First Christmas
For: bradygirl_12 for the svgiftxchange
Title: First Christmas
Medium: Fanfic
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Summary: Lex tries to continue a Kent family tradition
First Christmas
It was their first Christmas together and Lex feared it would be their last. For both those reasons, he wanted it to be perfect. The fates were not cooperating.
Lex muffled a curse and reached for the telephone.
“What exactly is a giblet?”
Martha, swamped with her senatorial workload, wouldn’t be able to make it for the Kent’s traditional Christmas Eve dinner, much less prepare it. When she broke the news last week, he’d told Clark that he would make made reservations for them at Le Petit Fleur instead. Clark had seemed delighted at the idea of ‘our new Christmas tradition’ but Lex hadn’t been fooled - he seldom was where Clark was concerned. When Clark disappeared the next day, Lex did some research then went to the supermarket for the first time in his life. He’d filled two shopping carts.
“I have to put my hand WHERE?”
He’d told Clark that he had to finish some work on Christmas Eve, essentially guaranteeing that Clark would stay away from their apartment all day. That was part of their tacit ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ agreement. He didn’t ask about Clark’s abilities nor mention any of the unexplained rescues taking place around town, while Clark never asked about LuthorCorp or the trail of destruction that all too often lead back to its doorstep. Three years after seizing control of the company, Lex was still cleaning up Lionel’s messes. Sometimes he wished Lana had succeeded in killing the man.
“Why do they leave that stuff in there in the first place?”
Their agreement made asking the simple question ‘how was your day?’ fraught with peril. He’d been surprised that Clark had agreed to move with him to Metropolis - surely Clark knew they were living on borrowed time. But being in the city saved Lex two hours of commuting each day, and allowed Clark to go back to university while carrying on his supposedly secret extra-curricular activities. More crucially, it also meant they could engage in mind-blowing sex in relative privacy with highly satisfactory frequency, always assuming neither of them had a last minute ‘research project’ that took priority.
“Now what?”
As much as he loved Clark, Lex didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to maintain the status quo. Lately, he’d also sensed a change in Clark - frustration perhaps at not being able to talk about the joy he felt when things went well or the grief when he arrived too late on the scene. Lex knew their time together was running out and dreaded the inevitable battles that would mark their break-up. That just made the present all the more precious to him.
***
Once the turkey was in the oven, Lex had a few hours to prep for the next phase of cooking. He also turned on the TV to get a clue as to what Clark was up to and if dinner might need to be delayed. There was a five alarm fire in some old tenements and some ongoing search and rescue operations following an earthquake in Mexico. Lex wondered idly how Clark prioritized his rescues on days like this. Too bad they couldn’t work together.
He picked up the phone again.
“Burkowitz, I have some development ideas for Suicide Slums to go over with you.”
Once that matter was taken care of, it was now two hours until dinner - crunch time. Lex reviewed his list of recipes one last time and wondered if he’d been too ambitious. None of them looked especially difficult but there were so many! Stuffing and gravy were apparently essential with a turkey dinner and that was easy enough. Cranberry sauce, olives and nuts could be served straight from the can - easier still. But he also knew how much Clark enjoyed mashed potatoes and yams and beans and beets and carrots and corn and squash and…. His farmboy did love his food!
“Brady, get in here - I need some help. No, it`s not another stalker. Drop that and start peeling.”
And then there was the question of pie - store bought or home-made? He knew which Clark would prefer, however poorly cooked the latter, but pride prevented Lex from serving anything but the best. When planning the meal, he’d compromised by buying frozen pie crusts and canned pumpkin. But now he worried if the finished product would be good enough.
“Find me the best apple pie in the city - I don’t care what it costs or what you have to do to get it baked on time.”
Damn, why did everything have to cook at different temperatures? Thank goodness he’d had a dual stove installed (more because he`d liked the look than for any practical reason at the time). The stuffing and squash could go in with the turkey, while the yams could go in the other oven. He would put the pie in when the turkey came out (yes, he was still going to make the pumpkin pie - the apple pie was just a precaution). And the biscuits could go in when Clark got home - they wouldn’t take long and could then be served warm. He patted himself on the back for his planning.
“What’s that smell?”
He’d gotten distracted and had forgotten about the beans cooking on the stove. He’d been sautéing them in butter with almonds, which were now starting to burn. He hastily turned down the temperature and went into crisis management mode. Time passed in a blur.
“What are YOU doing here now?”
Clark was standing in front of him, looking wide-eyed and dishevelled. Lex could swear he smelt the smoke on him - how blind was he supposed to be? It was as if Clark wasn’t even trying to hide his secret anymore. Lex felt the old anger boiling inside him, compounded by the frustration of pulling together this stupid dinner. He slammed the biscuits into the oven and took a deep breath to control himself.
“How does it look?”
The dining room table was covered in over a dozen serving dishes - a few of which had admittedly gone cold but still, it was a sight to be proud of. And the centrepiece of it all was the turkey, succulent and gleaming gold on its platter. A few mistakes could be overlooked when the main course was carried off with such success.
“What do you mean it’s upside down?”
Lex had seldom felt more downcast in his life than when Clark flipped the turkey over so the breast was face up for carving. He ignored Clark’s assurance that cooking upside down kept the breast meat more juicy. All he could see was the pale skin that had not been properly cooked. It looked hideous.
“What the…”
Clark had seen his dismay and then turned to stare at the turkey skin, which turned golden before their eyes. Lex stared at Clark wide-eyed and thought again, “it’s like he’s not even trying to hide his secret anymore.” The thought repeated in his head, over and over. His world changed.
“So how was your day?”
