Merry Christmas! -- Fic: I Saw Luthor Hating Santa Claus (complete)
Title: I Saw Luthor Hating Santa Claus
Author: josephina_x
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: pre-Clex
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: post-series (futurefic)
Word count: 4100+
Summary: Forget Wolverine versus Magneto -- how about Santa Claus versus Lex Luthor, tag-teamed with Superman?
Warnings: Unbeta'd. Sillyfic. Fix-it-fic that is post-series-finale. Mild swearing.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not-for-profit.
AN: This started out life as a Clexmas stocking stuffer, but was way too long. C'est la vie!
~*~*~*~*~*~
"I'm warning you Luthor--"
"For the last time, you deranged alien menace: there is no such thing as Santa Claus!" Luthor screamed at the Kryptonian hovering outside his window. "Now get the hell out of here -- I have pressing matters to which I have to attend!"
"Look, you shouldn't be alone at home on Christmas Eve," the alien started, "and I'm only trying to..." then left off with a sigh as Luthor started to turn purple. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you."
Luthor took several deep cleansing breaths as the alien floated off before slamming the floor-to-ceiling window shut. He didn't know who had first introduced the Big Blue Boyscout to the cultural holiday, or convinced the Big Dumb Alien that the jolly old elf existed in the first place -- as in, that he a real person who actually had a naughty and nice list and zipped around on a sleigh and eight tiny reindeer -- and then thought it an amusing enough prank to find someone to play the part to him convincingly enough to make it stick, but if Lex ever figured it out...
Well, that was just what Death Rays were for, right?
Lex Luthor stomped upstairs, massaging his aching right hand and forearm absently -- the frostburns from Before were an ever-present background pain these days -- and entered his penthouse suite at the top of LexCorp towers with the full intention of getting very very drunk, and then seeing about causing some mayhem. Just to put a dampener on Superman's O Holy Night.
In fact, he was well on his way there after downing his first three scotch-and-sodas (minus the soda) right at the wetbar. But when he turned around, holding a half-full tumbler of his fourth, he was confronted with a most unwelcome sight.
He frowned, then glowered, then glared as he gave the 'Santa Claus' leaning against the far wall the once-over. The man was impeccably dressed as the 'canonical' modern-day Santa Claus down to a T, and the only thing Luthor could think was that the League -- those bastards -- had put this whole thing on as some sort of needling joke to try and give him a migraine, if nothing else. He began to realize that maybe this was why he'd always hated Oliver Queen, the Arrow-wielding bullying jerk.
"So, you're the charlatan-cum-madman that Superman has been going on about? I hear that you're planning on 'teaching me a lesson' about being oh-so-naughty!" Luthor smirked nastily. He had any number of hidden lasers and boobytraps that would activate at the push of a button or a simple voice command, and he was so looking forward to turning this chubby old fool into a sooty grease stain on his carpet.
"You certainly need a lesson in something," the not-very-jolly looking fellow said. In fact, he looked downright grim as he crossed his arms over his chest as far as he was able. The man was rotund.
"What, no laughing smile? No tub full of jelly? No twinkle in your eyes?" Luthor laughed, stalking closer, taking another swig of alcohol. "You're a piss-poor knock-off, aren't you?" Luthor said, looking him up and down. The outfit itself wasn't that bad though, and the white hair and beard looked quite real. "How did you get in, anyway?" Luthor added, cocking his head as his eyes went a little sharper. "You the Manhunter, or something? Phase in through the walls?" he hazarded as a guess, waving his tumbler about vaguely. But then Luthor paused as he remembered that he'd installed countermeasures against that several months ago. He started to frown through the alcohol haze, getting a little less sure about all this...
"No, I'm old Saint Nick, right enough," the intruder said dourly. "And I've got plenty of tricks in my bag when it comes to getting into places without a chimney. I just don't see much of a reason to smile when it comes to children like you. Been having a hell of a time of it these last few years, what with the nice list being so very short and the world gone so cold and dark, but your Superman helped me out awhile ago, and I figure I owe him a good turn. Maybe you, too -- someone's done rather badly by you, son, though that's hardly an excuse for drinking like that, and I should know."
Luthor took offense to that, snarled down at the man, and hurled the rest of his drink in his face.
The man closed his eyes, then blinked through the liquid. "Now, that was rude," he said quietly.
"Oh? And what are you going to do about it?" Lex sneered back.
The man's eyes narrowed. "You know," he said slowly, "I had thought about going easy on you. Kal had quite talked me into it, almost. But I see that would be a mistake with you. You need someone to explain this to you in a way you will understand quite clearly, and I think I will do this my way after all."
"Aw, is that so?" Luthor sneered. He'd had enough of this lunatic, and he pulled out his security remote and pressed a button, happy to send on the mangy old fool to a better place.
Then he frowned as nothing happened. He looked at it and clicked the button several times. He shook it. Huh. Batteries must be dead. Well, no matter.
"Activate protocol Delta-One-Two-Five," Luthor announced to the walls. Then he glanced up at the ceiling unsteadily. "I said, activate protocol Delta-One-Two-Five!" Luthor bit his lip when the walls remained silent. "...Hello?" he asked his automated security system. Was the main interface itself malfunctioning?
"You've been very naughty, Alexander," Old Nick said grimly, rolling up his sleeves, "And I think it's time I got my hands dirty with you."
