Archive of Our Own ^beta

Come back to me, even as a shadow, even as a dream.

-

Herakles, translation by Anne Carson

Lex found the lab a week after the funeral.

Superman’s burial had been a national affair with senators giving speeches while the smoke still hung heavy over Metropolis. Crowds littered the street with flowers and signs amidst the debris still being cleared from the sidewalks. Superheroes and villains alike stood shoulder to shoulder as the casket was covered by a concrete monument in City Park.

Clark Kent, presumed dead in the devastation left by Doomsday on Metropolis, had a small private ceremony at the only Episcopal church in Smallville.

Lex attended the latter, sitting in the very back pew. Sunlight poured in through the stained glass, casting rainbow beams over the mass of people dressed in black. He’d been surprised to receive the invitation and one look from Jonathan told him it had been Martha’s doing. He hadn’t seen the Kents in person for a few years and the grey hair around Martha’s temples made the hollow space between his lungs grow a little wider. There were several others there that recognized him in turn, some looking scornful and others curious. Lois Lane gave him a grimace across the aisle as she slipped in before the service started.

When Father Michael began to lead the prayers, Lex’s mind drifted. 

His relationship with Clark had deteriorated like a rubber band that had been stretched too tight and left in the sun. It never snapped but it couldn’t return to its original shape either. Lionel’s death had been an instigating factor. According to the coroner, his father had committed suicide in prison with presumably no foul play to be found, though Lex still had his suspicions on which of his father’s enemies had orchestrated that. Lex had taken over LuthorCorp after. Running an international company left him little availability for a friend who spent more time lying to him than enjoying his company. College pulled Clark further away as well, both of them busy then. The worklife of reporting for the Daily Planet had only made it worse.

Still, Lex could never bring himself to stop keeping tabs on Clark. He sent gifts for major accomplishments and kept cuttings of his articles in a file in his personal desk at the penthouse, like an estranged parent. If it had been anyone else, Lex would have been able to make a clean break of it and chalk it up to a repeat of what happened to all of his relationships. 

But, Clark made that impossible. 

What kept reeling Lex back in was Clark would call him out of the blue every few months and talk at him for hours. Every time Lex would surreptitiously clear his schedule to listen to Clark ramble about how Lois kept leaving coffee stains on his desk. Lex would even reciprocate on occasion, calling Clark to complain about a trade deal in Japan that was nearly ruined by some incompetent underling or something similar. Clark would laugh and ask questions and Lex would tease him in a low voice, like nothing had changed at all, like Clark still had farm chores in the morning and Lex didn't have four labs full of Kryptonite.

It was easier for them to talk to one another with something between them, some pretense, be that a phone or a list of interview questions. In truth, Lex had seen more of Clark in the last few years than he had in a long time, between giving interviews for the Planet and the emergence of Superman.

Lex knew.

Clark knew that Lex knew.

And yet, they both had danced around it. When Superman ripped a hole in the roof of his laboratory, Lex fumed and called for public sanctions against vigilante justice. When Clark showed up the next day at the press conference, Lex dutifully answered his questions as though he hadn’t tried to pulverize him with a laser the previous evening. It infuriated Lex, but he was too cowardly to do more than subtly poke at Clark’s nerves when he was in that ridiculous suit. Acknowledging the truth would have meant coming clean about everything. The two of them could never do anything halfway. Lex wasn’t sure that their lapsed friendship would bear the strain of peeling back nearly a decade of lies, obsession, and longing. He hadn’t been willing to take the risk.

Still, there was something bitter about sitting in the quiet church, incense lingering in the air, and knowing there would never be an opportunity for it now. The unspoken truths between them had been buried in a memorial sculpture garden in Metropolis.

The service ended. Lex barely noticed until people began standing from their seats, either to crowd around the Kents or leave the building. He couldn’t bring himself to do more than catch Martha’s eye for a polite nod before joining the queue for the exit. In the quiet shuffle, he caught a few hushed words between Chloe and Lois, standing a few mourners back from him in line.

“It doesn’t seem real,” Chloe's voice had a tinge of frustration in it and Lex could picture her shaking her head,  “I keep expecting him to…”

“I know,” Lois’s murmur echoed the flatness that had dominated Lex’s mind from the moment he’d seen the bloodstained crater. God, he and Lane had never gotten along, but maybe he should send the woman some of the contents of his wine collection. She’d been right alongside his team, desperately sorting through the rubble.

Lex drove back to Metropolis with the intent of drinking himself into a numb stupor. It was dark by the time he stumbled into the penthouse. His suitjacket ended up in a rumpled heap next to the door, his shoes piled beside it. His housekeeper could yell at him about being careless tomorrow. 

The dim glow of the city outside the windows gave him enough light to fumble his way toward the wet bar. However, as he passed the open door of his office, a small flash of red caught his eye. Lex paused and walked into the room, leaning over his desk. An alert blinked steadily on his computer monitor, waiting for him to see what had gone wrong now. He logged in and squinted at the sudden white light that flooded the room.

Sorting through the variety of messages he’d gotten that day, he found what had caused the alert. Activity in one of his old files on Lionel pinged the system. Lex slid down into his office chair as he scanned the intercepted encrypted communication. The body of the text was about the need to harvest more DNA samples now that one of the donors was deceased. 

Unlike destiny, Lex didn’t believe in coincidences.

That was how he found himself in a room full of unconscious geneticists a week later. Rows of incubation pods full of sickly green liquid loomed before him. According to the records he’d skimmed, all of their subjects had been terminated after being deemed unviable. All except one.

Lex stared through the thick goo at a distinctly humanoid shaped lump. Mercy shuffled around in the background, handcuffing and rearranging the limp geneticists for easy removal later. He’d want them questioned in case there was anything else of his father’s still operating that he’d missed. Lionel wanted to replace him, that much Lex had always known, but handcrafting a perfect heir from alien DNA combined with Lex’s own as a stabilizer went beyond that. It would have been Lionel’s perfect superhuman son in every respect, the taint of Lex’s meteor mutated genetics at least making it a Luthor by blood.

A cold revulsion gripped Lex and he attempted to swallow it down. Reaching over to the access panel, he typed in the necessary code. The incubation pod made a hissing sound and gurgled as the liquid drained sluggishly from it, revealing a baby that immediately started to squirm as the air hit its small face. It drifted to the bottom of the pod, resting on its back on the curved base. By its size, Lex estimated it to be approximately a year old. The domed glass of the pod lifted up into the ceiling, the last bits of green liquid dripping from its rim.

Lex stepped forward, carefully slipping his hands under the baby’s back. It was…warm. He didn’t know why he had expected it to be cold - some sense that this thing was other - alien, perhaps. The baby’s legs kicked as Lex lifted it to examine it.

Seeming not to like dangling in mid air, the baby made a little hiccuping noise, not quite the prelude to a cry but not ruling it out either. Lex felt a similar wariness. He hadn’t held a baby since…well, since Julian. 

Lex brought it closer to his chest, propping the baby’s solid warm weight up against his hip with one arm. Wet, almost slimy liquid soaked into his shirt. The baby made the same whine again, this time cracking open a pair of little blue eyes. Lex swallowed thickly, taking in the child’s features fully. Clark’s square face in miniature and round with baby fat, the little button nose that was flushed pink like the rest of him, a good mess of wavy black hair and… Hell, those were the Luthor eyes blinking slowly up at him. His eyes.

Little fingers gripped his shirt, ripping it as the baby tried to pull the material toward him. Lex gently pried the mangled fabric out of the small palm and the baby was content to replace it with Lex’s thumb. The grip was like a vice, bordering on painful even for Lex.

Lex’s breath caught and he called over his shoulder, “Mercy, how quickly could you locate an appropriate car seat for a toddler?”

The penthouse was full of nervous energy. It was clear that Mercy had little experience with children as she helped Lex sort through the emergency delivery that had arrived just after they had. Lex remembered how to do it all - heating formula on the stove, changing diapers, rolling on socks onto little feet. It made his chest ache.

“Where do you want the crib set up, sir?” Mercy’s voice was quiet as she hefted a large box. The baby had fallen asleep on the drive home and was currently still snoozing in his car seat. Lex had set him down beside the couch so he could see the baby while they unpacked the shopping bags.

“My bedroom,” Lex said and she silently dragged the box in that direction. Lex let out a sigh, running a hand over his head. Sparing a glance for the sleeping child, he crept out of the living room and walked out onto the rooftop terrace, careful to shut the door rather than letting it slam behind him.

The shadows outside had gone a deep blue, tinged grey-yellow-pink at the edges where the city lights spilled over the terrace wall. Lex slid his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number that he’d know by heart for a decade. He had bought the cell carrier, just to make sure the line wasn’t disconnected. It rang several times before going to the automated recording.

“Hey, you’ve reached Clark Kent. Leave me a message and I’ll talk to you soon.”

A thick lump threatened to swell in Lex’s throat and he swallowed it down.

“You wouldn’t believe this, Clark,” he said, beginning a circuit around the terrace garden, “Even if you were here to see it. For as long as my father has been dead, it's never stopped him from meddling in my life.”

The next words were hard to say out loud, even to someone who wasn’t listening.

