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lilian_cho: Smallville, thief!Lex:
6.
Clark did the occasional surveillance job, but in fact the government asked very little of him. Lex said it was because they couldn’t figure out how to use him. “You’re not very covert,” he pointed out when Clark asked. “You show up on radar and you cut a pretty noticeable figure in a crowd. You’re like a nuclear weapon that gets followed by papparazzi.”
“So why approach me in the first place?” Clark wondered, propping himself up on one elbow.
Lex patted his shoulder. “A combination of optimism and fear that someone else would recruit you.”
At least he could fly Lex in and out of jobs, which at a minimum cut down on the amount of time Lex had to be out of Metropolis. And sometimes he hung around just to watch Lex work, which was nervewracking at times but usually entertaining, if only to look at the various wigs Lex used. Frankly, Clark thought he used the disguises more to entertain himself than for any other reason – and the times he dressed up as a woman were definitely just for kicks – but it was still highly watchable.
After the first two times he swooped in to get Lex out of what appeared to him to be immediate and life-threatening danger, he decided that it wasn’t worth risking Lex’s fury unless he could identify a particular bullet that was about to hit. Lex could sulk like nobody’s business, and somehow he could intersperse that with lectures about Clark exposing Lex as a government agent, as if that were really what he worried about.
When Clark lost his powers for two days due to the Ultra-Humanite’s latest zap ray, Lex turned grim and unspeaking, running tests on him until they’d figured it out and Clark had returned the big gorilla to his not-high-enough-security prison, smashing the alien artifact at the heart of the ray to its component atoms in the process. “Why do you have all this equipment, anyway?” Clark asked him, afterwards, looking around the lab that ostensibly was part of an FDA field office.
Lex shrugged. “I’m supposed to gather any information on your powers, your limits, your vulnerabilities.”
Clark stopped, staring at a gleaming chrome centrifuge. The autoclave let out a hiss, as if to punctuate the moment. “What?”
“You and I are watched,” Lex told him, as if reminding him.
“But I –” Clark began, thinking of all the things he’d said – oh God, all the things they’d done --
Lex shook his head. “I’ve disabled all the monitoring at the apartment,” he said. “My colleagues are natural voyeurs, and I respect that, but I had to insist on privacy.”
“Didn’t you get in trouble?” Clark moved away from him, looking at the stainless steel tables – wondering if they’d serve as dissecting tables in a pinch. He scanned the cabinets, looking for knives, and found three sets. His stomach turned.
“I provide a summary of our work-related discussions. I believe I’ve convinced the relevant people that it’s much more important to keep the two of us comfortable than to watch our every activity.”
People – unknown people -- knew about him and Lex. He imagined asking Lex ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ and knew the response: What did you think I was doing?
Obviously he hadn’t been thinking about it at all.
“So just how much about my – ‘vulnerabilities’ – do they know?” He used the Superman voice, the one for miscreants.
Lex looked up at a corner of the room. Clark followed his gaze, switched his vision, and saw the camera. He picked Lex up and headed to the Fortress, heedless of the wind on Lex’s exposed skin.
When he put Lex down in the center of the ice floor, Lex staggered a few steps away. His hands and face were red with windburn, but he’d heal fast; his face was blank with wonder.
Clark didn’t want him wondering. “What have you told them?” he demanded.
Lex turned back towards him. “They know there’s something that makes you vulnerable. Your fights with my father have made that clear enough. I’ve told them you don’t trust me enough to reveal what exactly it is, but that I believe it’s some sort of exotic particle. I’m working on something plausible but misleading, but it’s not simple – our government has devoted significant resources to the problem. Eventually, they’ll give my father what he wants in return for his information.”
Now Clark wanted to sit down and process the shock, but Kryptonian design wasn’t big on comfortable seating.
He couldn’t make sense of it. His own government, trying to find a way to hurt him. “But you gave me those enhancements for my suit, to resist Kryptonite.”
Lex took a step towards him, then read his face and moved back. “That was … extracurricular. I really don’t like my father.”
Clark couldn’t look at him. Didn’t want to see his own stupidity reflected back from Lex’s calm eyes.
“I never lied to you,” Lex said, almost pleadingly.
It was as good as permission. “You didn’t tell me!” He was yelling. “You let me – you pretended that we – that it meant something!”
“You told me your price and I paid it,” Lex said. His voice was even, smooth like marble, but there was a vein of something molten running through it. “I could be charged with treason for what I’ve hidden for you – I’ve already been accused of being my father’s catspaw -- so please don’t presume to play the victim with me.”
Clark rubbed his hands over his face, feeling too exposed in his costume. He wanted Clark Kent’s suit and glasses; he wanted to disappear into the crowds on the streets of Metropolis. “What’s in your reports?” he whispered.
“Just what I said,” Lex told him. He heard the sound of expensive leather on dull ice as Lex came closer. “Nothing personal.”
And there was an appropriate epitaph for this disaster. Clark looked up, hardening his face into Superman’s. “I’m taking you back,” he said. “I want to see everything you’ve passed on.”
He didn’t wait for Lex’s acquiescence, just scooped him up and flew, faster than thought, back to Metropolis.
lilian_cho: Smallville, thief!Lex: 6.