Maybe this wouldn’t be their last Christmas after all.
Title: First Christmas
Medium: Fanfic
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Summary: Lex tries to continue a Kent family tradition
First Christmas
It was their first Christmas together and Lex feared it would be their last. For both those reasons, he wanted it to be perfect. The fates were not cooperating.
Lex muffled a curse and reached for the telephone.
“What exactly is a giblet?”
Martha, swamped with her senatorial workload, wouldn’t be able to make it for the Kent’s traditional Christmas Eve dinner, much less prepare it. When she broke the news last week, he’d told Clark that he would make made reservations for them at Le Petit Fleur instead. Clark had seemed delighted at the idea of ‘our new Christmas tradition’ but Lex hadn’t been fooled - he seldom was where Clark was concerned. When Clark disappeared the next day, Lex did some research then went to the supermarket for the first time in his life. He’d filled two shopping carts.
“I have to put my hand WHERE?”
He’d told Clark that he had to finish some work on Christmas Eve, essentially guaranteeing that Clark would stay away from their apartment all day. That was part of their tacit ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ agreement. He didn’t ask about Clark’s abilities nor mention any of the unexplained rescues taking place around town, while Clark never asked about LuthorCorp or the trail of destruction that all too often lead back to its doorstep. Three years after seizing control of the company, Lex was still cleaning up Lionel’s messes. Sometimes he wished Lana had succeeded in killing the man.
“Why do they leave that stuff in there in the first place?”
Their agreement made asking the simple question ‘how was your day?’ fraught with peril. He’d been surprised that Clark had agreed to move with him to Metropolis - surely Clark knew they were living on borrowed time. But being in the city saved Lex two hours of commuting each day, and allowed Clark to go back to university while carrying on his supposedly secret extra-curricular activities. More crucially, it also meant they could engage in mind-blowing sex in relative privacy with highly satisfactory frequency, always assuming neither of them had a last minute ‘research project’ that took priority.
“Now what?”
As much as he loved Clark, Lex didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to maintain the status quo. Lately, he’d also sensed a change in Clark - frustration perhaps at not being able to talk about the joy he felt when things went well or the grief when he arrived too late on the scene. Lex knew their time together was running out and dreaded the inevitable battles that would mark their break-up. That just made the present all the more precious to him.
***
Once the turkey was in the oven, Lex had a few hours to prep for the next phase of cooking. He also turned on the TV to get a clue as to what Clark was up to and if dinner might need to be delayed. There was a five alarm fire in some old tenements and some ongoing search and rescue operations following an earthquake in Mexico. Lex wondered idly how Clark prioritized his rescues on days like this. Too bad they couldn’t work together.
He picked up the phone again.
“Burkowitz, I have some development ideas for Suicide Slums to go over with you.”
Once that matter was taken care of, it was now two hours until dinner - crunch time. Lex reviewed his list of recipes one last time and wondered if he’d been too ambitious. None of them looked especially difficult but there were so many! Stuffing and gravy were apparently essential with a turkey dinner and that was easy enough. Cranberry sauce, olives and nuts could be served straight from the can - easier still. But he also knew how much Clark enjoyed mashed potatoes and yams and beans and beets and carrots and corn and squash and…. His farmboy did love his food!
“Brady, get in here - I need some help. No, it`s not another stalker. Drop that and start peeling.”
And then there was the question of pie - store bought or home-made? He knew which Clark would prefer, however poorly cooked the latter, but pride prevented Lex from serving anything but the best. When planning the meal, he’d compromised by buying frozen pie crusts and canned pumpkin. But now he worried if the finished product would be good enough.
“Find me the best apple pie in the city - I don’t care what it costs or what you have to do to get it baked on time.”
Damn, why did everything have to cook at different temperatures? Thank goodness he’d had a dual stove installed (more because he`d liked the look than for any practical reason at the time). The stuffing and squash could go in with the turkey, while the yams could go in the other oven. He would put the pie in when the turkey came out (yes, he was still going to make the pumpkin pie - the apple pie was just a precaution). And the biscuits could go in when Clark got home - they wouldn’t take long and could then be served warm. He patted himself on the back for his planning.
“What’s that smell?”
He’d gotten distracted and had forgotten about the beans cooking on the stove. He’d been sautéing them in butter with almonds, which were now starting to burn. He hastily turned down the temperature and went into crisis management mode. Time passed in a blur.
“What are YOU doing here now?”
Clark was standing in front of him, looking wide-eyed and dishevelled. Lex could swear he smelt the smoke on him - how blind was he supposed to be? It was as if Clark wasn’t even trying to hide his secret anymore. Lex felt the old anger boiling inside him, compounded by the frustration of pulling together this stupid dinner. He slammed the biscuits into the oven and took a deep breath to control himself.
“How does it look?”
The dining room table was covered in over a dozen serving dishes - a few of which had admittedly gone cold but still, it was a sight to be proud of. And the centrepiece of it all was the turkey, succulent and gleaming gold on its platter. A few mistakes could be overlooked when the main course was carried off with such success.
“What do you mean it’s upside down?”
Lex had seldom felt more downcast in his life than when Clark flipped the turkey over so the breast was face up for carving. He ignored Clark’s assurance that cooking upside down kept the breast meat more juicy. All he could see was the pale skin that had not been properly cooked. It looked hideous.
“What the…”
Clark had seen his dismay and then turned to stare at the turkey skin, which turned golden before their eyes. Lex stared at Clark wide-eyed and thought again, “it’s like he’s not even trying to hide his secret anymore.” The thought repeated in his head, over and over. His world changed.
“So how was your day?”
Maybe this wouldn’t be their last Christmas after all.