“We have a child. A son, to be exact. Your DNA combined with mine.” Lex stopped, standing in the middle of the patch of grass he’d installed several years back. Purple mums bloomed in the mulched areas. He stepped between them and leaned against the wall of the terrace, looking over the edge.

“I should be horrified, repulsed. I was, but…” Lex trailed off. Metropolis stretched out below in glittering strips. Lex let out a sigh, his shoulders dropping. “Clark, you haven’t seen him. There’s so much of you in him that I couldn’t...”

He paused, grimaced, and turned away from the edge.

“You wouldn’t have anyway. You wouldn’t have even considered it.”

Lex began to walk back toward the door, the grass soft under his shoes.

“I suppose he’ll need a name. Something salt of the earth, perhaps? That’s what you would’ve advocated for.” He reached the door, stopping for a moment. He turned to look back over the terrace and the wind curled coldly over his face, nipping at his cheeks and the back of his neck. The phone was warm against his jaw.

“And I think I would be inclined to agree with you. His heritage will give him enough aspirations, I’m sure. A little grounding isn’t a bad idea.”

A birth certificate was easy enough to forge. Dealing with a superpowered baby was less so. By day four, Lex broke down and contacted the one source he knew had the right experience to give useful advice.

“Mrs. Kent, when Clark was an infant, did his screams ever shatter glass?” Lex asked as soon as Martha picked up the phone. He’d spent the morning carrying his son around because the moment he was out of Lex’s arms, he’d let out a shriek that was literally ear piercing. Lex’s healing factor let him recover within a quarter of an hour, but the rest of his staff was not so blessed.

“Lex, what in the world are you talking about?” Confusion colored Martha’s voice, more so than the distrust that he’d grown used to. Lex knew the Kents. He wouldn’t get any information without giving some up. He sighed and shifted the sleeping baby pressed against his chest.

“My father’s experiments in cloning have been posthumously continued without my knowledge,” Lex said, “Three days ago, I discovered a laboratory with a successful trial that had viably combined DNA of myself and Clark. I am currently attempting to provide care for the subject with suboptimal results.”

“You called me for help with a baby,” Martha put the pieces together. Lex could practically hear her frown through the phone. 

“From my estimation, he’s about a year old,” Lex said.

“I’ll be in Metropolis in an hour.”

“Mrs, Kent, you don’t-”

“An hour, Lex,” Martha said and hung up. That gave Lex an hour to panic. God, what if she brought Jonathan with her? It was fairly hard to kill Lex, but he was certain that one pissed off farmer could certainly find a way.

Fortunately, Martha was alone when she was buzzed into the apartment. Her appearance was a little frazzled, her mismatched socks telling Lex she’d likely broken a few speed laws to make it to Metropolis that fast. He met Martha at the door and her gaze immediately zeroed in on the baby in his arms.

“Oh, look at you,” she cooed, stepping forward and beaming at him. On instinct, Lex passed him to Martha and surprisingly, he went without issue. She shouldered her purse and set his son up on her hip so that they could see eye to eye. His lavender onesie clashed horribly with her brown jacket. Lex ushered Martha into the living room. She finally looked back up at him as they sat down on the couch.

“Have you named him?” she asked. 

“Conner,” Lex said, “Conner Kent Luthor.”

Conner seemed content to play with the long strands of Martha’s hair. Lex didn’t have any and Mercy’s was always out of reach, so it must have been quite a textural novelty. Martha drew in a deep breath, her eyes blinking rapidly.

“He looks so much like Clark and you both,” she smiled back down at Conner, “This wasn’t really how I expected to become a grandma.”

Lex’s eyebrows rose, “You want to be a part of his life then.”

“Of course. Jonathan and I both would love to be involved,” Martha’s voice brooked no argument. Her gaze was searching as she met Lex’s eyes again.

“He’s half me.”

“Well, hopefully, he’ll do better than Clark in school then,” Martha said, pushing some levity into her voice. Lex’s own mouth twitched upward. He appreciated the effort.

“Clark could have been valedictorian if he’d applied himself,” Lex said, a wry twist creeping into his smile.

The look Martha gave him wasn’t pity, but it was close. There had always been a level of understanding between them that Lex couldn’t parse. Maybe it was her latent desire for more children, maybe it was Lex’s own need for parental love. She turned to her purse and pulled out a letter.

“I meant to give this to you at the funeral, but you left before I could. Clark addressed this to you.”

He took the letter, examining the plain envelope cautiously. Lex was scrawled on the front in Clark’s ragged handwriting in ballpoint pen. A small lump distorted the paper, the shape of the object obscured inside the envelope.

Even after Martha left, he didn’t open it.

“You, ah, have a companion, Mr. Luthor,” Jim Bartley squinted at Conner, who was dead asleep in Lex’s arms. The other project leads at the table shifted uncomfortably. Lex ran a hand up and down Conner’s back, encouraging him to stay in dreamland. He had noticed an increase of his own muscle mass from carrying the baby around all the time.

“My son is going through a stage of separation anxiety,” Lex said and watched several eyes boggle at the word ‘son.’ They hadn’t made any public announcements yet and if Lex had his way, they wouldn’t be making one.

“He will be remaining with me for the foreseeable future. If you would please direct your attention to the presentation screen, I have some concerns about some of your third quarter reports.”

The part about separation anxiety wasn’t entirely true. Conner certainly didn’t like to be away from Lex, but it was more Lex’s anxiety that was driving their proximity. He couldn’t leave Conner with a baby sitter, not when he was still ripping chunks out of his crib by accident. The primal fear the Kents had about Clark’s secret was becoming a lot more reasonable to him every day.

After the meeting, Moira Hart, his lead in robotics leaned over, turning her chair toward Lex.

“My daughter’s going through the same thing right now. Can’t stand to be away from Jesse or me,” Moira said conspiratorially, “It's been hell on our schedule, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“If it’s ever necessary to bring her with you to our Tuesday meeting, please let me know,” Lex said, “Besides, Conner might like a playmate. He’s not quite up to joining the conversation on our expansion in Tokyo yet.”

“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind,” Moira grinned. His project leads were friendly with him but not usually personal. Moira was one of the exceptions. Lex subtly bookmarked one of Moira’s more experimental projects for an immediate greenlight instead of postponing it until the next year like he’d planned. He preferred working with people that saw him as at least somewhat human, particularly enough to joke with him about the trials of early parenthood.

Everyone assumed that someone like Lex Luthor had little tolerance for children. That was patently false. Lex liked kids. They were easier to deal with than adults by far, much more curious and willing to try something new simply for the sake of it. Adults were neither of those things and subsequently they didn’t trust Lex with their children. Thus, seeing Conner clinging to his lapels gave most of Metropolis quite a shock.

Over the next month, Conner became his constant companion, going to every board meeting and touring every lab. Mercy held him for press conferences and then right back to Lex he went. Pictures of Lex, teething toy in one hand and business phone in the other, began popping up on lists of top ten celebrity parents. Suddenly, the narrative around the Luthor name wasn’t entirely cold and ruthless. Conner humanized Lex to a degree that Lionel could have only dreamed of, earning him trust in the lucrative market of young families.

The newspapers went wild with speculation as to how Conner had arrived in Lex’s possession. Clandestine adoptions, one night stands, affairs, and Luthor family secrets were all the Inquirer could run for weeks as Metropolis adjusted to the idea of Lex Luthor, dedicated parent. Any mentions of Cadmus Labs were quietly buried under fluff publicity.

Conner, unfortunately, seemed to have the same attraction to journalism that Clark did. The Kent love for one particular reporter must have been genetic, Lex surmised. That was the only way he could justify Conner’s reaction to one Lois Lane. The minute she stepped into his office, Conner wriggled out of Lex’s arms and toddled over to Lois. His unsteady steps were getting more confident every day. It gave Lex terrible anxiety.

Of course, being the investigative journalist she was, Lois knew immediately. 

“I’d recognize that pout anywhere,” Lois gave Conner a soft smile. She crouched so he could put his small hand on her face, careful of her pencil skirt as she did so. There were very few people outside of LuthorCorp who knew as much about its inner workings as Lois, particularly its more secretive underbelly. Lex had expected her to piece it together at some point, but her quick mind always surprised him.

“Clark made that face every time Perry put him on something other than LuthorCorp when you were getting ready to make headlines,” Lois chuckled, her attention still on Conner. 

“I won’t play nice with this, Lane,” Lex said from behind his desk, a perfect picture of calm. Not even for Clark’s sake. He’d kill her outright before the interview was over if he had to.

“I know,” Lois said, running a hand over Conner’s soft hair. Conner made a noise that was between a coo and a giggle, causing Lex’s heart to do a funny flip-flop. “If anyone asks, I’ll say the stork brought him. Clark wouldn’t have wanted me to go digging through this and frankly, I don’t feel like ending up in a gutter in the Suicide Slums.”

“So long as we understand each other,” Lex said, still not entirely relaxed.

“Most of my knowledge of you comes from the only person who, in my opinion, understood your brand of crazy at all,” Lois’s smile was sharp as she looked up at him, but there was a wistfulness lingering in the space between them, “So, the word is LuthorCorp is expanding into a new niche in the pharmaceutical industry.”

