SV Fic: "The Comfort of Adversity" 2/4 (NC-17) - Clark/Lex, Conner, Mercy
Title: "The Comfort of Adversity" 2/4 
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Clark/Lex, Conner, Mercy
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 33,722 (broken into four posts for length)
Spoilers/Warnings: Future, post-Rift fic, so only vague spoilers through S5. Also, the existence of Conner and Mercy in the Superman comics.
Summary: They say that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, yet expecting different results. Lex had become resigned to this maxim, until a family emergency brought Clark and Conner to him for help, perhaps this time to stay.
Notes: See part one.
***
The only ‘benefit’, if it could be called such, to breaking down in the middle of his office was that Conner had finally broken down too.
Charity, who’d been the only security left by that point, had bustled them both off into the private elevator at the back of his office, so that no one saw them. The elevator had direct access to the penthouse, and once Lex arrived back home, he couldn’t imagine why he’d ever thought it would be a good idea to go down to work today.
They’d ended up in Conner’s room, Conner on the bed and Lex with his head in his hands in the desk chair, and Charity had brought in juice and toast like they were a couple of lost kids. Of Lex’s assistants, he’d always suspected that Charity was the most aptly named.
Informing Lex that Mercy would take his place and play CEO for the rest of the afternoon, Charity left them alone to their grief. Lex really needed to give her a raise. Mercy, too. And Hope and Grace, while he was at it. But not that Constance chick; Lex secretly suspected that Mercy had only hired Constance because of her name, because she was quite inferior to all his other assistants.
“I don’t even know why I’m crying,” he finally said, sniffing his nose dry and fully processing the tray of juice and toast for the first time. “She never even liked me.”
“Grandma liked everyone,” Conner corrected him, shoulders still shaking.
It was good to see Conner letting out his emotions. He was like Lex in that he tended to repress and use his wits as a shield. Lex could count on one hand the number of times he’d let himself really cry, and he could only hope that Conner would learn to relax more and be the better for it.
He reached out for a slice of toast, perfectly buttered. “Not really. She tolerated me at best, was always polite. But I could always tell that she wished I would go away and leave her family in peace.”
“You are family,” Conner insisted.
“To you…” Lex sighed. “Never to her. There was a time when I would’ve given anything to-” He cut himself off mid-sentence. Dear God, now he was getting downright maudlin, and sentimental to boot. Soon, he’d have to bring out the world’s tiniest violin to play for himself.
“What?” Conner asked curiously, curling onto his side so that he could see Lex better. His hair was a hopeless mass of tangled curls, and his nose was still red. Sans the hair problem, Lex undoubtedly looked the same.
“Nothing,” Lex shook it off. There was no point in dwelling on the past. Conner might welcome him into the fold, and he could grieve for Conner’s loss, but he himself had no right to mourn Martha Kent. It was the same strange feeling he’d had at Jonathan’s funeral all those years ago, like he didn’t quite belong, even when he’d been willing to take on his share of the burden.
“Is this about when you and Clark knew each other, y’know, before?”
Clark had chosen to keep Conner largely ignorant of the days when the two of them had been friends, and Lex had respected Clark’s wishes enough not to go out of his way to divulge that part of his life. Frankly, he didn’t like to think about his Smallville years. They depressed him horribly now. He couldn’t imagine how he’d ever been that naïve…
“Yes.” And now he was openly defying Clark, but Conner was family, and he wouldn’t lie to family. That had actually been a rather thorny decision for him to make after Clark had finally allowed the two of them to meet. But, in the end, Lex had decided to tell Conner the truth about anything he dared to ask. If Lex’s own son wanted to destroy him, then Lex figured he would have well and truly deserved whatever he got. Thus far he hadn’t regretted that decision.
“What happened back then?” Conner seemed to have calmed now and was eyeing the juice with measured longing. “I mean, you two obviously know each other really well.”
Too well for simple enemies, wasn’t spoken but clearly implied. Conner had always been very intuitive, picking up on subtle cues. Obviously a trait he’d picked up from Lex, since heaven knew Clark could miss a freight train even after it had bounced off his invulnerable chest.
“We were friends,” Lex said after a long pause, studying the toast in his hand. “And then we weren’t anymore.”
“Why not?” Conner sniffed slightly, rubbing at his eyes half-heartedly.
“Philosophical differences,” Lex answered simply.
“Philosophical differences? That’s a stupid reason to fight.”
Lex let out a wry laugh at that. “That’s the only reason to fight. All of human history, that’s all anyone has fought over. Religion, philosophy…” That wasn’t entirely accurate, of course - there was also money - but Lex was feeling in a strangely existential mood at the moment.
“You’re not going to lecture me on Sun Tzu, are you?” Conner asked warily.
“That depends. How good is your history class?”
“Fine,” Conner insisted hurriedly. “We’re learning about World War II, like sane people.”
“Ah,” Lex sighed and leaned back in the chair. Sunlight was just beginning to tinge the drapes a deep orange. “World War II, the worst thing that ever happened to humanity…”
“And to think that some people want to compare you to Hitler,” Conner snorted.
Lex frowned. “Have you been talking to Brainiac?”
“He really doesn’t like you.”
“The feeling is more than mutual. And besides, he’s evil so you shouldn’t listen to him, anyway.”
Conner gave him a Look.
“I’m different.”
The Look turned a shade more incredulous.
“It’s all relative.” Lex took a moment to compose his thoughts. “And that’s the true problem with World War II…”
“And now you’re totally going to tell me why,” Conner accused, the pure dread in his voice of any child about to get a lengthy lecture.
“The real problem with World War II,” Lex concluded, “was that it was so purely black and white. There was evil and good, and for the most part, that’s incontrovertible.”
“And that’s bad?” Conner really should have known better than to ask by now.
“It’s bad because it validates people like Clark, gives them justification to put everything into black and white. It’s just not a healthy or mature worldview.”
“And you would know,” Conner commented skeptically.
Lex sighed. “Maybe I don’t know. Maybe that’s why I’m evil.” He waved his good hand in the air lazily, watching his half eaten toast catch the evening light. “I prefer to call it a philosophical difference.”
“You have evil labs,” Conner accused. “I’ve seen them.”
Well, this was certainly new. They usually stayed as far away from Lex’s dubious reputation as they could during their monthly visits. “I do,” he agreed. “I love my labs. Wouldn’t give them up for all the world. But I wouldn’t call them evil, per se.”
“I’ve seen them,” Conner repeated, sounding slightly angrily.
Lex waved that off dismissively. “You’ve seen the bad. A lot of good comes out of those labs, too. The two aren’t really separable.”
“Government labs don’t seem to have any difficulty separating the two,” Conner countered.
Lex laughed. “That’s highly debatable.”
“They don’t do human testing.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone does human testing. Most just do less revolutionary experiments in the first place. Really, you should see the things that cosmetic companies do, and then try to tell me that I’m evil.”
“Making fun of the problem won’t make it go away.”
Damn. Where had the kid gotten that sharp mind of his? Oh…right. “No, but it’ll make me feel better.”
Conner glared at him like he was being insufferable on purpose which, in all honesty, he was. “Seriously, Dad, why do you do it?”
“First,” Lex began, “those ‘evil labs’ help a lot of people.” He raised his artificial hand and watched the fingers move as smoothly, liquidly, as any human flesh. “I’m not the only one to benefit from our medical advances. And, also, I’ve borne my fair share of that human experimentation.”
Conner bit his lip nervously at that.
“Second,” Lex continued with a lofty air, “I do run an international, multi-billion dollar company, with one of the most diverse portfolios of any corporation on this planet. Innovation and experimentation are vital to continued growth.” Conner opened his mouth to protest. “And, before you object, that growth means tens of thousands of jobs for people all over the world. It means that people can buy homes, feed their families, provide for their futures. Clark wants to bring down LexCorp, but he never thinks of the effect that would truly have on Metropolis. On the world,” he added as an afterthought.
“Now you’re totally full of shit.” Usually Lex enjoyed the fact that Conner was very astute; right now it just made his life difficult.
“Fine,” he agreed. “And third is a very long and unpleasant story involving my father that I’m sure you don’t want to hear, either.”
“Well, I’m pretty much stuck here until Clark gets back,” Conner muttered, sounding somewhat apologetic. “It’s not like there’s anything better to do…” Conner was giving him a curious look. Conner always seemed fascinated by stories about Lionel; Lex supposed it was like watching their own family’s personal train wreck.
With a sigh, he settled back into a past he really would rather have forgotten. “When I was your age,” Lex began wearily, “I began college at Princeton. My father had always made sure to bump me ahead grades whenever he could. I think he found my entire growing up process impossibly tedious.”
“Nice,” Conner muttered sarcastically.
If Lex didn’t know how horribly it embarrassed Conner, he would have kissed him for his continued, unwavering hatred of Lionel. “Indeed,” he agreed instead. “But I’d been planning for this eventuality. I played up the role of the spoiled rich brat and did all the drugs I could think of. My grades were exceptional without my really trying, of course, which was enough to pacify Dad. I pretended not to care about the academics, but in secret I made sure to do extraordinarily well in chemistry and biology. With all the other classes, I skipped horrendously and only attended on the days there were tests to ace. But I never missed a chemistry class. Even Dad didn’t detect that there was a pattern to my absences.” Lex sighed in fond memory. “I always loved chemistry…”
“You do realize that you’re losing any cool points you might have had, by the minute?” Conner was rolling his eyes.
“I’m amazed I had any to begin with,” Lex retorted. “In any case, the plan was simple. I graduated in three years, Just Like Daddy Wanted, and then I returned to Metropolis, seemingly a dilettante, but secretly with the most impressive recommendations in biochemistry that one could get from Princeton. Amidst a bawdy public spectacle of alcohol and debauchery, I covertly applied to the University of Metropolis’ graduate program and was, of course, accepted.”
“Of course,” Conner agreed with a half-smile.
“I never told my father. I was still a teenager back then, and hopelessly naïve. I think I actually believed that he wouldn’t find out. And he didn’t for a whole semester.”
“But then he did.”
“And, within a week, the University had me expelled for synthesizing illegal drugs and distributing them on campus,” Lex concluded.
“Which, of course, you were innocent of,” Conner added skeptically.
“No, I was horribly guilty. But the fact that my father accompanied the police raid of the room I kept on campus was something of a giveaway that it wasn’t a routine bust.”
“Your dad was a total ass. What did he have against you going to school, anyway?”
“It simply wasn’t in His Plan for my life. A mere scientist wasn’t ambitious enough for his only legitimate heir.” Lex considered for a moment. “That was his official excuse, anyway. Privately, I really do believe that he just liked making me miserable. There was…something wrong with my father. He wasn’t just a ‘total ass’. It was more than that. I look at you, and it causes me actual pain to think of ever hurting you-”
Conner made a face like he always did at the ‘mushy stuff’.
“-But my father really did thrive on watching me suffer.” Lex shook his head. “I’ve bandied the word ‘sociopath’ about in my head for some years now. But I suppose I’ll never really know the truth…”
“Your family is officially fucked up,” Conner informed him.
Lex snorted at that. “And to think: You haven’t even heard about all the assassination attempts yet.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Conner’s eyes widened.
