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jakrar: Lex has a more dramatic power than mutant healing, and his first adult meeting with Clark highlights Lex's power rather than any of Clark's. So...would Clark go crazy trying to find out what Lex can do, and why? Note: I totally fell in love with this prompt.Lex didn’t see the wire until he was on it, and he didn’t see the kid until he was maybe twenty yards away, less than half a second at the speed he was going, only time enough to think oh shit I’m going—
The light changed, went from Kansas late fall sun to something profoundly unfamiliar, redshift rippling across his vision. And the world—
Stopped.
Lex thought he might be dead. He’d never given much credence to stories of the afterlife; NDEs were artifacts of brain electromagnetics, and Lex had never had cause to believe in the existence of the soul. But he was breathing, alone in a frozen landscape, and after his hands stopped shaking (two tries to unbuckle his belt), he opened the door—
And fell several feet to the ground, ending up on hands and badly scraped knees, because the Porsche was fucking suspended in midair, caught like one of those Muybridge photos of a horse in gallop.
Lex circled the car warily, then realized that, just as he didn’t know how this event had started, he had no idea how long it would last. He went up to the kid, who could have been a painted statue of a Greek god, all wide surprised eyes and hair as black as coal and lips as red as blood, hands outspread as if he could somehow catch the three tons of metal bearing down on him.
Physics said that if Lex really was, somehow, moving in stopped (or inconceivably slowed-down) time, he’d be unable to move the boy, or he’d tear the boy’s body apart in the attempt. But physics also said that Lex wouldn’t be able to breathe or see, for the same reasons, and Lex had been able to manipulate the seatbelt and the door, so Lex was going to treat physics as an unreliable narrator for the nonce.
Lex calculated the minimum distance they’d need for safety from the car, which might fishtail as it hit the low wall of the bridge, and put his arms around the boy’s waist. It wasn’t easy—rather like moving an actual marble statue would have been, he thought, and the body remained rigid enough that Lex was moderately concerned about the risks of breaking off a limb—but Lex was motivated, and after five or six minutes (or possibly five or six picoseconds, depending on locus of measurement) they were on the opposite side of the bridge, outside the area of risk.
He made sure the boy was balanced against the retaining wall, then sat down next to him to think.
The freeze had been incredibly conveniently timed. While there had been occasions on which the ability to stop time and depart would have been extremely useful to Lex, and while he would have preferred that Jude hadn’t been shot on his behalf, he couldn’t remember ever being about to kill an innocent.
So either there was a heretofore unknown power looking after him—
Or the power was in him.
Lex took a deep breath, concentrated, and thought: release.
Then he looked around and saw everything still flat and motionless, and wondered if he could eat food in this state, or if it would just pass through him. It would be a very Twilight Zone ending.
But Lex Luthor lived in Warrior Angel’s world, not Rod Serling’s, so he stood, bracing himself, and ground his teeth as he attempted to force his will on the world.
Some unknown number of tries later, he realized that he was ignoring one potentially critical variable: his initial position.
If he climbed back into the car and managed to restart time, he was going to go over the bridge. But at least this time he’d be going alone.
Lex looked at the kid one last time—he certainly possessed a beauty that could send men willingly to their graves—and made himself return to his starting point.
He buckled up, because it would be not at all amusing to bash his brains out after discovering a superpower, and tried to loosen up. Let’s go, he thought, and—
Crash and white and pressure like being punched by a giant, and then black—
Back to life soaking wet, shivering, coughing up water. The beautiful boy now alive, more real than reality, dripping on him and staring down in mixed wonder and terror.
“You were going to hit me,” the boy said as Lex drew in heaving, painful breaths and his ears roared with the sounds all around, so different than the silent fixed world from which he’d just emerged.
“But I didn’t,” Lex said, entranced by the way the sunlight backlit the boy, like he was edged in gold, like he was the gods’ gift to Lex announcing his new power.