Conner whined a bit when Lois left. Lex resigned himself to seeing the intrepid reporter more often as she was one of the few people who could possibly babysit Conner. That was as far as it went though. He could be cordial for Conner’s sake, but he and Lois weren’t compatible as anything beyond antagonistic acquaintances. Grief over Clark and a long-standing dislike of one another were not the appropriate building blocks for friendship.

That was what Lex told himself as he hit the dial button.

“Hey, you’ve reached Clark Kent. Leave me a message and I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Clark, you’ll never guess what Conner did today. He threw up on Lois right in the middle of our interview,” Lex said. Carrot and beets baby food didn't seem to agree with Conner.

“I had to send her home in one of my shirts,” Lex said. The button up had dwarfed her the way he’d swum in Clark’s old flannels back when he still had occasion to borrow them. She’d informed him that he was never getting it back and he had told her he wouldn’t have worn it after her anyways.

“Vulture that she is, she does have her redeeming qualities. She stayed an extra half hour after that to let Conner scribble all over her notepad.”

At a plaintive whine from the nursery, Lex slipped his phone into his pocket and went to see what Conner needed. He found Conner standing up in his crib. The toddler gave another whine, bouncing a little on his wobbly legs as he reached out a small hand toward Lex. Sighing, Lex hefted Conner up out of the crib and settled them both into the padded rocking chair by the large window that overlooked Metropolis.

Conner was a warm weight in his lap, getting heavier each day, but Lex’s hand still took up the majority of his back. He rubbed soothing patterns between his son’s shoulder blades as Conner leaned against his chest. Blue eyes stared back up at him, tinted almost green by the setting sun. Conner gave him a crooked grin, almost a laugh, and rubbed his face into Lex’s silk shirt. Something cracked open in Lex.

“I love you,” he said, voice quiet at the revelation. 

Lex rarely loved. He wanted, he craved, he took whatever he could get and then what he couldn’t for good measure. Love wasn’t like that. It made him give people pieces of himself he couldn’t afford to lose.

In three decades, it had only netted him disastrous results.

Still, Lex thought with a sinking feeling as he stroked Conner’s back, what could he do about it now? Once his heart had settled on something, it was as stubborn as any Luthor grudge and love drove him just as furiously as his need for power. To get what he wanted he would make deals with the devil, raze cities and scorch the earth, even die if it were necessary. That was child’s play, a mere show of affection he’d give to anyone.

Holding a sleepy toddler as the clouds over Metropolis began to flush pink, Lex came to a horrible conclusion. It was like being freshly exiled to Smallville and finding a boy in a cornfield all over again. His love for Conner was going to drive him into that same complicated territory. For his son, he would have to become a person worth loving in return. 

When Lex was twenty one and new to Smallville, Christmas at the Kent farm would have seemed like a special kind of torture, one that he would have willingly signed up for. That hadn’t changed much after he hit thirty it appeared. The holiday season had brought him back to Smallville, Conner in tow. They were staying with the Kents for Christmas, this time at Jonathan’s invitation so the farmer could finally meet his grandson. 

When Jonathan had called him, Lex couldn't say no. For all the bad blood between them, he still craved Martha and Jonathan’s approval like a drug. The real challenge was whether everyone would survive spending a holiday together, particularly without Clark’s mitigating presence. 

Conner was proving to be a useful distraction tactic. Every time Jonathan began to get wound up, Lex picked up the boy, successfully cutting off whatever rant had been about to fly in his direction. Martha, fortunately, didn't need that kind of management. All three of the adults were doing their best to ignore the ways they kept turning toward someone who wasn’t there. The novelty of Conner’s first Christmas soothed the sharp edges they were all still feeling. From marveling at the handmade ornaments on the Kent tree to trying to feed Lex mashed potatoes with his bare hands, he’d become the little darling of the Kent house.

Conner loved his grandparents with the unabashed enthusiasm only a toddler could have. He giggled at every silly face Jonathan made and clung to Martha’s leg while she finished icing the Christmas cookies. After fighting it all through dinner, he fell asleep in Jonathan’s lap halfway into the annual showing of It’s a Wonderful Life. That was, of course, the Kents’ favorite Christmas movie. Lex could’ve rolled his eyes at the cliche, but instead he found his attention drawn to the empty space on the couch.

Satisfied that the Kents were absorbed in the movie, Lex stepped out on the porch. Snow was drifting in lazy curls in the dark, covering the barn roof and bare fields in a dusting of white. He pulled his phone out of his coat pocket, letting out a sigh that clouded the air in front of him.

“Hey, you’ve reached Clark Kent. Leave me a message and I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Looks like Conner’s first Christmas is going to be white after all,” Lex murmured, tilting his head up. The stars were obscured by the low hanging clouds. 

“I think this is the first time I’ve made it through an evening with your parents that didn’t end in someone yelling. Sometimes I wonder if an environment like this wouldn’t be better for Conner or if your parents…”

An icy wind skittered across the fields, kicking up a spray of loose snow.

“Well, you turned out perfectly fine. But Conner is a Luthor, so maybe not.”

Lex didn’t take Conner to either of the graves. Not to the one in Smallville and not the one in the city park with the large memorial. People still left flowers daily and lit candles for a monthly vigil for Superman. The one in Smallville reminded Lex too much of Lillian.

Spring wore into summer, the anniversary creeping up on Lex like a bad cold. He’d been twitchy and snappish in his meetings. Nightmares about the crater had wrecked his sleep schedule. 

Laying awake in bed and watching the gray of morning spill over the ceiling, Lex picked up his phone.

“Hey, you’ve reached Clark Kent. Leave me a message and I’ll talk to you soon.”

What was he even going to say? That he couldn’t get the image of Clark’s nearly unrecognizable body out of his head? That he regretted their last fight the week before Doomsday had arrived? That he would never be able to forget how Lois had cried, clutching at his wrist until her short nails bit into his skin when they’d made it to the crater?

“Clark, it’s Conner’s birthday tomorrow. He’s…He’s going to be two.”

The first fake Superman arrived shortly there after. Seeing that familiar red-blue blur streak across Metropolis again was like being punched in the jaw. His heart jolted for a moment and then plummeted to his stomach.

“No, he would have gone back to the farm first. Martha would have called,” Lex murmured to himself and went back to work. He was proven right only hours later. He kept Conner away from the windows, justifying it as a safety hazard instead of simply not wanting to see the fight.

When the photos from the Justice League take down came across his desk the next day, he scoffed and turned to Mercy, “It doesn’t even look like him.”

Sure, it bore a certain resemblance to Superman, but it wasn’t Clark. That was what had always set Lex apart from the others with whom Superman did regular battle. He knew under the suit was a scared farm boy who’d pulled him out of the water a decade ago. 

Mercy Graves was good with children, or at least one child. More importantly, Conner was good with Mercy.

“Merzy, I see?” Conner toddled up to the edge of the data table in the middle of the conference room where Mercy was deep in thought. He made grabby hands at her and let out a little whine. Mercy gave a cursory glance to where Lex was sitting at the other end of the conference room before hoisting Conner up and setting him on her hip.

“Yeah, alright,” Mercy said, leaning back over the table, “Your dad is having an important press conference next week. It’s my job to keep him safe in a big crowd.”

“Mm,” Conner snuggled into Mercy’s shoulder as she pointed out the various defense measures she was coordinating on the map. Lex smiled to himself, a feeling of warmth blooming in his chest as he pretended to check the stock market on his phone. Conner was starting to develop his skill in charming others into doing his bidding now that he was talking.

Conner’s first word had been ‘no.’ Lex couldn’t have been more pleased. A healthy sense of boundaries was an excellent start for a child, in his opinion. 

Conner loved to tell people ‘no.’ 

No to being held by a stranger, no to a bath after dinner, no to a weird food in a restaurant, no to putting away his toys. His little mouth would twist up into the same thin line Lex’s did when he was truly pissed. However, he also threw Clark sized tantrums. A Luthor temper combined with Superman’s abilities had wreaked havoc on his repair budget.

The next imposter came to Lex, pretending to need help, saying that the Justice League had turned against him. Lex shot him point blank. When the Justice League came to retrieve the body - if it could be called that - Batman lingered for a moment.

“You knew it wasn’t Superman,” Batman stared at him. It wasn’t a question but he clearly expected an answer.

Lex tilted his head.

“There are certain things that you can’t replicate,” Lex replied. 

Things like that certain hitching whine in Clark’s voice, the wide and darting eyes, the lower lip between his teeth - all the little subtleties that had been reserved for asking Lex a favor. Superman would never have those features, but it wasn’t Superman who came to Lex for help. 

It was always Clark.

“Sir, I’m not sure we can get much more done tonight,” Mercy said as he drew another vial of blood from his arm.

“I know, just this last one,” Lex said. The lab was empty except for the two of them. Mercy made as good an assistant as she did a bodyguard, one of the reasons he’d initially hired her. Lex had never been more glad for her or his background in biology as he had been in the last year. He wouldn’t trust anyone else to look at Conner’s raw DNA.

“Here,” Lex passed her the vial, the prick from the needle healing almost instantly. Mercy spirited it away to the other side of the lab, setting it into one of the many machines there. Lex pulled his laptop across the lab table, squinting at the readouts for the hundredth time that night.