“Unfortunately not. But I was always informed, after the fact, that it was ‘for my own good’.”
“Seriously fucked up,” Conner amended.
“So now you can agree that Clark was somewhat justified in keeping you from meeting me those two years. He didn’t want me to fuck you up, too. Frankly, I had similar worries.”
“And now you don’t?”
“I trust your judgment. If you say I’m not hopelessly ruining your life, then I believe you.”
Conner looked strangely touched by this, but in that macho teenage way where he couldn’t actually express his feelings. Lex could tell, though, and that was good enough for him.
“Anyway, the point of the story is that I always wanted my own lab, and I never got it. So now the least I can do is create the sort of labs I would have loved to work in.” He laid his head back on the headrest and watched the last rays of sun fade away. “When I was a young man, I’d have given anything to work in a place like LexCorp Labs. Really, the drought-resistant seedlings alone could have taken up my whole life. But then there’s the biotech and the robotics and…” He sighed wistfully.
Conner’s eyes narrowed critically. “So, basically, you’re a hopeless nerd with no moral center.”
“Exactly,” Lex agreed with a laugh.
Conner considered that for a moment. “Okay,” he finally agreed. “I can work with that.”
There was a certain scheming tone to his voice that Lex recognized all too well from his own more Machiavellian moments. “Don’t even think about it.”
“What?” Conner blinked at him innocently.
“Clark and I are never going to reconcile.” The glint of surprise in Conner’s eyes let Lex know that he’d hit the nail on the head. “It’s simply never going to happen.”
“Because of philosophical differences?” Conner sounded less than convinced.
“Because,” Lex corrected wearily, “any sort of reconciliation that would last would require that I cede to demands that I will never give in to and that Clark accept demands that he would never give in to. It’s impossible.”
“But you’ve thought about it.”
Well, obviously he had. “I’m well aware of the differences that separate us. Clark isn’t even that far along. About these sorts of things, he can be quite…” He waved his good hand in the air, searching for the right word. “Oblivious.”
Conner frowned for a moment, and then Lex saw a series of realizations pass through his eyes, alarmingly fast and startling. “Oh my God!” Conner exclaimed in sudden surprise, jerking up. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
And that was just downright uncanny. Lex froze, eyes wide, breath caught in his throat. He’d spent years and years agonizing over the fact that his feelings for Clark had to be written plainly across his face for all to see, but no one had ever figured it out before. No one had ever understood him well enough…
“That’s what this is all about?” Conner didn’t need Lex to confirm his suspicions; Lex’s reaction had undoubtedly been enough.
It took Lex only a moment to compose himself. “No, it really is about philosophical differences. However,” he added thoughtfully, “I doubt there’s ever been a conflict in all of human history that wasn’t worsened by the addition of unresolved sexual tension.”
“Okay: TMI.” Conner ran one hand through his hair, trying to process. “Have you ever told him that…?” He let the question trail off.
“When I first took independent control of the Smallville Fertilizer Factory under the original LexCorp,” Lex answered by way of anecdote, “I published employee hiring guidelines with the standard boilerplate: equal opportunity employer, will not discriminate based upon race, age, gender, sexual orientation, et cetera.”
Conner nodded for him to continue.
“That last one caused a special meeting of the town council, there was so much public outrage. Eventually Clark’s father took me aside and informed me very kindly that, while he was perfectly aware that ‘those people’ existed and that he certainly opposed discrimination of any sort, Smallville was a nice, family community and really didn’t need to be reminded that there might be homosexuals in their midst.”
“What did you do?”
Lex laughed. “I took out the clause. At the time I was horribly eager for Jonathan Kent’s approval for reasons which I’m sure you’ll agree were thoroughly ironic in this case.”
Conner just nodded numbly.
“That was the community Clark grew up in. Jonathan was a good man, if narrow-minded, and Clark always looked up to him.” Lex sighed. “So, no. I never told Clark.”
“Yeah…” Conner breathed, brow furrowed. “Wow. You’ve got a story for everything, don’t you?”
“I’ve led a very eventful life. I hope I’m not boring you?”
“Nah.” Conner shook his head. “At first it was weird. But then I just accepted the fact that you know everything about everything. And now it’s kind of cool.”
Lex suddenly wished that Clark were present for the thoroughly immature reason that he felt the impulse to shout out ‘Nyah, nyah! You may be Superman, but I’m the one our son thinks is infallible!’ Clearly, it had been a very trying day, and he was in danger of losing it again.
“Hey, Dad?”
“Yes?” Lex asked tiredly.
“Am I still grounded?”
Lex sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. Artificial fingers on artificial eyelashes: at this rate by the time he was sixty he’d be completely inhuman. “You were never grounded, Conner. I just don’t want you jumping into dangerous situations when you’re distracted.”
“Can I go for a quick fly, then?” Conner asked hopefully. “I just want to clear my head.”
Lex wished that he were capable of going for a ‘quick fly’ at that moment, too. It would probably do him some good. “I don’t see the harm.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Conner got up off of the bed, and his hand brushed Lex’s shoulder casually in a gesture that was the closest to comfort his teenage son could probably bear to give him without embarrassing himself.
Lex watched Conner take off into the fading twilight, before he came to the most brilliant conclusion of his life to that date:
It was time to get completely and thoroughly drunk.
***
The problem with getting drunk was that it really didn’t turn Lex’s brain off; it just turned his thoughts in directions that he wouldn’t normally go.
Like his long-held drunken theory that Clark was kind of really gay.
This theory, of course, serviced Lex’s own wishes and desires and, as such, was inherently suspect from a purely scientific standpoint. However, even stone cold sober Lex had to admit that the theory had its merits.
The first point of evidence in the theory’s favor was Lana Lang. Now, Lana was a perfectly beautiful woman. Lex could admit that and had even partaken of that at one time. However, the fact that Clark had been supposedly ‘in love’ with her throughout all his youth, yet had never even spoken to her prior to his freshman year, despite their being neighbors, spoke volumes. There was shyness, and then there was worship from afar because, in all honesty, Clark had never wanted to get too close.
Their ‘relationship’ over the years further proved Lex’s point. Years and years of beating around the bush, with only a rare kiss, followed by months of careful distance… Well, it simply wasn’t normal. No relationship ever had been as un-physical as Clark and Lana’s had been. It was as if the two of them had been in love with the idea of being in love, but the physical reality just never worked out.
And, once they finally had gotten over the physical thing long enough to have sex, they’d fled even further from each other. Clark claimed to fear hurting the women he dated, but no man in the world was only able to have sex once and then enforce abstinence throughout the rest of his life. For a while Lex had wondered whether Kryptonian male sexuality was just that different from human.
But there was a far simpler explanation: Clark had gotten a taste of heterosexual sex with Lana, he hadn’t enjoyed it, and that terrified him.
Which led quite naturally to Lois Lane, the least sexual woman that Clark could possibly have latched himself onto. Not that Lois didn’t have a healthy sex life with people who weren’t Clark, but Clark simply had no chance with Lois. He might as well not exist to her, which allowed him to maintain his illusion that he was thoroughly in love without having to face the nitty-gritty of how that ‘love’ would physically manifest. What better for Clark’s celibacy that to worship a woman who was all but married to her work?
Of course, Superman was a different story. Superman could have had Lois at any time over the past decade, yet he’d never chosen to press his suit. Oh so conveniently, Superman had the advantage that he could justify his lack of interest under the larger than life persona he’d created for himself: sex was below Superman.
It was all very telling.
Either that, or Lex was thinking himself into wishful circles.
He’d just begun on his second decanter of brandy when a picture of the current object of his fascination appeared on the television screen. Of course Lois couldn’t sit on a story out of respect for a man (well, Kryptonian) who’d saved her life on countless occasions. The public, naturally, had to be informed of every dirty little detail of their lives.
Frankly, Lex wondered at Clark’s fixation on Lois. Even as an untouchable ideal, she was horribly shrill and prying. Clark had always hated it when Lex dug into his personal life, so why did Clark tolerate Lois?
Or, even worse, did Lois remind Clark of Lex in her dogged determination, and that was why he’d chosen her as the supposed object of his affections? If that were the case, Lex was horribly offended and would have to refuse Clark on that hypothetical day when he finally dropped to his knees and begged Lex to fuck him.
Well… He’d refuse once. Maybe. After he’d satiated his own desires half a dozen or so times first.
Lex turned on the volume for Channel 6, the Planet’s partner for slander when just libel wouldn’t do, to discover that ‘Superman Takes Day Off’ was apparently headline news. Lois Lane’s tact seemed to be at an all-time low. Of course, given that the story involved him, Superman, and Superboy, he wasn’t surprised. She’d been practically salivating when she’d left his office, after all.
He wasn’t being raked through the coals as he usually was any time a Planet affiliate mentioned him, however. It was always best to be grateful for the little things.
Rather the panicky red banner assured the denizens of Metropolis that Batman had informed Channel 6 reporters (Lex took a moment to wince in sympathy for Bruce) that the Green Lantern would be checking by until Superman returned. Because, of course, the city couldn’t function normally if there wasn’t some idiot wearing brightly colored tights, flying through the sky.
Lex gritted his teeth and knocked back another glass of brandy. This was exactly the sort of thing he was always warning Clark about: It simply wasn’t good for humanity to just sit back and let superheroes take care of everything. ‘The American Way’ had been independence and ingenuity just as long as it hadn’t had Superman to act as its daddy and do everything for it. Now, ‘the American Way’ seemed to be perpetual laziness and screaming ‘Superman, help!’ any time something went awry.
“I’ll just be so grateful when Superman gets back,” your average soccer mom on the street was saying into the camera near what appeared to be 49th and Grand. “I don’t feel safe now, you know?”
Ah, yes. This was what Superman’s careful attentions had turned humanity into: a gaggle of fearful children. Lex turned off the television in disgust. This was exactly the reason he could never really get into philanthropy. As an ideal, he had no objection to helping those in need, but in actual practice people were just so perennially disappointing.
It was even more problematic for Clark. Because, practically speaking, Clark had set himself up as a sort of god. Clark was unpretentious enough that Lex knew that it had been entirely unintentional, but it had happened nonetheless. If Lex’s suspicions were remotely true, Clark was trapped in an unsolvable conundrum. Metropolis, liberal and forward-thinking as it was, wasn’t ready for a gay superhero. And it certainly wasn’t ready for a gay god.
Clark had confined himself to a web of lies so tightly interwoven that even he couldn’t escape. Lex hadn’t been kidding when he’d told Conner that reconciliation between the two of them was impossible. Lex only wished he could stop dwelling on just how hopeless it all was…
Because, as a corollary to his ‘Clark is gay’ theory, was the conviction that Clark was in love with him, too.
The corollary rested on shakier ground that the actual theory, and mostly was based upon the fact that there really weren’t any other viable options in Clark’s life.
Except Jimmy Olsen, his brain chimed in, right on cue.
Shut up, brain, he snapped reflexively. He downed another glass of brandy to help facilitate the process.
Because, really, that option was just…stupid! He was smarter and more confident and better looking and had known Clark far longer and just… Jimmy Olsen was not an option.