Luthor glanced back down at his immediate foe, snorted and tossed aside the remote. Fine, he'd do this the old fashioned way. "Hah, really? Well, bring it on, grandpa." Luthor gave him a death's head grin, threw his tumbler behind him to smash against the floor, and drunkenly raised his fists.
Santa Claus laid him out with one good punch.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Lex sat up slowly, groaning. Damn, but that had hurt. Sparks and sparkles danced across his vision for a moment before they cleared, and he glanced around the room quickly, looking for the next attack.
No-one was there.
Damn. Bastard had disappeared into thin air on him. How the hell had he gotten in, anyway? And messed up his better-than-state-of-the-art security system? Lex growled as he rose unsteadily to his feet, rubbing his aching jaw. God, he hadn't had this lousy a Christmas since he'd gotten shot and seen his mother's ghost taunt him with a bleak Lana-had-and-lost future.
...Wait a minute, when had that happened, exactly?
Then Lex's eyes went wide and he was barely able to stagger over to the couch before collapsing in shock.
He could remember the Before times.
How was that possible?
God, that unwelcome intruder had had to have been one of those magic users. Had Zatanna put the man up to this? When Clark found out--
Clark.
Clark Kent was Superman.
And playing 'idiot reporter' these days.
Oh shit.
That... how was that... possible... that people couldn't tell it was him? Flying around in that stupid cape-and-leotards?
Better question -- how did he not die of embarrassment doing it? Because the Clark he remembered--
Oh god.
Memories hit Lex like a sledgehammer, and when it was all over Lex was so pissed off he could barely see straight. Because. That fake-Santa bastard. Had ruined everything.
Lex couldn't fight Clark like this. Knowing who and what he was. It would be like kicking a puppy. Super-Clark wasn't some domineering Alien Menace Out To Take Over The World when people's backs were turned. At best he was annoying and maybe a little self-righteous with his hypocritical long-winded platitudes. It just wouldn't be the same to try and shoot Clark out of the sky, knowing what he knew. Knowing how vulnerable and weak Clark was emotionally, and how hard he tried and how badly he screwed things up sometimes.
Then Lex scrubbed at his face as he realized that he had no one left to fight. Luthor's main purpose in everything he did was a lie.
Lex held his head in his hands and started to feel the beginnings of despair. That son of a bitch had taken away everything that had made his life worth living in one blow.
Talk about a punishment. He was never going to feel that singular joy at torturing Superman ever again.
Then he frowned at that fact, turned the thought over in his mind, then... suddenly felt more than a little ill and rushed for the bathroom.
He told himself later that it had just been the alcohol.
~*~*~*~*~*~
The next morning, Lex was glowering at his intercom. Clark was apparently going to be pulling the graveyard shift on Christmas Eve, lucky him, and Lex had him down as his 5pm appointment. Lex had wrested control of the Daily Planet, along with the bulk of LuthorCorp-now-LexCorp, away from Lutessa a long time ago. He could call up any staff reporter he wanted whenever he wanted -- a perk of being the bossman.
Lex muddled his way through most of the day, horribly distracted, and when it reached five minutes past 5 o'clock he paced as he waited impatiently in his office. He gritted his teeth, thought up all sorts of horrible things he could and would do to Kal-El for the insult... and then cursed himself for a fool, strode over to his computer, and pulled up the latest feed on the '24-hour Superman channel' station.
The footage was live and showed Superman in the middle of saving a small Italian village from a not-so-seasonal flood. Apparently one of the Flash's villains -- Weathermaster or some such, he wasn't entirely sure of the nom-de-plume -- had gone global and Clark must have been on League holiday duty, too.
Lex grimaced, tapped his remote impatiently, then sighed, set it down, and poured himself a drink. He collapsed on the couch and watched the scene unfold.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Superman had been working for seven hours straight, and it was midnight now, Christmas Day. Lex wondered for the forty-fifth time exactly how Clark managed to stay gainfully employed. Nepotism, perhaps, given Martha's relationship with Perry. Either that, or the old man suspected who Clark was and let it go for the greater good, though Lex found that highly unlikely -- the Perry White he knew from childhood onwards was a drunkard with no scruples whatsoever and was damn proud of it.
Then again, Lex's newer memories painted him as a painfully-sober highly-competent editor-in-chief. The dichotomy made his head ache. Clearly he was going to be spending some time filling in the blanks on more than a few people.
When Superman began to be shown only intermittently as different feeds picked him up and lost him, with the last picture showing him doing a flyover of Metropolis and then vanishing, Lex groaned softly as he stood up and turned off the set. He waited a good fifteen minutes, then another five, then got pissed off all over again. So, he did what any self-respecting billionaire and not-so-secret villain did: he opened one of his huge office windows, hefted a death ray, and started firing randomly over the city. He could always chalk it up to a malfunctioning security system or a villainous uber-hacker with a grudge, as usual.
Superman was there within moments, grabbing the ray gun away from Lex by the firing end, and crumpling the lovely device of human ingenuity into a small ball of metal -- but only after removing the energy cylinder and tossing it into space (he'd learned that trick after the first few had tended to explode on him). He crossed his arms and glared at Lex, but he looked tired and the lack of fire in his eyes showed he just wasn't going to be really into it that night.