“Any change from last week, sir?” Mercy asked, turning over her shoulder to look at him. Lex sighed, shaking his head as relief settled on him at last. In all of the comparative tests, Conner’s genetic structure remained unchanged. Mercy allowed herself a small smile and turned back to her work.

They’d kept Conner out of the lab, working off swab samples and the data from Cadmus to check that he was still developing properly. Having Conner in the lab would be reserved for the direst emergencies. The downside of having a mind as intelligent as Lex’s was that he knew all the possibilities. Mercy’s protective nature had only enabled his obsessive charting of Conner’s health, searching for even a hint that his genetic structure was weakening. 

Their research had led them to develop all kinds of contingency plans if Conner’s health started to deteriorate, from synthesizing supplements compatible with Kryptonian and mutant physiology to a few major strides in gene therapy. There were too many unknowns about artificial human hybridization that Lex’s brain was happy to fill with nightmarish possibilities. In typical Luthor fashion, his terror drove him to prepare for any eventuality.

Conner would grow up healthy if Lex had to spend every night of his life stuck in a dim lab, running test after test.

Lex scowled at the email. One of the geneticists from Cadmus had disappeared early on and was now sending him thinly veiled threats of blackmail. It was laughable. She hadn’t even used a disguised IP address. It would be so easy to send someone down to her apartment tonight.

Lex gave a disgruntled huff and picked up his phone from the desk.

“Hey, you’ve reached Clark Kent. Leave me a message and I’ll talk to you soon.”

“You know, you never got pissed at your other friends when they had to kill, not like you did with me,” Lex snapped into the silence of his office, “Sure, Wonder Woman can take out any threat she finds necessary, but if Lex Luthor so much as thinks about getting rid of a problem for you…You never had any patience with me. You wanted me to work miracles and then you’d bitch if I took shortcuts.”

He let out a long sigh, leaning back in his desk chair and staring at the ceiling for a long time. Different avenues presented themselves and then were dismissed.

“I don't know how to do this without you. Not just Conner. Everything. I’ve always needed you as a reference point. I don’t know where the line is, but now I have to for Conner’s sake. Because you won’t be here to stop me.”

By the eighth imposter, Lex realized what was missing.

None of them looked like they had ever been in love with him and none of them had that slight hesitation, waiting to be lied to, to be betrayed again.

“Daddeeeee,” Conner pulled on Lex’s pant leg with a soapy hand. Lex looked up from his book on the Bacchae. He was perched on the edge of the tub, carefully angled away from the mass of bubbles that surrounded Conner. The scent of lavender baby soap was overwhelming, but not unpleasant.

“Daddy, look,” Conner grinned. He held out his pudgy hands and his Devilicus action figure shot out of the bubbly water and whizzed in a wobbly circle around the bathroom before plopping back down in the bath water.

“I practiced,” Conner said triumphantly and the look of pleased pride that he gave Lex was all Clark.

“That’s very impressive, Conner,” Lex swallowed. The spine of his book cracked under his white knuckled grip.

Telekinesis.

That wasn’t one of Clark’s powers. The old urge for spreadsheets and long term studies welled up within him, suddenly followed by the look on Clark’s face when Lex had showed him the remains of the Porsche. A wave of nausea came over him, but he managed to keep his smile firmly affixed.

After pulling his son out of the bath, Lex read Conner his bedtime story and kissed him goodnight. Turning on Conner’s night light, he went to the living room to panic. His phone had been thrown haphazardly on the couch and he darted for it, punching in the number by memory.

“Hello?” Jonathan’s voice sounded gruff with exhaustion.

“You and Mrs. Kent never felt the urge to exploit Clark’s powers. Why?” Lex asked, not caring if desperation bled into his voice.

“Because we loved him,” Jonathan sounded mildly offended.

“Right, thank you.” Lex pinched the bridge of his nose. What a classic Kent answer. It wasn’t like Lillian hadn’t loved Julian, but that certainly hadn’t stopped her. And how many times had Lionel told Lex he loved him, that chilling smirk curling his lip?

“Lex, are you alright?” Jonathan’s worried voice cut through his thoughts.

“I’m a little concerned,” Lex said, licking his lips nervously, “Conner is developing powers that Clark didn't have. Part of me wants to know why.”

“I see,” Jonathan gave a rough hum.

“That’s all?” Lex let out a barking laugh, just short of hysterical, “You’re not going to give me a speech about how no grandson of yours is going to be a lab rat? Or tell me that I’m just like my father?”

“Look, Lex, I get that you’re feeling a bit worked up, but you called me. You called me. Would Lionel have done that?”

“No,” Lex breathed out. Conner would have already been on the way to a lab downtown. Lex remembered those long weeks of doctors visits and talks of developing commercial medical applications for his mutation in the months after the meteors.

“Alright, then there’s your answer, son.”

“One arm in this way, yes, like that,” Lex coached Conner as he held the strap of the backpack. Conner wiggled his arm through, giving Lex a proud grin when the backpack was secure. They’d just gone through the same song and dance with his jacket. One week into preschool and he was already beginning to fall into their new morning routine.

Conner had turned three over the summer, putting into motion plans Lex had been working on for some time. Initially, in the first months of Conner’s arrival in his life, Lex had considered hiring tutors or even teaching Conner himself. However, the more he researched early childhood development the less inclined he was to keep Conner separate from other children his age. Still, given his abilities and the fact that he was the son of Metropolis’s resident billionaire, public school was out. Local private schools weren’t much better by that standard and Lex despised the idea of shipping Conner off to any kind of board school, especially so young. 

That left him one option. He would simply have to start from scratch to create a better schooling system to suit his son. Thus, the Metropolis Academy for the Gifted had been born. The name wasn’t particularly inspired, but he had wanted it to be relatively inconspicuous. It was a tuition-free private school for meta-humans of all varieties. Many meteor affected Smallville residents had moved to Metropolis within the last twenty years, giving the city a sizable population of adults with children who could phase through walls, catch on fire, mentally control squirrels, and a laundry list of other talents. Upon reviewing the initial applications, Lex had suddenly felt with relief that Conner was rather average compared to some of the more bizarre mutation manifestations.

Funding the school hadn't made a scratch in the Luthorcorp budget, even with the benefits he was offering to his handpicked teachers. He’d taken a few recommendations from Bruce Wayne. Though he didn’t agree with the other billionaire’s methods on child rearing, Wayne did know a few meta-humans with their doctorate in early childhood development and K-12 studies.

After dropping Conner off for his first day of school and then willing away a panic attack in the car, Lex spent the rest of the day trying to keep himself busy in the robotics lab. He managed to get outside in the early afternoon for an interview with Lois about the new genetic research wing Luthorcorp was donating to Metropolis General Hospital. 

The interview devolved into grabbing a coffee and taking a walk through City Park after Lois had finished grilling him. The pair were still staunchly denying any budding friendship between them, but with Lois babysitting Conner at least twice a month, it was getting harder.

“I know Clark would’ve wanted him to go to a normal school, but that was hell for both of us,” Lex explained as they settled onto a park bench. Lois hummed, nodding. She knew Clark well enough to have seen the difference between the public performance and the real thing.

Lex paused for a moment, taking a sip of his coffee. “I want him to have friends who understand what it’s like. Who understand him.”

“Like you understood Clark,” Lois said over her own coffee cup, one eyebrow raised.

“Or like you understand me,” Lex said and Lois gave him a genuine smile. It didn’t make her look any less sharkish, but Lex could appreciate that in a woman. 

Lex jerked awake, heart pounding and T-shirt soaked through with sweat. He sat up and ran a shaking hand over his face. He fumbled for his cell phone on the bedside table, fingers gripping the smooth shape in the dark.

“Hey, you’ve reached Clark Kent. Leave me a message and I’ll talk to you soon.”

Lex took a few long breaths. His knuckles were white around his phone.

“I know this is a coping mechanism, Clark,” he said to the silent bedroom. The dream swam up in front of his eyes, more memory than fantasy.

“I saw you. After everything,” Lex choked out, “Lois and I both did. I can’t…It keeps coming back.”

He took in a shuddering breath, willing the tears away. Silk sheets pooled around his waist, too hot and stifling.

“I miss you, Clark,” he said “I’ve been missing you for years. It wasn’t the same after Dad died and I was too fucking stubborn to fix it. I’m sorry, I should’ve gone to you, just told you I knew. Your dad’s always been right about my pride.”

Not for the first time the deep cold irony of his name struck him. He wondered if it had always been his father’s reason for choosing it. It wouldn't be surprising if Lionel had wanted him to suffer like Alexander had, to lose his only real connection to the brief flashes of unmitigated happiness afforded by childhood.

“I never told you this but I remembered you. From the first time we met, the real first time. I barely remember anything from that day, but…”

Lex’s grip on the phone tightened. It was a hazy memory, a moment of warm sunlight and the feeling of small fingers on his jaw.

“You touched my face and you were so happy. Conner looks so much like you now. I…I’m sorry that things didn't stay that way between us, that you had to be afraid of me.”

Feeling childish, Lex drew his knees up to his chest and curled himself forward into a ball.