Clark did the occasional surveillance job, but in fact the government asked very little of him. Lex said it was because they couldn’t figure out how to use him. “You’re not very covert,” he pointed out when Clark asked. “You show up on radar and you cut a pretty noticeable figure in a crowd. You’re like a nuclear weapon that gets followed by papparazzi.”
“So why approach me in the first place?” Clark wondered, propping himself up on one elbow.
Lex patted his shoulder. “A combination of optimism and fear that someone else would recruit you.”
At least he could fly Lex in and out of jobs, which at a minimum cut down on the amount of time Lex had to be out of Metropolis. And sometimes he hung around just to watch Lex work, which was nervewracking at times but usually entertaining, if only to look at the various wigs Lex used. Frankly, Clark thought he used the disguises more to entertain himself than for any other reason – and the times he dressed up as a woman were definitely just for kicks – but it was still highly watchable.
After the first two times he swooped in to get Lex out of what appeared to him to be immediate and life-threatening danger, he decided that it wasn’t worth risking Lex’s fury unless he could identify a particular bullet that was about to hit. Lex could sulk like nobody’s business, and somehow he could intersperse that with lectures about Clark exposing Lex as a government agent, as if that were really what he worried about.
When Clark lost his powers for two days due to the Ultra-Humanite’s latest zap ray, Lex turned grim and unspeaking, running tests on him until they’d figured it out and Clark had returned the big gorilla to his not-high-enough-security prison, smashing the alien artifact at the heart of the ray to its component atoms in the process. “Why do you have all this equipment, anyway?” Clark asked him, afterwards, looking around the lab that ostensibly was part of an FDA field office.
Lex shrugged. “I’m supposed to gather any information on your powers, your limits, your vulnerabilities.”
Clark stopped, staring at a gleaming chrome centrifuge. The autoclave let out a hiss, as if to punctuate the moment. “What?”
“You and I are watched,” Lex told him, as if reminding him.
“But I –” Clark began, thinking of all the things he’d said – oh God, all the things they’d done --
Lex shook his head. “I’ve disabled all the monitoring at the apartment,” he said. “My colleagues are natural voyeurs, and I respect that, but I had to insist on privacy.”
“Didn’t you get in trouble?” Clark moved away from him, looking at the stainless steel tables – wondering if they’d serve as dissecting tables in a pinch. He scanned the cabinets, looking for knives, and found three sets. His stomach turned.
“I provide a summary of our work-related discussions. I believe I’ve convinced the relevant people that it’s much more important to keep the two of us comfortable than to watch our every activity.”
People – unknown people -- knew about him and Lex. He imagined asking Lex ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ and knew the response: What did you think I was doing?
Obviously he hadn’t been thinking about it at all.
“So just how much about my – ‘vulnerabilities’ – do they know?” He used the Superman voice, the one for miscreants.
Lex looked up at a corner of the room. Clark followed his gaze, switched his vision, and saw the camera. He picked Lex up and headed to the Fortress, heedless of the wind on Lex’s exposed skin.
When he put Lex down in the center of the ice floor, Lex staggered a few steps away. His hands and face were red with windburn, but he’d heal fast; his face was blank with wonder.
Clark didn’t want him wondering. “What have you told them?” he demanded.
Lex turned back towards him. “They know there’s something that makes you vulnerable. Your fights with my father have made that clear enough. I’ve told them you don’t trust me enough to reveal what exactly it is, but that I believe it’s some sort of exotic particle. I’m working on something plausible but misleading, but it’s not simple – our government has devoted significant resources to the problem. Eventually, they’ll give my father what he wants in return for his information.”
Now Clark wanted to sit down and process the shock, but Kryptonian design wasn’t big on comfortable seating.
He couldn’t make sense of it. His own government, trying to find a way to hurt him. “But you gave me those enhancements for my suit, to resist Kryptonite.”
Lex took a step towards him, then read his face and moved back. “That was … extracurricular. I really don’t like my father.”
Clark couldn’t look at him. Didn’t want to see his own stupidity reflected back from Lex’s calm eyes.
“I never lied to you,” Lex said, almost pleadingly.
It was as good as permission. “You didn’t tell me!” He was yelling. “You let me – you pretended that we – that it meant something!”
“You told me your price and I paid it,” Lex said. His voice was even, smooth like marble, but there was a vein of something molten running through it. “I could be charged with treason for what I’ve hidden for you – I’ve already been accused of being my father’s catspaw -- so please don’t presume to play the victim with me.”
Clark rubbed his hands over his face, feeling too exposed in his costume. He wanted Clark Kent’s suit and glasses; he wanted to disappear into the crowds on the streets of Metropolis. “What’s in your reports?” he whispered.
“Just what I said,” Lex told him. He heard the sound of expensive leather on dull ice as Lex came closer. “Nothing personal.”
And there was an appropriate epitaph for this disaster. Clark looked up, hardening his face into Superman’s. “I’m taking you back,” he said. “I want to see everything you’ve passed on.”
He didn’t wait for Lex’s acquiescence, just scooped him up and flew, faster than thought, back to Metropolis.
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