Now *this* is more like it.
Dec. 5th, 2002 01:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hackthis_archiveNapoleon isn’t here today. Oh Merlin, Christmas came early (why didn’t Nick bring me any LJ-time? I thought we’d worked that out). Holy shit. Forget Santa, Anonymous philanthropic bestest benefactor with the 12 months of LJ-hookup make yourself known so I can like, I dunno, give you a blow job or something. I'll write you one, I'll write whatever. Fucking hell. Wow.
Hope made me this. I wrote her this. Think 'woobie.' It seems like that’s needed today.
A Simple Gesture
It’s not hiding if no one is seeking, and Lex is quite sure that he has yet to employ anyone insane enough to actively seek him out when he’s this far around the bend. He pays well; no one pays that well. Still, it’s not as though no one knows he’s home. The phone call, the smoking tires tracks out front, the people in Wichita probably heard the door slam, so the reason no one is seeking him out is obviously because he’s threatened to behead – and then sack – anyone who comes near him this evening, or tomorrow, or perhaps for the rest of his life.
And he’s really not around the bend, metaphorically speaking or otherwise because his office is down the hall, not around the corner. But he’s digressing, and he’s tired and the non-sequiturs are coming fast in his old age. He sure as hell doesn’t feel twenty-one. He feels about fifty, and that probably has to do with the hours he’s keeping. At least he’s taken a shower today, but that was in the city, and he’s just tired.
He’s been home forty-five minutes, and the pulse is still throbbing in his temple. Just when he thinks it can’t get any worse – he’s always proven wrong. Flat tire on the way into the city, horrible meeting, projections that don’t make sense, and then coming home to find Lionel the Belligerent Bellowing Bull in the penthouse when Lex swore he had left him in Smallville.
Thank somebody Lex doesn’t live in a china shop.
If Lex could just make his dad disappear, or at least go away indefinitely, life would be so much better. Not necessarily easier, but definitely better, and at least that’s enough to make him smile. Of course thinking of ways to off his father often has that effect on Lex, but no, because Lex is the prodigal and he’s obviously gone soft enough to let his father live with him. It is his castle, but it obviously needs to be the next thing he wrangles from his father’s superglue-like grip: when Lex is owner then he can kick Lionel out. It’s not like his father doesn’t have fifteen other houses to go to, and besides, Lex has been awake for 60-odd hours – without pharmacological aid - he’s allowed a little indulgence. He’s been locked away in meetings and hotel rooms and boardrooms with all these people, and he just wants to be still, to stop moving for a minute.
He’s not tired; he’s fucking exhausted. And yet, he drove three hours back to Smallville just because. It's disgraceful. He’s Alexander Luthor; he’s Lex Luthor; he just wants to be Lex for an hour without strings and dotted lines and DNA tests attached.
Really, he’s not hiding. He’s just going to close his eyes and relish a staff that knows when he says to ‘get the hell out’ - to, in fact, get the hell out.
“There you are. I was looking for you."
Petulant tone. Decidedly male. Ah. Clark’s not on staff. There’s always a catch, at least he doesn’t have to watch Clark to have a conversation with him, but really, he’s such a pretty boy. Lex would be doing himself a disservice.
“And now you’ve found me – planning on turning me in to the authorities, or just my father?” Lex is too tired to care at this point. Clark could announce that he had discovered that all of Lex’s exes had formed a coalition to have him castrated, and he wouldn’t arch an eyebrow. They already did something like that to him at Princeton. It was funny, well, it was under the right chemical circumstances.
“That bad, huh?”
“You don’t want to know.” This should be the part where Lex flings his arm across his eyes or something equally dramatic. It’s a shame he’s not dramatic, it’s times like this that he thinks of Victoria.
Yes, she was tiresome as well.
“Of course, I do.”
“No, really. You don’t.” Clark is not Lex’s therapist or his confidant or his… no. Lex does not complain to Clark, that’s a one-way street. Lex doesn’t want to start something else that may wind up with him making drunken confessions about lust and cocksucker lips and flannel.
“Lex, it can’t be that bad.”
“Oh really?” Clark is obviously young, and naïve, and not in the workforce. If he were, he would understand Lex’s desire not to talk about it. Ever. It is that bad.