So, back to how Clark was in love with him… Well, he really didn’t have any evidence for that one, per se. It was just a process for elimination. Because: Seriously? Jimmy Olsen?
There was also the fact that, no matter what anyone else said, Lex had always known that he and Clark were connected. It had begun that day on the bridge, all those years ago, when Clark had breathed life into him. He’d awoken after that accident, reborn, with Clark’s face smiling down at him. It had been the most genuinely spiritually moving event of his life, and he refused to believe that it meant nothing.
In that moment, he’d known Clark like he’d never known anyone before or since. Clark’s hands and breath and smile were like the sun itself, and Lex had felt warm inside, in a way that was thoroughly indescribable. It hadn’t even been entirely sexual. Rather, in that moment he’d known that he and Clark belonged together, that he’d finally found his perfect complement.
They were, quite simply put, destined.
Lex had always had his own funny views of destiny. He believed in it only insomuch as men forged their own destinies, worked toward the culmination of their own being. When Lex had first met Clark, he’d never been more excited by the idea of pursuing his own destiny.
The moment was fleeting, of course, but it was absolutely perfect. The only truly honest moment he and Clark had ever shared. Because, of course, then he’d asked about the crash, and Clark had lied as he always did. But that one moment…
It had been everything to him. It was simply impossible that Clark hadn’t felt the same thing. Lex didn’t consider himself an optimist most days, but even he refused to believe that the universe could be that cruel.
***
When Lex awoke in the middle of the night, he was in his bed rather than passed out on the couch like he’d remembered. That meant that someone had moved him. Conner, most likely. The only other option was Mercy and, weight differentials aside, when faced with the choice of dragging Lex to bed or letting him spend the night on the couch and develop a horrible crink in his neck so that she could make smart-assed and thoroughly unsympathetic remarks over breakfast, Mercy would undoubtedly select the latter. She’d just never been big on coddling.
Lex rolled over onto his left side with a muffled protest. He was, most definitely, hung-over. It wasn’t a predicament he often suffered from, thanks to his meteor-enhanced healing. In fact, it took a rather impressive effort to get himself drunk in the first place these days. In principle, it was good to know that he was still physically capable of accomplishing both; in practice, his head hurt like hell.
“You’re awake?”
The voice alerted him to a third option he hadn’t considered: Clark was back. “You’re back,” he muttered. Oh, just brilliant. He was certainly at his finest this evening. “What time is it?”
“1AM.” Well, at least that wasn’t too pathetic, then.
“Where’s Conner?”
“Asleep in his room,” Clark answered, sitting down lightly on the edge of the bed. His cape twisted in a way that looked horribly uncomfortable, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“Batman and that Lane woman called for you. Thanks for leaving me to take care of our grieving son, the media, and the Justice League all by myself.” A pause. “Jerk.” And, joy of all joys, it seemed that he was still just a bit drunk.
The quirk of Clark’s lips caught the moonlight shining in through the full windows along the far wall. “Sorry.” Because, of course, Clark had to apologize for everything. “Thank you.”
Clark got up and walked over to the windows to close the drapes while Lex tried to process the fact that Clark had actually thanked him. He was pretty sure that he’d be having difficulty with the concept, even if he’d been sober.
And then, as he watched, Clark reached up and unfastened his cape, draping it over Lex’s desk chair. Lex felt the sound of surprise die in his suddenly dry throat when Clark continued the process, stripping the skin-tight costume off of his body until he was entirely nude. Lex could have cursed Clark in that moment for closing the blinds; he could only make out the dim outline of Clark’s form as he approached the bed.
“Can I…” Clark’s voice sounded nervous and young in a way that it hadn’t since he’d left Smallville for good. “Can I spend the night here? I don’t really want to be alone anymore.”
Oh, please, Lex, can I crawl naked into your bed with my godlike physique? Like that wasn’t the most rhetorical question in the universe. Lex just managed to nod numbly.
Then Lex could see muscles rippling and felt the mattress dip and shift as Clark crawled beneath the covers and over to where Lex lay dazed and helpless by this turn of events. And Clark just didn’t lie down beside Lex: he curled up nice and close, his cheek brushing Lex’s shoulder with every exhalation of breath, their warmth mingling together and pulling them closer like some sort of irresistible magnetic force.
It was around that time that Lex realized that Clark had undressed him before putting him to bed. He’d been complaining for years that Superman was always rumpling his suits; Clark had certainly picked a lovely time to start paying attention. The hard, smooth flesh of Clark’s chest pressed erotically against his own skin. A caress of silk where Clark’s thigh splayed over his waist made him aware that at least he still had his boxer-briefs, which was more than Clark was sporting at the moment.
It was intensely sensual, yet oddly not entirely sexual. His hand came up to run lazily up and down Clark’s spine, and Clark’s body rocked and shivered with the motion of Lex’s hand, a content little “mmm” escaping his lips. But all their touching felt so much more like comfort than arousal.
Lex was just a bit too drunk to process it all.
“Are you all right?” he finally asked, his lips mere inches from Clark’s forehead.
“Don’t wanna talk about it,” Clark grumbled, curling his hand possessively around Lex’s waist and pulling him closer.
They were - dear God! - just cuddling, it seemed.
Strangely enough, Lex found himself not entirely adverse to the idea. Possibly because his alcohol consumption had made anything more quite the gambit. And there was just something relaxing about the feel of Clark’s breath against his throat, the steady, reassuring pulse of Clark’s heartbeat beneath the pads of his fingertips.
Clark reached over and took Lex’s artificial hand in his own, and Lex could sense the pressure of Clark’s fingers through the wires and fiber optics and servos, feel the mechanical connections that had been wired to his brain, but he couldn’t feel the warmth, the completeness that should come from this simple touch. It was the first time the bionics had felt completely inadequate, rather than like a medical miracle.
“’S okay,” Clark mumbled against his shoulder before bringing Lex’s false hand to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss across the knuckles.
And that time, Lex felt. Not just the simulation of feeling his right hand had held for so long, but real feeling that came from emotion rather than mere contact.
Clark’s lips felt like forgiveness and salvation, and maybe even a promise for more.
Lex’s last thought, before the warm breathing rhythm of lazy, entangled limbs carried his conscious mind away once more, was that this had to be a dream. Why Lex had been granted a nightly reprieve from the nightmares of insects and rotting death bubbling up from beneath his skin was beyond him. But he wasn’t about to look this gift horse of wondrous perfection in the mouth.
***
When Lex awoke the next morning, he was alone. The letdown after what, sober, he was now confident had been a dream was enough to make him swear off liquor for the rest of his life. At least the hangover was cured now. Thank God for childhood Kryptonite-related traumas.
He’d just begun a serious debate with himself over whether he really wanted to get out of bed that morning, when the bathroom door opened, and his world was turned on its head for the second time in the past six or so hours.
Last night, apparently, hadn’t been entirely a dream, because there was Clark standing before him, fresh from the shower, with nothing but a white Egyptian cotton towel monogrammed with royal purple ‘L.L.’ wrapped around his waist.
Lex watched in something akin to a lustful stunned stupor as sun-kissed skin stretched and flexed over taut muscles and Clark let out a long yawn.
“’Morning,” Clark offered sleepily when he was done preening before slipping back into bed beside Lex. A momentary shifting beneath the blankets, and then Clark retrieved the towel and tossed it carelessly onto the desk chair on top of his costume. Which meant that, once again, Clark was naked in his bed.
Clearly, Lex had died and, through some supremely ironic miscalculation, ended up in heaven. There was no other explanation.
“Sleep well?” Clark’s lips were quirked into a mischievous little smile that Lex hadn’t seen directed at him since before his first marriage.
Lex’s mind was reeling at all the implications. “Fine, thank you. You?” Standard politeness gave him time to think, and he finally grasped upon the obvious answer: grief had driven Clark completely mad.
“Wonderful.” Clark propped his head up on one elbow as he studied Lex’s bare chest. “Your bed’s a lot comfier than Ceres.”
“You did head for the Asteroid Belt, then.” It was really almost impossible to hold a rational conversation while naked in bed with Clark, Lex was discovering. Not that he objected, really.
“Warmer, too,” Clark added, his eyes darkening as he leaned in to brush his hand down the side of Lex’s face.
Lex’s knee-jerk reaction, still present after spending a quarter of a century under his father’s diabolical care, was to pull away from the touch.
Clark seemed to understand and just smiled softly in that warm, wonderful way that reminded Lex of his old friend, rather than the untouchable icon Superman had become. “I missed you,” he added, voice deep and rough. “You and Conner, but especially you…”
Lex’s brain may have short-circuited at the way Clark was inching ever closer, but even so he was able to recognize that something was seriously amiss. He sat up abruptly, putting a halt to Clark’s slow seduction, and fixed Clark with a critical expression. “Are you sure you’re feeling well?” he asked in the most neutral voice he could manage.
Clark’s smile darkened several shades at that. “No, not really.” He sighed and collapsed back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. “I mean, my mom just died.”
“I noticed,” Lex commented wryly.
Clark shut his eyes. “I wanted to get away, as far as I could…so far that I couldn’t hear a thing, just the emptiness of space…”
Lex relaxed marginally. It was unusual for Clark to be talking about himself this much (that was strictly Lex’s department), but Lex took it as a good sign.
“But then,” Clark continued, his voice low and almost hypnotic, “I realized that that wasn’t what I wanted at all.”
“Oh?”
“It was so quiet, and I felt so alone. And I suddenly realized that that was what I was running away from in the first place. Mom is gone, and…” He choked up slightly.
Lex lay back down next to him, and Clark took the invitation for what it was and rested his head on Lex’s shoulder. The last time Lex had seen Clark physical like this had been ages ago back in Smallville. Clark had never felt any compunction about touching back then, and Lex had been forced to endure any number of hugs, back pats, and sessions as Clark’s pillow when they’d watched movies together. He’d surprised himself back then by not minding; it still surprised him even now.
“The world loves Superman,” Clark concluded sadly, “but Mom was the only person who just loved me, unconditionally and without question.”
Lex’s throat felt tight at that thought. He remembered that from when his own mother had died: the one person in the world guaranteed to love him was gone, and he might never find another. He hadn’t until… “Conner loves you,” Lex reminded him.
“That’s why I came back,” Clark agreed lazily. “Mom’s gone, and Dad… Hell, Perry had heart surgery last year, and Lois won’t quit smoking, and…”
“People die,” Lex said simply. “That’s what we do.”
“Which is why I don’t have any time to waste,” Clark concluded. “Mom died knowing how much I loved her. Th-The last time we talked I teased her that she’d outlive us all, bustling about in that kitchen, even though she’d been getting weaker for years, and she made me cherry pie, and I told her about my work at the Planet and all the people I’d saved that week, and she told me she was proud of me, and I hugged her and told her I loved her.”
Lex contemplated him thoughtfully for a moment, as well. “Those were actually the last words I told my mother, as well.” And, God, he’d never told anyone this, but Clark had always made him want to lay his soul bare. He’d thought he’d learned long ago that trusting Clark with his secrets only led to pain and rejection. “I wasn’t there when she died, but at least I told her…”
“It matters,” Clark agreed. “After they’re gone…”
Lex’s hand reached out tentatively to touch Clark’s hair. Clark, unlike him, didn’t flinch away.