"What do you want?" Superman sighed. "It can't be that important, you weren't even hitting any buildings this time." Then paused and frowned a little. "Or causing any collateral damage at all..." He gave Lex a deeply inquisitive look.
"Really? You don't think it's important? Get in here," Lex growled. Superman frowned further but complied. Lex shut the window, poured himself a drink, then rounded on him. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't fire your ass."
Superman's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Excuse me?"
"I said--"
"I heard what you said," Superman cut him off. "But I don't 'work' for you. I help all people in need."
"Oh no. Don't you fuck with me. Not tonight! Because yes, you do. You do work for me. I own the Planet, remember?"
Superman rolled his eyes at him. "Being in the running for president of this fine nation does not make you--"
"The Daily Planet, you idiot!" Lex screamed, losing his temper and hurling his tumbler against the wall. "Quit treating me like I'm some kind of--" and Lex stopped mid-tirade as he turned back and registered the look on his nemesis' face -- pure unadulterated shock.
"...What?" Superman said weakly.
"Oh for-- Do I have to speak plainly? You're Clark Kent, don't try to deny it," Lex stated with disgust.
"But-- you-- wait," Superman said, waving one hand then pinching the bridge of his nose. He took a breath, then looked up at Lex in confusion. "Why haven't you attacked me with Kryptonite yet?"
"Do I need to?" Lex said, sliding his hands into his pants pockets.
"Well, no, but--" Superman frowned even further at Lex's gesture. He paused, then stepped out of the sky and onto the ground, no longer floating in place. He took a step forward, then another, and stared down into Lex's eyes, searching for something. And Lex realized the exact moment when Superman found what he was looking for. His eyes lightened from a light blue to the green that Lex remembered from Smallville, he reared back slightly, looking stunned, and whispered, "Oh my god. You remember."
Lex had about a second to realize that he was found out before he had a flash of terror-filled insight that maybe pulling something like this completely unarmed hadn't been the greatest idea, because the League certainly wouldn't be pleased that he could name names once they found out. Unfortunately, before he could react or even think of trying to run, Clark responded in a way that he would have dreaded and avoided, and really should have expected, if he'd had any brains at all.
Clark whooped for joy, got a huge grin, and scooped him up in a bear hug.
Well, this was counter-productive.
"No! Stop that! Let go!" Lex half-yelled, then grimaced as it came out more of a yelp, and he desperately tried to wriggle away.
"But! But you remember!" Clark said, amazed and very happy. He gave Lex a look like he couldn't see what the problem was.
"Yes, I do!" Clark still wasn't getting it. "You need to fix this!"
Clark frowned him and his grip loosened a little. "Wait, what?" He pulled away a little further so he could look down at Lex better.
"I shouldn't remember Smallville or any of that. I won't be able to be your nemesis properly otherwise!" He was certain of that, comparing what he'd originally thought of doing Before with what he'd actually ended up doing After.
"...This is a bad thing?"
"Damnit, Clark!" Lex yelled, irate.
"What?" Clark protested. "I don't like getting shot with death rays. Do you like getting your research labs blown up?" he asked reasonably.
"Well, no but-- That is not the point!" Lex glared. "Stop using reason on me!"
Clark just gave him a look. "Uh, no. I like reason. ...And why are you threatening to fire me from the DP? Wouldn't a better threat be to reveal my identity or something?"
"Screw all the secret identity crap, I don't want that plastered everywhere. You have cameras on you enough as it is; I don't know how you stand it," Lex grumbled. "And reporter-you had a damn appointment with me almost eight hours ago. That's firing-material, right there," he proclaimed, poking a finger at Clark's chest.
But Clark apparently didn't think so from the way he was frowning down at him. "Lex," he said slowly, "I'm not on duty today. You can't fire me for not coming in on a vacation day I set three months ago just because you decided to make an unreasonable demand. I could sue, if the Society of Professional Journalists and Metropolis' Reporter's Guild weren't going to get you first."
Lex glared up at him. "You were on duty today."
"No, I wasn't," Clark said patiently.
"Yes, you were! I checked! You had the graveyard shift, and you spent the entire time flitting around Supermanning it up!" Lex insisted, pissed off.
"Lex, 'Supermanning' is not a proper verb--" Clark started, then paused and just looked at him.
"Lex, what day is today?" Clark asked patiently.
"Christmas Day, given the time," Lex said, just as impatiently.
"And what's the date?"
"December 26'th."
Clark bit his lip.
"Lex," Clark said very gently, "Christmas Day is December 25'th."
Lex frowned at him. "It is?"
"It is."
Lex gave him a long look, but he didn't seem to be lying. Then something occurred to him. "Aha! You still weren't covering your shift!" he exclaimed. Clark looked confused all over again. "You flew by and annoyed me about that fake Santa Claus guy who pulled a B-and-E on my apartment," Lex proclaimed. Hah! --Take that, Clark!
But Clark just rolled his eyes and said, "I was out reporting on Toys For Tots when I ran into him. I told Jimmy I needed to take a bathroom break and flew off to warn you, ok? I wasn't five minutes. People get longer mandatory smoking breaks," he pointed out. Then he paused as something occurred to him and blinked down at Lex. "Wait, did he give you your memory back?"
"Apparently," Lex griped. "Who the hell was he? --And don't say Santa Claus!" he warned.
"Look, I'm not sure exactly, but he might as well be, given what he does and how," Clark admitted as a peace offering.
