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abbylee: Someone mixes up Lex's gold coin and Clark's chocolate gelt collection.
“I use the very best lighting!” Lex snarled.
“…Okay?” Clark said, putting his hands up.
A vein pulsed on Lex’s head. “Do you understand how much heat a good incandescent bulb puts out? Are you aware of the melting point of chocolate?”
Clark really thought they’d gotten past the twenty-one-year-old who thought that flinging a foil into a wall was a perfectly appropriate way of expressing frustration. Well, at least Lex wasn’t (yet) plotting to launch any missiles. “The Gxygjax were just trying to be helpful,” he pointed out.
“And I’d like to be equally helpful to them,” Lex gritted out. “I’m thinking lasers. Let them see what materials mixing really looks like.”
Clark didn’t want to trigger Lex’s ‘don’t condescend to me!’ rage. Lex didn’t make it easy some days, though.
“I could use my superbreath to clean off the coins …” he suggested, but stopped when Lex’s glare achieved some incandescence of its own.
“Clearly,” Lex said, in a tone that had been known to cause entire militaries to go on alert, “you have no appreciation for the preservation of the historical patina or the countless other small variations that give a coin its unique value.”
“I’m sorry, Lex,” Clark settled on as the best option of a bad bunch. He thought about offering sex, but until Lex cooled down a few more degrees that was so blatant it might actually cause Lex to cut him off for a week, and no one wanted that (literally, no one, as Wally had been happy to inform him the last time, after the thing with the sentient pine trees and the zombie Labradors).
Lex sneered in Clark’s general direction. “Gelt,” he said. “That has to be possibly the worst chocolate ever invented. Gelt envies the taste of carob. I could give you the world’s finest truffles.”
“I know you could,” Clark said, patiently. “The gelt was a gift from Greater Jewish Charities of Metropolis, for when I did the Hanukah ceremony with the kids.”
Lex deflated somewhat. Kids were his great weakness, since he couldn’t insist that they’d made their own choices and deserved to live with the consequences. “Well,” he said, not looking at Clark, “then I suppose I’ll have my accountants write off the restoration costs.”
“No you won’t,” Clark said, because indulgence only went so far, and Lex seemed to be calming down. “But if you let this go, I’ll give you an early Christmas present.” He waggled his eyebrows to indicate the probable content of such a present.
Lex looked like he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or stalk off in a huff. Fortunately, he chose the middle ground, running a hand over his head and closing the vault door at last. “How you get me to ignore my better judgment …” he grumbled, for the record.
“Lex,” Clark said, loving him in all his glorious pique, “I am your better judgment.”
Lex stopped and pinned him with a stare that started to make him flush when it didn’t let up. Finally, Lex smiled—curved like a knife, but real. “Just remember who has the gold in this relationship.”
“As long as you remember who has the gelt,” Clark promised, and took Lex’s hand to lead him to the bedroom.
and...
forjakrar /avidrosette : Original prompt: Smallville/Supernatural: One of the 66 seals from SPN is in Metropolis. Lex has it and he intends to keep it. avidrosette said: In the current piece, it seems like Dean may be trying to draw Lex's attention away from Sam. What if Lex notices that and recognizes it as a protective pattern revealing strong feelings on Dean's part? What if Lex were drawn to that given that he's only experienced it directed at him from one - apparently missing - person?
Sam tugged Lex Luthor out of the line of fire--again--and checked his own weapon. They were down to rocksalt, not that regular bullets had been helping them much.
“We need paint, chalk—anything we could use to draw a Devil’s Trap to keep them out,” Sam told him, keeping the fear out of his voice as best he could. It would be nice if Dean’s pocket angel could pop up and help them, but of course all they got was orders, not assistance when it was most needed.
Lex’s face hadn’t lost the intense interest it had shown ever since the invaders all turned black-eyed at Christ’s name. This was somehow more disturbing than civilians’ usual terror, and a lot more of a pain in the ass since Lex kept going out for more observations. “Does it have to be fixed in a physical medium?”
