I am in Lex mode.
Title: Overture
Summary: Lionel and Lex Luthor go out for the evening.
Fandom: Smallville
Word Count: 420
Rating/Warnings: G
Pairing: None
A/N: Prequel to Symphony and Alexiteric. I have a soft spot for baby!Lex and bad!father!Lionel. Yes, Carmina Burana is usually performed by an opera company. Have I seen it performed as part of a symphony schedule? Yes. So shh.
“Stop playing with your tie.”
The command wouldn’t have worked for most ten year olds, but, then again, Lex isn’t most ten year olds. He stops trying to loosen the tie, but he doesn’t stop hating it. Between the little tuxedo and his bald head, he is certain he resembles nothing so much as an irate penguin. Even the shoes are comically large, though his father swears up and down he’ll outgrow them in a month.
“Why do we have to do this, father?” he says, with only the slightest hint of a whine in his voice.
“So that you can tell your Orff from your elbow,” his father replies, his voice crisp and hard. He smiles very slightly at himself in the mirror, straightening his own tie.
The joke passes Lex right by. “But I’ve seen Carmina Burana,” he looks at the ceiling, counting silently on his fingers, “four times.”
“It was only three.”
“They took us once at school.” He sighs. “And you bought me the CD for Christmas.”
His father gets down on one knee, looking him in the eye. He’s got on the face that means whatever he’s about to say is very important, and Lex had damned well better know it or he’ll be doomed to spend the rest of his life living in a cardboard box. To himself, Lex calls it the Art of War face.
“What do we do when we go to the symphony?”
Lex is certain that his first response, “Count the ceiling tiles and watch the pretty flautist,” is not the correct one. “We listen to music?”
“We do that at home. What do we do at intermission?”
“We walk around and talk to people?”
“Good. And why is it important that we do it at the symphony, instead of sitting alone in the box?”
Lex tries to think the way his father would think. It isn’t the most inviting proposition in the world, especially for a little boy. He comes around to it quickly. “Because we want other people to know we’re there.”
His father taps him on the side of the nose. “Good work. And we want people to know we’re at the symphony because the kind of people who go don’t trust people who don’t go.”
He’s already in Art of War mode, so Lex moves in for the kill. “We’re playing their game to get their trust.”
Lionel’s face breaks into a rare smile. “Only for a little while, son. Only for a little while.”
Summary: Lionel and Lex Luthor go out for the evening.
Fandom: Smallville
Word Count: 420
Rating/Warnings: G
Pairing: None
A/N: Prequel to Symphony and Alexiteric. I have a soft spot for baby!Lex and bad!father!Lionel. Yes, Carmina Burana is usually performed by an opera company. Have I seen it performed as part of a symphony schedule? Yes. So shh.
“Stop playing with your tie.”
The command wouldn’t have worked for most ten year olds, but, then again, Lex isn’t most ten year olds. He stops trying to loosen the tie, but he doesn’t stop hating it. Between the little tuxedo and his bald head, he is certain he resembles nothing so much as an irate penguin. Even the shoes are comically large, though his father swears up and down he’ll outgrow them in a month.
“Why do we have to do this, father?” he says, with only the slightest hint of a whine in his voice.
“So that you can tell your Orff from your elbow,” his father replies, his voice crisp and hard. He smiles very slightly at himself in the mirror, straightening his own tie.
The joke passes Lex right by. “But I’ve seen Carmina Burana,” he looks at the ceiling, counting silently on his fingers, “four times.”
“It was only three.”
“They took us once at school.” He sighs. “And you bought me the CD for Christmas.”
His father gets down on one knee, looking him in the eye. He’s got on the face that means whatever he’s about to say is very important, and Lex had damned well better know it or he’ll be doomed to spend the rest of his life living in a cardboard box. To himself, Lex calls it the Art of War face.
“What do we do when we go to the symphony?”
Lex is certain that his first response, “Count the ceiling tiles and watch the pretty flautist,” is not the correct one. “We listen to music?”
“We do that at home. What do we do at intermission?”
“We walk around and talk to people?”
“Good. And why is it important that we do it at the symphony, instead of sitting alone in the box?”
Lex tries to think the way his father would think. It isn’t the most inviting proposition in the world, especially for a little boy. He comes around to it quickly. “Because we want other people to know we’re there.”
His father taps him on the side of the nose. “Good work. And we want people to know we’re at the symphony because the kind of people who go don’t trust people who don’t go.”
He’s already in Art of War mode, so Lex moves in for the kill. “We’re playing their game to get their trust.”
Lionel’s face breaks into a rare smile. “Only for a little while, son. Only for a little while.”