brothers and heroes
5/10/06 01:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyThe Previous Parts are here, hiding from Mikey's lawyers. No one told them it wouldn't be funny to re-enact the roofies scene in Sorority Boys...
Rolling along, say, do you hear the creak of sails? The lamentation of the damned chained to the oars? The Good ship Wrap It up is sailing ever closer!
here it is. It's so big!
He’d just spent a lovely afternoon assuring Pat and Richard the money Vic had inherited was indeed all theirs, that he hadn’t touched a penny of it, would rather die than touch a penny of it, and he wished them joy of it, and seriously debated using his connections to arrange an accident. It was sad, he thought, that he really couldn’t bring himself to do it. They were such a waste of meat. He’d known so many people in his life, people like the Kents, the Waynes, like Harry and Vic, who should be alive, who should be breathing the air that Pat and Dick fouled with their existence.
It wasn’t a very big shock that the past came out to haunt him that afternoon; he’d been having a very hard time since Vic’s funeral. Lex flexed his fingers, staring at his knucklebones moving under the skin…
Bruce had come out of the crowd of strangers to stand next to him. He’d taken his hand, without a word and stood with him until the last person left. No one bothered Lex for long with inanities, not with Bruce glowering at his side. The sun flicked on and off through fast moving clouds, lending a surreal air to the already unreal afternoon—Vic was gone, in the white and gold box they were dropping into the ground—and Bruce was standing next to him, bristling like a Doberman at anyone who got too close, standing next to him like he had a right to. Somewhere out there Clark was watching because he never went anywhere without Bruce, if his information was correct—where Bruce was, was Clark.
Back at the office because he didn’t know where else to go, Sheila scolded him for coming in to work, and handed him a memo; along with the number the person had left.
He called the number, and looked out over the harbor as he dialed. There was a blur racing across the sky, far out on horizon. He stood and went to the window, watched it come closer and higher, and streak off to the left of his view, out of sight.
“Hello? Lex Luthor—you called earlier?”
He made arrangements to meet at a restaurant in lower Metropolis that had been fashionable when he was a teen. It just seemed…right.
The maitre-d’ ushered him into the dimly lit dining room and he looked around as he was shown to his table. It was mildly disappointing to be in the restaurant after all these years. The old prints that had once decorated the walls were gone, the room had been done over in earth tones and it was vaguely Asian and boring, so bland and boring.
The man waiting for him to sit was bland. He might have been considered handsome in his day, Lex thought. His graying blond hair looked like it might have a tendency to curl, his eyes were blue and once must have been intense. His stocky build was beginning to thicken, muscles turning to fat with age.
Lex slid into the dark private booth across from the man, who asked if he’d like a drink. He had a large one in front of him and the smell of alcohol was sharp, coming from the man’s skin as well as the half empty glass in front of him.
Lex grimaced and shook his head. “I’d rather not drink with you.”
The man grinned and took a deep swallow and then slid a manila envelope across the table to him. Lex hesitated before opening the package. It didn’t take much imagination to know what was in it. He ripped open the envelope and took a few photographs from it, and was looking into Harry’s wide blue eyes again, at that peculiar expression of innocence and belligerence Lex remembered so well. The picture blurred briefly before calm settled over him…he pushed the pictures back into the envelope. He didn’t need to see what else they showed. He had these photographs as well, in a box in his bedroom safe.
“These are a few of the pictures I have, negatives also...I’ve been considering going to the papers. Metropolis should know what kind of man it wants at the helm.”
“This is your son for god’s sake, how could you…”
“What he did was wrong and disgusting, and had nothing to do with me. I’d be doing the city a favor… of course, you can try convince me that I’m wrong.”
The calm that’d kept him still exploded. He felt like he’d been in a rage for a million years, he was so full of anger and hatred that it felt like every pore was slimy with it, that it oozed out and infected the air he breathed. His voice shook when he spoke and it sounded a lot like fear.
“Please, come out side with me, we have to discuss this further…I think we can make an arrangement beneficial to the both of us.”
It was unusually hot for a spring night and the blacktop in the parking lot was giving up even more heat sweat, ran down Lex’s back and his face, his hand was damp, but his grip on the gun never wavered.
The man was on his knees. Shaking and moaning, his eyes rolled up towards Lex as he begged desperately for his life. He moaned when the barrel of the gun dug into the soft spot under his ear.