Lex looked up at him in puzzlement. "God, I want to know who sold you that bridge..." Lex was appalled. How gullible was he?
Clark sighed. "Look, I know how it sounds, but I just don't have any other explanation, ok? Maybe he's not the original guy, or maybe he is? Who knows? But he can do stuff, and he shows up on Christmas Eve, and, well, maybe he's just some confused magic user or metahuman, but..." Clark just shrugged helplessly.
Lex made a noncommittal noise and leaned forward. "Wait, hold on," he said, thinking furiously. "Table that for now and stop distracting me. You still need to get rid of my old memories for the good of our nemesishood!"
"Also not a word," Clark pointed out.
"It is if I say so, and you are trying to distract me again."
"No, look -- I am not getting rid of your memories. I like you better when you're you and remembering."
"Well, I don't."
"Yes, you do."
"I do not," Lex protested. "Why the hell would you think that?!"
Clark cleared his throat and set his forehead on Lex's shoulder.
Then Lex realized that Clark had never let go of him, and now he was more or less hugging Clark back, and had been for some time, and it was really very comfortable and... Shit. He started to try and squirm away again, but this time Clark wouldn't let him.
"Clark, let go!"
"Nuh-uh."
"Clark!"
"...Hey, you know how you're always going on about how I'm an Evil Alien Menace?" Clark grinned into his shoulder. "I can totally do that. Pretty sure that involves things like capturing the hero, and not letting them escape ever."
"You're supposed to be the good one!"
"Really?" Clark said, sounding oh-so-innocent. "I don't remember agreeing to that."
"Yes you did!"
"Well, let's see. Hmmm. Opposite sides, nemeses, me always stopping you -- nope!" Clark said brightly. "Nothing in there about me being good. Guess the world has to fear getting taken over after all, what with you not being able to stop me because I can just stop you from stopping me! Muhahahahah."
"...You do realize that you're actually supposed to laugh that out, not say it, right?" Lex said dryly.
"Oh, but I'm all evil and stuff. Pretty sure I get to do whatever I want. Plus, I'm supposed to break all sorts of rules!"
Lex groaned.
"Seriously, this is not funny. Let go and get rid of my memories already."
"Nope."
"Yes."
"Nope."
"Yes."
"Nope!"
"Goddamnit, Clark!"
"Still nope!"
"...Please?"
"Hmmmmmm, let me think... Nope!" Clark said, sounding far too pleased with himself.
Lex made angry gargling noises and started flailing about, which was damned hard when he was in a big bear hug with his face against Clark's chest and couldn't really move much.
"Muhahahahahah!" Clark said again.
Lex decided this was beneath him and let his arms hang loosely at his sides.
Then he decided another tack was in order. "Look, you can't be evil. You'd need a new costume so people wouldn't get confused," Lex pointed out.
"Well, mom has been on me about letting her make me a new one. She's been getting bored with the red and blue."
"You can't be serious," Lex said in a monotone. "If you go evil, she'll kick your ass."
"Oh, I don't know, she's pretty close to the line as the Red Queen as it is. Bet I could convince her that ruling behind the scenes would be better for everyone; she pretty much tries to do that already anyway."
"What?! Mrs. Kent is the Red Queen???" Then Lex thought about that a bit more. "WHAT?!?!?!"
Clark laughed into his shoulder, and Lex was incensed.
"That's not-- that's not--" Lex sputtered. "That's not fair!!!" he finally got out.
"See? You make a much better hero than villain!" Clark pointed out.
Lex gritted his teeth. "Ok, this is not funny anymore, Clark. Let go and stop it. Seriously. I mean it," Lex ground out with as much authority as he could manage.
There was a long pause, then: "Oh, fine," Clark sighed, finally loosening his grip and pulling away.
Lex let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in.
"I'm still not getting rid of your memories, though," Clark said. "Deal with it."
"Clark!" Lex protested.
"NO."
Lex paused in mid-windup-to-tirade.
"For god's sake, Lex! You know that you could just go talk to your lab techs and have them revive the Summerholt projects and get rid of your memory on your own, right?"
"But I can't do that, I don't want to give up my memories!" That was why he needed Clark to do it.
Clark put his hands on his hips and stared Lex down.
"Well, maybe that should tell you something," Clark said firmly.
Lex bit down on a scream of pure frustration. Intellectually, he knew that he wouldn't get anywhere trying to strangle Clark, but maybe it would still make him feel better...
"I'm going now, and I expect that you can manage to keep Tess from memory-gooping you again on your own, or otherwise scaring the League into it. And if you don't, know that I am perfectly capable of getting you the antidote in time this time around," Clark threatened. Then he floated an inch off of the floor, headed over to the window, unlocked and opened it, and swooped out into the open air quite gracefully.
"Yeah, well, I'm sure there are plenty of other people out there who would be up for messing with my brain!" Lex yelled out the window, shaking his fist.
"Then I guess I'll just have to go back to saving you like I always used to!" Clark called back, before zooming off to god-knew-where. Possibly back to the apartment he currently shared with the younger, living breathing Olsen boy; he and Lois were on the outs again. Lex had stopped keeping track of Bulldog-Lane's dalliances after the twelfth time when she'd made up and broken up with Kent.
...Maybe he should start keeping track again. Just to round out what he knew about Clark.