“And the way I figure it,” Clark concluded, “if anything happens… Conner knows that I’ll always love him. And Perry and Lois and Jimmy all understand. But…”
“But?” Clark had no idea how impossibly sexy he was just then, open and vulnerable and naked. The blanket had pooled around his waist, taking the towel’s place, and he was almost irresistible…
“If you died tomorrow…”
Lex snorted, because Clark had always been hopelessly oblivious to the fact that he could, in fact, die too, no matter how many times Lex had come close to proving that very deadly point.
Clark leaned in, eyes a darker green than Lex had ever seen them. “…You’d die thinking that I hate you. And I don’t hate you, Lex.”
Ah, so that was what this was about. Loss had driven Clark into a state of mind where he was determined to ‘carpe diem’ and damn the consequences. It was a brief moment of near insanity that many people suffered after someone close to them had passed on. In other words, Clark wasn’t quite himself and would regret this, if not tomorrow, then soon.
“I don’t hate you…” Clark repeated in a whisper.
Lex resisted the urge to counter with, You will soon. “I’m aware of that,” he said instead.
“But you don’t know,” Clark insisted, leaning in closer so that Lex could feel an impossibly hot exhalation of breath against his lips.
Now, back when they’d first met, Lex had gotten quite a lot of practice at controlling his libido. This was because Clark had had the unfortunate habit of leaning too far over the pool table, ass waggling suggestively at Lex, and asking, “Does this look lined up right to you?” The only reasonable to response to such a question would have been to curl his body right around Clark’s back ‘helpfully,’ kiss him senseless, and then proceed to show him how to really ‘line up’ right. Clark really had been a hopeless, if completely oblivious, cocktease, and Lex’s self-control had been tried and tested.
The reason he’d kept control of himself back then was that he’d actually wanted to do right by Clark. They had been friends, first and foremost, and Lex had valued that almost as much as his cock had valued visions of bare, tanned farmboy flesh during his nightly (and many times tri-nightly) masturbation sessions. As a result, Clark had always been in the companion category, rather than just a cheap fuck. Not that Lex thought the two were mutually exclusive, but Clark was so much younger, and the law had been the law, and Lex hadn’t wanted to hurt Clark. He’d been foolishly convinced back then that he could do the noble thing and wait until Clark was out of high school.
Heaven help him, Lex had actually been a gentleman with Clark.
Of course, then Clark had suddenly declared, weeks after his eighteenth birthday, that he didn’t like Lex anymore and didn’t want to be friends. It was something for which Lex still hadn’t forgiven him and possibly never would.
What it all amounted to now, however, was that Lex had done the right thing before and lost his chance. So now he simply didn’t give a damn. Let Clark hate himself tomorrow; Lex had waited years only to have all his hopes dashed. He wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice. And, if that made him evil, then so be it. He’d grown wearily accustomed to that label long ago…
Clark’s mouth was warm and wet and slightly minty. Clark let out a little yelp of surprise when Lex kissed him, and it gave Lex the opportunity to delve deep inside, to taste and plunder and possess.
He’d almost convinced himself that Clark had still been ignorant of how his behavior could have been construed as sexual when he felt Clark’s tongue moving against his, tentatively like Clark had absolutely no idea what he was doing and was going with the flow. Clark let out a groan when Lex’s left hand tangled in his hair, pulling him in deeper, which let Lex know only too well that, while this might be new to Clark, he was definitely enjoying the experience.
Lex felt more concrete evidence of Clark’s enjoyment against his thigh when he rolled them over, covering Clark’s body with his own, so that he could touch every bit of exposed skin all at once. Clark went willingly, compliantly, and there was a heady power in that. He had Superman writhing beneath him, placid and submissive, helpless to his every whim.
Clark’s lips and fingers had turned frantic now, and he was touching Lex everywhere he could. Despite Clark’s lack of finesse, Lex was quite enjoying the attentions. There was something to be said for driving one’s partner so mad with lust that they randomly ended up caressing a shoulder blade simply because they couldn’t get enough.
Lex insinuated himself between Clark’s thighs, and Clark’s body started to buck beneath him, desperate for friction. Their cocks slid against each other through the silk of Lex’s boxers for one impossibly wonderful second, before:
“Hey, Da-Oh, Jesus! Gross! Get a room, you guys!”
The door slammed shut behind Conner, and Lex could hear the trauma in the gagging noises Conner was making out in the hallway. “Technically,” he shouted in the direction of the door, “we did get a room. My bedroom, in fact.” Walking in on Lex in flagrante delicto with another man was no excuse for sloppy vocabulary choices, after all.
“Gross!” Conner shouted back. “You’re old!”
Beneath Lex, Clark snickered. “Are you actually debating semantics?” he demanded with an amused grin. “Way to kill the mood, Lex.”
With a frustrated sigh, Lex rolled off of Clark, pulled one of the pillows over onto his face, and swore eloquently and at great length. There was just no way he could take advantage of Clark while their son was listening. The cursing turned more colorful and possibly polylingual; Lex wasn’t really paying too much attention to what he was saying.
Because, once again, he’d had the perfect opportunity and missed it.
***
Breakfast was a thoroughly unreal experience in that Clark couldn’t seem to stop blushing and Conner refused to look at either of them. Mercy, who was mixing together her usual toxic-looking combination of high energy ingredients in the blender, couldn’t stop snickering. Like Mercy’s cracking up, Mercy’s snickering showed no outward visual signs, but Lex could tell she was doing it and was glowering at her accordingly.
“The funeral’s set for two o’clock this Saturday,” Lex announced because someone had to break the ice. It was a grim reminder of why they were all there, but a nice distraction from this morning’s indiscretions.
“Mom wanted tu-”
“Tulips, yes,” Lex interrupted Clark. “I have discussed all of Martha’s wishes with the funeral home.” He took a sip of his coffee and studied Clark intently. “What do you two plan on doing after the funeral?”
Clark pondered that for a moment, still studiously avoiding looking Lex in the eye. “I still have to deal with all Mom’s things. Maybe a garage sale.”
Lex would’ve suggested a more lucrative option, such as an estate auction, if he’d believed that Martha had anything of value. As it was, he just nodded in agreement.
“And then I’ll have to make arrangements for Conner…” Clark thought about that for a moment. “Hey, do you think the Rosses would-?”
“No!” Conner exclaimed in horror.
“Absolutely not,” Lex snapped at the same time.
Clark blinked at them in disbelief. “Really?” He sounded surprised. “Because I always got the impression that they’d be really helpful with-”
“The objection is not that the Rosses might refuse,” Lex enlightened Clark, “but rather that our son stringently opposes that course of action.”
“What’s wrong with the Rosses?” Clark looked at Conner.
Conner glared at Clark.
Clark looked at Lex.
Lex glared at Clark, too.
Clark looked unnerved; he probably wasn’t used to dealing with Lex in stereo. “Okay, I get the message. No staying with the Rosses.” A thoughtful pause. “I suppose I could stay down at the farm and fly in to work…”
“Might I suggest,” Lex began carefully, setting his coffee mug down neatly on the napkin in front of him, “that Conner really need not stay in Smallville.”
“I could live in Metropolis,” Conner chimed in hopefully. “It’d be more convenient for everybody, and they wouldn’t make me go apple-picking and cow-milking in biology class.”
Lex all but choked at that.
Sensing a weak point for parent manipulation, Conner quickly added in, “And I don’t think our teacher believes in evolution, either.”
“Conner!” Clark glared at him. “You know that’s not true.”
“And our health teacher said that Satan invented birth-control!” Conner added helpfully.
“Clark…” Lex began dangerously.
“He’s making it up, Lex. Jeez.” Clark rolled his eyes at him.
“In any case, inventive lying is a sign of academic dissatisfaction,” Lex concluded.
“And you would know,” Clark grumbled.
Which, really, was just the pot calling the kettle black, but Lex let it pass. “When Conner mentioned this to me, I took the liberty of looking into schools in Metropolis. There are several that look both discreet and adequate academically.”
Conner gulped at that. “When you say ‘adequate,’ does that mean that everyone there talks like a freak like you?”
“I cannot imagine whence you derived that assessment.” And, yeah, Lex was doing it on purpose now.
Conner’s eyes had gone wide, though.
“Knock that off.” Clark elbowed Lex lightly in the side in a gesture so indicative of their Smallville years that it completely startled Lex away from his point. Then, Clark turned back to Conner, his voice sounding downright hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me about this, Conner?”
“You flew off before I even had the chance!” Conner lashed out in the snottiest tone imaginable.
It always rather astounded Lex how much better behaved Conner was around him. Clark loved Conner unquestionably, but something about Clark always made Conner act out, like he had something to prove. Of course, that was understandable given that Clark was Superman, after all, and was consistently dropping off his responsibilities to Conner on others. If Lex had had to guess, given their respective upbringings, he would always have thought that Clark would be the one most comfortable with the fatherly role. The fact that it had turned out quite the opposite was curious.
“I-I didn’t…” Clark offered helplessly in the face of Conner’s sudden anger.
It was time for Lex to step in. “Conner merely thought I’d be more amenable to the change in venue. And I do have better contacts to get him into the best schools.”
Conner had that smug smile on his face that he always did when Lex was on his side.
Clark sighed with defeat. He’d never really been a match for the two of them put together. “I’ll want to look into these ‘schools’ too,” he insisted.
“Of course,” Lex agreed smoothly. It was always best to take baby steps around Clark.
“I’ll consider it. But then, what’ll happen to the farm? Dad always-”
“Clark?” Lex interrupted him with a vicious little smile.
“Yeah?”
“If you’re not going to cave in to your father’s bizarre legacy and run that place by yourself, in no way am I going to allow you to force our son to do so in your stead.” He fingered the knife beside his plate deliberately. “Am I making myself perfectly clear?”
Clark rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever. But I still have to figure out what to do with the place.”
“I could always-” Lex began.
“You are not buying Dad’s farm,” Clark informed him with a glare.
Lex let out a sigh of exasperation. “I never even wanted the place. You people were all so damn paranoid…” He rubbed at his temple, trying to ease the frustration away.
“I suppose I could always rent it out,” Clark commented thoughtfully. “I wonder if the Rosses would be interested…”
Conner made a face.
Lex gave Clark a tight-lipped smile. “That’s fine.” Heaven only knew why the Kents had such a lofty opinion of the Rosses, but Lex really didn’t want to deal with Clark’s particular brand of insanity at that moment.
His lack of caustic remarks earned him a sly little smile after breakfast, and Clark sidled up next to him at the counter to whisper in his ear, “We can pick up where we left off, tonight…”
At that point, Conner let out a thunderous “EWWWWWW!” and went on a rant about trauma and therapy and how they were never, ever allowed to flirt in his presence again.
Lex took that as his cue to flee down to his office. Mercy preceded him into the elevator and hit the down button. As Lex watched the floors descend, he could’ve sworn he saw her reflection in the brass making kissy faces at him. However, when he turned to look, she was as calm and composed as ever.