“Hunh?”
Sam was really glad Dean had asked, because honestly he had no idea what the fuck Lex was talking about.
Lex pulled something that looked like a smartphone from ten years in the future out of his pocket. “Give me the design, as quickly as you can.”
Sam and Dean exchanged glances and agreed without any actual discussion that, while Dean was usually the better draftsman, he was also the better shot and that the latter was more needed at the moment. (Sam could own those, since Sam was a lot better with a knife, and research, and plenty of other things.) Sam took the stylus Lex handed him and quickly sketched the crudest possible Devil’s Trap on the electronic surface, so maybe if they got a very small demon to stand on it they’d be okay.
Lex took the device back as Dean yelled at them to fall back, and now they were confined to the short hallway in front of Lex’s vault, where they’d been supposed to save the seal. If Lex’s security hadn’t caught them, they might even have made it out ahead of the demons—but then Lex might well be dead.
Lex was tapping away—emailing for reinforcements? Sam had no idea.
“Come out now and we’ll kill you quick,” a demon yelled out.
Lex snarled, an expression Sam only noticed because it was so close to Dean’s. And then there were a series of thunks, like heavy metal doors falling down.
Pretty much exactly like heavy metal doors falling down, Sam realized when he glanced behind him and realized that the entrance to the vault was now covered by a block of what looked like solid steel.
“Cool,” Dean said, with that admiration he always reserved for the mechanically minded. “Won’t hold ‘em long, but cool.”
That was when the red lights erupted from all sides of them, creating lines like a security system in a movie that the master thief had to wriggle through. Except these lines didn’t seem random. They looked—
“You made a Devil’s Trap out of lasers,” Dean said, his voice more awed than Sam had ever heard in relation to Castiel. “Dude.”
“Two, in fact,” Lex said, and he was probably entitled to the smugness. “One around us, and one around them. I assume you have some way of extracting the demons from my security team.”
“Yes,” Sam began, but Dean interrupted him.
“Not all of them are gonna make it. It’s just how demons are.”
Sam shot Dean an annoyed look, but Lex was already asking about how the demon removal was going to be done, and it was easier to let Dean speak the exorcism into the phone that Lex had already patched into his security system.
“Now,” Lex said, when he’d called for more people to clean up the bruised and bleeding un-possessed bodies—apparently you could do that when you were richer than Croesus without worrying about the police—“I think you two have some explaining to do.”
****
Lex read up on the Winchesters while he allowed them to examine the object they’d been seeking to steal—this supposed seal of theirs. Even before the black-eyed assault (more like something out of the X-Files than the usual Smallville terrors), he’d had the sense that they could prove quite interesting. And, he wasn’t going to lie to himself, they were easy on the eyes. Sam was more his type, but Dean’s wariness would be a challenge, especially given the way they were fighting for dominance between them: each trying to position himself as the protector. There were secrets between them, that was as easy to see as their appalling good looks. Of course, according to the public records, they were both sociopaths, but even if Lex hadn’t just been given good reason to doubt that the FBI had the full story he still wouldn’t have considered that an absolute barrier.
He got them to stay by virtue of refusing to let them perform their seal-protecting ritual anywhere other than in his vault.
After that, it was trivial to separate them. Sam, despite his anxious glances at Dean every time he thought Dean wasn’t looking, was easily diverted with Lex’s collection of Kewatchee literature. He was soon happily searching through myths and legends that might have some intersection with the demons they were hunting, and at that point Dean welcomed Lex’s suggestion that they take a look at his cars. Lex left Sam with a key to his private elevator, the one that went straight to Lex’s level of the garage, and took Dean down.
Dean made the appropriate noises about the sleeker vehicles, then turned to Lex. “This really why you brought me down here?”
