Phew, for a minute there I lost myself.
Jul. 3rd, 2003 12:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hackthis_archiveSmallville feat. You-Know-Who
And Warrior Angel Makes Three
Lex paused in the doorway and considered his reflection in the bathroom mirror: he didn’t look invisible. Since when had his opinion ceased to hold any importance at all? Clark hadn’t even listened to him.
The costume should have been lavender.
If Warrior Angel could wear it then so could Superman, trademark issues aside. Lex could have worked something out with the people at Metro-Verse, he’s sure of it. Besides, lavender was a perfectly acceptable color. Clark liked it on Lex. Sure, he hesitated to wear it himself, and perhaps it was a little gay, but all superhero uniforms had that certain je ne sais quois that made them appear slighty gay. It was called spandex.
It wasn’t as though Superman wasn’t gay anyway. Plus, Clark would automatically appeal to comic book enthusiasts and the homosexual population right out of the barn, which was an excellent cross-section demographic for anyone involved with an aspiring politician.
Superman would have been instantly recognizable -- because so many guys were mistaken for birds and planes these days -- and Lex would have his own superhero. Not that he didn’t already, but lavender spandex and wings would have made Lex extremely happy. Instead he was being forced to contemplate a lifetime of that ghastly design that Clark had described to him: red, blue and yellow, with a cape and boots?
What was Clark? SuperPrimaryColorsDominatrixMan?
It was intolerable, and entirely out of Lex’s hands. He had tried to convince Clark. He had tried to convince Martha. He hadn’t even bothered with Jonathan since he couldn’t sew either, but Lex had tailors at disposal. He had factories. He could have called Bruce and gotten a last-minute reprieve for something with some rubber. But no.
Lex’s pleas had fallen on deaf ears, and he’d been shooed from the guest room while Martha’s Singer sewing machine hummed his defeat. Oh god, it was depressing.
Lex didn’t flee often, which meant that he didn’t do it well, but he could do it when he had to. Between the spandex and the colors and the sewing machine, he’d been backed into a corner. The cape was pretty much the last straw. Not even a set of lavender wings to comfort him. Were Kryptonians color-blind?
Lex had known it was going to be bad. He had known he was going to have to fight hard to make sure Superman had some semblance of style, but he’d had no idea it was going to be this bad. Clark hadn’t even looked at the sketches Lex had commissioned. And now Lex was hiding out in the Kent bathroom while his lover was outfitted for his superhero uniform.
It was the sort of thing that would send him to a therapist eventually.
Making sure the door was firmly shut, Lex kicked off his loafers, climbed into the bathtub and sat down. The Kents had an old-fashioned bathtub with claws and plenty of legroom, which was exactly what he needed.
At least he had seen fit to come primed for such a downturn in today’s events.
Sighing, Lex snapped open the locks on his briefcase, pushed the sketches aside and extracted a long blue box, a bottle of fresh skim milk and several booklets wrapped in plastic.
It always paid to be prepared.
The bottle clattered in the cast iron bathtub when Lex leaned over the side to put his briefcase down. Shifting to make himself comfortable, Lex leaned back and banged his head on several plastic bottles of shampoo.
That never happened in his bathroom.
He was so put-upon. Clark had a lot to answer for.
Rearranging himself again so that he could keep an eye on the door and not face an avalanche of hair products, Lex popped open the box of Oreos and opened the cellophane. It took him a moment to realize he’d forgotten napkins, and there was no way he would touch his comic books with soiled fingers.
Liberating several squares of toilet paper, Lex settled down again, milk and cookies wedged between his legs and Warrior Angel issue No. 12 propped on the edge of the bathtub.
Before leaving the castle, Lex had briefly considered bringing some of the newer issues along as well, but today’s activities required Lex to be optimistic and happy. Pre-66 issues pretty much guaranteed that, which was probably why Lex always carried at least three in the false bottom of his attaché.