“God, don’t do it, don’t—you won’t get away with this--”
Lex twisted the barrel until the man groaned, tears sprang up in his eyes, and Lex kicked him. “I don’t care, you fucking child raper—Vic’s dead and I don’t have anyone else and for what you did, you *should* die.” He eased back on the trigger, and waited for the black wave of sorrow to pass.
“Don’t. We’ll fix it.”
Lex looked over and a piece of the dark tore loose and settled on the ground in front of him. “We’ll take care of it, promise.”
Clark’s eyes looked out of Robin’s face, searching out something in him, long moments passed with only Harry’s father’s panicked breath breaking the silence. Lex shoved the gun in hard, twisted it in the man’s neck--he let out a small rabbit like shriek. Lex pulled the gun away and kicked the cowering figure, hard enough to slide him a few feet across the ground. “I should kill you for what you did to your son, you—you--”
Clark reached carefully for the gun and eased it out of his hand. “Lex, will you be okay? I can take you home again.”
“No. I’m fine. You take care of that piece of shit—I can make it home on my own.”
“Lex…”
“Just fuck off--Robin.”
*****
Lex was staring up at the ceiling, not really seeing it. A corner of his mind watched shadows moving; most of his awareness was…elsewhere. On nearly every surface glasses sat, half full, full, empty, there were a ring of glasses around the couch he lay on. Around the room candles flickered and burned…he’d been feeling especially dramatic, besides, it made him feel like he was in a field of stars. He and Harry had done that one night, candles all over… Drama queen, that’s me… the stereo blasted a band that was popular when he was in school. It just seemed a good choice considering his frame of mind. He sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. He wouldn’t mind something else to keep him balanced….
“Oh it's such a perfect day
I'm glad I spent it with you
Oh such a perfect day
You just keep me hanging on…” He hummed along with the song and closed his eyes, remembering… Harry in the deep grass behind the school gardens, lying on their clothes, naked, spread open. So beautiful. So eager to please…they’d been terrible children, but they’d been in very much in love…the only person he’d loved more than Harry was Clark…
Just a perfect day
You make me forget myself
I thought I was someone else
Someone good… He groaned and stretched out across the couch, knocking the bolsters to the ground. His bare skin stuck, squeaked against the dark leather of the couch where it was damp.
Clark still was the most important thing in his life. He still woke up to dreams of Clark, what he wanted it to have been. He still chased Clark in the mouths and bodies of strangers, still sought the most perfect moment, the most perfect kiss of his life, a kiss that still made him wake up hard and sweating… he trailed fingers across his dick and sighed, cradled himself.
So much time…he was so much older now. He felt bent and creased and stamped by age.
It was so fucking hot….
He grabbed one of the half filled glasses on the floor next to him and drank it down. The fire in the grate burned fiercely, happily, all the pictures that Clark had brought him that evening, every picture that Harry’s father had had, every bit of Harry left that Lex didn’t posses. No one but he would ever again lay eyes on Harry looking like that, Harry coming for him. He sucked in a shaky breath.
God, so much had broken open with that disgusting old man’s try at blackmail, and Vic’s murder and Clark coming back…the fire was making the apartment into an oven, but he was too sleepy to get up and turn up the air-conditioning…
He felt the brush of fingers on his forehead and jumped…damn, he must have fallen asleep. The fire was out—the apartment was cooler; in fact a breeze flicked the curtains back at living room balcony doors. The music was still playing, but the candles were all out and the maze of glasses gone from the floor. Shit. Too bad, he thought, he really could have used a drink...He must have gotten up at some point in the night and put them away. He glanced at the bar and all the glasses were lined up there. He scratched his sweat sticky stomach and winced. Looked at himself and giggled. I’m naked. Why am I hanging around naked? He shook his ahead and groaned. Okay, bad idea—the room reeled for a moment.
“Water?”
“God damn it!” He yelped. He whipped around and quickly clutched his mouth, fought not to throw up. “What the fuck—are you trying to kill me? And who said you could come back?”
Clark came around the couch and just grinned down at Lex.
There was no blush, no little duck pf his head. He looked at Lex openly, frankly appraising. He tilted his head, smiled slowly, obviously and Lex blushed. He snatched a bottle out of Clark’s hand and drank--stopped, stared at the green glass bottle. “What the hell is this?”
“Bottled water, don’t you know it’s better than tap water?” Clark watched him as he swallowed and Lex was acutely aware that his lips were pressed against the glass.