He seriously considered docking her pay.
Just because.
***
Next Part
All Chapters
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Clark/Lex, Conner, Mercy
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 33,722 (broken into four posts for length)
Spoilers/Warnings: Future, post-Rift fic, so only vague spoilers through S5. Also, the existence of Conner and Mercy in the Superman comics.
Summary: They say that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, yet expecting different results. Lex had become resigned to this maxim, until a family emergency brought Clark and Conner to him for help, perhaps this time to stay.
Notes: See part one.
***
The only ‘benefit’, if it could be called such, to breaking down in the middle of his office was that Conner had finally broken down too.
Charity, who’d been the only security left by that point, had bustled them both off into the private elevator at the back of his office, so that no one saw them. The elevator had direct access to the penthouse, and once Lex arrived back home, he couldn’t imagine why he’d ever thought it would be a good idea to go down to work today.
They’d ended up in Conner’s room, Conner on the bed and Lex with his head in his hands in the desk chair, and Charity had brought in juice and toast like they were a couple of lost kids. Of Lex’s assistants, he’d always suspected that Charity was the most aptly named.
Informing Lex that Mercy would take his place and play CEO for the rest of the afternoon, Charity left them alone to their grief. Lex really needed to give her a raise. Mercy, too. And Hope and Grace, while he was at it. But not that Constance chick; Lex secretly suspected that Mercy had only hired Constance because of her name, because she was quite inferior to all his other assistants.
“I don’t even know why I’m crying,” he finally said, sniffing his nose dry and fully processing the tray of juice and toast for the first time. “She never even liked me.”
“Grandma liked everyone,” Conner corrected him, shoulders still shaking.
It was good to see Conner letting out his emotions. He was like Lex in that he tended to repress and use his wits as a shield. Lex could count on one hand the number of times he’d let himself really cry, and he could only hope that Conner would learn to relax more and be the better for it.
He reached out for a slice of toast, perfectly buttered. “Not really. She tolerated me at best, was always polite. But I could always tell that she wished I would go away and leave her family in peace.”
“You are family,” Conner insisted.
“To you…” Lex sighed. “Never to her. There was a time when I would’ve given anything to-” He cut himself off mid-sentence. Dear God, now he was getting downright maudlin, and sentimental to boot. Soon, he’d have to bring out the world’s tiniest violin to play for himself.
“What?” Conner asked curiously, curling onto his side so that he could see Lex better. His hair was a hopeless mass of tangled curls, and his nose was still red. Sans the hair problem, Lex undoubtedly looked the same.
“Nothing,” Lex shook it off. There was no point in dwelling on the past. Conner might welcome him into the fold, and he could grieve for Conner’s loss, but he himself had no right to mourn Martha Kent. It was the same strange feeling he’d had at Jonathan’s funeral all those years ago, like he didn’t quite belong, even when he’d been willing to take on his share of the burden.
“Is this about when you and Clark knew each other, y’know, before?”
Clark had chosen to keep Conner largely ignorant of the days when the two of them had been friends, and Lex had respected Clark’s wishes enough not to go out of his way to divulge that part of his life. Frankly, he didn’t like to think about his Smallville years. They depressed him horribly now. He couldn’t imagine how he’d ever been that naïve…
“Yes.” And now he was openly defying Clark, but Conner was family, and he wouldn’t lie to family. That had actually been a rather thorny decision for him to make after Clark had finally allowed the two of them to meet. But, in the end, Lex had decided to tell Conner the truth about anything he dared to ask. If Lex’s own son wanted to destroy him, then Lex figured he would have well and truly deserved whatever he got. Thus far he hadn’t regretted that decision.
“What happened back then?” Conner seemed to have calmed now and was eyeing the juice with measured longing. “I mean, you two obviously know each other really well.”
Too well for simple enemies, wasn’t spoken but clearly implied. Conner had always been very intuitive, picking up on subtle cues. Obviously a trait he’d picked up from Lex, since heaven knew Clark could miss a freight train even after it had bounced off his invulnerable chest.
“We were friends,” Lex said after a long pause, studying the toast in his hand. “And then we weren’t anymore.”
“Why not?” Conner sniffed slightly, rubbing at his eyes half-heartedly.
“Philosophical differences,” Lex answered simply.
“Philosophical differences? That’s a stupid reason to fight.”
Lex let out a wry laugh at that. “That’s the only reason to fight. All of human history, that’s all anyone has fought over. Religion, philosophy…” That wasn’t entirely accurate, of course - there was also money - but Lex was feeling in a strangely existential mood at the moment.
“You’re not going to lecture me on Sun Tzu, are you?” Conner asked warily.
“That depends. How good is your history class?”
“Fine,” Conner insisted hurriedly. “We’re learning about World War II, like sane people.”
“Ah,” Lex sighed and leaned back in the chair. Sunlight was just beginning to tinge the drapes a deep orange. “World War II, the worst thing that ever happened to humanity…”
“And to think that some people want to compare you to Hitler,” Conner snorted.
Lex frowned. “Have you been talking to Brainiac?”
“He really doesn’t like you.”
“The feeling is more than mutual. And besides, he’s evil so you shouldn’t listen to him, anyway.”
Conner gave him a Look.
“I’m different.”
The Look turned a shade more incredulous.
“It’s all relative.” Lex took a moment to compose his thoughts. “And that’s the true problem with World War II…”
“And now you’re totally going to tell me why,” Conner accused, the pure dread in his voice of any child about to get a lengthy lecture.
“The real problem with World War II,” Lex concluded, “was that it was so purely black and white. There was evil and good, and for the most part, that’s incontrovertible.”
“And that’s bad?” Conner really should have known better than to ask by now.
“It’s bad because it validates people like Clark, gives them justification to put everything into black and white. It’s just not a healthy or mature worldview.”
“And you would know,” Conner commented skeptically.
Lex sighed. “Maybe I don’t know. Maybe that’s why I’m evil.” He waved his good hand in the air lazily, watching his half eaten toast catch the evening light. “I prefer to call it a philosophical difference.”
“You have evil labs,” Conner accused. “I’ve seen them.”
Well, this was certainly new. They usually stayed as far away from Lex’s dubious reputation as they could during their monthly visits. “I do,” he agreed. “I love my labs. Wouldn’t give them up for all the world. But I wouldn’t call them evil, per se.”
“I’ve seen them,” Conner repeated, sounding slightly angrily.
Lex waved that off dismissively. “You’ve seen the bad. A lot of good comes out of those labs, too. The two aren’t really separable.”
“Government labs don’t seem to have any difficulty separating the two,” Conner countered.
Lex laughed. “That’s highly debatable.”
“They don’t do human testing.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone does human testing. Most just do less revolutionary experiments in the first place. Really, you should see the things that cosmetic companies do, and then try to tell me that I’m evil.”
“Making fun of the problem won’t make it go away.”
Damn. Where had the kid gotten that sharp mind of his? Oh…right. “No, but it’ll make me feel better.”
Conner glared at him like he was being insufferable on purpose which, in all honesty, he was. “Seriously, Dad, why do you do it?”
“First,” Lex began, “those ‘evil labs’ help a lot of people.” He raised his artificial hand and watched the fingers move as smoothly, liquidly, as any human flesh. “I’m not the only one to benefit from our medical advances. And, also, I’ve borne my fair share of that human experimentation.”
Conner bit his lip nervously at that.
“Second,” Lex continued with a lofty air, “I do run an international, multi-billion dollar company, with one of the most diverse portfolios of any corporation on this planet. Innovation and experimentation are vital to continued growth.” Conner opened his mouth to protest. “And, before you object, that growth means tens of thousands of jobs for people all over the world. It means that people can buy homes, feed their families, provide for their futures. Clark wants to bring down LexCorp, but he never thinks of the effect that would truly have on Metropolis. On the world,” he added as an afterthought.
“Now you’re totally full of shit.” Usually Lex enjoyed the fact that Conner was very astute; right now it just made his life difficult.
“Fine,” he agreed. “And third is a very long and unpleasant story involving my father that I’m sure you don’t want to hear, either.”
“Well, I’m pretty much stuck here until Clark gets back,” Conner muttered, sounding somewhat apologetic. “It’s not like there’s anything better to do…” Conner was giving him a curious look. Conner always seemed fascinated by stories about Lionel; Lex supposed it was like watching their own family’s personal train wreck.
With a sigh, he settled back into a past he really would rather have forgotten. “When I was your age,” Lex began wearily, “I began college at Princeton. My father had always made sure to bump me ahead grades whenever he could. I think he found my entire growing up process impossibly tedious.”
“Nice,” Conner muttered sarcastically.
If Lex didn’t know how horribly it embarrassed Conner, he would have kissed him for his continued, unwavering hatred of Lionel. “Indeed,” he agreed instead. “But I’d been planning for this eventuality. I played up the role of the spoiled rich brat and did all the drugs I could think of. My grades were exceptional without my really trying, of course, which was enough to pacify Dad. I pretended not to care about the academics, but in secret I made sure to do extraordinarily well in chemistry and biology. With all the other classes, I skipped horrendously and only attended on the days there were tests to ace. But I never missed a chemistry class. Even Dad didn’t detect that there was a pattern to my absences.” Lex sighed in fond memory. “I always loved chemistry…”
“You do realize that you’re losing any cool points you might have had, by the minute?” Conner was rolling his eyes.
“I’m amazed I had any to begin with,” Lex retorted. “In any case, the plan was simple. I graduated in three years, Just Like Daddy Wanted, and then I returned to Metropolis, seemingly a dilettante, but secretly with the most impressive recommendations in biochemistry that one could get from Princeton. Amidst a bawdy public spectacle of alcohol and debauchery, I covertly applied to the University of Metropolis’ graduate program and was, of course, accepted.”
“Of course,” Conner agreed with a half-smile.
“I never told my father. I was still a teenager back then, and hopelessly naïve. I think I actually believed that he wouldn’t find out. And he didn’t for a whole semester.”
“But then he did.”
“And, within a week, the University had me expelled for synthesizing illegal drugs and distributing them on campus,” Lex concluded.
“Which, of course, you were innocent of,” Conner added skeptically.
“No, I was horribly guilty. But the fact that my father accompanied the police raid of the room I kept on campus was something of a giveaway that it wasn’t a routine bust.”
“Your dad was a total ass. What did he have against you going to school, anyway?”
“It simply wasn’t in His Plan for my life. A mere scientist wasn’t ambitious enough for his only legitimate heir.” Lex considered for a moment. “That was his official excuse, anyway. Privately, I really do believe that he just liked making me miserable. There was…something wrong with my father. He wasn’t just a ‘total ass’. It was more than that. I look at you, and it causes me actual pain to think of ever hurting you-”
Conner made a face like he always did at the ‘mushy stuff’.
“-But my father really did thrive on watching me suffer.” Lex shook his head. “I’ve bandied the word ‘sociopath’ about in my head for some years now. But I suppose I’ll never really know the truth…”
“Your family is officially fucked up,” Conner informed him.
Lex snorted at that. “And to think: You haven’t even heard about all the assassination attempts yet.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Conner’s eyes widened.