He would understand Lex’s desire to close his eyes and go to sleep. In his chair. Fully dressed.
“Do you want me to guess?”
“Be my guest.” If Clark guesses, he’ll keep talking and then maybe he won’t expect Lex to respond. Right. And then maybe he’ll talk himself into sleeping with Lex while he’s at it. There's a creaking noise, which means that Clark is either sitting down or standing on a chair to swing from the chandelier.
Lex should check.
“Your father.”
Damn, just sitting down.
“Always.”
“Work.” That was too easy.
“Well, isn’t that a given?”
“You found out that someone bought the latest model Ferrari before you did?”
At least that’s worth a smile.
“No, wait. You found out that your empire comes with a 90-day probationary period.” Assuming, of course, that Lex knows what a probationary period is, how does Clark? Perhaps they’re not always used in the context that Lex knows them best.
“How ever did you guess, Clark? ESP?” It must be Lex’s imagination that Clark just turned slightly pale. It can’t be. Of all the mutant powers… it had to be that one. Typical. Now Lex really doesn’t want to see other people, he definitely needs to be where other people are not. Standing, Lex can do, manuvering his desk without bruising his thighs beyond recognition, not too hard. Clark blocking his path - not so easy.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m just going—“ to be directed elsewhere. Lex had control of his body yesterday when he left the castle. He had it when he came tearing up the driveway earlier, and yet, now he seems to be in the very – warm grip of one Clark Kent. Well, if he’s entered the hallucinating stage of over-exhaustion, it could certainly be worse. There are no purple tigers here at least.
“Don’t worry about that now, I have something I want to show you.” The whole spinning around to get direction is not good. Lex has never had motion sickness before; he doesn't want to start now.
“Outside?”
“No, the doorway is actually a portal to another realm. Yes, outside.” It must be Lex’s hearing; it’s because he’s tired. Still, that certainly sounded like sarcasm from Clark. Except that Clark doesn’t do sarcasm. Ah, Lex crashed his car again.
He’s passed out: that’s it.
Well, Clark will rescue him anyway. He’ll just play along in fantasyland for the time being. Maybe Fantasy!Clark will open the doors and instead of the garden there’ll be a very large bed, with a massage table… and Clark will suddenly be wearing a loincloth like Tarzan.
Wow. Lex must be really tired.
“You’ve figured out a way to shrink-wrap the world and it’s right outside the door?” That would be nice, and Lex would appreciate the sentiment, but he’d have to wait until he’s taken a nap to really get into it.
“Not quite, your eminent worshipful dictatorship.” Ah, a smile. Lex likes those. He’d like one when he wakes up even more. He really wants to go to sleep. If this were anyone else…
If this were anybody else, Lex would never have let them put their hands on his shoulders. It’s surely his imagination that Clark is squeezing him just a little hard.
“Clark, what did you want to show me?”
“Open the door.”
“I can do that.”
“Go through the door.”
“Okay, now that we’ve established that I can, in fact, take orders, what exactly should I be looking at?” Apart from the fleeting glances at the tips of Clark’s fingers which seem very tan against the lilac of his shirt. He wonders how Clark would look in purple, or violet, or bruised.
Yes, Lex is definitely mentally incapacitated right now.
“This.”
“This what? The pool? The garden?” It can’t be that good if Clark is still dressed.
“No, the sunset.” The. Sun. set. It must be a joke. Lex has been awake for three days, his sense of humor went to bed early this morning, and it took his tolerance with it. “Clark, I’ve seen the sunset before.”
“Yes, but have you ever watched it?” No, but Lex is going to put Clark in the hospital for ‘observation’ if he keeps with this watching nonsense.
“You’ve lost your mind.”
“Lex, just watch.” Watch what? There’s nothing to watch. Unless of course, Clark wants to watch Lex walk away. God, that grip is tighter than he thought.
“Clark, I appreciate the sentiment, but I have things to do.” Like sleep. Sleep is good. And getting his car out that ditch, oh wait, there’s no ditch. Lex didn’t have a car crash, he just feels like he did. He’s too tired for this.
