Happy Birthday, Talitha78!
Ahem! I know it's late in Chicago, but hopefully you're still up. The nuns don't have you going to bed early, surely??? I'm posting from work, like the wannabe supervillain I am.
Anyway, talitha78, best of good buddies, a very happy birthday to you and many happy returns. This is a first installment of what I'm calling Twelve Several Days of Christmas Talitha's Birthday. I thought I'd take a whirlwind tour of your current fandoms, but some things never change so I started with your oldest, the one where we met.
Lex Luthor's personal cell phone chirped merrily, interrupting the representative from Stark Industries mid word. The young man looked surprised and more than a little annoyed. It was, to be fair, a gross breach of etiquette during negotiations for a strategic partnership, especially since everyone present had been required to turn in their phones at reception. On the other hand, if Tony Stark wanted to acquire a presence in Metropolis, he really should have come himself.
"I am sorry," Lex said earnestly. "This must be urgent." In truth it was unlikely to be any such thing. Clark was the only person who even had the number, and when he had urgent business, it usually took more than a phone call to fix. Lex only carried the damn thing - and kept it permanently on - because Clark insisted that he got into trouble often enough to require an emergency line. Arrant nonsense.
"Yes?" he asked, feigning seriousness, but secretly hoping Clark had something amusing to impart after an afternoon of utter, mind-numbing, boredom. "Oh, my god!" he exclaimed, horrified.
The Lexcorp representatives at the table looked worried. The Stark representatives looked curious.
"No, of course not," Lex continued, standing up and shoving the multifarious papers and binders he'd been handed into a haphazard pile. He glanced at his briefcase, then shamelessly abandoned the lot. Someone would sort it out. Someone was doubtless paid a good salary to do so. "I'm on my way!" he insisted. "Gentlemen, ladies," he nodded at the assembled executives. "I'm afraid I have to leave."
"Of course, of course," they murmured in unison, already turning to theorise in twos and threes as he walked briskly out of the conference room and towards the elevator.
As soon as the doors closed safely behind him he snapped into the phone, "I did not forget! I'm on my way right now!"
"You're in the elevator," Clark said. "I can hear the reverb of your voice off the walls."
"The elevator at home," Lex lied brazenly.
"The elevator at work!" Clark insisted. "The security measures distort the sound completely differently."
"It was an important meeting, Clark," Lex said tersely. Probably patronisingly, if he was honest. Embarrassment was starting to get the better of him.
"It wasn't!" Clark shouted. "That's why Tony's in the Bahamas, and you're meant to be here with me, while your deputies handle the preliminaries."
Crap! It was true. No wonder the Stark execs had looked surprised to see him. No wonder the first presenter had looked hounded when he'd asked her a question. How could he have forgotten? Denial, no doubt. Denial deep and wide enough to drown a desert country. Why did no one dare ask him what the hell he thought he was doing anymore? Pepper Potts had clearly reminded Tony where his presence was truly required, ie the beach; perhaps he could seduce her away...?
"I'll be there, Clark," he insisted more gently.
"It was your idea," Clark said bitterly. "You said we'd organise it."
"I suggested the banquet hall at the Plaza," Lex said equally bitterly. The word 'organise' had never crossed his lips. He did not organise things. Not things that took place in church halls, anyway. "I said I'd pay for it!"
"And I told you that wasn't an option!" Clark insisted. "I told you what they'd want, and you agreed. If you couldn't spare the time," Clark played his trump card from the bottom of the deck, "I would have asked Lana to help me."
Lex bristled all over. "I was not having your ex-fiancée organise this. They're my goddamn in-laws."
"Your goddamn in-laws will be back from Grandville in an hour," Clark said coldly. "Dad loved the tractor you bought them, and might conceivably pardon your absence, but I, your husband, am surrounded by everyone my parents have ever met, which incidentally" - his voice dropped - "is why I'm not there right now kicking your ass, and will not."
"I'm on my way," Lex said desperately, sprinting out of the elevator and climbing into the first car he reached, a Saab he didn't even like. It had four doors, and was kryptonite green. God only knew who'd ordered it. "I'll be there," he insisted as he gunned the engine. "Is Sheriff Daniels there? Tell him I'll donate $100,000 to the charity of his choice, in addition to all appropriate fines, if he'll turn a blind eye when I land the chopper on the church lawn."
"Lex!" Clark shrieked, scandalised. "You can't-"
Lex hung up on him, and flung the phone into the backseat.
Fifty-six minutes later he emerged from a Lexcorp helicopter onto the lawn of St Mark's Episcopalian, Smallville, the church where Jonathan and Martha Kent had gotten married thirty years before to the day. He'd managed to change out of his business suit en route, and into slacks and a cashmere sweater, which Clark assured him was correct attire for a potluck supper. He maintained his doubts.
They only increased when Lana met him on the lawn. She was wearing an exquisite aquamarine sheath and somehow remaining upright in stilettos on soggy ground. She looked great, and while it was good to be the guy who ultimately got the guy, it was still off-putting to be underdressed when set against the girl.
