-Today we have an Artemis and Superboy centric piece from the perspectives of Oliver Queen and Lois Lane respectively-

"Clark." Lois sung, swinging slowly by his desk. "I'm popular, don't you know?"

"Did somebody slander you?" The man was hunched inches from his computer display, typing away busily.

"Better." She held up a leaf of freshly printed pages. "A highschooler wrote an admiration piece about me-- and made it public!"

"Lo, you're not--"

"Of course I'm going to read it." She tutted. "If I feel especially generous, I'll grade it." and with that Lois returned to her desk.

The cover page of the essay gave her some insight into the author: Conner Kent, 11th grade, Mr. Burnard's Class, Happy Harbor High School. It was kind of precious, in the way a bunch of crayon scribbles can be precious; it was double spaced and typed in Times New Roman-- bless this kid's heart. 

Oliver had learned many things about kids and teens since he took Roy in, but the first one was probably that they always left stuff in their pockets and forgot about it. As a result he insisted on shaking out their laundry before washing it, just in case. It was one of the most embarrassingly fatherly things he had to do regularly. 

It was on one of these occasions that he found, at the bottom of a hamper, a few small plastic packages.

He picked them up.

He immediately dropped them.

Lube. Water-based, name-brand lube. He ran to wash his hands, if only to deal with the horror of it all.

Had it really gone that far? Had he really become the bossy dad who suspected his kids of things they obviously didn't do? Or, knowing his kids, something they definitely did do.

Was it Roy? Fuck, that was gross, but he hoped it was true, because the alternative... no, it couldn't be his little girl; she was only fifteen! Sure, Oliver had been sexually active as a teen, but Artemis was just a kid! 

He had to sit down. 

It had to be Roy's.

Conner Kent wasn't a bad writer, he presented facts clearly in plain language, everything was grammatically correct, it was well researched... he could have been a bit more expressive though, the middle of the essay slogged a bit.

Lois copy-pasted the kid's student email from the document and threw it into a new email. 

She wasn't crazy, she didn't want to shoot down the young writer, but if she was a teen writing to their idol then she'd want some advice from them. She'd just let him know she liked his approach, but advised studying narrative works to create more compelling works. She'd make it a compliment sandwich and pray she didn't come off to harsh and crush this kid.

"Errr, Roy?"

"Yeah?" Roy pulled his headphones back, still clacking away at an application. 

"I was just... returning these." He squeezed into the room, holding out the packets with a fringe of embarrassment. "I found them in the wash."

Roy glanced fleetingly at the lube packets, not even processing what they were. "Not mine. Ask Artemis." He shrugged, sliding his headphones back on. "Close the door?"

Oliver staggered back down the hallway. From the guest room he heard Artemis' voice cursing at a video game and laughing.

Ollie went back downstairs.

"How was it?" Clark asked that afternoon as the two of them stared down the slowly filling coffee pot.

Lois perked up, pulled out of her friday-afternoon daze. "Hmm? Oh, the essay? It was cute. A little too professional for what is essentially an opinion piece, but cute." 

"That's nice." Clark replied. "I used to do stuff like that all the time: write about people I admired. Where's the kid from?"

"Somewhere called Happy Harbor, Rhode Island." She shrugged. "I googled it, has a population of like 35k or something tiny like that." Clark's eyebrows raised a quarter inch, but she saw hen rise. "What?"

"What?"

"You were... She gestured at his face. "Doing that look you do when you forgot to call your mom."

"Oh, uh, I was just trying to remember the population of Smallville, to compare." He laughed lightly. "It's definitely less that 3500."

"Clark, the way you talk about it, it sounds like there's a population of twelve!" She shook her head. "I was actually thinking about you earlier."

"Really?" Clark fumbled with his glasses, trying to wipe a smudge off.

She laughed a little. "Not like that. It's because the kid's last name was Kent."

"Oh." Clark got that look again, eyebrows up and jaw tight, like a slightly concerned boarder collie.

"What now?" 

"Nothing." Clark said quickly. "I... uh... I think the coffee's done."

Artemis.

The sweet summer child. 

The same kid who asked for new kneepads for her last birthday.

The same kid who's mother, an ex-assassin, had entrusted her to his care.

"Okay, Ollie, what's wrong?" Dinah sunk onto the sofa beside him, tossing her platinum hair back over her shoulder. "You've barely eaten, you're not talking, are you sulking about something?"

"First: I thought I asked you not to play playground therapist with me." He sighed, siting up. "Second: Look what I found in the laundry." He held out the packets. Dinah grabbed one to inspect. "I asked Roy, but he says he knows nothing about it, so it has to be..."

"They're mine."

"What?"

"I was in that little sex shop of Granville." She said quickly. "They were free samples so I just..."

Oliver didn't think he'd been that relieved since Roy graduated last year. "You mean...?"

"They aren't hers."

He let out the heaviest sigh of his life. "Thank god."

Dinah stuffed the lube packets into her coat pocket. "I'm sure you have nothing to worry about."

"M'gann! Megan!"

"No running!"

Conner forcefully slowed himself to a powerwalk, hastening to where M'gann and her other friends were sitting. "She saw it."

"Who saw what?" Karen asked.

"Lois Lane!"  Conner exclaimed.

 "A journalist we read once in class." M'gann explained, standig from the floor in front of the lockers. "Conner wrote his person-I-admire essay about her. Oh Conner, that's great!" She pulled him into a hug so tight it lifted his toes off the floor. A little sheepish, she put him back down. "Did she tweet about it or something?"

"Better." Conner shook his head. "She emailed me advising me on how to improve my writing."

The circle of  students gave each other unsure looks. "I'm sorry?" Wendy tentatively asked.

"Why?" Conner asked. "This is great, I'm going to copy down her advice before lunch ends."

"Artemis?" Dinah knocked softly on the door. 

"Yeah?"

She pushed the door open. "I think I have something of yours." Curiously, the girl looked up from her homework. Dinah shook the little plastic packets out onto the bedcovers.

Artemis gasped. "Where--"

"Ollie found them in the laundry-- don't worry, I told him they were mine-- but," She pressed one into the kid's hand, "Maybe keep track of that. I think he'd have a heart attack if he ever learned you're dating someone."

"You won't tell him?" She pleaded.

"Our secret." Dinah rested a hand on her head, "Now get changed, you have work tonight."