“I always pushed you too far. To not know enough, to leave something undiscovered and just walk away,” Lex gave a wry chuckle, “I’m not capable of it.”

The steady crackle of an empty phone line filled his ear. The darkness of the room felt oppressive, eating him whole. He swallowed thickly.

“You were the greatest mystery of my life,” Lex murmured, “Not because of what you were. That was interesting, but it didn’t get under my skin. It was who you were that was the real mystery. A paragon of truth, but also a pathological liar. Your father’s son, but your own man entirely. You hated me like you should have, but… you loved me.”

With a trembling hand, Lex ran his fingers gently over his jaw.

“You’ve always loved me.”

“So, out of these two options, which stock would you invest in?” Lex asked. Conner leaned forward in his lap to squint at the laptop. His son had wanted to ‘help out’ with Lex’s work after he’d gotten home from school. Lex had taken the opportunity to continue Conner’s education in the business world and had set them up in his home office. 

“Um, Wayne Enterprises,” he said, pointing at the screen. Even sitting in Lex’s lap, the desk was a bit tall for him.

“Why?”

“Because, um, Queen Industries is bad at ad- adnina-“ Conner screwed up his face as he tried to parse out the word. He gave Lex a quick glance.

“Administration,” Lex prompted.

“Yeah,” Conner nodded, “Wayne Enterprises has strong man-age-ment.”

“Very good,” Lex purred, “Let’s pick that one then.”

Conner moved the mouse, clicking through the necessary steps for purchase with a little help. Lex was pleased to see that Conner hadn’t inherited Clark’s poor taste in moguls. When the deal was done, Conner turned around to look up at Lex.

“Daddy, why are Gramma and Grampa my grandparents if they aren’t your parents?”

Conner had questions. He was a Luthor, after all. It wasn’t the first time Conner had poked at the mystery of his origins.

“Family isn’t always blood,” Lex said with a shrug. It was a cop out. Yes, they technically weren’t genetically related to Clark, but they were very much his parents.

“Like Mercy?” Conner asked, a small dimple forming between his little brows.

“Like Mercy,” Lex nodded. He knew that wouldn’t be the end of Conner’s curiosity, not if his own was anything to go by. He was only buying time, working himself up to explaining the whole thing.

Lex opened the envelope. 

It had been one of those days where he’d considered testing just how far his healing factor could go. He knew it was stronger than it used to be. Last week, he’d been shot during a press conference, compliments of a disgruntled former CEO of a company he’d recently absorbed. The bullet wound had healed by the time he needed to pick up Conner from school.

There was a bit of irony in it. He didn’t have a lot of days where he felt like testing his limits anymore, not like he had in Smallville, but now, his body might have actually been able to survive some of his darker impulses. Still, he had Conner to consider, so he settled for a more reasonable form of indulging his emotional malaise. 

Sitting in his office, Lex ran the blade of his letter opener under the fold of the envelope. Tipping the envelope on its side, its familiar contents slid out into his hand. The corner of his mouth twitched up in spite of the ache that welled up in his chest.

Lana’s necklace.

The Kryptonite was clear, having been neutralized at some point. One of his labs had made some strides in that area a few years prior. He turned the necklace over in his fingers, the image of Clark, pale and strung up in the middle of a field, as fresh in his mind as if he had just pushed through the corn stalks. What hideous foreshadowing, he thought.

He set the necklace aside. There was still a small bulge in the envelope. He shook it and a small clipping of folded newspaper fell out. Unfolding it, Lex’s eyebrows drew together. It was one of the fluff interviews Lois had done with Superman before she’d known his real identity. Lex didn’t read those ones, having little interest in Superman’s thoughts on the latest political scandal. Clark was terrible at being put on the spot.

This one, however, was more of an autobiographical piece. He scanned through it, eyes catching on one particular question.

“Who does Superman go to when he needs help?”

“Lots of people, actually,” Superman responded, “The Justice League are always ready to lend a hand with bigger issues, but the first responders and good neighbors of Metropolis provide more support than any superhero can.”

That’s was quite a list. Any of us would love to be able to call up Wonder Woman or Batman if we had a bad day. However, when I suggested this, Superman paused, shifting his weight as he gave a thoughtful hum.

“I don’t usually ring Batman for personal issues. I have a friend, a best friend really. We don’t see eye to eye very often, but he’s who I go to when I need help for my own problems. He’s seen me at my worst and saved me more times than I can count.”

It’s not often you hear about Superman needing a rescue. However, Superman has often implied that his invulnerability is more external than internal. 

“He’s known me a long time. When I was younger, I thought that the sun rose and set just for him. I don’t think I ever really grew out of that.”

Superman laughed a little and turned to the window outside of my office, overlooking a busy Metropolis street.

“He’s truly an incredible person,” Superman continued, “I don’t know anyone who works so hard to make the world a better place, even if we disagree on the best way to do that. Meeting him was one of the most important moments of my life.”

The article moved on to other topics, but Lex didn’t need to read any more. The paper buckled under the tight grip of his fingers.

“You idiot. You and your damn martyr complex,” Lex sighed, leaning back in his office chair, “You have no idea what I would have done to keep you safe.”

LUTHOR TURNS DOWN JUSTICE LEAGUE

The headline was bold and sharp at the top of the Daily Planet as Mercy set the paper down on his desk. Lois had certainly gotten the scoop. He could only imagine the call she would likely be getting from Chloe later that morning.

Lex scanned over the article, noting what Lois had chosen to include. Wonder Woman had delivered the invitation and hadn’t been surprised when he’d said no. He’d always liked Diana best. She understood the drive for power even if it wasn’t what motivated her. Instead of joining Clark's band of caped crusaders, Lex had negotiated an appropriate exchange of technology and agreed to help out with the more world-ending threats if the Justice League couldn’t handle it themselves.

They had been struggling to fill the gap Clark had left. Metropolis had too. That was what had gained him his new positive reputation among Clark’s masked friends.

Crime hadn’t slowed down just because Superman had and Lex was the only person left in Metropolis with the resources available to combat supervillains. For the most part, he could dispatch a few teams to take care of whatever mess happened to be terrorizing downtown. If they got a little too close to something Lex cared about, he could be obliged to show up in person. It was good stress relief for his temper to have some upstart supervillain grovel at his feet.

Conner’s fourth birthday was looming on the horizon and he was flying through milestones in a way that made Lex’s heart clench. Tucking him into bed, Lex tried to answer the increasingly painful questions Conner kept asking. His teacher had been covering basic genetics in class - a bit beyond the abilities of most children to understand, but Conner wasn’t most kids. The lesson had led Conner to begin wondering in earnest about who his other parent was. Lex had given him an abbreviated version, a story about a friend he had lost, a friend who had to leave for a long time.

“What’s his name?” Conner asked, wiggling down into his fluffy pillow. His half dry hair was beginning to curl at the ends and the smell of lavender baby soap was still thick in the air.

“His name was Clark Kent,” Lex said, a sharp pang of grief stabbing through him. He sat on the edge of the mattress, facing Conner. Normally, they’d be deep into a book by now, but personal stories had superseded their routine.

“Like Gramma and Grampa,” Conner said, tilting his head a little. He pulled his baby blanked up to wrap around his little shoulders.

“Yes,” Lex nodded.

“The boy they have all the pictures of?” Conner asked, leaning forward a little with wide eyes. There was Lex’s intuition again. Lex’s mouth twitched up at the corner despite the pain growing in his chest.

“That’s right,” his voice was soft.

“You’ve got pictures too,” Conner said, right again. Lex had two in his office, the only real mementos of his early days in Smallville he’d allowed into the penthouse.

“Would you like one of my pictures?” Lex offered and Conner’s eyes lit up.

“Yeah,” Conner nodded. Lex retrieved the one he thought Conner would like best. It was a little faded and neither of them were looking at the camera, too distracted by the chaos around them. Chloe had taken it to finish out a roll of film and had given him the print afterward. 

In the photo, Lex was elbow deep in the engine of Jonathan’s tractor with grease smeared across one cheekbone and his dress shirt utterly ruined. Clark stood behind him, holding up the hood of the engine, as the latch had broken, and was watching Lex work with a soft grin. The old piece of junk had died out in the middle of the field and it had been beyond Jonathan’s personal capabilities or budget to repair. Lex had known that the Kents would never accept the gift of a brand new tractor, so he had applied his knowledge of engines in a more practical way than usual. When the engine had finally turned over, Clark had hugged him so tightly that his feet had come off the ground.

Lex brought the photo to Conner, handing it to his son as he sat back down on the bed. Conner looked at it, tracing his little fingers around the edge of Clark’s face and leaving smudges on the glass of the picture frame.

“Is he like me?” Conner asked, his voice almost shy.

“Very much like you,” Lex grinned, “In lots of ways.”

Lex let Conner stay up a little longer, taking the picture out of his hands and turning off his lamp when his eyes finally drooped shut. He stepped quietly out of Conner’s room, closing the door behind him. He fumbled in his pocket for his phone as he walked toward the couch. The lump in his throat was threatening to make his breathing difficult. His body slumped down into the couch cushions as the last ring buzzed through the phone line.

