SV fic post: A Young Kryptonian part ten

[roxy]

Title: A Young Kryptonian's Travels Or, A New Day Dawns
Fandom:SV
Pairing:Kal-El/OCs, Kal-El/Lex
Rating: PG
Summary: Our only point here is to have fun! No message, no moral--enjoy!

A/N: I apologize for the lack of sex lately. I am ashamed. I promise to try and do better.

The Previous Parts are here, shaking their heads also at the lack of nooky and worrying about their Little Mother.



Interlude: Metropolis

It was warm—hell, it was sticky and muggy, and Lex was desperately grateful for the cool interior of the limo—the short walk from elevator doors to the car had been more than enough to bring up sweat, flowing freely over his smooth scalp. He grimaced as he settled himself into the car---he felt a wayward drop work it's way around that—that lump on the back of his head and down his neck. He wiped it away and growled into the intercom, "Saunders—"

"Yes, sir, newsstand, Coffee Drop."

"Yes." Lex broke the connection and leaned back. He set the air conditioner a bit cooler, checked the time—he had thirty minutes before his required appearance at LuthorCorp towers, more than enough time for his morning treat. His phone tingled against his thigh, and he slipped it out of his pocket with a sigh. He glanced down…yep. Right on time, his daily reminder call. He answered, "Yes, yes, I know— be in the office by eight, the meeting's at ten. If I were anymore ready for this, I'd explode."

"Now, son, take a deep breath and repeat, 'I will not shower the board room with Lex chunks.' There will be no exploding. The Kyoto bunch will be more than impressed with you—with us. We'll lock down the deal, and the board will dance naked in the streets. Which--ick. Don't let that influence you."

Lex laughed, "Thanks, now I've got naked Winston Marsh dancing in my head—a waking nightmare." A bit of the nervousness he felt melted. Pamela always knew what to say, how to motivate him, to make him feel good. "Talk to you in a bit, love."

She blew him a kiss and hung up.

Pamela. Of the very few people that he trusted—loved—Pamela was number one. He hadn't managed to alienate her, hadn't managed to chase her away. In fact—the worse he got, the more she hung on.

He felt his eyes sting and wiped hard—God—this came of having sentimental thoughts before his morning coffee. Thinking of Pamela made him think of Uncle Jonathan, and Aunt Martha. He felt a little lick of shame--been too long since he'd last called them, too damn long. He made a note to call them as soon as he got in the office—Jon and Martha should be just about finishing breakfast about the time he called. If he timed it right, they could have their coffee together—unless Jonathan managed to trash the vidcam again…

He tapped his fingers on the rear seat console and blew out an impatient breath. Traffic was heavy this morning; the drive was taking longer than normal. The LCorpTowers crawled past, his coffee shop and news stand were about half block beyond them. He stared at the glass and steel monoliths, almost all that remained of Lionel Luthor--his dearly departed father, a man whose heart was identical in size and warmth to a raisin, not to impugn a fine lunchbox snack….

There were few things that Lex was certain of, but that the man's death was probably the best thing that could have happened to him, he *was* sure of. Even now, fifteen years later, he remembered the mind games the man played, all in an effort to make him 'strong', fit to run LuthorCorp on his own…bastard.

The memory of the last time he'd played the game still made him sweat. That fucking helicopter flight into hell, the trip to Smallville Dad arranged just so he could watch him lord it over some poor sucker and on the way, badger him unmercifully about his fear of flying…'course, it hadn't quite worked out that way.

The meteor storm that raged that day was like the fist of God--it took out the tacky sign that proclaimed Smallville as the Creamed Corn Capital of the World, took out portions of Smallville itself, a few poor faultless inhabitants, and thank the Lord, Satan's lapdog, Lionel Luthor. Struck down in his prime in a country cornfield by a chunk of space faring rock, Lionel never knew what hit him. Too bad about that, Lex thought.

Lex rubbed his hand over his scalp and shuddered. The loss of his hair seemed a small price to pay for release from years of mental abuse. Thank God, that chain was broken. His mother's death a few short months after had been a devastating blow to him, but with her death the last of the secrets he'd had to carry were gone. He sighed, love and exasperation mingled in one breath...he'd loved his mother but truthfully, she was about as fit to parent as Lionel had been. Not that it mattered, at the time he thought the universe was out to get him, and he hated everyone, even Pamela, who struggled through the loss of her very best friend in all the world and suddenly finding out she had an international company to run and a child to raise.