After all, Lex had a lot of lost time to make up for.
~*~*~*~*~*~
END
Author: josephina_x
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: pre-Clex
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: post-series (futurefic)
Word count: 4100+
Summary: Forget Wolverine versus Magneto -- how about Santa Claus versus Lex Luthor, tag-teamed with Superman?
Warnings: Unbeta'd. Sillyfic. Fix-it-fic that is post-series-finale. Mild swearing.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not-for-profit.
AN: This started out life as a Clexmas stocking stuffer, but was way too long. C'est la vie!
~*~*~*~*~*~
"I'm warning you Luthor--"
"For the last time, you deranged alien menace: there is no such thing as Santa Claus!" Luthor screamed at the Kryptonian hovering outside his window. "Now get the hell out of here -- I have pressing matters to which I have to attend!"
"Look, you shouldn't be alone at home on Christmas Eve," the alien started, "and I'm only trying to..." then left off with a sigh as Luthor started to turn purple. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you."
Luthor took several deep cleansing breaths as the alien floated off before slamming the floor-to-ceiling window shut. He didn't know who had first introduced the Big Blue Boyscout to the cultural holiday, or convinced the Big Dumb Alien that the jolly old elf existed in the first place -- as in, that he a real person who actually had a naughty and nice list and zipped around on a sleigh and eight tiny reindeer -- and then thought it an amusing enough prank to find someone to play the part to him convincingly enough to make it stick, but if Lex ever figured it out...
Well, that was just what Death Rays were for, right?
Lex Luthor stomped upstairs, massaging his aching right hand and forearm absently -- the frostburns from Before were an ever-present background pain these days -- and entered his penthouse suite at the top of LexCorp towers with the full intention of getting very very drunk, and then seeing about causing some mayhem. Just to put a dampener on Superman's O Holy Night.
In fact, he was well on his way there after downing his first three scotch-and-sodas (minus the soda) right at the wetbar. But when he turned around, holding a half-full tumbler of his fourth, he was confronted with a most unwelcome sight.
He frowned, then glowered, then glared as he gave the 'Santa Claus' leaning against the far wall the once-over. The man was impeccably dressed as the 'canonical' modern-day Santa Claus down to a T, and the only thing Luthor could think was that the League -- those bastards -- had put this whole thing on as some sort of needling joke to try and give him a migraine, if nothing else. He began to realize that maybe this was why he'd always hated Oliver Queen, the Arrow-wielding bullying jerk.
"So, you're the charlatan-cum-madman that Superman has been going on about? I hear that you're planning on 'teaching me a lesson' about being oh-so-naughty!" Luthor smirked nastily. He had any number of hidden lasers and boobytraps that would activate at the push of a button or a simple voice command, and he was so looking forward to turning this chubby old fool into a sooty grease stain on his carpet.
"You certainly need a lesson in something," the not-very-jolly looking fellow said. In fact, he looked downright grim as he crossed his arms over his chest as far as he was able. The man was rotund.
"What, no laughing smile? No tub full of jelly? No twinkle in your eyes?" Luthor laughed, stalking closer, taking another swig of alcohol. "You're a piss-poor knock-off, aren't you?" Luthor said, looking him up and down. The outfit itself wasn't that bad though, and the white hair and beard looked quite real. "How did you get in, anyway?" Luthor added, cocking his head as his eyes went a little sharper. "You the Manhunter, or something? Phase in through the walls?" he hazarded as a guess, waving his tumbler about vaguely. But then Luthor paused as he remembered that he'd installed countermeasures against that several months ago. He started to frown through the alcohol haze, getting a little less sure about all this...
"No, I'm old Saint Nick, right enough," the intruder said dourly. "And I've got plenty of tricks in my bag when it comes to getting into places without a chimney. I just don't see much of a reason to smile when it comes to children like you. Been having a hell of a time of it these last few years, what with the nice list being so very short and the world gone so cold and dark, but your Superman helped me out awhile ago, and I figure I owe him a good turn. Maybe you, too -- someone's done rather badly by you, son, though that's hardly an excuse for drinking like that, and I should know."
Luthor took offense to that, snarled down at the man, and hurled the rest of his drink in his face.
The man closed his eyes, then blinked through the liquid. "Now, that was rude," he said quietly.
"Oh? And what are you going to do about it?" Lex sneered back.
The man's eyes narrowed. "You know," he said slowly, "I had thought about going easy on you. Kal had quite talked me into it, almost. But I see that would be a mistake with you. You need someone to explain this to you in a way you will understand quite clearly, and I think I will do this my way after all."
"Aw, is that so?" Luthor sneered. He'd had enough of this lunatic, and he pulled out his security remote and pressed a button, happy to send on the mangy old fool to a better place.
Then he frowned as nothing happened. He looked at it and clicked the button several times. He shook it. Huh. Batteries must be dead. Well, no matter.
"Activate protocol Delta-One-Two-Five," Luthor announced to the walls. Then he glanced up at the ceiling unsteadily. "I said, activate protocol Delta-One-Two-Five!" Luthor bit his lip when the walls remained silent. "...Hello?" he asked his automated security system. Was the main interface itself malfunctioning?
"You've been very naughty, Alexander," Old Nick said grimly, rolling up his sleeves, "And I think it's time I got my hands dirty with you."
