Make hay not war.
Feb. 17th, 2003 09:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hackthis_archiveRead The Super Bullet Sneeze by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bexless. I laughed so hard I thought I was going to pass out.
::Yellow Alert::
Pointless Sap Ahead! Go back! Go back!
Happy Belated Birthday,pastiche
Smallville
They say a secret is some thing you tell one other person, so I’m telling you a secret
-U2 ‘The Fly’
“I’m gay,” is Clark’s grand announcement on the day of his high school graduation.
Lex doesn’t even blink.
It’s six forty-five in the morning, and graduation isn’t until three in the afternoon. Lex has never been a morning person, no matter how good a farmer he could have made once upon another timeline. Point in fact, Lex could barely remember how to put on his robe when Enrique announced that young Master Kent was at the door and should he show him to the sitting room.
Lex isn’t sure what he told Enrique to do, but he suspects it might have had something to do with a pool cue and places the sun doesn’t shine.
If it were anyone else, Lex wouldn’t have bothered, but of course, it’s Clark, and Lex is crazy about Clark. Or perhaps just crazy period. Nevertheless, Lex has the distinct impression that the cook is sniggering at him when he stumbles into the kitchen with Clark fast on his heels.
He can’t bring himself to care, even though the glare he shoots her is enough to make her scamper out the room.
Once he pours himself his first cup of coffee, things begin to move a bit faster. Although anything faster than inertia is warp speed to Lex right now. His brain may have companies to terrorize and fertilizer to sell, but his brain is still in bed, wrapped up in brushed flannel sheets and dreaming about wearing purple to its inauguration. Plus, shooting up coffee in front of the still impressionable Clark would be wrong, so Lex‘s caffeine fix hasn‘t kicked in. Ergo, he’s useless.
Clark could be talking about the downfall of Western Civilization and little green men invading, and Lex wouldn’t know.
Correction: Lex wouldn’t care.
However, Lex is nothing if not a gentleman, even when his robe is falling open and he has an insatiable urge to scratch himself in places he tries to only abuse privately. So he listens to Clark’s chatter, nods his head appropriately and picks up the salt instead of the sugar. It’s only when Clark stops him that he realizes that he’s about to make a mistake. He smiles sleepily, and picks up the correct canister, dumping a very unhealthy amount of unrefined sugar in his coffee. Stirring his coffee with his finger, Lex’s mind tries to turn over the events of the last five minutes.
Clark is gay.
It’s certainly not the declaration that he’s has been hoping for, or even waiting for. As far as jaw-dropping news goes this places somewhere above the cook running out of Lex’s favorite mustard and just below getting a scratch on his latest car.
It’s a good statement though, and it’s obvious that it means a lot to Clark. Lex should say something.
“That’s nice,” he replies blandly, brushing by Clark to pick up The Financial Times before dropping into a chair at the table. The paper looks even more orange than normal this morning, and Lex still has sleep in the corner of his eyes. It takes him until page four to realize there’s a noticeable lack of footsteps retreating.
When Lex finally glances up, Clark is still there waiting, eyes the size of dinner plates.
He chuckles around a mouthful of coffee despite himself, and nods at the chair across from him in invitation.
He should be nice to Clark on his big day after all.
At the very least he’ll never have to hear about Lana Lang again.
*
Lex bangs his hand on the nightstand when the phone rings at 4:57 a.m. on the morning of Clark’s college graduation. He’s loathe to answer the phone considering that he only got in bed two hours ago, but the world doesn’t stop just because one CEO went out and got drunk with his best friend.
“I’m an alien,” the voice on the other end confesses without the hint of an alcoholic slur. Lex knows what he’s heard, but it takes him three tries to put the phone to his ear correctly so it takes a bit longer for him to respond.
Something tells him it’s not the triple shots of Jagermeister talking.
He speaks slowly more for his own benefit than Clark’s.
“You’re an alien,’ he repeats back not expecting confirmation on something he’s known for years anyway.
“Yes.”
Clark sounds more nervous than anything else, and Lex has to bite his lip to keep from laughing hysterically. Clark is a gay alien, and Lex couldn‘t fall for some nice, bisexual rent boy from this planet, could he? Of course not, because that‘s not what the ‘special‘ kids do. “That’s nice,” he says, struggling to sit up, but thinking better of it when the room starts to defy the laws of gravity. It hurts even more when he slumps back down and bangs his head on the headboard.