“Hey, you’ve reached Clark Kent. Leave me a message and I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Clark.” 

There was a long pause of crackling static. 

“You should be here for this. You should be here to see him.”

It had been three years. There was a hitch in his breathing and Lex pinched the bridge of his nose, swallowing thickly. It couldn’t really be over. 

“I always wished it had been Lionel instead of my mother. I’m worried, Clark. I’m worried that Conner is going to wish that too…”

He bit into the soft inside of his cheek, letting the pain ground him for a moment.

“I already do.”

Metropolis was hazy with humidity, the sticky summer air scattering the pink and orange of the setting sun to every corner of every high rise. Lex brought his tumbler of whiskey up to his mouth, condensation dripping off of the edge of the glass and running down his wrist. Corn sweat was a hell of a thing, he thought as he leaned against the railing of the terrace. 

The sound of soft feet alighting on the rooftop instantly caught his attention. Lex turned, already calculating, and then stopped cold. The tumbler slipped gently out of Lex’s hands and shattered on the terrace floor.

This one looked exactly like Clark.

The clone, in fact, looked nothing like Superman. He was wearing a black version of his suit that was missing his customary cape and seemed more akin to pajamas than a costume. His hair had gone shaggy like it had been in Smallville and his broad shoulders slumped like he was exhausted. The expression on his face was hesitant, his familiar eyes searching Lex’s face.

“Either they're getting better at replicating you or my memory of you is getting worse,” Lex let out a flat laugh, “I’m not sure if you’re a clone or an android, maybe magic this time. So, what’ll it be? Kryptonite bullet to the back of the head? Roof top lasers? I haven’t gotten to use those in a while.”

“Lex.” There was that pleading whine in his voice, the slight Midwestern twang that felt tattooed on the inside of Lex’s eardrums there. It made a sharp pain dart through Lex’s chest. The imposter’s gaze was heavy with emotion.

“Don’t try it, clone. I saw your body after Doomsday was done with it. You’ve been dead for three years.” Lex was proud that his voice didn’t waver.

“I was,” the clone raised its hands placatingly. His voice sounded rough, like it had been some time since he’d spoken. “But my cousin took me back to the Fortress up in the Arctic after the Justice League got in contact with her. The Fortress thought I could be healed in a stasis chamber, given enough time and sunlight. It was right, I guess.”

“No,” Lex shook his head, mouth thinning to a firm line, “No, if you were really resurrected I would have gotten a call from Smallville.”

“I came here first. I thought about going to the farm, but I…I wanted to see Conner,” the clone gave him an embarrassed smile, shrugging his broad shoulders.

Lex stilled, his heart stopping in his chest.

“How do you know about Conner?” he asked with a predatory tilt of his head, deadly calm.

“I got your messages,” he explained, his hands coming up again as if he could ward off Lex’s ire, “I’d hooked my phone into the Fortress’s communications system early on, in case anything personal ever came up while I was on Justice League business.”

He stepped toward Lex, walking until they were only a foot apart. Lex stood frozen as he approached. A broad hand came up and gentle fingers brushed over Lex’s jaw, tilting his gaze up until he was staring into sea green eyes and Lex knew. His heart thundered in his chest. This was Clark, his Clark, real and resurrected.

“I think the Fortress thought I needed some encouragement, like talking to a coma patient,” Clark said, quiet as his hand fell back to his side, “So, it would play me your message each time you called. It helped. Hearing your voice, it…it made me want to come back.”

The implication that he’d needed convincing rang loud in Lex’s head.

“Clark,” Lex breathed.

“Can I see Conner? Please?” Clark asked, tilting his face down toward Lex’s.

“Not tonight,” Lex shook his head, but then felt the need to placate Clark’s hurt look, “He’s already in bed. Go home to Smallville. I don’t think Jeopardy is over yet so your parents should still be in the living room. You can come back tomorrow when Conner’s done with school.”

“Thank you, Lex,” Clark said, his posture slumping like he’d just had a great weight taken off of him. Large arms pulled Lex in tight and Clark was suddenly burying his face in Lex’s shoulder. Lex's hands hung limp at his side.

“Thank you,” Clark murmured again as he pulled away. And then he was gone in a blur too fast even for Lex to see. 

Lex sat down on one of the patio chairs and didn’t move until the sun began peaking back over the other horizon.

Lex half expected it to be Superman alighting on his roof the following afternoon. However, it was Clark, buzzed in with the old passcode Lex had given him when he started college. Lex never really had the heart to change it.

Clark was looking very much the rumpled farmboy in old jeans and a wrinkled t-shirt that Martha clearly hadn’t gotten her hands on before he’d left for Metropolis. There had already been a small column in the morning edition Daily Planet, written by one Perry White, announcing the miraculous return of Lois Lane’s partner. It had been some half baked story about Clark having amnesia after being hit in the head with rubble from Doomsday. The Daily Planet was clearly happy to give Clark his job back.

Conner, however, did not seem to be so immediately overjoyed. Standing in the entryway with Clark, Conner hid behind Lex’s leg, shy for the first time in his short life.

“Conner, this is Clark Kent,” Lex said, letting one hand drop to brush through Conner’s hair in a soothing motion.

“Hi,” Conner told Lex’s trousers, not even giving Clark the quickest glance. Clark crouched down so that they were on the same level.

“Its really nice to meet you, Conner,” Clark said. Conner finally turned toward him, leaning into Lex’s leg and wrapping his hands around his knee.

“I’ve got you in my room,” Conner said. Clark shot Lex a quick bewildered look before turning back to Conner.

“Daddy gave me a picture,” Conner explained, “He said you’re my other dad.”

“I am,” Clark nodded, “Is that okay?”

Lex let a soft smile form on his face. He’d forgotten how good Clark was with little children. Conner squinted at Clark, doing the same head tilt Lex did when he was faced with a particularly troublesome chemistry formula.

“Yeah,” Conner said, “Daddy said you had to go away for a while.”

“I did. He, ah, helped me get back here,” Clark said. Lex stared at him, a strange sensation passing through his chest. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to explore the full implications of what Clark had said.

“Are you gonna go away again?” Conner asked, his hands tightening around Lex’s leg.

“Not if I can help it,” Clark said. Conner nodded, digesting this answer. Lex was always truthful with him so he was used to receiving more complicated adult responses.

“Okay. You better not. I don’t think Daddy or Gramma and Grampa liked it,” Conner said. Clark swallowed, glanced back up at Lex.

“Do you wanna see my toys?” Conner asked, finally letting go of Lex.

“Sure,” Clark said and stood back up. Conner led them into the living room to show Clark the block house he’d been building around his action figures.

“Oh, are they gonna fight there?” Clark asked, folding himself to sit next to Conner on the floor. Lex took his own spot on the couch. Conner gave Clark a look of offense only possible for a four year old.

“No,” he frowned, “It’s their house. Warrior Angel and Devilicus are gonna get married and then they’re gonna live here. But they gotta build the house first.”

“Oh, I see,” Clark looked over the block house for a moment, “Do you think they need a garage?”

“Yeah! An’ a barn like Gramma and Grampa,” Conner grinned and passed Clark a few blocks to get started on the barn. Lex had to excuse himself for a moment to take a few deep breaths in the privacy of his bedroom. When he walked back out, Clark gave him a knowing look, the effect of which was slightly undercut by the Devilicus figure he was holding.

Clark stayed late into the evening. After dinner, when Conner had become sufficiently absorbed in the basic calculus problems Lex had given him to play with before bed, Clark joined Lex on the couch.

“You told him about me,” Clark said, his elbows resting on his knees and hands folded in front of him.

“He’s a Luthor. He had questions,” Lex said. If there was one thing that he had learned from Lionel, it was that there was no place for lies in a family.

“You didn't tell him I was dead,” Clark turned to face him, his expression unreadable.

“Everyone else thought I was in denial, but I could never really believe it. Not completely.” Lex wanted to look away from those searching eyes, to retreat back to the safety of his cold facade. He was out of practice after three years.

Clark continued to stare at him, his eyes narrowing before he turned back to looking at the living room carpet.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” he said and Lex felt his shoulders relax.

That first visit melted into a routine of Clark coming over for dinner every night as he settled back into the world. This development seemed to please Conner greatly. He badgered Clark for stories about his day, eager to hear about what cool things his Aunt Lois was doing. Clark’s own journalistic efforts were an afterthought, to Lex’s amusement.

Lois came with him a few times when she and Clark would be doing a stakeout afterwards. There was a growing tension between her and Mercy that Lex was actively ignoring. The two scariest women in his life didn’t need to join forces in any respect.

Clark Kent slowly but surely returned to his normal life in Metropolis. Superman did not. There were no late night patrols, no house fires put out, no supervillains carted off to jail. Lex was still handling the more creative side of crime in the city. However, that wasn't to say Clark had stopped using his powers. No, in fact, Lex had several up close demonstrations of Clark’s abilities every night.

Clark heated up Lex’s coffee with his heat vision. He sent Conner into fits of giggles by walking around on the ceiling. Lex had even walked in on Clark lifting up the couch with one hand so that Conner could trap a spider under a cup. The spider had been politely escorted out to the terrace.