Luthor glanced back down at his immediate foe, snorted and tossed aside the remote. Fine, he'd do this the old fashioned way. "Hah, really? Well, bring it on, grandpa." Luthor gave him a death's head grin, threw his tumbler behind him to smash against the floor, and drunkenly raised his fists.
Santa Claus laid him out with one good punch.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Lex sat up slowly, groaning. Damn, but that had hurt. Sparks and sparkles danced across his vision for a moment before they cleared, and he glanced around the room quickly, looking for the next attack.
No-one was there.
Damn. Bastard had disappeared into thin air on him. How the hell had he gotten in, anyway? And messed up his better-than-state-of-the-art security system? Lex growled as he rose unsteadily to his feet, rubbing his aching jaw. God, he hadn't had this lousy a Christmas since he'd gotten shot and seen his mother's ghost taunt him with a bleak Lana-had-and-lost future.
...Wait a minute, when had that happened, exactly?
Then Lex's eyes went wide and he was barely able to stagger over to the couch before collapsing in shock.
He could remember the Before times.
How was that possible?
God, that unwelcome intruder had had to have been one of those magic users. Had Zatanna put the man up to this? When Clark found out--
Clark.
Clark Kent was Superman.
And playing 'idiot reporter' these days.
Oh shit.
That... how was that... possible... that people couldn't tell it was him? Flying around in that stupid cape-and-leotards?
Better question -- how did he not die of embarrassment doing it? Because the Clark he remembered--
Oh god.
Memories hit Lex like a sledgehammer, and when it was all over Lex was so pissed off he could barely see straight. Because. That fake-Santa bastard. Had ruined everything.
Lex couldn't fight Clark like this. Knowing who and what he was. It would be like kicking a puppy. Super-Clark wasn't some domineering Alien Menace Out To Take Over The World when people's backs were turned. At best he was annoying and maybe a little self-righteous with his hypocritical long-winded platitudes. It just wouldn't be the same to try and shoot Clark out of the sky, knowing what he knew. Knowing how vulnerable and weak Clark was emotionally, and how hard he tried and how badly he screwed things up sometimes.
Then Lex scrubbed at his face as he realized that he had no one left to fight. Luthor's main purpose in everything he did was a lie.
Lex held his head in his hands and started to feel the beginnings of despair. That son of a bitch had taken away everything that had made his life worth living in one blow.
Talk about a punishment. He was never going to feel that singular joy at torturing Superman ever again.
Then he frowned at that fact, turned the thought over in his mind, then... suddenly felt more than a little ill and rushed for the bathroom.
He told himself later that it had just been the alcohol.
~*~*~*~*~*~
The next morning, Lex was glowering at his intercom. Clark was apparently going to be pulling the graveyard shift on Christmas Eve, lucky him, and Lex had him down as his 5pm appointment. Lex had wrested control of the Daily Planet, along with the bulk of LuthorCorp-now-LexCorp, away from Lutessa a long time ago. He could call up any staff reporter he wanted whenever he wanted -- a perk of being the bossman.
Lex muddled his way through most of the day, horribly distracted, and when it reached five minutes past 5 o'clock he paced as he waited impatiently in his office. He gritted his teeth, thought up all sorts of horrible things he could and would do to Kal-El for the insult... and then cursed himself for a fool, strode over to his computer, and pulled up the latest feed on the '24-hour Superman channel' station.
The footage was live and showed Superman in the middle of saving a small Italian village from a not-so-seasonal flood. Apparently one of the Flash's villains -- Weathermaster or some such, he wasn't entirely sure of the nom-de-plume -- had gone global and Clark must have been on League holiday duty, too.
Lex grimaced, tapped his remote impatiently, then sighed, set it down, and poured himself a drink. He collapsed on the couch and watched the scene unfold.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Superman had been working for seven hours straight, and it was midnight now, Christmas Day. Lex wondered for the forty-fifth time exactly how Clark managed to stay gainfully employed. Nepotism, perhaps, given Martha's relationship with Perry. Either that, or the old man suspected who Clark was and let it go for the greater good, though Lex found that highly unlikely -- the Perry White he knew from childhood onwards was a drunkard with no scruples whatsoever and was damn proud of it.
Then again, Lex's newer memories painted him as a painfully-sober highly-competent editor-in-chief. The dichotomy made his head ache. Clearly he was going to be spending some time filling in the blanks on more than a few people.
When Superman began to be shown only intermittently as different feeds picked him up and lost him, with the last picture showing him doing a flyover of Metropolis and then vanishing, Lex groaned softly as he stood up and turned off the set. He waited a good fifteen minutes, then another five, then got pissed off all over again. So, he did what any self-respecting billionaire and not-so-secret villain did: he opened one of his huge office windows, hefted a death ray, and started firing randomly over the city. He could always chalk it up to a malfunctioning security system or a villainous uber-hacker with a grudge, as usual.
Superman was there within moments, grabbing the ray gun away from Lex by the firing end, and crumpling the lovely device of human ingenuity into a small ball of metal -- but only after removing the energy cylinder and tossing it into space (he'd learned that trick after the first few had tended to explode on him). He crossed his arms and glared at Lex, but he looked tired and the lack of fire in his eyes showed he just wasn't going to be really into it that night.
"What do you want?" Superman sighed. "It can't be that important, you weren't even hitting any buildings this time." Then paused and frowned a little. "Or causing any collateral damage at all..." He gave Lex a deeply inquisitive look.