“Nothing’s better than Metropolis tap water,” he muttered and took another long, long swallow. Clark watched him drink, lips parted, the pink tip of his tongue showing and a look so avid that Lex felt himself respond.
He coughed, sat up and stared at the cold sweating bottle. “Actually, that’s not bad, this could really sell,” he mused. “Remind me look into this when I’m sober…”
Clark nodded. “I picked it up in Italy. I brought something to eat too. It looks like it’s been awhile since you’ve done that.”
“I only eat with my friends,” Lex snapped, and then laughed”—that’s why I’m fucking starving,” and laughed even harder.
Clark waited patiently for him to stop. “I’m going to eat with you. To make sure you eat.” He brought the food over, opened the little boxes and set them on the table. He walked behind the half wall at the rear of room and came back with forks and spoons. He serenely popped them into the take out boxes and sat.
“You’re not my fucking friend,” Lex gasped, he was hanging on the side of the couch, eyes wet form laughing, wheezing. “You’re nothing to me.”
Clark glanced over at him and said, “Sit up. Eat something.” He tossed him a handful of napkins. “You might want to protect yourself, some of this is hot. You don’t want it in your lap.” He smirked and stared down at Lex.
Lex slid around until he was upright, and made a face at the food. “Fuck, I can’t eat that…” he grimaced and rubbed his belly, and Clark grinned, chewing slowly as he watched the movement of Lex’s hand. He licked the fork, tongue pressed against the tines.
“We helped you get Edge—we helped get your pictures back. That proves we’re friends.” Clark kept eating, ignoring the fact that Lex was ready to explode—when Lex did blow up, he looked surprised.
“We? You mean the mother-fuckers that took off and left me alone—the ones that went the fuck into nowhere and left me alone for *years*? Wow, you are really good friends—a postcard when ever you could be bothered…” He staggered to his feet and said, “Wait, wait—“ he ran across the apartment and grabbed the porcelain bowl from his bookcase behind his desk.
“Look, look—“ he ran back to Clark and threw the contents of the bowl on the floor. “Four years worth of cards and letters.”
A handful of envelopes and cards fluttered to the floor at Clark’s feet. He looked at Lex, expressionless. Lex scooped the cards up and threw them onto the still hot coals in the fireplace.
“Burn you little son of a bitches,” he muttered. “Burn…”
Clark stood and watched the cards smoke and catch and flame.
“*You* got married,” he said. “I knew you forgot about me when I saw that you married, but I still couldn’t let go--I had to write you. You never wrote back to me…”
“You never gave me an address, you ass-hole!”
Clark actually did blush slightly. “I didn’t want to take the chance that you wouldn’t write back…”
Lex stared at him, his mouth slowly opening, and then he shook his head. “Forget it. But enough about accusing me--what about you? For four years you didn’t have anyone? You didn’t try to be happy, look for some peace?”
“Happy?” Clark laughed. “What the fuck is that? Were you happy--you marry her and then you cheat on her…all those men.”
“What do you know…” Lex began and stopped. ”…wait a fucking minute—you watched me?” He stood again. “You were here and instead of trying to talk to me, let me know you were safe and home and—you watched me?” Lex yelled. “Do you need someone to explain to you what invasion of privacy means? You really…you’re kind of a nut case aren’t you?”
Clark laughed, it sounded painful. “You have no mother-fucking idea.”
Lex winced. It looked bad, sounded bad, Clark cursing. He weaved a bit and staggered on his feet. “Okay. This—the heat and the liquor…fuck, I need to lay down. Come on.”
Clark raised his eyebrows and smirked. “Come on?”
Lex felt naked—and punched Clark in the chest. “Oh don’t get excited you asshole. I need you to—to—make sure I don’t throw up and die in my sleep.”
“
Shit, I’m honored,” Clark muttered and rubbed his chest, even thought Lex knew he hadn’t felt it. It made him soften towards Clark for a moment, and that wouldn’t do.
Lex sneered at him and snarled, “If I do throw up, I hope I throw up on you.”
Clark’s mouth twisted, torn between snickering and being hurt. “You first,” he gestured out of the room and Lex snapped, “you just want to watch my ass.”
Clark shrugged. “Whatever. You don’t seem to mind showing it.”