“Clark…”
“Lex, just watch.” Watch. How is he supposed to watch anything when Clark has decided to move his head for him. There are bare, minor-age hands on his head. This is not sexual. This is not sexual. This chanting is making him think of that Buddhist monastery in Tibet where he – oh. Well.
“All right, I’m watching. What am I supposed to be seeing?”
There are hands back on Lex’s shoulders now, correction: they’re on his biceps… his forearms. If Clark goes to hold his hands, and someone wakes him up from this coma, Lex will be pissed off.
“Okay, you see how the sky is turning all pink and orange, but there’s still all that gray and blue in the horizon?”
“Yes, it’s all very pretty. Clark, have I mentioned that I’m tired?” Plus, there’s no handholding. Lex can’t take being teased. Not now.
“Look, just watch. I mean you’re always so busy doing whatever and I don’t think – don’t miss the little stuff, you know? The stuff that’s right in front of you.” Ah. Well, maybe Lex isn’t that tired.
This obviously isn’t about the sunset at all.
“I’ll keep that in mind, Clark.”
Notes: There’s even a gratuitous Four Wedding and a Funeral reference as I think we all might need a happy or six today.
Hope made me this. I wrote her this. Think 'woobie.' It seems like that’s needed today.
A Simple Gesture
It’s not hiding if no one is seeking, and Lex is quite sure that he has yet to employ anyone insane enough to actively seek him out when he’s this far around the bend. He pays well; no one pays that well. Still, it’s not as though no one knows he’s home. The phone call, the smoking tires tracks out front, the people in Wichita probably heard the door slam, so the reason no one is seeking him out is obviously because he’s threatened to behead – and then sack – anyone who comes near him this evening, or tomorrow, or perhaps for the rest of his life.
And he’s really not around the bend, metaphorically speaking or otherwise because his office is down the hall, not around the corner. But he’s digressing, and he’s tired and the non-sequiturs are coming fast in his old age. He sure as hell doesn’t feel twenty-one. He feels about fifty, and that probably has to do with the hours he’s keeping. At least he’s taken a shower today, but that was in the city, and he’s just tired.
He’s been home forty-five minutes, and the pulse is still throbbing in his temple. Just when he thinks it can’t get any worse – he’s always proven wrong. Flat tire on the way into the city, horrible meeting, projections that don’t make sense, and then coming home to find Lionel the Belligerent Bellowing Bull in the penthouse when Lex swore he had left him in Smallville.
Thank somebody Lex doesn’t live in a china shop.
If Lex could just make his dad disappear, or at least go away indefinitely, life would be so much better. Not necessarily easier, but definitely better, and at least that’s enough to make him smile. Of course thinking of ways to off his father often has that effect on Lex, but no, because Lex is the prodigal and he’s obviously gone soft enough to let his father live with him. It is his castle, but it obviously needs to be the next thing he wrangles from his father’s superglue-like grip: when Lex is owner then he can kick Lionel out. It’s not like his father doesn’t have fifteen other houses to go to, and besides, Lex has been awake for 60-odd hours – without pharmacological aid - he’s allowed a little indulgence. He’s been locked away in meetings and hotel rooms and boardrooms with all these people, and he just wants to be still, to stop moving for a minute.
He’s not tired; he’s fucking exhausted. And yet, he drove three hours back to Smallville just because. It's disgraceful. He’s Alexander Luthor; he’s Lex Luthor; he just wants to be Lex for an hour without strings and dotted lines and DNA tests attached.
Really, he’s not hiding. He’s just going to close his eyes and relish a staff that knows when he says to ‘get the hell out’ - to, in fact, get the hell out.
“There you are. I was looking for you."
Petulant tone. Decidedly male. Ah. Clark’s not on staff. There’s always a catch, at least he doesn’t have to watch Clark to have a conversation with him, but really, he’s such a pretty boy. Lex would be doing himself a disservice.
“And now you’ve found me – planning on turning me in to the authorities, or just my father?” Lex is too tired to care at this point. Clark could announce that he had discovered that all of Lex’s exes had formed a coalition to have him castrated, and he wouldn’t arch an eyebrow. They already did something like that to him at Princeton. It was funny, well, it was under the right chemical circumstances.
