Title: My Kryptonite
Fandom(s): Smallville/The Vampire Diaries
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Stefan/Lana
Rating/Warnings: G; none.
Word count: 507
Spoilers: Smallville 2.15 Prodigal
Disclaimer: I don't own these shows or the characters from them. Just borrowing for fun things.
Summary: Lana sees a face she never thought she'd see again--only it doesn't belong to the last man in her life to wear it. Post-Requiem for Lana, pre-Elena for Stefan.
Notes: For
fictionland. I've been wanting to write something like this for a while. It was fun! The timelines don't exactly match up, but that's what AU is for. Title from the song of the same by 3 Doors Down, which I happened to be listening to on repeat. Somehow it helped me focus while trying to squeeze this in at the last minute.
It wasn't a face she expected to see in a small coffee shop in Georgia, but it was one she would never forget. It had been years since she'd seen it, in another coffee shop miles and miles away when she was still a barista. It belonged to the man who barged into that coffee shop and her life like he owned them, though apparently it was true in the case of the former, just the first of his bloodline to teach her what it truly meant to be a Luthor.
But this wasn't Lucas. Lana knew him, even with her limited exposure from so long ago. He didn't have the smug, almost sinister look about him that belonged to that family. As much as she tried, all she could do was stare from her booth just ahead of hers, wondering who he was and why he looked so much like her former brother-in-law.
Of course it wasn't long before he noticed. He returned her gaze, titling his head in a curious manner as a small, soft grin tugged at his lips.
She found herself doing the same. There was something about the look in his eyes, so gentle and warm with an odd sort of wisdom that rarely shone in any that hadn't lived long enough to see as much as she had. She wanted to say something, anything, but she couldn't seem to find the words.
He wasn't Lucas Luthor. Not at all.
She watched as his grin widened and he leaned forward to lean on his elbows. "I haven't seen you here before."
Lana's gaze remained steady. "That's funny," she answered softly. "I feel as if I've seen you in some other lifetime."
"You never know." He smiled, then grabbed his cup, moving from his place to sit directly in front of her. "I'm Stefan."
"Lana," she said as she tilted her head, eyes moving over his face, taking in every inch with slight fascination. "Lana Lang."
His head tilted as well, mirroring her. "You keep looking at me like that."
Her eyes returned to his. She found herself drawing in a deep, slow breath before she spoke. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"
He shook his head. "Not at all." He gave her a big, bright smile, and she found it contagious.
"I'm sorry, it's just--" She paused to break eye contact, glancing into her cup before looking back again. "You look so much like someone I knew in high school."
"I hope it's a pleasant association."
"Actually, it's not," she admitted. "That's what makes such an impact." She watched him tip his head again, as if curious for an explanation. "I can just look at you and tell you aren't the same man, no matter how striking the resemblance."
His lips twitched up again. "I'll take that as a compliment."
She nodded. "You should."
She stared back at him and he at her for a long moment, though for exactly how long she wasn't sure.
It wasn't an uncomfortable silence. Not at all.