"Really? You don't think it's important? Get in here," Lex growled. Superman frowned further but complied. Lex shut the window, poured himself a drink, then rounded on him. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't fire your ass."
Superman's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Excuse me?"
"I said--"
"I heard what you said," Superman cut him off. "But I don't 'work' for you. I help all people in need."
"Oh no. Don't you fuck with me. Not tonight! Because yes, you do. You do work for me. I own the Planet, remember?"
Superman rolled his eyes at him. "Being in the running for president of this fine nation does not make you--"
"The Daily Planet, you idiot!" Lex screamed, losing his temper and hurling his tumbler against the wall. "Quit treating me like I'm some kind of--" and Lex stopped mid-tirade as he turned back and registered the look on his nemesis' face -- pure unadulterated shock.
"...What?" Superman said weakly.
"Oh for-- Do I have to speak plainly? You're Clark Kent, don't try to deny it," Lex stated with disgust.
"But-- you-- wait," Superman said, waving one hand then pinching the bridge of his nose. He took a breath, then looked up at Lex in confusion. "Why haven't you attacked me with Kryptonite yet?"
"Do I need to?" Lex said, sliding his hands into his pants pockets.
"Well, no, but--" Superman frowned even further at Lex's gesture. He paused, then stepped out of the sky and onto the ground, no longer floating in place. He took a step forward, then another, and stared down into Lex's eyes, searching for something. And Lex realized the exact moment when Superman found what he was looking for. His eyes lightened from a light blue to the green that Lex remembered from Smallville, he reared back slightly, looking stunned, and whispered, "Oh my god. You remember."
Lex had about a second to realize that he was found out before he had a flash of terror-filled insight that maybe pulling something like this completely unarmed hadn't been the greatest idea, because the League certainly wouldn't be pleased that he could name names once they found out. Unfortunately, before he could react or even think of trying to run, Clark responded in a way that he would have dreaded and avoided, and really should have expected, if he'd had any brains at all.
Clark whooped for joy, got a huge grin, and scooped him up in a bear hug.
Well, this was counter-productive.
"No! Stop that! Let go!" Lex half-yelled, then grimaced as it came out more of a yelp, and he desperately tried to wriggle away.
"But! But you remember!" Clark said, amazed and very happy. He gave Lex a look like he couldn't see what the problem was.
"Yes, I do!" Clark still wasn't getting it. "You need to fix this!"
Clark frowned him and his grip loosened a little. "Wait, what?" He pulled away a little further so he could look down at Lex better.
"I shouldn't remember Smallville or any of that. I won't be able to be your nemesis properly otherwise!" He was certain of that, comparing what he'd originally thought of doing Before with what he'd actually ended up doing After.
"...This is a bad thing?"
"Damnit, Clark!" Lex yelled, irate.
"What?" Clark protested. "I don't like getting shot with death rays. Do you like getting your research labs blown up?" he asked reasonably.
"Well, no but-- That is not the point!" Lex glared. "Stop using reason on me!"
Clark just gave him a look. "Uh, no. I like reason. ...And why are you threatening to fire me from the DP? Wouldn't a better threat be to reveal my identity or something?"
"Screw all the secret identity crap, I don't want that plastered everywhere. You have cameras on you enough as it is; I don't know how you stand it," Lex grumbled. "And reporter-you had a damn appointment with me almost eight hours ago. That's firing-material, right there," he proclaimed, poking a finger at Clark's chest.
But Clark apparently didn't think so from the way he was frowning down at him. "Lex," he said slowly, "I'm not on duty today. You can't fire me for not coming in on a vacation day I set three months ago just because you decided to make an unreasonable demand. I could sue, if the Society of Professional Journalists and Metropolis' Reporter's Guild weren't going to get you first."
Lex glared up at him. "You were on duty today."
"No, I wasn't," Clark said patiently.
"Yes, you were! I checked! You had the graveyard shift, and you spent the entire time flitting around Supermanning it up!" Lex insisted, pissed off.
"Lex, 'Supermanning' is not a proper verb--" Clark started, then paused and just looked at him.
"Lex, what day is today?" Clark asked patiently.
"Christmas Day, given the time," Lex said, just as impatiently.
"And what's the date?"
"December 26'th."
Clark bit his lip.
"Lex," Clark said very gently, "Christmas Day is December 25'th."
Lex frowned at him. "It is?"
"It is."
Lex gave him a long look, but he didn't seem to be lying. Then something occurred to him. "Aha! You still weren't covering your shift!" he exclaimed. Clark looked confused all over again. "You flew by and annoyed me about that fake Santa Claus guy who pulled a B-and-E on my apartment," Lex proclaimed. Hah! --Take that, Clark!
But Clark just rolled his eyes and said, "I was out reporting on Toys For Tots when I ran into him. I told Jimmy I needed to take a bathroom break and flew off to warn you, ok? I wasn't five minutes. People get longer mandatory smoking breaks," he pointed out. Then he paused as something occurred to him and blinked down at Lex. "Wait, did he give you your memory back?"
"Apparently," Lex griped. "Who the hell was he? --And don't say Santa Claus!" he warned.
"Look, I'm not sure exactly, but he might as well be, given what he does and how," Clark admitted as a peace offering.
