut curls. When the man looked up, it was to see Nick frowning at the two of them.
"Nick?" Wes snapped the boy from whatever trance he'd been in. "You good?"
"Yeah. Yeah, totally." Nick muttered, suddenly unable to meet Wes or Clark's eyes. "It's great that you guys are getting along so well. I'm happy for you."
"You don' sound happy..." Clark acutely observed, his delight disappearing at the sight of Nick's distress. "Is evewyfing okay?"
"I"m fine." Nick snapped. "It's my fault the gun's broken, so I have to fix it. I don't know what's wrong and I can't focus on anything for more than five minutes, but hey, that's my fault too, right?"
"Nick, I - "
Wes tried to interject but the ranting boy cut him off.
"I have a lot of work to do."
With that he spun away from the pair and back towards his desk, the room silent save for that of Nick - perhaps a bit more roughly than before - handling the gun as he continued its repairs. Clark was confused and distressed as he looked up at Wes for guidance, catching but a split-second of his obvious concern before the young man's expression melted into that of a reassuring smile.
"Well, it sounds like we should leave Nick alone for now." Wes declared, tone free of any judgment that could be directed the preteen's way. "He's got a lot of work to do to make sure you grow up big and strong - like Superman!"
With that Wes took Clark by the waist and plucked him into the air, the toddler squealing in surprise and then in pure glee as the man held him high above his head in a flying position. Immediately swept up in the fantasy, Clark - whose sharp grin at that moment could've split boulders - extended one arm to replicate the soaring pose of his favorite superhero just as Wes rushed out of the room, dipping the toddler this way and that as he made ridiculous whooshing noises and narrated every exciting detail of Clark's imaginary flight.
The laughter of the man and the boy echoed back down the hall and into Nick's room. He stopped, looked over his shoulder, and stared at the empty doorframe through which they had burst. After a moment, he rose, crossed the room, and shut the door. It muffled their joy as he got back to work.