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for lilian_cho: Smallville, thief!Lex
5.
Thus began a golden period in Clark’s life. He worked on his stories in between rescuing people from crime and disaster, sometimes helping out the government when the requests made sense to him. When he was tired and world-weary, he’d go to Lex’s apartment. If Lex wasn’t there already, he’d show up within fifteen minutes. A few times he called and left a message that he was on his way. Clark didn’t mind waiting so much, once he knew Lex was coming. He’d climb into Lex’s bed and nap, surrounded by the smell of Lex, exotic wood and leather. Lex would slide into bed behind him, already naked, and press his face into Clark’s neck.
It was perfect, every moment of it, as long as Clark didn’t think about why he had such access to Lex’s apartment, his bed, his body. As long as Clark didn’t think about what was going on in Lex’s mind.
Smallville had been good training for that. People could ignore a lot more than you’d think.
After the first few weeks, Clark started buying groceries, filling the empty shelves in Lex’s kitchen. That lasted a couple more weeks. Then Lex started using a delivery service to keep Clark’s chosen foods in stock. “The least your government can do is feed you,” he said, though Clark knew it was Lex’s own money paying for it, and Lex probably made more in interest on his trust fund every day than his salary brought in. Clark didn’t fight, because it really seemed to matter to Lex and because, truth be told, feeding himself on a Daily Planet salary was not the easiest thing, especially when he couldn’t exactly afford the time to look for bargains. There wasn’t much choice between coupon-clipping and tsunami relief.
Clark made the dinners, so that he was at least contributing. Lex said he liked everything, but that, Clark figured out, was another lie, so he stopped making turkey and learned how to cook more Asian dishes. Lex never commented, but after a while cookbooks started appearing next to the refrigerator.
They’d eat dinner and talk – current events, history, even popular culture.
Lex could have done the cooking, he insisted occasionally, because a good spy can do anything. Lex even claimed, not very plausibly in Clark’s opinion, to have masqueraded as a waiter for over a week to carry out an assignment. When Clark asked what it was, Lex told him the mission was to get a key from a research scientist. Clark decided not to inquire further.
He asked, once, about Lionel.
“When I was in my second year at the Agency, my father called. He asked for a face-to-face meeting, and I agreed. When I arrived, he told me he knew who I really worked for, and he said he wanted my help. There was a congressman who’d been recalcitrant about some agricultural subsidies – it’s true they weren’t supposed to go to pesticide production, but my father never lets other people’s intent get in his way. He wanted me to break in to the congressman’s office and get certain files he believed would prove persuasive.
“I told him I’d sooner eat my own liver.” Clark could imagine Lex’s face – and Lionel’s. “He’d been prepared for that, of course.” Clark nodded; if Lex had been thinking, he hadn’t even gotten up to leave, because that would give Lionel a victory just by saying something to make him stop. “He told me that the break-in would proceed whether I participated or not – and that, if I didn’t, I’d be implicated in this and several other incidents of espionage, Lionel Luthor’s disowned son attempting to get back in his father’s good graces by using his newly acquired spy skills to steal information. I’d be destroyed, he’d still have the goods he needed to blackmail the congressman, and he’d be cleared. Wouldn’t it be much easier to go along and do it right? Surely I didn’t want to go to jail.”
Lionel was proof that no one who used the word “surely” was making a logical argument, any more than someone who said “honestly” was telling the truth.
“I told him that he could expose me, he could send me to jail, he could have me flogged and branded with a scarlet letter, but I wasn’t going to help him. I wished him luck with his new heir and I left.”
“What did he do?” Given that Lex was neither publicly known as an agent nor in prison, Lionel had stayed his hand, but Clark didn’t find that reassuring at all.