The Warriors, as diehard Warrior Angel fans were known, didn’t call the pre-Issue 66 era ‘The Golden Age’ for nothing. Besides, the latest issue -- 203 -- had a lot of Hector and Cal action, and it was fine if Cal wanted to date again, but Hector the Brave just wasn’t Sean.
Sean was evil, that didn’t make him a bad man. Devilicus was just a manifestation of his anger at Cal. And Warrior Angel, well, that was a pretty obvious manifestation to everybody. Cal wasn’t fooling anybody. Purple spandex and wings?
Lex made a noise, almost like a snort, and prepared to re-read one of his favorite stories about Callum and Sean’s college days. Reading about Sean and Cal’s life before Warrior Angel was one of his favorite pastimes. It wasn’t that Lex didn’t appreciate Warrior Angel, but there was something about knowing the story before hand that made him more invested in what happened after the rift, and in a way it made him nostalgic for pre-Superman days. Those were pretty much over now, though, and who knew what was just around the corner?
Lex didn’t even want to imagine, and so, over a few hours and the history of Sean Devlin and Callum King, Lex steadily worked through his box of Oreos and bottle of milk.
He loved the storyline about the creation of the Warrior Angel costume and the time that Sean stole said costume on Segundo Prime and used it to pick up hookers. Lex would never fit into Clark’s clothing properly, so stealing it was entirely out of the question.
Cal had just discovered his suit was missing when... the page fluttered over of its own accord. There was no breeze in the bathroom. There were no windows.
Lex looked up and blinked. The costume was the most garish monstrosity he had ever seen, but it displayed Clark’s package perfectly. He didn’t even notice the comic book slipping from his fingers, until Clark’s arm blurred in front of him. Too many fucking colors. Lex was going to get vertigo if he had to look at it on a regular basis.
“So, what do you think?” Clark said, his blue-spandex arm holding out Issue 22, and the smile on his face making Lex blink again. Lex wasn’t sure which was going to make him blind first. The milk bottle clattered when he moved, and the noise made him jump, smacking his back on the faucet.
“It’s very bright,” he said wincing at the pain. First blind, then deaf and now almost incapacitated. Wasn’t Clark supposed to help people? He was going to be the death of Lex; that much was pretty clear. “I need to get the full effect. Turn around.”
“They’re the colors of my house,” Clark said, handing Lex the comic book before executing a full turn under his appraising glance.
Lex frowned when he realized that the cape obstructed his view of Clark’s ass. “No, your house is yellow.” Maybe Kryptonians really were color-blind, it would explain a lot.
“I meant my other family, not the farm house.”
“I was making a joke,” Lex said sliding the comic back in its sleeve before placing it on the lidded toilet. Getting to his feet proved to be not inconsiderable work for him, however, as his socks didn’t seem to want to find any purchase in the tub. He didn't remember having this much difficulty getting in, but that was always the way.
When Lex slipped he thought about how much full contact with the Kent’s bathtub was going to hurt, until he found himself standing on the bathmat face to chest with a large, red and yellow ‘S’. Clark’s hands were very secure around his waist.
“Do you like it?”
“It’s… bright,” Lex said, truthfully. He couldn’t think well with Clark’s hands on his hips and his fingers moving. Almost massaging Lex through his trousers. Christ. What was the question?
Lex could hear the pout. “You said that already.”
“Right. Well, it is.” It was obvious he needed another angle. “How does it come off?”
“It’s got hidden zippers.” Now that interested Lex. Warrior Angel’s costume had snaps, and according to Issue 4, the first version also required baby powder and a distant cousin of Vaseline.
Lex began tugging on the spandex, trying to find said zippers. He was halted in his explorations by Clark stepping away. “You don’t like it?” he said, confusing Lex momentarily. Of course he liked Warrior Angel.
“I know it’s not what you wanted, but I like it.”
Wrong superhero.
“It’s just different,” he explained, stepping back into Clark’s personal space, before reaching around him to push the bathroom door shut. The conversation itself was perfectly Kent-friendly, but the look on Lex’s face certainly wasn’t. “It’s not too late to try purple.”