“Lex?”
“Your timing really sucks,” he mutters, trying to soothe his head and remember how to talk when he has vodka-induced cottonmouth.
“I’m sorry I didn‘t tell you sooner.”
Lex can hear something creaking in the background, and he has visions of some poor man’s Porsche turning into a sardine can. “I’m sorry I bothered you at five in the morning too, I just. I really needed to tell you, because all night long you kept talking about starting a new chapter in my life, and I couldn’t do that without. You know, without telling you about me.”
“Clark, don’t be silly. You’re not bothering me, you could never bother me.” Lex’s voice trails off at the end as the implications of what Clark’s said finally begin to sink in. It’s a lot to take on a stomach that’s already exceeded maximum alcoholic capacity. He could really use a drink.
“Are you mad?
“Why would I be mad, Clark?” Apart from the obvious.
There’s a very long pause, and Lex would love to think he’s passed out on his sofa and will wake up in the morning with a hangover and drool seeping into the leather. Of course that would be the easy way out, and Lex has learned that if nothing else, life with Clark Kent is not easy. “Yes, I’m mad. No, it won’t last forever, but can we talk about this when I’m not dead drunk and hoping the world will stop so I can get off?”
“Yeah, sure.”
If Lex ever heard the sound of dejection that would be it. A voice in the back of his mind says that it serves Clark right. He’s about to hang up, when he thinks twice and calls Clark’s name. The question is out, even though Lex doesn‘t remember having the thought. “How about dinner after graduation?”
*
“I’m in love with you,” is the bombshell that Superman drops after he stops a landslide in Bolivia, a tsunami in Hawaii and a kidnapping attempt on the head of Lex Corp all between the ten and eleven o’clock evening news.
Thankfully, this time it’s just another day without any social significance to Clark Kent. Or not.
There are many things that Lex wants to say, but there’s a very distinct breeze when one is clutching a bonafide superhero and flying over Metropolis. The whole experience is making Lex’s ears numb, and he can’t help but burrow his head in Clark’s neck in a way that is distinctly uninspiring confidence wise.
“Do you think you could have prevaricated just a bit longer?“ is what Lex thinks, but he’s a bit taken aback when Clark’s chest starts shaking like he’s laughing uncontrollably. Lex is too old to be thinking aloud, so instead he holds on a bit tighter and sets his jaw in the Luthor Line of Non-amusedness.
It’s only when they touch down on the balcony of his penthouse, that Lex pokes Clark in the ribs. “What were you laughing about, Superdork?” he says, not actually attempting to break free of Clark’s embrace.
“I’ve been trying to tell you this for years, Lex.”
Clark really does look good in primary colors, but the spandex. That’s asking for more restraint that any one man could ever have. Lex has been dying to grope Clark in this costume for ages; instead, he goes for a glare and winds up somewhat short because of the earnest expression on Clark’s face. “You couldn’t have just said so?”
“What do you think all those confessions were about?”
“Oh,” is the only sound to escape Lex’s lips. He hates it when he can’t find the proper smart-ass remark. He hates it when… he can’t remember what he hates when Clark is nuzzling his neck like this.
“The papers will never believe it.” Clark nips at Lex’s ear, and Lex would swear on his stock that he doesn’t groan. That loud. “Lex Luthor at a loss for words.”
“Shut up, Daily Planet brat.” Lex goes to thump Clark in the chest and winds up molesting the garish ’S’ instead. It’s a sad day for teenyboppers everywhere, because as far as Lex is concerned Clark Kent and Superman and Superdork are all now officially spoken for.
He pulls away slightly, and blinks rapidly at the happiness that Clark radiates. He put that there. Maybe it’s an alien thing. “Are you going to kiss me sometime this century, or do I have to wait for the next Ill-Timed Clark Kent Confession for that?”
Clark releases his hold on Lex, and for a horrifying moment Lex thinks that maybe Clark is taking him seriously. At least until Clark cups his face and kisses him the way that Lex has always wanted, but done his best not to dream about.
It’s the sort of kiss with nothing in the middle of it, nothing behind it. Just a kiss between two people honestly in love.
It feels clean, like there’s nothing left to hide.
-finis-
Notes: Happy Belated Birthday, Cat. *g*
bexless. I laughed so hard I thought I was going to pass out.::Yellow Alert::
Pointless Sap Ahead! Go back! Go back!