“But how--?” the boy asked, then fell silent as Lex was hit with another round of coughing.
“You saved my life,” he realized, because he was still vulnerable, still subject to human rules while the world was turning. He could’ve drowned in that creek, revelation new upon him, if not for this improbable, glorious savior. “I’m Lex Luthor.”
“Clark Kent,” the boy said, and Lex felt the universe tremble around them.
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kinetikatrue: Clark/Lex: robots, time, letters, giant squid, dirigible, pie, pi.“What I don’t understand,” Wally said, “is where the giant squid fit in.”
John made a noise suggesting that the giant squid was only the beginning of what Wally didn’t understand.
“The giant squid,” Batman’s voice came from the wall, and they both jumped, though Wally more obviously, “was the backup plan. The EMP took out the robots, allowing the dirigible-mounted forces to dismantle them before they could complete their mission. Had the dirigible strike teams failed, the giant squid would have snatched the robots out of midair and held them in the water until their electronics shorted.”
“Oh,” Wally said, in the tone of a man who was listening to a crazy person rant but didn’t have the space to retreat. In an eyeblink, he had a pile of Ding Dongs in front of him, and they began to disappear with equal rapidity.
“What kind of a Rube Goldberg plan was that?” John grumped.
Clark stuck his head in, because this was the point where he should probably not let Batman control the narrative—journalism was good for something, not that he could ever convince Lex of that fact. “It was Lex’s plan, actually. I kind of think he just wanted to try out the dirigibles, but overall it went pretty well, don’t you think?”
John grunted again, but he didn’t dispute Clark’s characterization. Small victories.
Had Clark fully appreciated just how hard it would be to get the League to accept his relationship with Lex, he would have been paying more attention when he’d tried to get his parents to do the same, back in Smallville. Even for Superman, battling a constant headwind of disapproval got pretty tiring.
Wally now had ten miniature pies in front of him; his eyes were bouncing around almost comically with his indecision.
“Eat the lemon meringue first,” Clark suggested. “Save the chocolate for last, it’ll pick up on the other fruit flavors.”
“Thanks, man,” Wally said, with the sincerity that made Clark think that the two of them were, in some ways, the most similar of the Big Seven.
“Anyway, I’m late for dinner, but if there’s any strategic or tactical feedback you want to give Lex, let me know.”
“I’ve sent him an email,” Batman’s voice announced. Clark didn’t roll his eyes, because he was more mature than that, so mature that he didn’t even say ‘I’m sure you have’ the way he wanted to.
“Dude, that’s just creepy,” Wally said. “We all know you’re like forty yards away. Get your butt in here if you want to talk.”
Clark figured he wasn’t going to get a better exit line than that, so he waved his goodbyes and sped home.
Lex didn’t look up from his computer when Clark slid into the seat beside him, having moved the chair from the opposite end of the formal dining table to abut Lex’s. Lex just did that kind of thing to annoy him, anyway; Clark thought these little shows of pique were cute, so he pretended to ignore them, even the ones that involved Kryptonite locks and other more aggressive forms of pushing Clark away. The makeup sex was always the best after Lex had gotten really worked up about Clark’s absenteeism.
“I’d like to send a personal message to the LexCorp commandos who jumped from the dirigibles,” he said by way of greeting. “Expressing the thanks of the League.”
Lex’s shoulders twitched. He was still pouting, but Clark knew he secretly loved almost nothing more than playing the hero (Clark was slowly getting comfortable with the ‘almost’ part, mostly because he didn’t mind coming first). “That would be appropriate,” he agreed, which in Lexspeak was equivalent to a smiling hug.
Lexspeak would have been more annoying if it weren’t for all the things that translated to blowjobs.