Lex doubted that this was the first time Dean had used his marquee looks to earn goodwill. And Lex wasn’t going to turn him down; it wasn’t even going to cost him a pair of diamond earrings. “That depends on you,” he said, keeping his body language unthreatening.
“Well, I got nothing better to do,” Dean said, somehow making it almost not insulting.
Lex took his time, which was why Sam found them with Dean bent over an electric blue Porsche, jeans around his ankles, Lex’s fingers in his ass and Lex’s other hand pressing his neck down. (Yes, it was going to mess up the finish, but that’s what money was for.) He’d positioned Dean so he’d see Sam just as Sam stepped off the elevator, and Dean jerked but was unable to escape Lex’s grip. He came instantly, cursing and furious, and he was still flushed bright red when Lex let him go.
Sam only stared.
Lex had been curious about this almost more than he’d wanted Dean’s mouth on him (though that had met and exceeded expectations as well). Sam didn’t seem like the type to share, despite the obvious fact that Dean needed sharing.
Dean was buckled and tucked in, looking at no one, and the silence was probably making them extremely uncomfortable. “I’ve had a suite prepared for the two of you on the executive floor,” Lex told them. “You can perform your ritual tomorrow, when the rest of the materials arrive.”
Neither of them said anything when Lex took them back up, though it was amusing to see them shuffle around to achieve maximum distance from each other and from Lex in the relatively small elevator car.
Lex wondered what they were going to say to one another when he left them. He was very much looking forward to reviewing the security footage.
abbylee: Someone mixes up Lex's gold coin and Clark's chocolate gelt collection.“I use the very best lighting!” Lex snarled.
“…Okay?” Clark said, putting his hands up.
A vein pulsed on Lex’s head. “Do you understand how much heat a good incandescent bulb puts out? Are you aware of the melting point of chocolate?”
Clark really thought they’d gotten past the twenty-one-year-old who thought that flinging a foil into a wall was a perfectly appropriate way of expressing frustration. Well, at least Lex wasn’t (yet) plotting to launch any missiles. “The Gxygjax were just trying to be helpful,” he pointed out.
“And I’d like to be equally helpful to them,” Lex gritted out. “I’m thinking lasers. Let them see what materials mixing really looks like.”
Clark didn’t want to trigger Lex’s ‘don’t condescend to me!’ rage. Lex didn’t make it easy some days, though.
“I could use my superbreath to clean off the coins …” he suggested, but stopped when Lex’s glare achieved some incandescence of its own.
“Clearly,” Lex said, in a tone that had been known to cause entire militaries to go on alert, “you have no appreciation for the preservation of the historical patina or the countless other small variations that give a coin its unique value.”
“I’m sorry, Lex,” Clark settled on as the best option of a bad bunch. He thought about offering sex, but until Lex cooled down a few more degrees that was so blatant it might actually cause Lex to cut him off for a week, and no one wanted that (literally, no one, as Wally had been happy to inform him the last time, after the thing with the sentient pine trees and the zombie Labradors).
Lex sneered in Clark’s general direction. “Gelt,” he said. “That has to be possibly the worst chocolate ever invented. Gelt envies the taste of carob. I could give you the world’s finest truffles.”
“I know you could,” Clark said, patiently. “The gelt was a gift from Greater Jewish Charities of Metropolis, for when I did the Hanukah ceremony with the kids.”
Lex deflated somewhat. Kids were his great weakness, since he couldn’t insist that they’d made their own choices and deserved to live with the consequences. “Well,” he said, not looking at Clark, “then I suppose I’ll have my accountants write off the restoration costs.”
“No you won’t,” Clark said, because indulgence only went so far, and Lex seemed to be calming down. “But if you let this go, I’ll give you an early Christmas present.” He waggled his eyebrows to indicate the probable content of such a present.
Lex looked like he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or stalk off in a huff. Fortunately, he chose the middle ground, running a hand over his head and closing the vault door at last. “How you get me to ignore my better judgment …” he grumbled, for the record.