“Lex, I am not Warrior Angel.”
“I know. It was just an idea.”
“I like it,” Clark repeated, setting off little alarms in Lex’s brain. They’d flown past petulant and gone straight to stubborn-mule. He was going to need a crash helmet in a minute if the conversation didn’t turn around.
Lex smiled and waited a moment for it to register. Clark’s expression changed accordingly, which perhaps was why Lex only saved the smile for when he was really in the shit.
“Well, that’s all that counts, isn’t it?” he said, reaching out and tracing the luminescent ‘S’ with his index finger. “Maybe it just needs to wear on me.”
“Maybe you just need to see it in a different light,” Clark said.
His reciprocating smile made Lex twitch in a lot of different places. Lex had been waiting for this particular opening to kiss Clark and perhaps find out how long it took to remove this latest obstacle to Clark being naked all the time. “What kind of different light?”
“How would you feel about taking it for a test flight?” Clark knew how Lex felt about flying. This was going to have to be one hell of a flight. Right back to the penthouse and straight to the bedroom.
“I think I could be persuaded,” Lex said.
“I’ll try hard.” Clark’s words were barely out before he was blurring around the bathroom, gathering the comics, empty box and bottle, and Lex’s briefcase. “Just remember we have to be back by dinner, so I hope you didn’t spoil your appetite with those Oreos.”
Lex couldn't help himself. "Yes, Superman."
-finis-
Notes: Today, I was all set to write Crazy!Lex, but then![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
slodwick messed me up and my bunny ran away. Go read wearemany’s ‘fall far from’, which is first season SV. It’s just like ‘whoa’. The same can be said for Cumulus by Kat Reitz and Tzigane. Some day, when I learn to write like the big kids, I wanna write like this.
Random FYI: I believe most Press Tours will be taking place the week of July 20th.
And Warrior Angel Makes Three
Lex paused in the doorway and considered his reflection in the bathroom mirror: he didn’t look invisible. Since when had his opinion ceased to hold any importance at all? Clark hadn’t even listened to him.
The costume should have been lavender.
If Warrior Angel could wear it then so could Superman, trademark issues aside. Lex could have worked something out with the people at Metro-Verse, he’s sure of it. Besides, lavender was a perfectly acceptable color. Clark liked it on Lex. Sure, he hesitated to wear it himself, and perhaps it was a little gay, but all superhero uniforms had that certain je ne sais quois that made them appear slighty gay. It was called spandex.
It wasn’t as though Superman wasn’t gay anyway. Plus, Clark would automatically appeal to comic book enthusiasts and the homosexual population right out of the barn, which was an excellent cross-section demographic for anyone involved with an aspiring politician.
Superman would have been instantly recognizable -- because so many guys were mistaken for birds and planes these days -- and Lex would have his own superhero. Not that he didn’t already, but lavender spandex and wings would have made Lex extremely happy. Instead he was being forced to contemplate a lifetime of that ghastly design that Clark had described to him: red, blue and yellow, with a cape and boots?
What was Clark? SuperPrimaryColorsDominatrixMan?
It was intolerable, and entirely out of Lex’s hands. He had tried to convince Clark. He had tried to convince Martha. He hadn’t even bothered with Jonathan since he couldn’t sew either, but Lex had tailors at disposal. He had factories. He could have called Bruce and gotten a last-minute reprieve for something with some rubber. But no.
Lex’s pleas had fallen on deaf ears, and he’d been shooed from the guest room while Martha’s Singer sewing machine hummed his defeat. Oh god, it was depressing.
Lex didn’t flee often, which meant that he didn’t do it well, but he could do it when he had to. Between the spandex and the colors and the sewing machine, he’d been backed into a corner. The cape was pretty much the last straw. Not even a set of lavender wings to comfort him. Were Kryptonians color-blind?