Happy Belated Birthday,
pasticheSmallville
They say a secret is some thing you tell one other person, so I’m telling you a secret
-U2 ‘The Fly’
“I’m gay,” is Clark’s grand announcement on the day of his high school graduation.
Lex doesn’t even blink.
It’s six forty-five in the morning, and graduation isn’t until three in the afternoon. Lex has never been a morning person, no matter how good a farmer he could have made once upon another timeline. Point in fact, Lex could barely remember how to put on his robe when Enrique announced that young Master Kent was at the door and should he show him to the sitting room.
Lex isn’t sure what he told Enrique to do, but he suspects it might have had something to do with a pool cue and places the sun doesn’t shine.
If it were anyone else, Lex wouldn’t have bothered, but of course, it’s Clark, and Lex is crazy about Clark. Or perhaps just crazy period. Nevertheless, Lex has the distinct impression that the cook is sniggering at him when he stumbles into the kitchen with Clark fast on his heels.
He can’t bring himself to care, even though the glare he shoots her is enough to make her scamper out the room.
Once he pours himself his first cup of coffee, things begin to move a bit faster. Although anything faster than inertia is warp speed to Lex right now. His brain may have companies to terrorize and fertilizer to sell, but his brain is still in bed, wrapped up in brushed flannel sheets and dreaming about wearing purple to its inauguration. Plus, shooting up coffee in front of the still impressionable Clark would be wrong, so Lex‘s caffeine fix hasn‘t kicked in. Ergo, he’s useless.
Clark could be talking about the downfall of Western Civilization and little green men invading, and Lex wouldn’t know.
Correction: Lex wouldn’t care.
However, Lex is nothing if not a gentleman, even when his robe is falling open and he has an insatiable urge to scratch himself in places he tries to only abuse privately. So he listens to Clark’s chatter, nods his head appropriately and picks up the salt instead of the sugar. It’s only when Clark stops him that he realizes that he’s about to make a mistake. He smiles sleepily, and picks up the correct canister, dumping a very unhealthy amount of unrefined sugar in his coffee. Stirring his coffee with his finger, Lex’s mind tries to turn over the events of the last five minutes.
Clark is gay.
It’s certainly not the declaration that he’s has been hoping for, or even waiting for. As far as jaw-dropping news goes this places somewhere above the cook running out of Lex’s favorite mustard and just below getting a scratch on his latest car.
It’s a good statement though, and it’s obvious that it means a lot to Clark. Lex should say something.
“That’s nice,” he replies blandly, brushing by Clark to pick up The Financial Times before dropping into a chair at the table. The paper looks even more orange than normal this morning, and Lex still has sleep in the corner of his eyes. It takes him until page four to realize there’s a noticeable lack of footsteps retreating.
When Lex finally glances up, Clark is still there waiting, eyes the size of dinner plates.
He chuckles around a mouthful of coffee despite himself, and nods at the chair across from him in invitation.
He should be nice to Clark on his big day after all.
At the very least he’ll never have to hear about Lana Lang again.
*
Lex bangs his hand on the nightstand when the phone rings at 4:57 a.m. on the morning of Clark’s college graduation. He’s loathe to answer the phone considering that he only got in bed two hours ago, but the world doesn’t stop just because one CEO went out and got drunk with his best friend.
“I’m an alien,” the voice on the other end confesses without the hint of an alcoholic slur. Lex knows what he’s heard, but it takes him three tries to put the phone to his ear correctly so it takes a bit longer for him to respond.
Something tells him it’s not the triple shots of Jagermeister talking.
He speaks slowly more for his own benefit than Clark’s.
“You’re an alien,’ he repeats back not expecting confirmation on something he’s known for years anyway.
“Yes.”
Clark sounds more nervous than anything else, and Lex has to bite his lip to keep from laughing hysterically. Clark is a gay alien, and Lex couldn‘t fall for some nice, bisexual rent boy from this planet, could he? Of course not, because that‘s not what the ‘special‘ kids do. “That’s nice,” he says, struggling to sit up, but thinking better of it when the room starts to defy the laws of gravity. It hurts even more when he slumps back down and bangs his head on the headboard.
“Lex?”
“Your timing really sucks,” he mutters, trying to soothe his head and remember how to talk when he has vodka-induced cottonmouth.
“I’m sorry I didn‘t tell you sooner.”