“Unfortunately not. But I was always informed, after the fact, that it was ‘for my own good’.”
“Seriously fucked up,” Conner amended.
“So now you can agree that Clark was somewhat justified in keeping you from meeting me those two years. He didn’t want me to fuck you up, too. Frankly, I had similar worries.”
“And now you don’t?”
“I trust your judgment. If you say I’m not hopelessly ruining your life, then I believe you.”
Conner looked strangely touched by this, but in that macho teenage way where he couldn’t actually express his feelings. Lex could tell, though, and that was good enough for him.
“Anyway, the point of the story is that I always wanted my own lab, and I never got it. So now the least I can do is create the sort of labs I would have loved to work in.” He laid his head back on the headrest and watched the last rays of sun fade away. “When I was a young man, I’d have given anything to work in a place like LexCorp Labs. Really, the drought-resistant seedlings alone could have taken up my whole life. But then there’s the biotech and the robotics and…” He sighed wistfully.
Conner’s eyes narrowed critically. “So, basically, you’re a hopeless nerd with no moral center.”
“Exactly,” Lex agreed with a laugh.
Conner considered that for a moment. “Okay,” he finally agreed. “I can work with that.”
There was a certain scheming tone to his voice that Lex recognized all too well from his own more Machiavellian moments. “Don’t even think about it.”
“What?” Conner blinked at him innocently.
“Clark and I are never going to reconcile.” The glint of surprise in Conner’s eyes let Lex know that he’d hit the nail on the head. “It’s simply never going to happen.”
“Because of philosophical differences?” Conner sounded less than convinced.
“Because,” Lex corrected wearily, “any sort of reconciliation that would last would require that I cede to demands that I will never give in to and that Clark accept demands that he would never give in to. It’s impossible.”
“But you’ve thought about it.”
Well, obviously he had. “I’m well aware of the differences that separate us. Clark isn’t even that far along. About these sorts of things, he can be quite…” He waved his good hand in the air, searching for the right word. “Oblivious.”
Conner frowned for a moment, and then Lex saw a series of realizations pass through his eyes, alarmingly fast and startling. “Oh my God!” Conner exclaimed in sudden surprise, jerking up. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
And that was just downright uncanny. Lex froze, eyes wide, breath caught in his throat. He’d spent years and years agonizing over the fact that his feelings for Clark had to be written plainly across his face for all to see, but no one had ever figured it out before. No one had ever understood him well enough…
“That’s what this is all about?” Conner didn’t need Lex to confirm his suspicions; Lex’s reaction had undoubtedly been enough.
It took Lex only a moment to compose himself. “No, it really is about philosophical differences. However,” he added thoughtfully, “I doubt there’s ever been a conflict in all of human history that wasn’t worsened by the addition of unresolved sexual tension.”
“Okay: TMI.” Conner ran one hand through his hair, trying to process. “Have you ever told him that…?” He let the question trail off.
“When I first took independent control of the Smallville Fertilizer Factory under the original LexCorp,” Lex answered by way of anecdote, “I published employee hiring guidelines with the standard boilerplate: equal opportunity employer, will not discriminate based upon race, age, gender, sexual orientation, et cetera.”
Conner nodded for him to continue.
“That last one caused a special meeting of the town council, there was so much public outrage. Eventually Clark’s father took me aside and informed me very kindly that, while he was perfectly aware that ‘those people’ existed and that he certainly opposed discrimination of any sort, Smallville was a nice, family community and really didn’t need to be reminded that there might be homosexuals in their midst.”
“What did you do?”
Lex laughed. “I took out the clause. At the time I was horribly eager for Jonathan Kent’s approval for reasons which I’m sure you’ll agree were thoroughly ironic in this case.”
Conner just nodded numbly.
“That was the community Clark grew up in. Jonathan was a good man, if narrow-minded, and Clark always looked up to him.” Lex sighed. “So, no. I never told Clark.”
“Yeah…” Conner breathed, brow furrowed. “Wow. You’ve got a story for everything, don’t you?”
“I’ve led a very eventful life. I hope I’m not boring you?”
“Nah.” Conner shook his head. “At first it was weird. But then I just accepted the fact that you know everything about everything. And now it’s kind of cool.”
Lex suddenly wished that Clark were present for the thoroughly immature reason that he felt the impulse to shout out ‘Nyah, nyah! You may be Superman, but I’m the one our son thinks is infallible!’ Clearly, it had been a very trying day, and he was in danger of losing it again.
“Hey, Dad?”
“Yes?” Lex asked tiredly.
“Am I still grounded?”
Lex sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. Artificial fingers on artificial eyelashes: at this rate by the time he was sixty he’d be completely inhuman. “You were never grounded, Conner. I just don’t want you jumping into dangerous situations when you’re distracted.”
“Can I go for a quick fly, then?” Conner asked hopefully. “I just want to clear my head.”
Lex wished that he were capable of going for a ‘quick fly’ at that moment, too. It would probably do him some good. “I don’t see the harm.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Conner got up off of the bed, and his hand brushed Lex’s shoulder casually in a gesture that was the closest to comfort his teenage son could probably bear to give him without embarrassing himself.
Lex watched Conner take off into the fading twilight, before he came to the most brilliant conclusion of his life to that date:
It was time to get completely and thoroughly drunk.
***
The problem with getting drunk was that it really didn’t turn Lex’s brain off; it just turned his thoughts in directions that he wouldn’t normally go.
Like his long-held drunken theory that Clark was kind of really gay.
This theory, of course, serviced Lex’s own wishes and desires and, as such, was inherently suspect from a purely scientific standpoint. However, even stone cold sober Lex had to admit that the theory had its merits.
The first point of evidence in the theory’s favor was Lana Lang. Now, Lana was a perfectly beautiful woman. Lex could admit that and had even partaken of that at one time. However, the fact that Clark had been supposedly ‘in love’ with her throughout all his youth, yet had never even spoken to her prior to his freshman year, despite their being neighbors, spoke volumes. There was shyness, and then there was worship from afar because, in all honesty, Clark had never wanted to get too close.
Their ‘relationship’ over the years further proved Lex’s point. Years and years of beating around the bush, with only a rare kiss, followed by months of careful distance… Well, it simply wasn’t normal. No relationship ever had been as un-physical as Clark and Lana’s had been. It was as if the two of them had been in love with the idea of being in love, but the physical reality just never worked out.
And, once they finally had gotten over the physical thing long enough to have sex, they’d fled even further from each other. Clark claimed to fear hurting the women he dated, but no man in the world was only able to have sex once and then enforce abstinence throughout the rest of his life. For a while Lex had wondered whether Kryptonian male sexuality was just that different from human.
But there was a far simpler explanation: Clark had gotten a taste of heterosexual sex with Lana, he hadn’t enjoyed it, and that terrified him.
Which led quite naturally to Lois Lane, the least sexual woman that Clark could possibly have latched himself onto. Not that Lois didn’t have a healthy sex life with people who weren’t Clark, but Clark simply had no chance with Lois. He might as well not exist to her, which allowed him to maintain his illusion that he was thoroughly in love without having to face the nitty-gritty of how that ‘love’ would physically manifest. What better for Clark’s celibacy that to worship a woman who was all but married to her work?
Of course, Superman was a different story. Superman could have had Lois at any time over the past decade, yet he’d never chosen to press his suit. Oh so conveniently, Superman had the advantage that he could justify his lack of interest under the larger than life persona he’d created for himself: sex was below Superman.
It was all very telling.
Either that, or Lex was thinking himself into wishful circles.
He’d just begun on his second decanter of brandy when a picture of the current object of his fascination appeared on the television screen. Of course Lois couldn’t sit on a story out of respect for a man (well, Kryptonian) who’d saved her life on countless occasions. The public, naturally, had to be informed of every dirty little detail of their lives.
Frankly, Lex wondered at Clark’s fixation on Lois. Even as an untouchable ideal, she was horribly shrill and prying. Clark had always hated it when Lex dug into his personal life, so why did Clark tolerate Lois?
Or, even worse, did Lois remind Clark of Lex in her dogged determination, and that was why he’d chosen her as the supposed object of his affections? If that were the case, Lex was horribly offended and would have to refuse Clark on that hypothetical day when he finally dropped to his knees and begged Lex to fuck him.
Well… He’d refuse once. Maybe. After he’d satiated his own desires half a dozen or so times first.
Lex turned on the volume for Channel 6, the Planet’s partner for slander when just libel wouldn’t do, to discover that ‘Superman Takes Day Off’ was apparently headline news. Lois Lane’s tact seemed to be at an all-time low. Of course, given that the story involved him, Superman, and Superboy, he wasn’t surprised. She’d been practically salivating when she’d left his office, after all.
He wasn’t being raked through the coals as he usually was any time a Planet affiliate mentioned him, however. It was always best to be grateful for the little things.
Rather the panicky red banner assured the denizens of Metropolis that Batman had informed Channel 6 reporters (Lex took a moment to wince in sympathy for Bruce) that the Green Lantern would be checking by until Superman returned. Because, of course, the city couldn’t function normally if there wasn’t some idiot wearing brightly colored tights, flying through the sky.
Lex gritted his teeth and knocked back another glass of brandy. This was exactly the sort of thing he was always warning Clark about: It simply wasn’t good for humanity to just sit back and let superheroes take care of everything. ‘The American Way’ had been independence and ingenuity just as long as it hadn’t had Superman to act as its daddy and do everything for it. Now, ‘the American Way’ seemed to be perpetual laziness and screaming ‘Superman, help!’ any time something went awry.
“I’ll just be so grateful when Superman gets back,” your average soccer mom on the street was saying into the camera near what appeared to be 49th and Grand. “I don’t feel safe now, you know?”
Ah, yes. This was what Superman’s careful attentions had turned humanity into: a gaggle of fearful children. Lex turned off the television in disgust. This was exactly the reason he could never really get into philanthropy. As an ideal, he had no objection to helping those in need, but in actual practice people were just so perennially disappointing.
It was even more problematic for Clark. Because, practically speaking, Clark had set himself up as a sort of god. Clark was unpretentious enough that Lex knew that it had been entirely unintentional, but it had happened nonetheless. If Lex’s suspicions were remotely true, Clark was trapped in an unsolvable conundrum. Metropolis, liberal and forward-thinking as it was, wasn’t ready for a gay superhero. And it certainly wasn’t ready for a gay god.
Clark had confined himself to a web of lies so tightly interwoven that even he couldn’t escape. Lex hadn’t been kidding when he’d told Conner that reconciliation between the two of them was impossible. Lex only wished he could stop dwelling on just how hopeless it all was…
Because, as a corollary to his ‘Clark is gay’ theory, was the conviction that Clark was in love with him, too.
The corollary rested on shakier ground that the actual theory, and mostly was based upon the fact that there really weren’t any other viable options in Clark’s life.
Except Jimmy Olsen, his brain chimed in, right on cue.
Shut up, brain, he snapped reflexively. He downed another glass of brandy to help facilitate the process.
Because, really, that option was just…stupid! He was smarter and more confident and better looking and had known Clark far longer and just… Jimmy Olsen was not an option.