Lex grinned ruefully. Aaaand, of course, true Luthor that he was, he reacted to having something pure and good in his life by acting out. Oh, he'd been bearable for a few years, but puberty hit with all the force of a freight train from hell. He changed from a sad little ghost of a boy into a perfectly horrible brat, determined to make his guardian prove over and over that she really *did* love him, and not the money. He shook his head. He'd been such a monster, and truly, it was a wonder he hadn't died. Hell, if he didn’t have the odd ability to withstand almost any assault on his system, he might have.

The limo slowed almost to a standstill…

The intercom clicked on. "Sorry, sir, traffic is ridiculous this morning…seems like there's something going on up ahead. Accident, maybe."

"It's fine, Saunders, I'll just have to be quick about coffee this morning."

"Yes sir, that would be a shame…" and the intercom went dead again.

"Shut up," Lex muttered, and checked the time again—if worst came to worse, he'd hop out and walk the half block back to LuthorCorp. He closed his eyes, let the seat back cradle his head and wandered back down memory lane—

The last straw had been when Pamela had to bail him out of jail, covered in vomit and…other fluids. He'd been so damn messed up that it was a miracle he'd survived the ride to jail…lots of Luthor money changed hands that night. Pamela, saint that she was, instead of shoving him into a burlap bag with a few cinderblocks and dropping him off the nearest pier, packed herself and him up and moved out to the country. He'd imagined back then that it meant something awful that she chose Smallville, but instead, it saved his life.

Over the years, they'd kept in contact with the Kents, the folks who'd found him unconscious and barely breathing that day in the cornfield and took care of him for the few days it took to find out who he was and contact his frantic mother…even as short a time as it was, he'd bonded with them as surely as if *they* were his parents. In better times, he'd spent many magical summers with them, before he turned into a miserable little fuck and screwed up his life almost to the point of no return.

Uncle Jon and Aunt Martha let it be known in no uncertain terms that they were disappointed and angry and…it was the best thing that could have happened in his life then.

He fought his way back, to respect, to decency, to become the kind of person Jon and Martha and Pamela would be proud of, and he never forgot the lessons…

The limo came to a stop, and he leaned towards the window and looked out. Thick black smoke poured from a building a block away—there were fire trucks in the street and traffic was being directed around barriers to side streets. He watched firemen and cops dash around, he could smell smoke…some odd movement caught his eye; a blur, and when he blinked, a tall man was setting a frightened little girl down on the curb. He held a finger over his lips, and she smiled and nodded. The tall man stood up and seemed to look Lex's way, which was silly, no one could see through the tinted glass. He was…incredible. Beautiful. His hair was wet, drops fell from his dark curls, chiseled cheekbones, full lips...Lex desperately wanted to be one of those drops rolling over his full lower lip. Long lashes dipped over wide green eyes and if Lex was the kind of guy who believed in love at first sight, he'd swear he just fell in love. But he didn’t so this feeling couldn't be love, it must be lust. Lust that filled his brain and kicked him in his gut and then a break in the traffic pulled him away…he swiveled in his seat to get one last look and he swore the godling was looking right at him, mouth open, eyes wide—sure he was, if he could see through steel and glass…and if he could, more than likely he'd sneer. 'Freak.'

Lex shook himself. Right. Forget the vision. Prepare for the Coffee Drop. Sad that the extent of his love life lately was staring at the kid behind the counter. Well, staring at his ass…it was a pretty darn good ass.

The meeting went just as he and Pamela had planned, and that evening, he left for Smallville, and Uncle Jon's for a well deserved rest.

TBC

part 11

Comments

[rosy5000.livejournal.com]

No sex but.... we did get to learn a bit about Lex. :) And Lex saw his future love. ;) Can't wait to see them meet in person. *grins*

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

They are the star-crossed lovers! how romantic!! And we all know Kal loves romance--and coffee. And sex. Lots of fuzzy sex. I'll have to help that boy out. *G*

[rosy5000.livejournal.com]

Ummm... if he still wants fuzzy sex... I don't think that'll work out with Lex. ;)

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

Hmmm...maybe he could flock Lex, you know, like they do Christmas trees? *G*