“Lex,” Clark said, loving him in all his glorious pique, “I am your better judgment.”
Lex stopped and pinned him with a stare that started to make him flush when it didn’t let up. Finally, Lex smiled—curved like a knife, but real. “Just remember who has the gold in this relationship.”
“As long as you remember who has the gelt,” Clark promised, and took Lex’s hand to lead him to the bedroom.
and...
for
jakrar /avidrosette : Original prompt: Smallville/Supernatural: One of the 66 seals from SPN is in Metropolis. Lex has it and he intends to keep it. avidrosette said: In the current piece, it seems like Dean may be trying to draw Lex's attention away from Sam. What if Lex notices that and recognizes it as a protective pattern revealing strong feelings on Dean's part? What if Lex were drawn to that given that he's only experienced it directed at him from one - apparently missing - person? Sam tugged Lex Luthor out of the line of fire--again--and checked his own weapon. They were down to rocksalt, not that regular bullets had been helping them much.
“We need paint, chalk—anything we could use to draw a Devil’s Trap to keep them out,” Sam told him, keeping the fear out of his voice as best he could. It would be nice if Dean’s pocket angel could pop up and help them, but of course all they got was orders, not assistance when it was most needed.
Lex’s face hadn’t lost the intense interest it had shown ever since the invaders all turned black-eyed at Christ’s name. This was somehow more disturbing than civilians’ usual terror, and a lot more of a pain in the ass since Lex kept going out for more observations. “Does it have to be fixed in a physical medium?”
“Hunh?”
Sam was really glad Dean had asked, because honestly he had no idea what the fuck Lex was talking about.
Lex pulled something that looked like a smartphone from ten years in the future out of his pocket. “Give me the design, as quickly as you can.”
Sam and Dean exchanged glances and agreed without any actual discussion that, while Dean was usually the better draftsman, he was also the better shot and that the latter was more needed at the moment. (Sam could own those, since Sam was a lot better with a knife, and research, and plenty of other things.) Sam took the stylus Lex handed him and quickly sketched the crudest possible Devil’s Trap on the electronic surface, so maybe if they got a very small demon to stand on it they’d be okay.
Lex took the device back as Dean yelled at them to fall back, and now they were confined to the short hallway in front of Lex’s vault, where they’d been supposed to save the seal. If Lex’s security hadn’t caught them, they might even have made it out ahead of the demons—but then Lex might well be dead.
Lex was tapping away—emailing for reinforcements? Sam had no idea.
“Come out now and we’ll kill you quick,” a demon yelled out.
Lex snarled, an expression Sam only noticed because it was so close to Dean’s. And then there were a series of thunks, like heavy metal doors falling down.
Pretty much exactly like heavy metal doors falling down, Sam realized when he glanced behind him and realized that the entrance to the vault was now covered by a block of what looked like solid steel.
“Cool,” Dean said, with that admiration he always reserved for the mechanically minded. “Won’t hold ‘em long, but cool.”
That was when the red lights erupted from all sides of them, creating lines like a security system in a movie that the master thief had to wriggle through. Except these lines didn’t seem random. They looked—
“You made a Devil’s Trap out of lasers,” Dean said, his voice more awed than Sam had ever heard in relation to Castiel. “Dude.”
“Two, in fact,” Lex said, and he was probably entitled to the smugness. “One around us, and one around them. I assume you have some way of extracting the demons from my security team.”
“Yes,” Sam began, but Dean interrupted him.
“Not all of them are gonna make it. It’s just how demons are.”
Sam shot Dean an annoyed look, but Lex was already asking about how the demon removal was going to be done, and it was easier to let Dean speak the exorcism into the phone that Lex had already patched into his security system.
“Now,” Lex said, when he’d called for more people to clean up the bruised and bleeding un-possessed bodies—apparently you could do that when you were richer than Croesus without worrying about the police—“I think you two have some explaining to do.”