“That bad, huh?”
“You don’t want to know.” This should be the part where Lex flings his arm across his eyes or something equally dramatic. It’s a shame he’s not dramatic, it’s times like this that he thinks of Victoria.
Yes, she was tiresome as well.
“Of course, I do.”
“No, really. You don’t.” Clark is not Lex’s therapist or his confidant or his… no. Lex does not complain to Clark, that’s a one-way street. Lex doesn’t want to start something else that may wind up with him making drunken confessions about lust and cocksucker lips and flannel.
“Lex, it can’t be that bad.”
“Oh really?” Clark is obviously young, and naïve, and not in the workforce. If he were, he would understand Lex’s desire not to talk about it. Ever. It is that bad.
He would understand Lex’s desire to close his eyes and go to sleep. In his chair. Fully dressed.
“Do you want me to guess?”
“Be my guest.” If Clark guesses, he’ll keep talking and then maybe he won’t expect Lex to respond. Right. And then maybe he’ll talk himself into sleeping with Lex while he’s at it. There's a creaking noise, which means that Clark is either sitting down or standing on a chair to swing from the chandelier.
Lex should check.
“Your father.”
Damn, just sitting down.
“Always.”
“Work.” That was too easy.
“Well, isn’t that a given?”
“You found out that someone bought the latest model Ferrari before you did?”
At least that’s worth a smile.
“No, wait. You found out that your empire comes with a 90-day probationary period.” Assuming, of course, that Lex knows what a probationary period is, how does Clark? Perhaps they’re not always used in the context that Lex knows them best.
“How ever did you guess, Clark? ESP?” It must be Lex’s imagination that Clark just turned slightly pale. It can’t be. Of all the mutant powers… it had to be that one. Typical. Now Lex really doesn’t want to see other people, he definitely needs to be where other people are not. Standing, Lex can do, manuvering his desk without bruising his thighs beyond recognition, not too hard. Clark blocking his path - not so easy.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m just going—“ to be directed elsewhere. Lex had control of his body yesterday when he left the castle. He had it when he came tearing up the driveway earlier, and yet, now he seems to be in the very – warm grip of one Clark Kent. Well, if he’s entered the hallucinating stage of over-exhaustion, it could certainly be worse. There are no purple tigers here at least.
“Don’t worry about that now, I have something I want to show you.” The whole spinning around to get direction is not good. Lex has never had motion sickness before; he doesn't want to start now.
“Outside?”
“No, the doorway is actually a portal to another realm. Yes, outside.” It must be Lex’s hearing; it’s because he’s tired. Still, that certainly sounded like sarcasm from Clark. Except that Clark doesn’t do sarcasm. Ah, Lex crashed his car again.
He’s passed out: that’s it.
Well, Clark will rescue him anyway. He’ll just play along in fantasyland for the time being. Maybe Fantasy!Clark will open the doors and instead of the garden there’ll be a very large bed, with a massage table… and Clark will suddenly be wearing a loincloth like Tarzan.
Wow. Lex must be really tired.
“You’ve figured out a way to shrink-wrap the world and it’s right outside the door?” That would be nice, and Lex would appreciate the sentiment, but he’d have to wait until he’s taken a nap to really get into it.
“Not quite, your eminent worshipful dictatorship.” Ah, a smile. Lex likes those. He’d like one when he wakes up even more. He really wants to go to sleep. If this were anyone else…
If this were anybody else, Lex would never have let them put their hands on his shoulders. It’s surely his imagination that Clark is squeezing him just a little hard.
“Clark, what did you want to show me?”
“Open the door.”
“I can do that.”
“Go through the door.”
“Okay, now that we’ve established that I can, in fact, take orders, what exactly should I be looking at?” Apart from the fleeting glances at the tips of Clark’s fingers which seem very tan against the lilac of his shirt. He wonders how Clark would look in purple, or violet, or bruised.
Yes, Lex is definitely mentally incapacitated right now.
“This.”
“This what? The pool? The garden?” It can’t be that good if Clark is still dressed.
“No, the sunset.” The. Sun. set. It must be a joke. Lex has been awake for three days, his sense of humor went to bed early this morning, and it took his tolerance with it. “Clark, I’ve seen the sunset before.”