While Conner had plenty of peers with equally strange powers, he’d never had an adult who understood his struggles so well. Lex didn’t count. He could easily survive things that would kill an ordinary person, but he’d never had a meltdown over breaking four plates in one evening. Lex could be empathetic, but Clark kneeling in the middle of the kitchen next to a sniffling Conner and telling him about the time he’d pulled the handles off of every door in the Kents’ house was infinitely more helpful. A subconscious worry for how Lex would cope with Conner’s developing powers seemed to ease the more time Clark spent with Conner.

“I wish I had told you about me years ago. You’re so good with Conner every time his powers go haywire. I should’ve trusted you. It would’ve saved us a lot of grief,” Clark said, collapsing down onto the couch next to Lex. He had done Conner’s bedtime routine after the plate debacle.

“Trust was hard for both of us,” Lex murmured, “It still is.”

“You never stopped being my best friend, Lex,” Clark leaned against him, pressing his broad shoulder into Lex’s.

“I think that by the time either of us was mature enough to have that conversation we were both too wrapped up in the lies we kept telling each other,” Lex said, looking over at Clark. 

“All it took was me dying, huh?” Clark cracked a grin, but Lex shook his head.

“Conner helped. Parenthood has a habit of putting a lot of things in perspective. Or at least, so I’m told,” he said, returning Clark’s look with a smirk.

“Are you an’ Clark married?” Conner asked as he climbed up one of the kitchen island stools. Lex almost dropped his glass of water. 

“No, we’re not,” Lex managed to choke out.

“Where’d that come from?” Clark asked, looking over from the stove. He’d stayed the night in the guest bedroom and had taken it upon himself to make breakfast. Clark handed Conner a plate with a peanut butter sandwich. The little boy's legs swung back and forth from his perch at the island.

“Garfield,” Conner said and took a huge bite out of his breakfast. 

Garfield was part of Conner’s kindergarten class and had quickly become Conner’s best friend. His shapeshifting abilities were impressive for someone so young. However, he was also a rather intense shade of green, marking him an obvious meta human. Lex could only imagine the trouble waiting for his future self when the boys were old enough for sleep overs.

“His parents are,” Conner continued around his peanut butter sandwich, “Are you gonna get married?”

“Maybe,” Clark said before Lex could respond. Lex stared at Clark, feeling for the first time that there truly was an alien in his kitchen. What the hell?

Conner seemed to take this answer as satisfactory and jumped down from the table, leaving his sandwich crusts on the plate. He bounced over to the entryway and began working on jamming his little socked feet into his shoes.

“I’ll take him to school today,” Clark said and plated out Lex’s breakfast like he hadn’t just put Lex completely off kilter. “Lois and I have an event to cover this afternoon, so I thought we could swap and you’d pick him up.”

“I…” Lex didn't know where to start. Clark set Lex’s plate down on the kitchen island, two perfectly fried eggs and buttered toast, and then stepped into Lex’s space.

“That okay with you?” Clark asked, quiet and warm. His gaze flicked down to Lex’s mouth and then back up to his eyes, going soft and half lidded. Lex swallowed. It was just the slightest movement but Clark was leaning forward and Lex…

Lex stepped back, clearing his throat, “You’ll be late if you don’t leave now.”

“Alright, I’ll see you tonight,” Clark gave him an enigmatic grin. He gathered up Conner, who had managed the velcro shoe straps at last, and hefted him onto his hip. 

“Say bye to Dad,” Clark told Conner, bringing him into the kitchen

“Bye, Daddy,” Conner said, leaning forward out of Clark’s arms to receive his customary hug from Lex. When Conner pulled back, Clark swooped in after him and pressed a kiss to Lex’s cheek. It was just a soft brush of the lips. Just the briefest of touches. Lex was frozen as he pulled back. Clark collected his briefcase and Conner’s backpack at the door and had left before Lex could say anything.

The eggs and toast were cold by the time Lex's heart rate calmed down.

Their Saturday afternoon entertainment consisted of watching Conner build a block version of LuthorCorp Plaza in the middle of the living room floor. Warrior Angel and Devilicus were going to move in there next. 

“But Warrior Angel’s gotta go to work,” Conner explained to Clark, “He works at the peach factory.”

He used his telekinesis to move the action figure over by his snack plate. 

“You’re getting pretty good at that,” Clark said. He laid on his stomach beside Conner, hands propping up his chin and glasses abandoned on the dining table. Lex had been trying to focus on a spreadsheet for the last ten minutes but couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the tableau in front of him.

“Lex, you alright?” Clark asked, noticing his stillness.

“Just thinking,” Lex nodded.

“Wanna share?”

“I…For the first time in my life,” Lex began, choosing his words carefully, “I don’t want anything more than what I have. It’s disconcerting.”

Clark let out a quiet chuckle, “You mean you're happy.”

“Yes, I suppose,” Lex frowned. That didn’t seem a sufficient word for the strange feeling that had arrested him.

“I’m happy too,” Clark grinned up at him from the floor.

“And me,” Conner chimed in.

“Why are you happy today, Conner?” Clark asked, tilting his head so that his jaw was propped up by only one hand.

“Cause Daddy is,” he said, leaning toward Clark like it was a secret. Clark grinned back at Conner and Lex’s heart did a funny flip-flop. He hadn’t realized Clark and Conner both had that little scrunch in their noses when they smiled.

Thunder boomed overhead, rattling the walls of the penthouse. Lex’s bedroom was lit up intermittently by the lightning, the only other light source being his laptop. The Luthorcorp branch in London was having a few problems with a patent that Lex had decided to micromanage. The beginning of a headache was starting to form behind his left eye and more than one person would be looking for a new job in the morning. He knew that he was working late to avoid the horrible sensation of dread that had crept over him when Clark had left that evening.

Rubbing at his eyes, Lex reached for his cell phone and dialed by memory. Instead of the usual message, there was a click and a sleepy, “Lex?”

Lex nearly dropped the phone in shock.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said. He hadn’t needed to call Clark for quite a while but it seemed old habits died hard.

“It’s…” A rustle of fabric came over the phone. “Two in the morning. Is everything okay?

“Everything’s fine. Again, I apologize for waking you. Just lost track of time,” Lex said, closing his laptop and setting it aside on the bedside table. 

“That’s Lex’s Lying Voice, I’m pretty sure,” Clark chuckled through the phone.

“What?”

“I’ll be right over,” Clark said and hung up. Moments later, he heard the swing of the door as Clark let himself in through the terrace. The bedroom door opened next and there was Clark, his hair and pajamas wet from the rain. Lex couldn’t see as well as Clark could in the dark, but his healing factor had done wonders for his vision.

“Does your invulnerability not protect you from a little weather?” Lex tried to joke. Clark gave him a little half shrug. He came over to the bed and sat down on the edge, making Lex’s pulse ratchet up. He’d had dreams like this before, but he doubted it would have the same ending.

“Why the late night call, Lex?” Clark asked.

“You’ve been so different since you’ve been back. Like when you were in high school, always coming over unannounced,” Lex said, looking away from him. He felt silly, sitting in bed under the covers with Clark perched beside him like a concerned parent.

“We’re not lying to each other anymore,” Clark said, like it was simply a fact, a law of the universe he expected Lex to abide by.

“Why haven’t you gone out as Superman?” Lex asked, drawing one knee up and leaning forward to project a casualness he didn’t feel.

“I’m not ready,” Clark’s tone was honest, matter-of-fact,  “I’ve got more important things going on.”

“Like playing house with me?” Lex sneered, turning back to him.

“Yeah,” Clark was completely serious. Lightning lit up the room, throwing his angular face into relief for an instant.

“C’mon, Lex, what’s really bothering you?” He leaned over to squeeze Lex’s shoulder, but Lex remained silent. Clark waited for him. The headache behind his left eye was getting worse by the second. They had turned over a new leaf of honesty and Lex would be damned if he let Clark Kent of all people out do him.

“You were dead,” he said, the words coming out flat and cold.

“I’m sorry the healing took so long. I remember after you got married to Helen-”

“No, Clark, you were dead. I saw you, lying next to that thing in a pool of your own blood,” he said and a great peal of thunder crashed over the penthouse. Lex’s hands were shaking as he ran them over his face.

“I keep losing people,” he whispered, “What the hell is the point of all this power if I keep losing people? If I can’t save you?”

The bed dipped as Clark moved closer to him.

“You did save me,” Clark said, his hand on Lex’s shoulder tightening, “That’s what we do. We take turns saving each other.”

Lex just shook his head. Clark’s large hand was warm through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“You’ve always said that I was your reference point, but you’re mine too,” Clark said, leaning toward him so that their heads were bowed close together.

“What? To keep you from doing something morally bankrupt like I would?” Lex chuckled weakly. Thunder growled in the distance, heralding another wave of the storm. 

“No, because you’re so much stronger than me.” Gentle hands cradled Lex’s face, thumbs wiping under his eyes even though he wasn’t crying. Clark swallowed, pausing for a moment before saying, “I don’t think I would’ve had the will to get out of that stasis chamber if I hadn’t been listening to your voice,” 

Clark leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together, his hair still damp against Lex’s skin, murmuring, “Lex Luthor, personal superhero of Clark Kent.”