****
Lex read up on the Winchesters while he allowed them to examine the object they’d been seeking to steal—this supposed seal of theirs. Even before the black-eyed assault (more like something out of the X-Files than the usual Smallville terrors), he’d had the sense that they could prove quite interesting. And, he wasn’t going to lie to himself, they were easy on the eyes. Sam was more his type, but Dean’s wariness would be a challenge, especially given the way they were fighting for dominance between them: each trying to position himself as the protector. There were secrets between them, that was as easy to see as their appalling good looks. Of course, according to the public records, they were both sociopaths, but even if Lex hadn’t just been given good reason to doubt that the FBI had the full story he still wouldn’t have considered that an absolute barrier.
He got them to stay by virtue of refusing to let them perform their seal-protecting ritual anywhere other than in his vault.
After that, it was trivial to separate them. Sam, despite his anxious glances at Dean every time he thought Dean wasn’t looking, was easily diverted with Lex’s collection of Kewatchee literature. He was soon happily searching through myths and legends that might have some intersection with the demons they were hunting, and at that point Dean welcomed Lex’s suggestion that they take a look at his cars. Lex left Sam with a key to his private elevator, the one that went straight to Lex’s level of the garage, and took Dean down.
Dean made the appropriate noises about the sleeker vehicles, then turned to Lex. “This really why you brought me down here?”
Lex doubted that this was the first time Dean had used his marquee looks to earn goodwill. And Lex wasn’t going to turn him down; it wasn’t even going to cost him a pair of diamond earrings. “That depends on you,” he said, keeping his body language unthreatening.
“Well, I got nothing better to do,” Dean said, somehow making it almost not insulting.
Lex took his time, which was why Sam found them with Dean bent over an electric blue Porsche, jeans around his ankles, Lex’s fingers in his ass and Lex’s other hand pressing his neck down. (Yes, it was going to mess up the finish, but that’s what money was for.) He’d positioned Dean so he’d see Sam just as Sam stepped off the elevator, and Dean jerked but was unable to escape Lex’s grip. He came instantly, cursing and furious, and he was still flushed bright red when Lex let him go.
Sam only stared.
Lex had been curious about this almost more than he’d wanted Dean’s mouth on him (though that had met and exceeded expectations as well). Sam didn’t seem like the type to share, despite the obvious fact that Dean needed sharing.
Dean was buckled and tucked in, looking at no one, and the silence was probably making them extremely uncomfortable. “I’ve had a suite prepared for the two of you on the executive floor,” Lex told them. “You can perform your ritual tomorrow, when the rest of the materials arrive.”
Neither of them said anything when Lex took them back up, though it was amusing to see them shuffle around to achieve maximum distance from each other and from Lex in the relatively small elevator car.
Lex wondered what they were going to say to one another when he left them. He was very much looking forward to reviewing the security footage.
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Bwee! This is totally charming.
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I like the crossover fic here, with Lex and his technology and other playthings. But I love the sweet playfulness in my gelt fic. This is just so full of affection and ridiculousness, especially with their grins starting here:
“Lex,” Clark said, loving him in all his glorious pique, “I am your better judgment.”
Thank you!
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Heh! Great Lex voice. I can just hear his pissy intonation. I loved the interaction between a Clark and Lex who know each other so well.
The crossover has taken a dark turn, hasn't it? What a contrast to the gelt piece: this is a Lex without Clark, without that warming, mitigating, humanizing influence. This Lex is cold, using Dean for the psychological entertainment he might provide and then sitting back to watch the show. *shiver* I hope Dean and Sam get out of there as soon as possible, though I'm guessing they'll be taking some new scars with them.
Thanks for writing these! As abbylee said above, your stories are a highlight of the season.
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Re: the second-*fans self* dark, manipulative Lex in the crossover I never knew I wanted--umphf!
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