So, back to how Clark was in love with him… Well, he really didn’t have any evidence for that one, per se. It was just a process for elimination. Because: Seriously? Jimmy Olsen?
There was also the fact that, no matter what anyone else said, Lex had always known that he and Clark were connected. It had begun that day on the bridge, all those years ago, when Clark had breathed life into him. He’d awoken after that accident, reborn, with Clark’s face smiling down at him. It had been the most genuinely spiritually moving event of his life, and he refused to believe that it meant nothing.
In that moment, he’d known Clark like he’d never known anyone before or since. Clark’s hands and breath and smile were like the sun itself, and Lex had felt warm inside, in a way that was thoroughly indescribable. It hadn’t even been entirely sexual. Rather, in that moment he’d known that he and Clark belonged together, that he’d finally found his perfect complement.
They were, quite simply put, destined.
Lex had always had his own funny views of destiny. He believed in it only insomuch as men forged their own destinies, worked toward the culmination of their own being. When Lex had first met Clark, he’d never been more excited by the idea of pursuing his own destiny.
The moment was fleeting, of course, but it was absolutely perfect. The only truly honest moment he and Clark had ever shared. Because, of course, then he’d asked about the crash, and Clark had lied as he always did. But that one moment…
It had been everything to him. It was simply impossible that Clark hadn’t felt the same thing. Lex didn’t consider himself an optimist most days, but even he refused to believe that the universe could be that cruel.
***
When Lex awoke in the middle of the night, he was in his bed rather than passed out on the couch like he’d remembered. That meant that someone had moved him. Conner, most likely. The only other option was Mercy and, weight differentials aside, when faced with the choice of dragging Lex to bed or letting him spend the night on the couch and develop a horrible crink in his neck so that she could make smart-assed and thoroughly unsympathetic remarks over breakfast, Mercy would undoubtedly select the latter. She’d just never been big on coddling.
Lex rolled over onto his left side with a muffled protest. He was, most definitely, hung-over. It wasn’t a predicament he often suffered from, thanks to his meteor-enhanced healing. In fact, it took a rather impressive effort to get himself drunk in the first place these days. In principle, it was good to know that he was still physically capable of accomplishing both; in practice, his head hurt like hell.
“You’re awake?”
The voice alerted him to a third option he hadn’t considered: Clark was back. “You’re back,” he muttered. Oh, just brilliant. He was certainly at his finest this evening. “What time is it?”
“1AM.” Well, at least that wasn’t too pathetic, then.
“Where’s Conner?”
“Asleep in his room,” Clark answered, sitting down lightly on the edge of the bed. His cape twisted in a way that looked horribly uncomfortable, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“Batman and that Lane woman called for you. Thanks for leaving me to take care of our grieving son, the media, and the Justice League all by myself.” A pause. “Jerk.” And, joy of all joys, it seemed that he was still just a bit drunk.
The quirk of Clark’s lips caught the moonlight shining in through the full windows along the far wall. “Sorry.” Because, of course, Clark had to apologize for everything. “Thank you.”
Clark got up and walked over to the windows to close the drapes while Lex tried to process the fact that Clark had actually thanked him. He was pretty sure that he’d be having difficulty with the concept, even if he’d been sober.
And then, as he watched, Clark reached up and unfastened his cape, draping it over Lex’s desk chair. Lex felt the sound of surprise die in his suddenly dry throat when Clark continued the process, stripping the skin-tight costume off of his body until he was entirely nude. Lex could have cursed Clark in that moment for closing the blinds; he could only make out the dim outline of Clark’s form as he approached the bed.
“Can I…” Clark’s voice sounded nervous and young in a way that it hadn’t since he’d left Smallville for good. “Can I spend the night here? I don’t really want to be alone anymore.”
Oh, please, Lex, can I crawl naked into your bed with my godlike physique? Like that wasn’t the most rhetorical question in the universe. Lex just managed to nod numbly.
Then Lex could see muscles rippling and felt the mattress dip and shift as Clark crawled beneath the covers and over to where Lex lay dazed and helpless by this turn of events. And Clark just didn’t lie down beside Lex: he curled up nice and close, his cheek brushing Lex’s shoulder with every exhalation of breath, their warmth mingling together and pulling them closer like some sort of irresistible magnetic force.
It was around that time that Lex realized that Clark had undressed him before putting him to bed. He’d been complaining for years that Superman was always rumpling his suits; Clark had certainly picked a lovely time to start paying attention. The hard, smooth flesh of Clark’s chest pressed erotically against his own skin. A caress of silk where Clark’s thigh splayed over his waist made him aware that at least he still had his boxer-briefs, which was more than Clark was sporting at the moment.
It was intensely sensual, yet oddly not entirely sexual. His hand came up to run lazily up and down Clark’s spine, and Clark’s body rocked and shivered with the motion of Lex’s hand, a content little “mmm” escaping his lips. But all their touching felt so much more like comfort than arousal.
Lex was just a bit too drunk to process it all.
“Are you all right?” he finally asked, his lips mere inches from Clark’s forehead.
“Don’t wanna talk about it,” Clark grumbled, curling his hand possessively around Lex’s waist and pulling him closer.
They were - dear God! - just cuddling, it seemed.
Strangely enough, Lex found himself not entirely adverse to the idea. Possibly because his alcohol consumption had made anything more quite the gambit. And there was just something relaxing about the feel of Clark’s breath against his throat, the steady, reassuring pulse of Clark’s heartbeat beneath the pads of his fingertips.
Clark reached over and took Lex’s artificial hand in his own, and Lex could sense the pressure of Clark’s fingers through the wires and fiber optics and servos, feel the mechanical connections that had been wired to his brain, but he couldn’t feel the warmth, the completeness that should come from this simple touch. It was the first time the bionics had felt completely inadequate, rather than like a medical miracle.
“’S okay,” Clark mumbled against his shoulder before bringing Lex’s false hand to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss across the knuckles.
And that time, Lex felt. Not just the simulation of feeling his right hand had held for so long, but real feeling that came from emotion rather than mere contact.
Clark’s lips felt like forgiveness and salvation, and maybe even a promise for more.
Lex’s last thought, before the warm breathing rhythm of lazy, entangled limbs carried his conscious mind away once more, was that this had to be a dream. Why Lex had been granted a nightly reprieve from the nightmares of insects and rotting death bubbling up from beneath his skin was beyond him. But he wasn’t about to look this gift horse of wondrous perfection in the mouth.
***
When Lex awoke the next morning, he was alone. The letdown after what, sober, he was now confident had been a dream was enough to make him swear off liquor for the rest of his life. At least the hangover was cured now. Thank God for childhood Kryptonite-related traumas.
He’d just begun a serious debate with himself over whether he really wanted to get out of bed that morning, when the bathroom door opened, and his world was turned on its head for the second time in the past six or so hours.
Last night, apparently, hadn’t been entirely a dream, because there was Clark standing before him, fresh from the shower, with nothing but a white Egyptian cotton towel monogrammed with royal purple ‘L.L.’ wrapped around his waist.
Lex watched in something akin to a lustful stunned stupor as sun-kissed skin stretched and flexed over taut muscles and Clark let out a long yawn.
“’Morning,” Clark offered sleepily when he was done preening before slipping back into bed beside Lex. A momentary shifting beneath the blankets, and then Clark retrieved the towel and tossed it carelessly onto the desk chair on top of his costume. Which meant that, once again, Clark was naked in his bed.
Clearly, Lex had died and, through some supremely ironic miscalculation, ended up in heaven. There was no other explanation.
“Sleep well?” Clark’s lips were quirked into a mischievous little smile that Lex hadn’t seen directed at him since before his first marriage.
Lex’s mind was reeling at all the implications. “Fine, thank you. You?” Standard politeness gave him time to think, and he finally grasped upon the obvious answer: grief had driven Clark completely mad.
“Wonderful.” Clark propped his head up on one elbow as he studied Lex’s bare chest. “Your bed’s a lot comfier than Ceres.”
“You did head for the Asteroid Belt, then.” It was really almost impossible to hold a rational conversation while naked in bed with Clark, Lex was discovering. Not that he objected, really.
“Warmer, too,” Clark added, his eyes darkening as he leaned in to brush his hand down the side of Lex’s face.
Lex’s knee-jerk reaction, still present after spending a quarter of a century under his father’s diabolical care, was to pull away from the touch.
Clark seemed to understand and just smiled softly in that warm, wonderful way that reminded Lex of his old friend, rather than the untouchable icon Superman had become. “I missed you,” he added, voice deep and rough. “You and Conner, but especially you…”
Lex’s brain may have short-circuited at the way Clark was inching ever closer, but even so he was able to recognize that something was seriously amiss. He sat up abruptly, putting a halt to Clark’s slow seduction, and fixed Clark with a critical expression. “Are you sure you’re feeling well?” he asked in the most neutral voice he could manage.
Clark’s smile darkened several shades at that. “No, not really.” He sighed and collapsed back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. “I mean, my mom just died.”
“I noticed,” Lex commented wryly.
Clark shut his eyes. “I wanted to get away, as far as I could…so far that I couldn’t hear a thing, just the emptiness of space…”
Lex relaxed marginally. It was unusual for Clark to be talking about himself this much (that was strictly Lex’s department), but Lex took it as a good sign.
“But then,” Clark continued, his voice low and almost hypnotic, “I realized that that wasn’t what I wanted at all.”
“Oh?”
“It was so quiet, and I felt so alone. And I suddenly realized that that was what I was running away from in the first place. Mom is gone, and…” He choked up slightly.
Lex lay back down next to him, and Clark took the invitation for what it was and rested his head on Lex’s shoulder. The last time Lex had seen Clark physical like this had been ages ago back in Smallville. Clark had never felt any compunction about touching back then, and Lex had been forced to endure any number of hugs, back pats, and sessions as Clark’s pillow when they’d watched movies together. He’d surprised himself back then by not minding; it still surprised him even now.
“The world loves Superman,” Clark concluded sadly, “but Mom was the only person who just loved me, unconditionally and without question.”
Lex’s throat felt tight at that thought. He remembered that from when his own mother had died: the one person in the world guaranteed to love him was gone, and he might never find another. He hadn’t until… “Conner loves you,” Lex reminded him.
“That’s why I came back,” Clark agreed lazily. “Mom’s gone, and Dad… Hell, Perry had heart surgery last year, and Lois won’t quit smoking, and…”
“People die,” Lex said simply. “That’s what we do.”
“Which is why I don’t have any time to waste,” Clark concluded. “Mom died knowing how much I loved her. Th-The last time we talked I teased her that she’d outlive us all, bustling about in that kitchen, even though she’d been getting weaker for years, and she made me cherry pie, and I told her about my work at the Planet and all the people I’d saved that week, and she told me she was proud of me, and I hugged her and told her I loved her.”
Lex contemplated him thoughtfully for a moment, as well. “Those were actually the last words I told my mother, as well.” And, God, he’d never told anyone this, but Clark had always made him want to lay his soul bare. He’d thought he’d learned long ago that trusting Clark with his secrets only led to pain and rejection. “I wasn’t there when she died, but at least I told her…”
“It matters,” Clark agreed. “After they’re gone…”
Lex’s hand reached out tentatively to touch Clark’s hair. Clark, unlike him, didn’t flinch away.