"Come on," she whispered. "Everyone's inside. Pete's stalling Mr and Mrs Kent out the front. If we sneak in the back you'll get away with it."
Lex sighed and took her offered hand. It was clearly time he admitted Clark had seen more in Lana than just looks.
They made it through the kitchen and into the darkness of the hall just as the main doors opened. Chloe shoved a glass of champagne - actually methode champenoise, nothing but the organically grown, domestic best for the Kents, but who was quibbling? - into his hand, and melted back into the crowd.
"Are you sure they need it fixed now, Pete?" Jonathan's irritated tone travelled in the silence. Lex found himself smiling at the thought it wasn't his to cherish all alone, after all.
"Oh, hush," Martha said sweetly. "It'll take you five minutes and-"
The lights snapped on.
"Surprise!" yelled the assembled multitude. Jonathan dropped his toolbox and clutched at Martha's arm. Martha just smiled, unruffled.
Clark stepped forward and cleared his throat. He was wearing jeans, which made Lex feel slightly better. He looked around nervously, spotted Lex, and visibly relaxed.
"Right," Clark started. "Right. Um. Lex and I" - Lex stood up straight and tried to look as though he was meant to be on the opposite side of the room - "want to thank everyone for coming here tonight to help us celebrate a very special occasion. There were some skeptics in this church thirty years ago, who didn't think a city girl would make it out here-”
Lex rolled his eyes. There’d been more than a few skeptics in this church three years ago too, who hadn’t thought a city boy could make it either. When he glanced across the hall, though, Martha was tearing up visibly, and even Jonathan, arm wrapped tightly around her, was looking a little misty. Clark's voice was beginning to wobble too. Well. Some things he didn't need an assistant for.
"To Jonathan and Martha," he broke in smoothly, stepping forward and raising his glass, "the best example any young couple could have. And to family, the most important thing of all. And to happily ever after."
The hall broke into cheers and applause as glasses were clinked together and Jonathan and Martha kissed sweetly. In the hubbub Clark materialised, unnoticed, at Lex's side.
"So I'll see you at the Plaza in twenty-seven years?" he whispered, all clearly forgiven.
"Hell no," Lex hissed back. "You'll see me right here. I want everyone in this room there, zimmer frames and all, so I can say 'I told you so'."
Clark laughed joyously, and squeezed his hand.
[I don't know where this came from, or where it fits in the timeline. Consider it a happy post-S3 AU future fic. IDEK. Wibbly wobbly, timey wimey.]
Anyway, talitha78, best of good buddies, a very happy birthday to you and many happy returns. This is a first installment of what I'm calling Twelve Several Days of Christmas Talitha's Birthday. I thought I'd take a whirlwind tour of your current fandoms, but some things never change so I started with your oldest, the one where we met.
Lex Luthor's personal cell phone chirped merrily, interrupting the representative from Stark Industries mid word. The young man looked surprised and more than a little annoyed. It was, to be fair, a gross breach of etiquette during negotiations for a strategic partnership, especially since everyone present had been required to turn in their phones at reception. On the other hand, if Tony Stark wanted to acquire a presence in Metropolis, he really should have come himself.
"I am sorry," Lex said earnestly. "This must be urgent." In truth it was unlikely to be any such thing. Clark was the only person who even had the number, and when he had urgent business, it usually took more than a phone call to fix. Lex only carried the damn thing - and kept it permanently on - because Clark insisted that he got into trouble often enough to require an emergency line. Arrant nonsense.
"Yes?" he asked, feigning seriousness, but secretly hoping Clark had something amusing to impart after an afternoon of utter, mind-numbing, boredom. "Oh, my god!" he exclaimed, horrified.
The Lexcorp representatives at the table looked worried. The Stark representatives looked curious.
"No, of course not," Lex continued, standing up and shoving the multifarious papers and binders he'd been handed into a haphazard pile. He glanced at his briefcase, then shamelessly abandoned the lot. Someone would sort it out. Someone was doubtless paid a good salary to do so. "I'm on my way!" he insisted. "Gentlemen, ladies," he nodded at the assembled executives. "I'm afraid I have to leave."
"Of course, of course," they murmured in unison, already turning to theorise in twos and threes as he walked briskly out of the conference room and towards the elevator.
As soon as the doors closed safely behind him he snapped into the phone, "I did not forget! I'm on my way right now!"
"You're in the elevator," Clark said. "I can hear the reverb of your voice off the walls."
"The elevator at home," Lex lied brazenly.
"The elevator at work!" Clark insisted. "The security measures distort the sound completely differently."
"It was an important meeting, Clark," Lex said tersely. Probably patronisingly, if he was honest. Embarrassment was starting to get the better of him.
"It wasn't!" Clark shouted. "That's why Tony's in the Bahamas, and you're meant to be here with me, while your deputies handle the preliminaries."