Lex looked away. “I don’t know. The break-in happened, I think – LuthorCorp got the subsidies. He’s just keeping his threat in abeyance.” Clark looked at him closely. Lex’s breathing was slow and controlled – too even to be natural. His eyes were the thin blue of a distant horizon. “He’s going to betray me someday, when he thinks some goal is valuable enough to justify the cost. If I survive, he’ll think I’m worthy of further attention. If I fail and get myself killed, he’ll think he didn’t lose anything important. I can’t control what he does. I can only be ready.”
Not too long after that, Clark accidentally confessed everything to Lois.
Well, not accidentally – he’d been carrying it around on his own too long, and he’d desperately wanted to tell someone that Clark Kent was getting laid on a regular basis (even if it wasn’t on his own merits), but his mom was out for obvious reasons and Chloe for less obvious but equally compelling ones.
And he didn’t exactly confess; Lois sat on his desk and threw one long, black-stockinged leg out to block his way past her, refusing to budge until he told her why he’d gone from mopey to dopey.
And, in fact, he didn’t tell her everything, because he wasn’t stupid and Lex’s secrets weren’t his to confide. But Lex’s name alone was enough to send her into conniptions.
It took two hours just to get her to realize that, (a) this was society-page news, and she had contempt for society-page news; (b) disclosure would mean Perry would feel obligated to take him off the roughly forty percent of local stories that were LuthorCorp-related in one way or another, and that meant that Lois would have to come off those stories too; and (c) disclosure would also ruin Clark’s life, as the cameras all swiveled in his direction. He was pretty sure that she didn’t care about (c), at least not without the added weight of (a) and (b), but she was, in her crazy way, highly loyal, and a bonus was that she began to make excuses for him when he needed to run out, though he tried not to abuse the privilege.
And once that was settled, with Lois prodding him periodically for details, it was easy to convince himself that he and Lex really were together.
That was how he forgot himself over sushi (he’d been too tired to cook, and Lex had dived for the phone with an enthusiasm that would have insulted him if he’d had the energy) and told the story of how he’d discovered his heat vision, complete with names. Lex had been listening intently – but he always listened intently – and Clark didn’t realize what he’d done until he was saying, “—and so she’s still …”
Lex raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“Um,” Clark said.
“I was wondering when you’d notice,” Lex said. “Don’t worry about it, Clark.”
He got up, knocking over his empty beer bottle. It fell to the floor and rolled out of his line of sight.
Lex looked down, then met his eyes. “I’ve known for a long time. You probably should have gone further from home than Metropolis.”
Clark’s heart flipped in his chest like a pulsar. “Does this mean – is Homeland Security watching my mom?”
Lex shook his head slowly. “I’ve known. But I have an advantage that most people don’t. I know what Smallville is. I’ve told no one. Secrets like this are hard to keep.”
“Secrets like this get people killed,” Clark told him, remembering.
Lex only nodded, then took him to bed. Lex didn’t do much initiating (another thing Clark didn’t like to think about, so didn’t). More than surprise, what Clark felt was relief.
Often after that, Clark would tell stories about his youthful adventures in Smallville. Lex liked the story of Eric Summers best; he said that hearing about how Clark lost and regained his powers in the space of a few days was evidence of a greater destiny at work: lightning struck. But then Clark made it strike twice. (Clark always said that a generator wasn’t lightning, but Lex said that wasn’t the point; Clark had wrested power from the meteor rocks, and that was what mattered.)
Sometimes Lex would tell him spy stories. Clark suspected Lex of severe exaggeration, though he bet that Lex thought the same thing, even though Clark was telling the absolute truth.
Lex carried out every mission given him with a fanatic’s dedication. After a while, Clark came to the conclusion that Lex didn’t trust himself not to become his father. Following orders – serving a greater good – was the only thing that let him believe in his own worth. Lacking faith in an ethical code of his own, he’d attached himself to an entity that promised to do the moral calculus for him.
It seemed to be working.
5.