Lex had known it was going to be bad. He had known he was going to have to fight hard to make sure Superman had some semblance of style, but he’d had no idea it was going to be this bad. Clark hadn’t even looked at the sketches Lex had commissioned. And now Lex was hiding out in the Kent bathroom while his lover was outfitted for his superhero uniform.
It was the sort of thing that would send him to a therapist eventually.
Making sure the door was firmly shut, Lex kicked off his loafers, climbed into the bathtub and sat down. The Kents had an old-fashioned bathtub with claws and plenty of legroom, which was exactly what he needed.
At least he had seen fit to come primed for such a downturn in today’s events.
Sighing, Lex snapped open the locks on his briefcase, pushed the sketches aside and extracted a long blue box, a bottle of fresh skim milk and several booklets wrapped in plastic.
It always paid to be prepared.
The bottle clattered in the cast iron bathtub when Lex leaned over the side to put his briefcase down. Shifting to make himself comfortable, Lex leaned back and banged his head on several plastic bottles of shampoo.
That never happened in his bathroom.
He was so put-upon. Clark had a lot to answer for.
Rearranging himself again so that he could keep an eye on the door and not face an avalanche of hair products, Lex popped open the box of Oreos and opened the cellophane. It took him a moment to realize he’d forgotten napkins, and there was no way he would touch his comic books with soiled fingers.
Liberating several squares of toilet paper, Lex settled down again, milk and cookies wedged between his legs and Warrior Angel issue No. 12 propped on the edge of the bathtub.
Before leaving the castle, Lex had briefly considered bringing some of the newer issues along as well, but today’s activities required Lex to be optimistic and happy. Pre-66 issues pretty much guaranteed that, which was probably why Lex always carried at least three in the false bottom of his attaché.
The Warriors, as diehard Warrior Angel fans were known, didn’t call the pre-Issue 66 era ‘The Golden Age’ for nothing. Besides, the latest issue -- 203 -- had a lot of Hector and Cal action, and it was fine if Cal wanted to date again, but Hector the Brave just wasn’t Sean.
Sean was evil, that didn’t make him a bad man. Devilicus was just a manifestation of his anger at Cal. And Warrior Angel, well, that was a pretty obvious manifestation to everybody. Cal wasn’t fooling anybody. Purple spandex and wings?
Lex made a noise, almost like a snort, and prepared to re-read one of his favorite stories about Callum and Sean’s college days. Reading about Sean and Cal’s life before Warrior Angel was one of his favorite pastimes. It wasn’t that Lex didn’t appreciate Warrior Angel, but there was something about knowing the story before hand that made him more invested in what happened after the rift, and in a way it made him nostalgic for pre-Superman days. Those were pretty much over now, though, and who knew what was just around the corner?
Lex didn’t even want to imagine, and so, over a few hours and the history of Sean Devlin and Callum King, Lex steadily worked through his box of Oreos and bottle of milk.
He loved the storyline about the creation of the Warrior Angel costume and the time that Sean stole said costume on Segundo Prime and used it to pick up hookers. Lex would never fit into Clark’s clothing properly, so stealing it was entirely out of the question.
Cal had just discovered his suit was missing when... the page fluttered over of its own accord. There was no breeze in the bathroom. There were no windows.
Lex looked up and blinked. The costume was the most garish monstrosity he had ever seen, but it displayed Clark’s package perfectly. He didn’t even notice the comic book slipping from his fingers, until Clark’s arm blurred in front of him. Too many fucking colors. Lex was going to get vertigo if he had to look at it on a regular basis.
“So, what do you think?” Clark said, his blue-spandex arm holding out Issue 22, and the smile on his face making Lex blink again. Lex wasn’t sure which was going to make him blind first. The milk bottle clattered when he moved, and the noise made him jump, smacking his back on the faucet.
“It’s very bright,” he said wincing at the pain. First blind, then deaf and now almost incapacitated. Wasn’t Clark supposed to help people? He was going to be the death of Lex; that much was pretty clear. “I need to get the full effect. Turn around.”