Crap! It was true. No wonder the Stark execs had looked surprised to see him. No wonder the first presenter had looked hounded when he'd asked her a question. How could he have forgotten? Denial, no doubt. Denial deep and wide enough to drown a desert country. Why did no one dare ask him what the hell he thought he was doing anymore? Pepper Potts had clearly reminded Tony where his presence was truly required, ie the beach; perhaps he could seduce her away...?
"I'll be there, Clark," he insisted more gently.
"It was your idea," Clark said bitterly. "You said we'd organise it."
"I suggested the banquet hall at the Plaza," Lex said equally bitterly. The word 'organise' had never crossed his lips. He did not organise things. Not things that took place in church halls, anyway. "I said I'd pay for it!"
"And I told you that wasn't an option!" Clark insisted. "I told you what they'd want, and you agreed. If you couldn't spare the time," Clark played his trump card from the bottom of the deck, "I would have asked Lana to help me."
Lex bristled all over. "I was not having your ex-fiancée organise this. They're my goddamn in-laws."
"Your goddamn in-laws will be back from Grandville in an hour," Clark said coldly. "Dad loved the tractor you bought them, and might conceivably pardon your absence, but I, your husband, am surrounded by everyone my parents have ever met, which incidentally" - his voice dropped - "is why I'm not there right now kicking your ass, and will not."
"I'm on my way," Lex said desperately, sprinting out of the elevator and climbing into the first car he reached, a Saab he didn't even like. It had four doors, and was kryptonite green. God only knew who'd ordered it. "I'll be there," he insisted as he gunned the engine. "Is Sheriff Daniels there? Tell him I'll donate $100,000 to the charity of his choice, in addition to all appropriate fines, if he'll turn a blind eye when I land the chopper on the church lawn."
"Lex!" Clark shrieked, scandalised. "You can't-"
Lex hung up on him, and flung the phone into the backseat.
Fifty-six minutes later he emerged from a Lexcorp helicopter onto the lawn of St Mark's Episcopalian, Smallville, the church where Jonathan and Martha Kent had gotten married thirty years before to the day. He'd managed to change out of his business suit en route, and into slacks and a cashmere sweater, which Clark assured him was correct attire for a potluck supper. He maintained his doubts.
They only increased when Lana met him on the lawn. She was wearing an exquisite aquamarine sheath and somehow remaining upright in stilettos on soggy ground. She looked great, and while it was good to be the guy who ultimately got the guy, it was still off-putting to be underdressed when set against the girl.
"Come on," she whispered. "Everyone's inside. Pete's stalling Mr and Mrs Kent out the front. If we sneak in the back you'll get away with it."
Lex sighed and took her offered hand. It was clearly time he admitted Clark had seen more in Lana than just looks.
They made it through the kitchen and into the darkness of the hall just as the main doors opened. Chloe shoved a glass of champagne - actually methode champenoise, nothing but the organically grown, domestic best for the Kents, but who was quibbling? - into his hand, and melted back into the crowd.
"Are you sure they need it fixed now, Pete?" Jonathan's irritated tone travelled in the silence. Lex found himself smiling at the thought it wasn't his to cherish all alone, after all.
"Oh, hush," Martha said sweetly. "It'll take you five minutes and-"
The lights snapped on.
"Surprise!" yelled the assembled multitude. Jonathan dropped his toolbox and clutched at Martha's arm. Martha just smiled, unruffled.
Clark stepped forward and cleared his throat. He was wearing jeans, which made Lex feel slightly better. He looked around nervously, spotted Lex, and visibly relaxed.
"Right," Clark started. "Right. Um. Lex and I" - Lex stood up straight and tried to look as though he was meant to be on the opposite side of the room - "want to thank everyone for coming here tonight to help us celebrate a very special occasion. There were some skeptics in this church thirty years ago, who didn't think a city girl would make it out here-”
Lex rolled his eyes. There’d been more than a few skeptics in this church three years ago too, who hadn’t thought a city boy could make it either. When he glanced across the hall, though, Martha was tearing up visibly, and even Jonathan, arm wrapped tightly around her, was looking a little misty. Clark's voice was beginning to wobble too. Well. Some things he didn't need an assistant for.
"To Jonathan and Martha," he broke in smoothly, stepping forward and raising his glass, "the best example any young couple could have. And to family, the most important thing of all. And to happily ever after."
The hall broke into cheers and applause as glasses were clinked together and Jonathan and Martha kissed sweetly. In the hubbub Clark materialised, unnoticed, at Lex's side.
"So I'll see you at the Plaza in twenty-seven years?" he whispered, all clearly forgiven.
"Hell no," Lex hissed back. "You'll see me right here. I want everyone in this room there, zimmer frames and all, so I can say 'I told you so'."
Clark laughed joyously, and squeezed his hand.
[I don't know where this came from, or where it fits in the timeline. Consider it a happy post-S3 AU future fic. IDEK. Wibbly wobbly, timey wimey.]