“And the way I figure it,” Clark concluded, “if anything happens… Conner knows that I’ll always love him. And Perry and Lois and Jimmy all understand. But…”
“But?” Clark had no idea how impossibly sexy he was just then, open and vulnerable and naked. The blanket had pooled around his waist, taking the towel’s place, and he was almost irresistible…
“If you died tomorrow…”
Lex snorted, because Clark had always been hopelessly oblivious to the fact that he could, in fact, die too, no matter how many times Lex had come close to proving that very deadly point.
Clark leaned in, eyes a darker green than Lex had ever seen them. “…You’d die thinking that I hate you. And I don’t hate you, Lex.”
Ah, so that was what this was about. Loss had driven Clark into a state of mind where he was determined to ‘carpe diem’ and damn the consequences. It was a brief moment of near insanity that many people suffered after someone close to them had passed on. In other words, Clark wasn’t quite himself and would regret this, if not tomorrow, then soon.
“I don’t hate you…” Clark repeated in a whisper.
Lex resisted the urge to counter with, You will soon. “I’m aware of that,” he said instead.
“But you don’t know,” Clark insisted, leaning in closer so that Lex could feel an impossibly hot exhalation of breath against his lips.
Now, back when they’d first met, Lex had gotten quite a lot of practice at controlling his libido. This was because Clark had had the unfortunate habit of leaning too far over the pool table, ass waggling suggestively at Lex, and asking, “Does this look lined up right to you?” The only reasonable to response to such a question would have been to curl his body right around Clark’s back ‘helpfully,’ kiss him senseless, and then proceed to show him how to really ‘line up’ right. Clark really had been a hopeless, if completely oblivious, cocktease, and Lex’s self-control had been tried and tested.
The reason he’d kept control of himself back then was that he’d actually wanted to do right by Clark. They had been friends, first and foremost, and Lex had valued that almost as much as his cock had valued visions of bare, tanned farmboy flesh during his nightly (and many times tri-nightly) masturbation sessions. As a result, Clark had always been in the companion category, rather than just a cheap fuck. Not that Lex thought the two were mutually exclusive, but Clark was so much younger, and the law had been the law, and Lex hadn’t wanted to hurt Clark. He’d been foolishly convinced back then that he could do the noble thing and wait until Clark was out of high school.
Heaven help him, Lex had actually been a gentleman with Clark.
Of course, then Clark had suddenly declared, weeks after his eighteenth birthday, that he didn’t like Lex anymore and didn’t want to be friends. It was something for which Lex still hadn’t forgiven him and possibly never would.
What it all amounted to now, however, was that Lex had done the right thing before and lost his chance. So now he simply didn’t give a damn. Let Clark hate himself tomorrow; Lex had waited years only to have all his hopes dashed. He wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice. And, if that made him evil, then so be it. He’d grown wearily accustomed to that label long ago…
Clark’s mouth was warm and wet and slightly minty. Clark let out a little yelp of surprise when Lex kissed him, and it gave Lex the opportunity to delve deep inside, to taste and plunder and possess.
He’d almost convinced himself that Clark had still been ignorant of how his behavior could have been construed as sexual when he felt Clark’s tongue moving against his, tentatively like Clark had absolutely no idea what he was doing and was going with the flow. Clark let out a groan when Lex’s left hand tangled in his hair, pulling him in deeper, which let Lex know only too well that, while this might be new to Clark, he was definitely enjoying the experience.
Lex felt more concrete evidence of Clark’s enjoyment against his thigh when he rolled them over, covering Clark’s body with his own, so that he could touch every bit of exposed skin all at once. Clark went willingly, compliantly, and there was a heady power in that. He had Superman writhing beneath him, placid and submissive, helpless to his every whim.
Clark’s lips and fingers had turned frantic now, and he was touching Lex everywhere he could. Despite Clark’s lack of finesse, Lex was quite enjoying the attentions. There was something to be said for driving one’s partner so mad with lust that they randomly ended up caressing a shoulder blade simply because they couldn’t get enough.
Lex insinuated himself between Clark’s thighs, and Clark’s body started to buck beneath him, desperate for friction. Their cocks slid against each other through the silk of Lex’s boxers for one impossibly wonderful second, before:
“Hey, Da-Oh, Jesus! Gross! Get a room, you guys!”
The door slammed shut behind Conner, and Lex could hear the trauma in the gagging noises Conner was making out in the hallway. “Technically,” he shouted in the direction of the door, “we did get a room. My bedroom, in fact.” Walking in on Lex in flagrante delicto with another man was no excuse for sloppy vocabulary choices, after all.
“Gross!” Conner shouted back. “You’re old!”
Beneath Lex, Clark snickered. “Are you actually debating semantics?” he demanded with an amused grin. “Way to kill the mood, Lex.”
With a frustrated sigh, Lex rolled off of Clark, pulled one of the pillows over onto his face, and swore eloquently and at great length. There was just no way he could take advantage of Clark while their son was listening. The cursing turned more colorful and possibly polylingual; Lex wasn’t really paying too much attention to what he was saying.
Because, once again, he’d had the perfect opportunity and missed it.
***
Breakfast was a thoroughly unreal experience in that Clark couldn’t seem to stop blushing and Conner refused to look at either of them. Mercy, who was mixing together her usual toxic-looking combination of high energy ingredients in the blender, couldn’t stop snickering. Like Mercy’s cracking up, Mercy’s snickering showed no outward visual signs, but Lex could tell she was doing it and was glowering at her accordingly.
“The funeral’s set for two o’clock this Saturday,” Lex announced because someone had to break the ice. It was a grim reminder of why they were all there, but a nice distraction from this morning’s indiscretions.
“Mom wanted tu-”
“Tulips, yes,” Lex interrupted Clark. “I have discussed all of Martha’s wishes with the funeral home.” He took a sip of his coffee and studied Clark intently. “What do you two plan on doing after the funeral?”
Clark pondered that for a moment, still studiously avoiding looking Lex in the eye. “I still have to deal with all Mom’s things. Maybe a garage sale.”
Lex would’ve suggested a more lucrative option, such as an estate auction, if he’d believed that Martha had anything of value. As it was, he just nodded in agreement.
“And then I’ll have to make arrangements for Conner…” Clark thought about that for a moment. “Hey, do you think the Rosses would-?”
“No!” Conner exclaimed in horror.
“Absolutely not,” Lex snapped at the same time.
Clark blinked at them in disbelief. “Really?” He sounded surprised. “Because I always got the impression that they’d be really helpful with-”
“The objection is not that the Rosses might refuse,” Lex enlightened Clark, “but rather that our son stringently opposes that course of action.”
“What’s wrong with the Rosses?” Clark looked at Conner.
Conner glared at Clark.
Clark looked at Lex.
Lex glared at Clark, too.
Clark looked unnerved; he probably wasn’t used to dealing with Lex in stereo. “Okay, I get the message. No staying with the Rosses.” A thoughtful pause. “I suppose I could stay down at the farm and fly in to work…”
“Might I suggest,” Lex began carefully, setting his coffee mug down neatly on the napkin in front of him, “that Conner really need not stay in Smallville.”
“I could live in Metropolis,” Conner chimed in hopefully. “It’d be more convenient for everybody, and they wouldn’t make me go apple-picking and cow-milking in biology class.”
Lex all but choked at that.
Sensing a weak point for parent manipulation, Conner quickly added in, “And I don’t think our teacher believes in evolution, either.”
“Conner!” Clark glared at him. “You know that’s not true.”
“And our health teacher said that Satan invented birth-control!” Conner added helpfully.
“Clark…” Lex began dangerously.
“He’s making it up, Lex. Jeez.” Clark rolled his eyes at him.
“In any case, inventive lying is a sign of academic dissatisfaction,” Lex concluded.
“And you would know,” Clark grumbled.
Which, really, was just the pot calling the kettle black, but Lex let it pass. “When Conner mentioned this to me, I took the liberty of looking into schools in Metropolis. There are several that look both discreet and adequate academically.”
Conner gulped at that. “When you say ‘adequate,’ does that mean that everyone there talks like a freak like you?”
“I cannot imagine whence you derived that assessment.” And, yeah, Lex was doing it on purpose now.
Conner’s eyes had gone wide, though.
“Knock that off.” Clark elbowed Lex lightly in the side in a gesture so indicative of their Smallville years that it completely startled Lex away from his point. Then, Clark turned back to Conner, his voice sounding downright hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me about this, Conner?”
“You flew off before I even had the chance!” Conner lashed out in the snottiest tone imaginable.
It always rather astounded Lex how much better behaved Conner was around him. Clark loved Conner unquestionably, but something about Clark always made Conner act out, like he had something to prove. Of course, that was understandable given that Clark was Superman, after all, and was consistently dropping off his responsibilities to Conner on others. If Lex had had to guess, given their respective upbringings, he would always have thought that Clark would be the one most comfortable with the fatherly role. The fact that it had turned out quite the opposite was curious.
“I-I didn’t…” Clark offered helplessly in the face of Conner’s sudden anger.
It was time for Lex to step in. “Conner merely thought I’d be more amenable to the change in venue. And I do have better contacts to get him into the best schools.”
Conner had that smug smile on his face that he always did when Lex was on his side.
Clark sighed with defeat. He’d never really been a match for the two of them put together. “I’ll want to look into these ‘schools’ too,” he insisted.
“Of course,” Lex agreed smoothly. It was always best to take baby steps around Clark.
“I’ll consider it. But then, what’ll happen to the farm? Dad always-”
“Clark?” Lex interrupted him with a vicious little smile.
“Yeah?”
“If you’re not going to cave in to your father’s bizarre legacy and run that place by yourself, in no way am I going to allow you to force our son to do so in your stead.” He fingered the knife beside his plate deliberately. “Am I making myself perfectly clear?”
Clark rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever. But I still have to figure out what to do with the place.”
“I could always-” Lex began.
“You are not buying Dad’s farm,” Clark informed him with a glare.
Lex let out a sigh of exasperation. “I never even wanted the place. You people were all so damn paranoid…” He rubbed at his temple, trying to ease the frustration away.
“I suppose I could always rent it out,” Clark commented thoughtfully. “I wonder if the Rosses would be interested…”
Conner made a face.
Lex gave Clark a tight-lipped smile. “That’s fine.” Heaven only knew why the Kents had such a lofty opinion of the Rosses, but Lex really didn’t want to deal with Clark’s particular brand of insanity at that moment.
His lack of caustic remarks earned him a sly little smile after breakfast, and Clark sidled up next to him at the counter to whisper in his ear, “We can pick up where we left off, tonight…”
At that point, Conner let out a thunderous “EWWWWWW!” and went on a rant about trauma and therapy and how they were never, ever allowed to flirt in his presence again.
Lex took that as his cue to flee down to his office. Mercy preceded him into the elevator and hit the down button. As Lex watched the floors descend, he could’ve sworn he saw her reflection in the brass making kissy faces at him. However, when he turned to look, she was as calm and composed as ever.
He seriously considered docking her pay.
Just because.
***
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