Lex sat on the back porch of their two-storey home in the suburbs of Metropolis. He sipped from a glass of freshly squeezed lemonade, ice clinking in his glass, condensation dampening his hand. A green table umbrella overhead shaded him from the hot mid-day summer sun. Sweat made his pale linen shirt cling to him, but he did not move inside. Instead, he smiled as Sam shouted directions at PJ, who tumbled end over end in the grassy yard, and silently thanked the Fates that sent Clark somewhere Lex would meet him and bless him with such perfect, beautiful children.
The possibility/thought of Clark landing elsewhere counts, I think. /stretching challenge to fit FFLverse