Lex can hear something creaking in the background, and he has visions of some poor man’s Porsche turning into a sardine can. “I’m sorry I bothered you at five in the morning too, I just. I really needed to tell you, because all night long you kept talking about starting a new chapter in my life, and I couldn’t do that without. You know, without telling you about me.”
“Clark, don’t be silly. You’re not bothering me, you could never bother me.” Lex’s voice trails off at the end as the implications of what Clark’s said finally begin to sink in. It’s a lot to take on a stomach that’s already exceeded maximum alcoholic capacity. He could really use a drink.
“Are you mad?
“Why would I be mad, Clark?” Apart from the obvious.
There’s a very long pause, and Lex would love to think he’s passed out on his sofa and will wake up in the morning with a hangover and drool seeping into the leather. Of course that would be the easy way out, and Lex has learned that if nothing else, life with Clark Kent is not easy. “Yes, I’m mad. No, it won’t last forever, but can we talk about this when I’m not dead drunk and hoping the world will stop so I can get off?”
“Yeah, sure.”
If Lex ever heard the sound of dejection that would be it. A voice in the back of his mind says that it serves Clark right. He’s about to hang up, when he thinks twice and calls Clark’s name. The question is out, even though Lex doesn‘t remember having the thought. “How about dinner after graduation?”
*
“I’m in love with you,” is the bombshell that Superman drops after he stops a landslide in Bolivia, a tsunami in Hawaii and a kidnapping attempt on the head of Lex Corp all between the ten and eleven o’clock evening news.
Thankfully, this time it’s just another day without any social significance to Clark Kent. Or not.
There are many things that Lex wants to say, but there’s a very distinct breeze when one is clutching a bonafide superhero and flying over Metropolis. The whole experience is making Lex’s ears numb, and he can’t help but burrow his head in Clark’s neck in a way that is distinctly uninspiring confidence wise.
“Do you think you could have prevaricated just a bit longer?“ is what Lex thinks, but he’s a bit taken aback when Clark’s chest starts shaking like he’s laughing uncontrollably. Lex is too old to be thinking aloud, so instead he holds on a bit tighter and sets his jaw in the Luthor Line of Non-amusedness.
It’s only when they touch down on the balcony of his penthouse, that Lex pokes Clark in the ribs. “What were you laughing about, Superdork?” he says, not actually attempting to break free of Clark’s embrace.
“I’ve been trying to tell you this for years, Lex.”
Clark really does look good in primary colors, but the spandex. That’s asking for more restraint that any one man could ever have. Lex has been dying to grope Clark in this costume for ages; instead, he goes for a glare and winds up somewhat short because of the earnest expression on Clark’s face. “You couldn’t have just said so?”
“What do you think all those confessions were about?”
“Oh,” is the only sound to escape Lex’s lips. He hates it when he can’t find the proper smart-ass remark. He hates it when… he can’t remember what he hates when Clark is nuzzling his neck like this.
“The papers will never believe it.” Clark nips at Lex’s ear, and Lex would swear on his stock that he doesn’t groan. That loud. “Lex Luthor at a loss for words.”
“Shut up, Daily Planet brat.” Lex goes to thump Clark in the chest and winds up molesting the garish ’S’ instead. It’s a sad day for teenyboppers everywhere, because as far as Lex is concerned Clark Kent and Superman and Superdork are all now officially spoken for.
He pulls away slightly, and blinks rapidly at the happiness that Clark radiates. He put that there. Maybe it’s an alien thing. “Are you going to kiss me sometime this century, or do I have to wait for the next Ill-Timed Clark Kent Confession for that?”
Clark releases his hold on Lex, and for a horrifying moment Lex thinks that maybe Clark is taking him seriously. At least until Clark cups his face and kisses him the way that Lex has always wanted, but done his best not to dream about.
It’s the sort of kiss with nothing in the middle of it, nothing behind it. Just a kiss between two people honestly in love.
It feels clean, like there’s nothing left to hide.
-finis-
Notes: Happy Belated Birthday, Cat. *g*
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Re:
Date: 2003-02-18 01:26 pm (UTC)I'm sorry I didn't get back to you sooner but work called and then this thing just kinda like happened. But apart from all that I meant to tell you that my IM is, well, non-existent since the majority of my computer time is spent at work. Trippy, I know, I can write stories all day long but can't IM. ::shakes head::