“So,” Clark asked, leaning into Lex’s shoulder, “how was the rest of your day?”
dodificus: old school Clark/Lex? Ummm....obsession. Set in an AU S4, I guess, where they’re still close. Note: the band name comes from the best summary of one of my stories ever."I got your email," Lex said. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"You promised," Clark reminded him. "You said, 'Anything you want, Clark.' You said, 'I'm not allowed to buy you anything lasting, so we'll go anywhere you want, do anything you want for your graduation present.' Even if it was so low-brow it sent culture leaking out of your ears, you said."
Lex sighed and leaned back in his chair, resting his forearms on the desk. "Can't we negotiate?"
Clark shook his head. "Ski Trip Lobotomy is the best new band of the year, and they're playing in the Metropolis Stadium in two weeks, and I want to go."
Lex could have suggested giving him two tickets with which to woo the girl of his choice, but he didn't. There was a time when Clark would have expected him to do that, maybe even wanted him to do that even though it probably counted as using Lex for his money, but it had simply been assumed that this was a Lex and Clark adventure. Clark felt good about that, though he wasn't quite sure why. It had something to do with being back in Lex's extraordinarily tiny circle of trust and friendship. They'd been through so much over the past four years that they were practically war buddies. Even better, since Lex had stopped asking questions, all of the terror and none of the wonder was gone from their friendship. Lex was the best friend a guy could have, even an alien guy with superpowers.
"What?" Lex was staring at him, head tilted, as if Clark were a television signal not coming in properly.
Clark shook his head. "Nothing. Just thinking that I'm looking forward to the concert."
Lex's lips quirked. "I'm looking forward to the concert being over."
"Good enough for me." He grinned, and got Lex's just-for-Clark smile. He loved that smile. “Besides, I want to get you used to taking me places in Metropolis.”
“Clark,” Lex said in a far more serious tone, then stopped. It was uncharacteristic enough to get Clark’s pulse racing.
“What is it, Lex?”
“When you go to Met U, you’ll—the world is a lot bigger than Smallville. You might find yourself wanting more normal, socially acceptable friends.” Lex swallowed and turned his head, the arc of his skull outlined against the stained glass sunset behind him.
Clark fought down his smile. This wasn’t the first time Lex had freaked out about Clark’s apparently soon-to-explode social life, and knowing Lex it wouldn’t be the last. “The world may be bigger than Smallville, Lex. But I don’t think it’s bigger than you.”
The look on Lex’s face—shocked, almost joyful—was more than enough to make up for the prospect of having to reassure him for the next four years. Or possibly forever, because Clark intended to keep Lex for a lot longer than a college career.
Sometimes he just wanted to say it out loud: it’s the same for me as for you. I feel it too. But every time he tried, the words stopped up in his mouth. Maybe it was too many years of home-trained caution. Maybe it was fear of rejection—for all his heated looks, Lex had never admitted outright everything he wanted from Clark, and Clark had never been good at making first moves.
Clark didn’t let it worry him overmuch. Lex was his, one way or another, and they had all the time in the world.
jackycomelately: I'd love something on the aftermath of Doomsday killing Clark. … I'd love Clark/Lex of course …. Or, Lex having to step in and help the Justice League when Wonder Woman asks. Note: I’m double-dipping conceptually, but what’s fanfic for if you can’t do that on occasion?“I grieve with you,” Wonder Woman said, alighting on the part of the patio that Clark had been accustomed to use.
There were at least three ways in which she’d done enough to trigger a killing rage. But for some reason he couldn’t find the energy for it, not to mention that the Amazon was the only one of them he wasn’t sure he could defeat even in his own tower.
“We were mortal enemies,” he said instead, pinching the bridge of his nose and then smoothing his hand over the back of his head, because in times of great trial sometimes self-comfort was more important than using an obvious tell.
“I was present at the funeral,” Wonder Woman said, and Lex flashed back to it—Lois punching like a hockey player and then sobbing in his arms. The bruises took hours to fade and her makeup had ruined his suit, not that he would have worn it again in any event. Lois had been so warm in his arms, almost fragile in her unaltered humanity, nothing like a metahuman.