Thus began a golden period in Clark’s life. He worked on his stories in between rescuing people from crime and disaster, sometimes helping out the government when the requests made sense to him. When he was tired and world-weary, he’d go to Lex’s apartment. If Lex wasn’t there already, he’d show up within fifteen minutes. A few times he called and left a message that he was on his way. Clark didn’t mind waiting so much, once he knew Lex was coming. He’d climb into Lex’s bed and nap, surrounded by the smell of Lex, exotic wood and leather. Lex would slide into bed behind him, already naked, and press his face into Clark’s neck.
It was perfect, every moment of it, as long as Clark didn’t think about why he had such access to Lex’s apartment, his bed, his body. As long as Clark didn’t think about what was going on in Lex’s mind.
Smallville had been good training for that. People could ignore a lot more than you’d think.
After the first few weeks, Clark started buying groceries, filling the empty shelves in Lex’s kitchen. That lasted a couple more weeks. Then Lex started using a delivery service to keep Clark’s chosen foods in stock. “The least your government can do is feed you,” he said, though Clark knew it was Lex’s own money paying for it, and Lex probably made more in interest on his trust fund every day than his salary brought in. Clark didn’t fight, because it really seemed to matter to Lex and because, truth be told, feeding himself on a Daily Planet salary was not the easiest thing, especially when he couldn’t exactly afford the time to look for bargains. There wasn’t much choice between coupon-clipping and tsunami relief.
Clark made the dinners, so that he was at least contributing. Lex said he liked everything, but that, Clark figured out, was another lie, so he stopped making turkey and learned how to cook more Asian dishes. Lex never commented, but after a while cookbooks started appearing next to the refrigerator.
They’d eat dinner and talk – current events, history, even popular culture.
Lex could have done the cooking, he insisted occasionally, because a good spy can do anything. Lex even claimed, not very plausibly in Clark’s opinion, to have masqueraded as a waiter for over a week to carry out an assignment. When Clark asked what it was, Lex told him the mission was to get a key from a research scientist. Clark decided not to inquire further.
He asked, once, about Lionel.
“When I was in my second year at the Agency, my father called. He asked for a face-to-face meeting, and I agreed. When I arrived, he told me he knew who I really worked for, and he said he wanted my help. There was a congressman who’d been recalcitrant about some agricultural subsidies – it’s true they weren’t supposed to go to pesticide production, but my father never lets other people’s intent get in his way. He wanted me to break in to the congressman’s office and get certain files he believed would prove persuasive.
“I told him I’d sooner eat my own liver.” Clark could imagine Lex’s face – and Lionel’s. “He’d been prepared for that, of course.” Clark nodded; if Lex had been thinking, he hadn’t even gotten up to leave, because that would give Lionel a victory just by saying something to make him stop. “He told me that the break-in would proceed whether I participated or not – and that, if I didn’t, I’d be implicated in this and several other incidents of espionage, Lionel Luthor’s disowned son attempting to get back in his father’s good graces by using his newly acquired spy skills to steal information. I’d be destroyed, he’d still have the goods he needed to blackmail the congressman, and he’d be cleared. Wouldn’t it be much easier to go along and do it right? Surely I didn’t want to go to jail.”
Lionel was proof that no one who used the word “surely” was making a logical argument, any more than someone who said “honestly” was telling the truth.
“I told him that he could expose me, he could send me to jail, he could have me flogged and branded with a scarlet letter, but I wasn’t going to help him. I wished him luck with his new heir and I left.”
“What did he do?” Given that Lex was neither publicly known as an agent nor in prison, Lionel had stayed his hand, but Clark didn’t find that reassuring at all.
Lex looked away. “I don’t know. The break-in happened, I think – LuthorCorp got the subsidies. He’s just keeping his threat in abeyance.” Clark looked at him closely. Lex’s breathing was slow and controlled – too even to be natural. His eyes were the thin blue of a distant horizon. “He’s going to betray me someday, when he thinks some goal is valuable enough to justify the cost. If I survive, he’ll think I’m worthy of further attention. If I fail and get myself killed, he’ll think he didn’t lose anything important. I can’t control what he does. I can only be ready.”
