Life was different in many ways before his parents died. Bruce remembers being happy, remembers loving his parents vary much and having a grand time playing lord of the manner with various and sundry playmates, mostly the children of his parents' friends. Lex Luthor was not one of them. Lex was more like a tiny, chubby, red-headed puppy that followed Bruce around making a nuisance of itself. Bruce found Lex to be immensely annoying to say the least.
Alas, no matter how annoying Bruce told his mother Lex was, his mother continued to invite Mrs. Luthor to everything because they went to school together and were in the same Sorority. Besides which, his mother says, Mrs. Luthor and the boy need as much time away from that neuvo riche husband of hers, so be nice Bruce. And Bruce was nice to the little twerp, because Bruce was always his mother's perfect little gentleman, unlike some people, and his mother told him to be nice, so of course he was nice to the kid.
Thing was, being nice to the kid, even in a totally perfunctory way was like giving food to a stray. Lex was starved for attention and Bruce had given it to him once, against his better judgment, and ever after that Lex followed him around with this expectant, hungry look on his stupid freckled face. Lex had been 4, chubby and freckled and his hair was so red and curly it looked like it belonged on a clown, wandering around in a tiny kid sized suit now covered in light purple frosting. Lex had stuck his sticky fingers directly into the icing at the back of the cake in the ballroom. The Luthor's nanny smacked his little fingers, causing fat tears to well up in the kid's eyes and stream down his sugar-coated face. Bruce, 7-years-old and already a strapping young lad, scooped Lex up into his arms, looked disdainfully at the nanny and dismissed her.
Lex had looked up into his eyes, smiled brilliantly and wrapped his arms around Bruce's neck. Bruce tried to deposit him on the settee in the lounge to get him cleaned up, but the kid would not let go. Once Bruce had wiped most of the frosting off Lex (the little freak had rubbed it in), Bruce negotiated the release of his person. Lex was heavier than he looked after a while. The best compromise he could come up with was this: Lex unwrapped his legs from Bruce's middle, his arms from Bruce's neck and walked on his own, with the provision that Bruce hold Lex's hand the rest of the night. Which was better, but gross, because try as he might, he'd been unable to wash away the stickiness from Lex's hands.
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1/22/09 02:33 am (UTC)Alas, no matter how annoying Bruce told his mother Lex was, his mother continued to invite Mrs. Luthor to everything because they went to school together and were in the same Sorority. Besides which, his mother says, Mrs. Luthor and the boy need as much time away from that neuvo riche husband of hers, so be nice Bruce. And Bruce was nice to the little twerp, because Bruce was always his mother's perfect little gentleman, unlike some people, and his mother told him to be nice, so of course he was nice to the kid.
Thing was, being nice to the kid, even in a totally perfunctory way was like giving food to a stray. Lex was starved for attention and Bruce had given it to him once, against his better judgment, and ever after that Lex followed him around with this expectant, hungry look on his stupid freckled face. Lex had been 4, chubby and freckled and his hair was so red and curly it looked like it belonged on a clown, wandering around in a tiny kid sized suit now covered in light purple frosting. Lex had stuck his sticky fingers directly into the icing at the back of the cake in the ballroom. The Luthor's nanny smacked his little fingers, causing fat tears to well up in the kid's eyes and stream down his sugar-coated face. Bruce, 7-years-old and already a strapping young lad, scooped Lex up into his arms, looked disdainfully at the nanny and dismissed her.
Lex had looked up into his eyes, smiled brilliantly and wrapped his arms around Bruce's neck. Bruce tried to deposit him on the settee in the lounge to get him cleaned up, but the kid would not let go. Once Bruce had wiped most of the frosting off Lex (the little freak had rubbed it in), Bruce negotiated the release of his person. Lex was heavier than he looked after a while. The best compromise he could come up with was this: Lex unwrapped his legs from Bruce's middle, his arms from Bruce's neck and walked on his own, with the provision that Bruce hold Lex's hand the rest of the night. Which was better, but gross, because try as he might, he'd been unable to wash away the stickiness from Lex's hands.