“They’re the colors of my house,” Clark said, handing Lex the comic book before executing a full turn under his appraising glance.
Lex frowned when he realized that the cape obstructed his view of Clark’s ass. “No, your house is yellow.” Maybe Kryptonians really were color-blind, it would explain a lot.
“I meant my other family, not the farm house.”
“I was making a joke,” Lex said sliding the comic back in its sleeve before placing it on the lidded toilet. Getting to his feet proved to be not inconsiderable work for him, however, as his socks didn’t seem to want to find any purchase in the tub. He didn't remember having this much difficulty getting in, but that was always the way.
When Lex slipped he thought about how much full contact with the Kent’s bathtub was going to hurt, until he found himself standing on the bathmat face to chest with a large, red and yellow ‘S’. Clark’s hands were very secure around his waist.
“Do you like it?”
“It’s… bright,” Lex said, truthfully. He couldn’t think well with Clark’s hands on his hips and his fingers moving. Almost massaging Lex through his trousers. Christ. What was the question?
Lex could hear the pout. “You said that already.”
“Right. Well, it is.” It was obvious he needed another angle. “How does it come off?”
“It’s got hidden zippers.” Now that interested Lex. Warrior Angel’s costume had snaps, and according to Issue 4, the first version also required baby powder and a distant cousin of Vaseline.
Lex began tugging on the spandex, trying to find said zippers. He was halted in his explorations by Clark stepping away. “You don’t like it?” he said, confusing Lex momentarily. Of course he liked Warrior Angel.
“I know it’s not what you wanted, but I like it.”
Wrong superhero.
“It’s just different,” he explained, stepping back into Clark’s personal space, before reaching around him to push the bathroom door shut. The conversation itself was perfectly Kent-friendly, but the look on Lex’s face certainly wasn’t. “It’s not too late to try purple.”
“Lex, I am not Warrior Angel.”
“I know. It was just an idea.”
“I like it,” Clark repeated, setting off little alarms in Lex’s brain. They’d flown past petulant and gone straight to stubborn-mule. He was going to need a crash helmet in a minute if the conversation didn’t turn around.
Lex smiled and waited a moment for it to register. Clark’s expression changed accordingly, which perhaps was why Lex only saved the smile for when he was really in the shit.
“Well, that’s all that counts, isn’t it?” he said, reaching out and tracing the luminescent ‘S’ with his index finger. “Maybe it just needs to wear on me.”
“Maybe you just need to see it in a different light,” Clark said.
His reciprocating smile made Lex twitch in a lot of different places. Lex had been waiting for this particular opening to kiss Clark and perhaps find out how long it took to remove this latest obstacle to Clark being naked all the time. “What kind of different light?”
“How would you feel about taking it for a test flight?” Clark knew how Lex felt about flying. This was going to have to be one hell of a flight. Right back to the penthouse and straight to the bedroom.
“I think I could be persuaded,” Lex said.
“I’ll try hard.” Clark’s words were barely out before he was blurring around the bathroom, gathering the comics, empty box and bottle, and Lex’s briefcase. “Just remember we have to be back by dinner, so I hope you didn’t spoil your appetite with those Oreos.”
Lex couldn't help himself. "Yes, Superman."
-finis-
Notes: Today, I was all set to write Crazy!Lex, but then
slodwick messed me up and my bunny ran away. Go read wearemany’s ‘fall far from’, which is first season SV. It’s just like ‘whoa’. The same can be said for Cumulus by Kat Reitz and Tzigane. Some day, when I learn to write like the big kids, I wanna write like this. Random FYI: I believe most Press Tours will be taking place the week of July 20th.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-07-07 09:46 am (UTC)Dude!
I *worship* your Lex.
Lex smiled and waited a moment for it to register. Clark’s expression changed accordingly, which perhaps was why Lex only saved the smile for when he was really in the shit.
*dies*
And I adore you, Zahra.
Awww, Celli, thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed this so much.