Lex huffed, “That’s because I’m drunk now—just wait, tomorrow I’ll be mortified.”
more very soon--i hope
eta: Mavis Beacon failed me....
Rolling along, say, do you hear the creak of sails? The lamentation of the damned chained to the oars? The Good ship Wrap It up is sailing ever closer!
here it is. It's so big!
He’d just spent a lovely afternoon assuring Pat and Richard the money Vic had inherited was indeed all theirs, that he hadn’t touched a penny of it, would rather die than touch a penny of it, and he wished them joy of it, and seriously debated using his connections to arrange an accident. It was sad, he thought, that he really couldn’t bring himself to do it. They were such a waste of meat. He’d known so many people in his life, people like the Kents, the Waynes, like Harry and Vic, who should be alive, who should be breathing the air that Pat and Dick fouled with their existence.
It wasn’t a very big shock that the past came out to haunt him that afternoon; he’d been having a very hard time since Vic’s funeral. Lex flexed his fingers, staring at his knucklebones moving under the skin…
Bruce had come out of the crowd of strangers to stand next to him. He’d taken his hand, without a word and stood with him until the last person left. No one bothered Lex for long with inanities, not with Bruce glowering at his side. The sun flicked on and off through fast moving clouds, lending a surreal air to the already unreal afternoon—Vic was gone, in the white and gold box they were dropping into the ground—and Bruce was standing next to him, bristling like a Doberman at anyone who got too close, standing next to him like he had a right to. Somewhere out there Clark was watching because he never went anywhere without Bruce, if his information was correct—where Bruce was, was Clark.
Back at the office because he didn’t know where else to go, Sheila scolded him for coming in to work, and handed him a memo; along with the number the person had left.
He called the number, and looked out over the harbor as he dialed. There was a blur racing across the sky, far out on horizon. He stood and went to the window, watched it come closer and higher, and streak off to the left of his view, out of sight.
“Hello? Lex Luthor—you called earlier?”
He made arrangements to meet at a restaurant in lower Metropolis that had been fashionable when he was a teen. It just seemed…right.
The maitre-d’ ushered him into the dimly lit dining room and he looked around as he was shown to his table. It was mildly disappointing to be in the restaurant after all these years. The old prints that had once decorated the walls were gone, the room had been done over in earth tones and it was vaguely Asian and boring, so bland and boring.
The man waiting for him to sit was bland. He might have been considered handsome in his day, Lex thought. His graying blond hair looked like it might have a tendency to curl, his eyes were blue and once must have been intense. His stocky build was beginning to thicken, muscles turning to fat with age.
Lex slid into the dark private booth across from the man, who asked if he’d like a drink. He had a large one in front of him and the smell of alcohol was sharp, coming from the man’s skin as well as the half empty glass in front of him.
Lex grimaced and shook his head. “I’d rather not drink with you.”
The man grinned and took a deep swallow and then slid a manila envelope across the table to him. Lex hesitated before opening the package. It didn’t take much imagination to know what was in it. He ripped open the envelope and took a few photographs from it, and was looking into Harry’s wide blue eyes again, at that peculiar expression of innocence and belligerence Lex remembered so well. The picture blurred briefly before calm settled over him…he pushed the pictures back into the envelope. He didn’t need to see what else they showed. He had these photographs as well, in a box in his bedroom safe.
“These are a few of the pictures I have, negatives also...I’ve been considering going to the papers. Metropolis should know what kind of man it wants at the helm.”
“This is your son for god’s sake, how could you…”
“What he did was wrong and disgusting, and had nothing to do with me. I’d be doing the city a favor… of course, you can try convince me that I’m wrong.”
The calm that’d kept him still exploded. He felt like he’d been in a rage for a million years, he was so full of anger and hatred that it felt like every pore was slimy with it, that it oozed out and infected the air he breathed. His voice shook when he spoke and it sounded a lot like fear.
“Please, come out side with me, we have to discuss this further…I think we can make an arrangement beneficial to the both of us.”
It was unusually hot for a spring night and the blacktop in the parking lot was giving up even more heat sweat, ran down Lex’s back and his face, his hand was damp, but his grip on the gun never wavered.
The man was on his knees. Shaking and moaning, his eyes rolled up towards Lex as he begged desperately for his life. He moaned when the barrel of the gun dug into the soft spot under his ear.