Not too long after that, Clark accidentally confessed everything to Lois.
Well, not accidentally – he’d been carrying it around on his own too long, and he’d desperately wanted to tell someone that Clark Kent was getting laid on a regular basis (even if it wasn’t on his own merits), but his mom was out for obvious reasons and Chloe for less obvious but equally compelling ones.
And he didn’t exactly confess; Lois sat on his desk and threw one long, black-stockinged leg out to block his way past her, refusing to budge until he told her why he’d gone from mopey to dopey.
And, in fact, he didn’t tell her everything, because he wasn’t stupid and Lex’s secrets weren’t his to confide. But Lex’s name alone was enough to send her into conniptions.
It took two hours just to get her to realize that, (a) this was society-page news, and she had contempt for society-page news; (b) disclosure would mean Perry would feel obligated to take him off the roughly forty percent of local stories that were LuthorCorp-related in one way or another, and that meant that Lois would have to come off those stories too; and (c) disclosure would also ruin Clark’s life, as the cameras all swiveled in his direction. He was pretty sure that she didn’t care about (c), at least not without the added weight of (a) and (b), but she was, in her crazy way, highly loyal, and a bonus was that she began to make excuses for him when he needed to run out, though he tried not to abuse the privilege.
And once that was settled, with Lois prodding him periodically for details, it was easy to convince himself that he and Lex really were together.
That was how he forgot himself over sushi (he’d been too tired to cook, and Lex had dived for the phone with an enthusiasm that would have insulted him if he’d had the energy) and told the story of how he’d discovered his heat vision, complete with names. Lex had been listening intently – but he always listened intently – and Clark didn’t realize what he’d done until he was saying, “—and so she’s still …”
Lex raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“Um,” Clark said.
“I was wondering when you’d notice,” Lex said. “Don’t worry about it, Clark.”
He got up, knocking over his empty beer bottle. It fell to the floor and rolled out of his line of sight.
Lex looked down, then met his eyes. “I’ve known for a long time. You probably should have gone further from home than Metropolis.”
Clark’s heart flipped in his chest like a pulsar. “Does this mean – is Homeland Security watching my mom?”
Lex shook his head slowly. “I’ve known. But I have an advantage that most people don’t. I know what Smallville is. I’ve told no one. Secrets like this are hard to keep.”
“Secrets like this get people killed,” Clark told him, remembering.
Lex only nodded, then took him to bed. Lex didn’t do much initiating (another thing Clark didn’t like to think about, so didn’t). More than surprise, what Clark felt was relief.
Often after that, Clark would tell stories about his youthful adventures in Smallville. Lex liked the story of Eric Summers best; he said that hearing about how Clark lost and regained his powers in the space of a few days was evidence of a greater destiny at work: lightning struck. But then Clark made it strike twice. (Clark always said that a generator wasn’t lightning, but Lex said that wasn’t the point; Clark had wrested power from the meteor rocks, and that was what mattered.)
Sometimes Lex would tell him spy stories. Clark suspected Lex of severe exaggeration, though he bet that Lex thought the same thing, even though Clark was telling the absolute truth.
Lex carried out every mission given him with a fanatic’s dedication. After a while, Clark came to the conclusion that Lex didn’t trust himself not to become his father. Following orders – serving a greater good – was the only thing that let him believe in his own worth. Lacking faith in an ethical code of his own, he’d attached himself to an entity that promised to do the moral calculus for him.
It seemed to be working.
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dialogue
Again, excellent dialogue.
I'm liking this series quite a bit.
spike
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Re: dialogue
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Fascinating character insight here.
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But since this is Lex, I can't decide if I find it hot or heartbreaking, esp. given the last few sentences.
I really like your Clark. So painfully cute and not just a bit scary at times.
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