“Yes, but have you ever watched it?” No, but Lex is going to put Clark in the hospital for ‘observation’ if he keeps with this watching nonsense.
“You’ve lost your mind.”
“Lex, just watch.” Watch what? There’s nothing to watch. Unless of course, Clark wants to watch Lex walk away. God, that grip is tighter than he thought.
“Clark, I appreciate the sentiment, but I have things to do.” Like sleep. Sleep is good. And getting his car out that ditch, oh wait, there’s no ditch. Lex didn’t have a car crash, he just feels like he did. He’s too tired for this.
“Clark…”
“Lex, just watch.” Watch. How is he supposed to watch anything when Clark has decided to move his head for him. There are bare, minor-age hands on his head. This is not sexual. This is not sexual. This chanting is making him think of that Buddhist monastery in Tibet where he – oh. Well.
“All right, I’m watching. What am I supposed to be seeing?”
There are hands back on Lex’s shoulders now, correction: they’re on his biceps… his forearms. If Clark goes to hold his hands, and someone wakes him up from this coma, Lex will be pissed off.
“Okay, you see how the sky is turning all pink and orange, but there’s still all that gray and blue in the horizon?”
“Yes, it’s all very pretty. Clark, have I mentioned that I’m tired?” Plus, there’s no handholding. Lex can’t take being teased. Not now.
“Look, just watch. I mean you’re always so busy doing whatever and I don’t think – don’t miss the little stuff, you know? The stuff that’s right in front of you.” Ah. Well, maybe Lex isn’t that tired.
This obviously isn’t about the sunset at all.
“I’ll keep that in mind, Clark.”
Notes: There’s even a gratuitous Four Wedding and a Funeral reference as I think we all might need a happy or six today.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2002-12-05 01:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-12-05 06:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-12-05 02:17 pm (UTC)*sighs*
Sunsets.
no subject
Date: 2002-12-05 06:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-12-05 03:24 pm (UTC)Absolutely lovely.
no subject
Date: 2002-12-05 06:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-12-05 04:52 pm (UTC)There's a creaking noise, which means that Clark is either sitting down or standing on a chair to swing from the chandelier.
Lex should check.
“Your father.”
Damn, just sitting down.
*g* Damn indeed. I'd've loved to see Lex's reaction if Clark was doing the later...
no subject
Date: 2002-12-05 07:13 pm (UTC)Thank you so much, I'm glad that you liked it. :)
no subject
Date: 2002-12-06 09:30 am (UTC)Ah. So sweet, Zahra. Lovely and just what Lex needs before getting a good night's sleep.
Out of curiousity, what was the "4 Weddings..." reference?
no subject
Date: 2002-12-06 10:26 am (UTC)You know the bit at the second wedding where Charles has just run into Henrietta and he's about to lose the plot, and he says how he should be were other people are not? Well, Lex has the exact same thought somewhere in here ::waves vaguely to the middle of the drabble::
no subject
Date: 2002-12-09 09:27 am (UTC)“There you are. I was looking for you."
Petulant tone. Decidedly male. Ah. Clark’s not on staff.
See, this is why I love you. It's the little details, the little hooks and catches that make everything seem so real when you write. This was just beautiful, you got the tension and the frustration and the UST and just everything, everything. Thank you so much for writing this baby, I'm going to tuck this one away to read again, later, at the end of my day. *hugs*
no subject
Date: 2002-12-09 11:18 am (UTC)Anything I can do to make you feel better makes me happy. Have a good day, try not to stress too hard. :)
no subject
Date: 2002-12-09 03:53 pm (UTC)Bwah! Oh, I love this Lex and his mental pouting and digging in of his heels. So testy and cute, even though Lex would of course attest that he ISN'T cute. ever. hehehehe...
no subject
Date: 2002-12-09 04:31 pm (UTC)but. ANYWAY. Yes. Lex thinks he's the greatest, and I tend to agree. Light and airy but not sickeningly sweet. Yum! I luuuuurv unfluffy fluff.
Lex isn't cute - he's hot. Except, you know, for when he's cute - it's that bottom lip, I'm telling you.