“God, don’t do it, don’t—you won’t get away with this--”
Lex twisted the barrel until the man groaned, tears sprang up in his eyes, and Lex kicked him. “I don’t care, you fucking child raper—Vic’s dead and I don’t have anyone else and for what you did, you *should* die.” He eased back on the trigger, and waited for the black wave of sorrow to pass.
“Don’t. We’ll fix it.”
Lex looked over and a piece of the dark tore loose and settled on the ground in front of him. “We’ll take care of it, promise.”
Clark’s eyes looked out of Robin’s face, searching out something in him, long moments passed with only Harry’s father’s panicked breath breaking the silence. Lex shoved the gun in hard, twisted it in the man’s neck--he let out a small rabbit like shriek. Lex pulled the gun away and kicked the cowering figure, hard enough to slide him a few feet across the ground. “I should kill you for what you did to your son, you—you--”
Clark reached carefully for the gun and eased it out of his hand. “Lex, will you be okay? I can take you home again.”
“No. I’m fine. You take care of that piece of shit—I can make it home on my own.”
“Lex…”
“Just fuck off--Robin.”
*****
Lex was staring up at the ceiling, not really seeing it. A corner of his mind watched shadows moving; most of his awareness was…elsewhere. On nearly every surface glasses sat, half full, full, empty, there were a ring of glasses around the couch he lay on. Around the room candles flickered and burned…he’d been feeling especially dramatic, besides, it made him feel like he was in a field of stars. He and Harry had done that one night, candles all over… Drama queen, that’s me… the stereo blasted a band that was popular when he was in school. It just seemed a good choice considering his frame of mind. He sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. He wouldn’t mind something else to keep him balanced….
“Oh it's such a perfect day
I'm glad I spent it with you
Oh such a perfect day
You just keep me hanging on…” He hummed along with the song and closed his eyes, remembering… Harry in the deep grass behind the school gardens, lying on their clothes, naked, spread open. So beautiful. So eager to please…they’d been terrible children, but they’d been in very much in love…the only person he’d loved more than Harry was Clark…
Just a perfect day
You make me forget myself
I thought I was someone else
Someone good… He groaned and stretched out across the couch, knocking the bolsters to the ground. His bare skin stuck, squeaked against the dark leather of the couch where it was damp.
Clark still was the most important thing in his life. He still woke up to dreams of Clark, what he wanted it to have been. He still chased Clark in the mouths and bodies of strangers, still sought the most perfect moment, the most perfect kiss of his life, a kiss that still made him wake up hard and sweating… he trailed fingers across his dick and sighed, cradled himself.
So much time…he was so much older now. He felt bent and creased and stamped by age.
It was so fucking hot….
He grabbed one of the half filled glasses on the floor next to him and drank it down. The fire in the grate burned fiercely, happily, all the pictures that Clark had brought him that evening, every picture that Harry’s father had had, every bit of Harry left that Lex didn’t posses. No one but he would ever again lay eyes on Harry looking like that, Harry coming for him. He sucked in a shaky breath.
God, so much had broken open with that disgusting old man’s try at blackmail, and Vic’s murder and Clark coming back…the fire was making the apartment into an oven, but he was too sleepy to get up and turn up the air-conditioning…
He felt the brush of fingers on his forehead and jumped…damn, he must have fallen asleep. The fire was out—the apartment was cooler; in fact a breeze flicked the curtains back at living room balcony doors. The music was still playing, but the candles were all out and the maze of glasses gone from the floor. Shit. Too bad, he thought, he really could have used a drink...He must have gotten up at some point in the night and put them away. He glanced at the bar and all the glasses were lined up there. He scratched his sweat sticky stomach and winced. Looked at himself and giggled. I’m naked. Why am I hanging around naked? He shook his ahead and groaned. Okay, bad idea—the room reeled for a moment.
“Water?”
“God damn it!” He yelped. He whipped around and quickly clutched his mouth, fought not to throw up. “What the fuck—are you trying to kill me? And who said you could come back?”
Clark came around the couch and just grinned down at Lex.
There was no blush, no little duck pf his head. He looked at Lex openly, frankly appraising. He tilted his head, smiled slowly, obviously and Lex blushed. He snatched a bottle out of Clark’s hand and drank--stopped, stared at the green glass bottle. “What the hell is this?”
“Bottled water, don’t you know it’s better than tap water?” Clark watched him as he swallowed and Lex was acutely aware that his lips were pressed against the glass.