Lex looked up at him in puzzlement. "God, I want to know who sold you that bridge..." Lex was appalled. How gullible was he?
Clark sighed. "Look, I know how it sounds, but I just don't have any other explanation, ok? Maybe he's not the original guy, or maybe he is? Who knows? But he can do stuff, and he shows up on Christmas Eve, and, well, maybe he's just some confused magic user or metahuman, but..." Clark just shrugged helplessly.
Lex made a noncommittal noise and leaned forward. "Wait, hold on," he said, thinking furiously. "Table that for now and stop distracting me. You still need to get rid of my old memories for the good of our nemesishood!"
"Also not a word," Clark pointed out.
"It is if I say so, and you are trying to distract me again."
"No, look -- I am not getting rid of your memories. I like you better when you're you and remembering."
"Well, I don't."
"Yes, you do."
"I do not," Lex protested. "Why the hell would you think that?!"
Clark cleared his throat and set his forehead on Lex's shoulder.
Then Lex realized that Clark had never let go of him, and now he was more or less hugging Clark back, and had been for some time, and it was really very comfortable and... Shit. He started to try and squirm away again, but this time Clark wouldn't let him.
"Clark, let go!"
"Nuh-uh."
"Clark!"
"...Hey, you know how you're always going on about how I'm an Evil Alien Menace?" Clark grinned into his shoulder. "I can totally do that. Pretty sure that involves things like capturing the hero, and not letting them escape ever."
"You're supposed to be the good one!"
"Really?" Clark said, sounding oh-so-innocent. "I don't remember agreeing to that."
"Yes you did!"
"Well, let's see. Hmmm. Opposite sides, nemeses, me always stopping you -- nope!" Clark said brightly. "Nothing in there about me being good. Guess the world has to fear getting taken over after all, what with you not being able to stop me because I can just stop you from stopping me! Muhahahahah."
"...You do realize that you're actually supposed to laugh that out, not say it, right?" Lex said dryly.
"Oh, but I'm all evil and stuff. Pretty sure I get to do whatever I want. Plus, I'm supposed to break all sorts of rules!"
Lex groaned.
"Seriously, this is not funny. Let go and get rid of my memories already."
"Nope."
"Yes."
"Nope."
"Yes."
"Nope!"
"Goddamnit, Clark!"
"Still nope!"
"...Please?"
"Hmmmmmm, let me think... Nope!" Clark said, sounding far too pleased with himself.
Lex made angry gargling noises and started flailing about, which was damned hard when he was in a big bear hug with his face against Clark's chest and couldn't really move much.
"Muhahahahahah!" Clark said again.
Lex decided this was beneath him and let his arms hang loosely at his sides.
Then he decided another tack was in order. "Look, you can't be evil. You'd need a new costume so people wouldn't get confused," Lex pointed out.
"Well, mom has been on me about letting her make me a new one. She's been getting bored with the red and blue."
"You can't be serious," Lex said in a monotone. "If you go evil, she'll kick your ass."
"Oh, I don't know, she's pretty close to the line as the Red Queen as it is. Bet I could convince her that ruling behind the scenes would be better for everyone; she pretty much tries to do that already anyway."
"What?! Mrs. Kent is the Red Queen???" Then Lex thought about that a bit more. "WHAT?!?!?!"
Clark laughed into his shoulder, and Lex was incensed.
"That's not-- that's not--" Lex sputtered. "That's not fair!!!" he finally got out.
"See? You make a much better hero than villain!" Clark pointed out.
Lex gritted his teeth. "Ok, this is not funny anymore, Clark. Let go and stop it. Seriously. I mean it," Lex ground out with as much authority as he could manage.
There was a long pause, then: "Oh, fine," Clark sighed, finally loosening his grip and pulling away.
Lex let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in.
"I'm still not getting rid of your memories, though," Clark said. "Deal with it."
"Clark!" Lex protested.
"NO."
Lex paused in mid-windup-to-tirade.
"For god's sake, Lex! You know that you could just go talk to your lab techs and have them revive the Summerholt projects and get rid of your memory on your own, right?"
"But I can't do that, I don't want to give up my memories!" That was why he needed Clark to do it.
Clark put his hands on his hips and stared Lex down.
"Well, maybe that should tell you something," Clark said firmly.
Lex bit down on a scream of pure frustration. Intellectually, he knew that he wouldn't get anywhere trying to strangle Clark, but maybe it would still make him feel better...
"I'm going now, and I expect that you can manage to keep Tess from memory-gooping you again on your own, or otherwise scaring the League into it. And if you don't, know that I am perfectly capable of getting you the antidote in time this time around," Clark threatened. Then he floated an inch off of the floor, headed over to the window, unlocked and opened it, and swooped out into the open air quite gracefully.
"Yeah, well, I'm sure there are plenty of other people out there who would be up for messing with my brain!" Lex yelled out the window, shaking his fist.
"Then I guess I'll just have to go back to saving you like I always used to!" Clark called back, before zooming off to god-knew-where. Possibly back to the apartment he currently shared with the younger, living breathing Olsen boy; he and Lois were on the outs again. Lex had stopped keeping track of Bulldog-Lane's dalliances after the twelfth time when she'd made up and broken up with Kent.
...Maybe he should start keeping track again. Just to round out what he knew about Clark.
After all, Lex had a lot of lost time to make up for.
~*~*~*~*~*~
END