But Wonder Woman was talking again. “I was also—aware—of your relationship.”
Lex waited for elaboration, but none was forthcoming. The relationship where they held deep grudges for harms inflicted decades past in a small town now largely wiped off the face of the map? That just didn’t seem to fit her tone. Possibly she meant that she knew that Lex knew who Clark really was, and thus Clark had known that Lex knew—but he was too tired for all the layers of subterfuge; he was very, very tired indeed.
“I’m sorry,” he said at last, reaching for his abandoned drink, “but what exactly is the purpose of this visit?”
“Given your knowledge of the League, and your resources, I have come on behalf of the League, in the name of the love we all bore Kal-El, to ask your aid as we recover from his loss,” she said.
Lex didn’t choke on his drink, but it was a near thing.
When he could look at her again, she wasn’t smiling, but there was a hint of something rueful in the tilt of her lips. “Did you think you kept it a secret with your public shows of conflict? Kal-El never spoke a word, but there are things for which no words need be spoken.”
Wait, Wonder Woman thought—apparently the entire governing cadre of the Justice League thought--that Lex had been carrying on some sort of clandestine affair with Superman? That his carefully conceived (though admittedly often poorly executed) plans were the equivalent of the schoolboy pulling the pigtails of his prepubescent crush?
Lex didn’t know whether to laugh or scream.
“I will not beg,” she said carefully. “You know as well as I the enemies who will seek to take advantage of his passing.”
She just had to play the endangered Earth card, didn’t she? Now Lex was the asshole.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked warily.
Which was how LexCorp ended up operationally integrated with the Justice League, and how Lex ended up hearing a rather astonishing variety of Superman stories from the other side of the aisle, so to speak. Apparently every goddamned person on the planet, and not a few offworld, had been convinced of their forbidden passion, and after a while Lex found it more expedient to smile sadly than to deny.
He was a widower without ever having gotten to be a husband. It was the worst possible thing Clark could have found to do to him, abandoning him to this pity, and Lex hated him even more in death than in life. Even Martha Kent’s tentative reconciliation did little to soothe the wound. (Though Lex had to admit that beating back Darkseid in concert with the League had its satisfactions.)
The extra cherry (ha!) on top was that Diana and the others tended to look at his casual fucks like he was using them as a form of self-medication, which was so very much not a turn-on that he largely gave up on recreational sex, League business being highly likely to interrupt any evening he’d scheduled some time for himself. Heaven forfend that he try to date someone serious, like that professor of archaeology at Met U; the superheroes all looked so simultaneously hopeful and unimpressed that Lex himself couldn’t help comparing his partners with what he imagined Clark would have been like, if Lex had gotten to find that out for himself.
It got so that he could pretend, when he wasn’t being careful, that he really had been bluffing all along, concealing true love beneath a mask of enmity. History, after all, was written by the victors. Even if Lex didn’t feel very much like a victor when he thought about Clark.
All in all, it was only a marginally satisfactory situation.
But it got truly awkward when Clark returned from the dead.
END
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*happy sigh*
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As it so often does, doesn't it? HAH.
Just wanted to say... I have been reading and enjoying most of these. (Some are not my fandoms.) Thanks for writing them. :)
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*incoherence*
The... and the... but... and...
alksdflasdf;aldkfj!!
<3 <3 <3
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Re: *incoherence*
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I honestly had no idea how starved I was for old school clark/lex, so now I'm not sure whether I should thank you or not [g].
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I really do hope that you are in the mood for some Smallville after yuletide. It's not a show I actually watched (I have seen one clip!), but I *love* so much seeing what you do with the fanfic, and it's been great seeing all the little bits you've been doing for Eight Crazy Nights and I just can't seem to help wanting more more more.
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END
What do you mean END? But it was just getting to the good part! Seriously, loved these little snippets, can't believed I missed it.
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