“Nothing’s better than Metropolis tap water,” he muttered and took another long, long swallow. Clark watched him drink, lips parted, the pink tip of his tongue showing and a look so avid that Lex felt himself respond.
He coughed, sat up and stared at the cold sweating bottle. “Actually, that’s not bad, this could really sell,” he mused. “Remind me look into this when I’m sober…”
Clark nodded. “I picked it up in Italy. I brought something to eat too. It looks like it’s been awhile since you’ve done that.”
“I only eat with my friends,” Lex snapped, and then laughed”—that’s why I’m fucking starving,” and laughed even harder.
Clark waited patiently for him to stop. “I’m going to eat with you. To make sure you eat.” He brought the food over, opened the little boxes and set them on the table. He walked behind the half wall at the rear of room and came back with forks and spoons. He serenely popped them into the take out boxes and sat.
“You’re not my fucking friend,” Lex gasped, he was hanging on the side of the couch, eyes wet form laughing, wheezing. “You’re nothing to me.”
Clark glanced over at him and said, “Sit up. Eat something.” He tossed him a handful of napkins. “You might want to protect yourself, some of this is hot. You don’t want it in your lap.” He smirked and stared down at Lex.
Lex slid around until he was upright, and made a face at the food. “Fuck, I can’t eat that…” he grimaced and rubbed his belly, and Clark grinned, chewing slowly as he watched the movement of Lex’s hand. He licked the fork, tongue pressed against the tines.
“We helped you get Edge—we helped get your pictures back. That proves we’re friends.” Clark kept eating, ignoring the fact that Lex was ready to explode—when Lex did blow up, he looked surprised.
“We? You mean the mother-fuckers that took off and left me alone—the ones that went the fuck into nowhere and left me alone for *years*? Wow, you are really good friends—a postcard when ever you could be bothered…” He staggered to his feet and said, “Wait, wait—“ he ran across the apartment and grabbed the porcelain bowl from his bookcase behind his desk.
“Look, look—“ he ran back to Clark and threw the contents of the bowl on the floor. “Four years worth of cards and letters.”
A handful of envelopes and cards fluttered to the floor at Clark’s feet. He looked at Lex, expressionless. Lex scooped the cards up and threw them onto the still hot coals in the fireplace.
“Burn you little son of a bitches,” he muttered. “Burn…”
Clark stood and watched the cards smoke and catch and flame.
“*You* got married,” he said. “I knew you forgot about me when I saw that you married, but I still couldn’t let go--I had to write you. You never wrote back to me…”
“You never gave me an address, you ass-hole!”
Clark actually did blush slightly. “I didn’t want to take the chance that you wouldn’t write back…”
Lex stared at him, his mouth slowly opening, and then he shook his head. “Forget it. But enough about accusing me--what about you? For four years you didn’t have anyone? You didn’t try to be happy, look for some peace?”
“Happy?” Clark laughed. “What the fuck is that? Were you happy--you marry her and then you cheat on her…all those men.”
“What do you know…” Lex began and stopped. ”…wait a fucking minute—you watched me?” He stood again. “You were here and instead of trying to talk to me, let me know you were safe and home and—you watched me?” Lex yelled. “Do you need someone to explain to you what invasion of privacy means? You really…you’re kind of a nut case aren’t you?”
Clark laughed, it sounded painful. “You have no mother-fucking idea.”
Lex winced. It looked bad, sounded bad, Clark cursing. He weaved a bit and staggered on his feet. “Okay. This—the heat and the liquor…fuck, I need to lay down. Come on.”
Clark raised his eyebrows and smirked. “Come on?”
Lex felt naked—and punched Clark in the chest. “Oh don’t get excited you asshole. I need you to—to—make sure I don’t throw up and die in my sleep.”
“
Shit, I’m honored,” Clark muttered and rubbed his chest, even thought Lex knew he hadn’t felt it. It made him soften towards Clark for a moment, and that wouldn’t do.
Lex sneered at him and snarled, “If I do throw up, I hope I throw up on you.”
Clark’s mouth twisted, torn between snickering and being hurt. “You first,” he gestured out of the room and Lex snapped, “you just want to watch my ass.”
Clark shrugged. “Whatever. You don’t seem to mind showing it.”
Lex huffed, “That’s because I’m drunk now—just wait, tomorrow I’ll be mortified.”
more very soon--i hope
eta: Mavis Beacon failed me....
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