Lex’s hands tighten into fists around his sheets. He’d always been the villain in Clark’s story. That was how everyone in Smallville had seen him. That was who he was, no matter how hard he tried to be something else.

Clark tilted his head back like he was listening and his hands fell away from Lex’s face. 

“Incoming,” he said just before the bedroom doorknob turned. Conner stood in the doorway, baby blanket clutched up near his tearstained face. He practically launched himself onto Lex’s bed, crawling up to Lex and climbing into his lap.

“Daddy,” Conner sniffled, his voice a pitiful whine as he burrowed his face into Lex’s collarbone. Lex held him close, gathering him into the warmth of the blankets around him.

 “The storm wake you up, kiddo?” Clark asked, his voice soft and concerned.

Conner nodded into Lex’s shoulder and Lex began to rub soothing circles into his back. Like Lex, Conner was very tactile and nothing seemed to be as comforting to him as being held.

“Enhanced hearing’s not all that great in a thunderstorm,” Clark said, “Your grandma and grandpa hated storm season when I was little because I could hear them thirty miles off and I’d get scared.”

“You got scared?” Conner peeked up at him. His voice was tiny and wobbled with barely restrained tears.

“Yep, I couldn’t stand how loud the thunder was,” Clark said, letting a small smile break over his face.

“Me too,” Conner said. He stretched one of his small arms to curl around Lex’s neck, pulling him closer.

“Wanna hear a story? It’ll take your mind off the weather,” Clark asked. Conner hesitated and then nodded. 

Clark began a story about Martha teaching Lex how to bake in that nebulous time where he’d lived at the farm. His first attempt had been a disaster. Burnt crust, watery filling, and not nearly enough sugar - it had felt like an accurate summation of his life at the time. 

It was different from how Lex remembered the ordeal. Clark focused on how hard Lex had worked to copy Martha and about how proud Martha had been of him. He had truly become a good storyteller in his time at the Planet, weaving in all kinds of little details that pulled little giggles out of Conner. Lex had forgotten that Clark had eaten the whole pie in spite of how terrible it was. Ever the perfectionist, the next one Lex made was excellent, though still not as good as Martha’s.

Clark talked until Conner fell asleep. When their son’s face went slack and he began to drool into Lex’s shoulder, he let the story taper off into silence. After a few moments, Clark made to move toward the door, the mattress shifting as he eased away.

“Clark,” Lex’s voice was low. Clark froze, halfway off the bed. Lex paused, drew in a steadying breath, and said, “You could stay.”

“Alright,” Clark said, his eyes bright even in the dark. He settled on the bed beside Lex, shifting the blankets and pillows until they were both laying down on their sides with Conner curled between them in Lex’s arms. In slow and cautious movements, Clark let his hand settle on the curve of Lex’s ribs, the touch like a brand through his shirt. His hand flexed once, pressing into the divots of Lex’s side, and then Clark let out a sigh, relaxing his grip and closing his eyes.  He dropped off within five minutes, snuggling into his pillow as his hand slid lower down Lex’s back. It took much longer for Lex to follow him into unconsciousness. 

Clark was still there when he woke up.

“I’d like you to have him back by dinner tomorrow,” Lex said as he packed an extra set of pants into Conner’s overnight bag. Clark had suggested a trip to the Kent farm earlier in the week and Lex couldn't come up with a reason to deny him.

“I thought you were coming,” Clark said from where he was leaning against the doorframe, his face crinkling in confusion.

“Why?” Now that Clark was back in the picture Lex didn’t have to be Conner’s bridge to his heritage. He’d figured the Kents would have been pleased to be rid of him at all their holiday gatherings.

“Mom’s making that three berry pie.”

“Ah,” Lex said, resisting the urge to rub his hands together in scheming delight. Even if he always had designs on Martha’s cooking, he couldn’t be that dramatic.

“Dad also mentioned something about a rematch in Canasta.”

It seemed he was expected.

One real benefit of being on the farm was the free childcare. Lex felt perfectly comfortable turning Conner over to Jonathan, who let him run around in the corn fields at superspeed and took him out to pet the cows. It left him and Clark to their own devices for the whole afternoon. In a nostalgic picture, they’d wandered up to the loft, the smell of fall and hay blending in the air.

“Do you remember when I came and lived with you for a while?” Lex asked, looking out over the farm. There was a fine film of dust on the telescope. He resisted the urge to swipe his finger through it.

“Yeah, kinda hard to forget,” Clark said, stretched out on the couch and looking like he was still very much in high school.

“I loved it,” Lex said, like it was a dark confession.

“I know,” Clark snickered.

Lex paused for a moment, chewing the words over in his mind before he continued, “When Metropolis gets tiresome, I have this ridiculous daydream of taking Conner away from it all. Just giving up LuthorCorp and running off to some small town like this.”

“We could,” Clark said and it startled Lex, “The rest of the world doesn’t know I’m back. We could just quit. No more Lex Luthor, no more Superman. Just you, me, and Conner.”

Lex let out an astonished laugh, “You couldn’t give up Superman anymore than I could give up being a Luthor.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Clark said and that gave Lex pause.

“Clark?”

Clark shrugged, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on Lex. It made Lex’s heart twist into a tight knot under his ribs.

“Three years is just a long time to think. You know, about what’s important.”

It didn’t come to a head until the sun had gone down and the Kent household was settling in to sleep. Lex and Clark were sharing Clark’s old bedroom while Conner took the pullout couch, looking very cozy in the living room under a mountain of blankets. 

Freshly clean from the shower, Lex stepped into Clark's bedroom, washed warm in the light of the bedside lamp. He closed the door behind him and Clark, who was sitting on the side of the bed, looked up from his book.

“Lex,” Clark’s voice was soft with the tension that had been building all day. He set his book aside and Lex took in a deep breath, steadying himself. He’d seen that look before, just never on Clark’s face.

Lex knew the statistics. Having a child didn’t fix a marriage - not that the tenuous friendship between himself and Clark had ever been anything like a marriage.

“Don’t do this, Clark,” he warned, keeping his voice low and quiet.

“I don’t want to keep ignoring this thing between us,” Clark said, standing up.

“What thing?” Lex said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“I’ve wanted you since I was sixteen,” Clark said and Lex’s heart jumped into his throat.

“You’re just feeling nostalgic. You got over your crush years ago,” Lex dismissed him. 

“No, I didn’t,” Clark shook his head, crossing his arms.

“But you-

“Don’t act like a teenager anymore?” Clark cut in, one eyebrow raised.

Lex pursed his mouth, a slight frown forming on his brow.

“What happens to a crush that doesn’t go away?” Clark asked. He walked forward toward Lex, effectively pinning him against the door. Clark had always loved to trap him in a corner during an argument.

“Obsession, delusions, stalking,” Lex listed off.

“We’ve got those covered in spades,” Clark huffed, shaking his head, “What I meant was love. It wasn’t a crush anymore, not by the time I got out of high school. But I’d resigned myself to the fact you didn’t feel the same.”

“Clark, you know I couldn’t have…”

“I know, but I was sixteen and I thought the universe bent itself to your will. I was never quite fair to you.” Clark said and shot him a rueful grimace.

“No, you weren’t. But I wasn’t blameless either. I gave you all kinds of reasons not to trust me,” Lex sighed, running a hand over his face.

“Do you think we could start over?” Clark asked, letting quiet hope bleed into his voice.

Lex’s immediate answer was no. There was no way they could just wash away a decade of twisting the knife ever deeper, but the look in Clark’s eyes stopped him. Had he ever been able to tell Clark no?

“Alright,” Lex said, “We’ll start over.”

“So, you’ve just ran your Porsche off a bridge and you’re drowning. I pull you out of the water,” Clark’s hands curled softly into the collar of his shirt, tugging him forward. Their foreheads bumped together and Lex could feel the warmth of Clark’s chest against his. His own hands settled on Clark’s waist. The cotton of his pajamas was soft under his hands.

“And then I save you,” Clark pressed his mouth to Lex’s, chaste but firm. A full body shudder went through Lex, starting between his shoulder blades and cresting suddenly.

“I could’ve sworn I hit you with my car,” Lex murmured, dazed as Clark pulled back. 

“You did,” Clark’s gaze was serious.

The punched out noise that came from Lex’s chest sounded almost hurt. He pressed back up to meet Clark, desperate as their lips connected. Clark responded in kind, pulling Lex tight against him and turning them as they kissed. He walked Lex backward until his legs hit the mattress and they tipped back on the bed. Clark’s weight collapsed on top of him, warm and solid and all encompassing. They kissed until the feeling in Lex’s chest became unbearable, like he might come apart at the seams, and tears began to slip down his face. How long had he wanted this?

Fingertips grazed the edge of Lex’s sleep pants and Lex’s brain finally came back online. He caught Clark’s wrist and cleared his throat wetly, “There are many things I would like to do together, but not under Jonathan Kent’s roof.”

“When we get home then,” Clark said, pressing another kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Home,” Lex nodded, savoring the word in his mouth.

Breakfast the next morning was an exercise in enduring torture for Lex with Clark’s ankle brushing his under the table. Martha squinted between them, a knowing look in her shrewd gaze. Lex was thankful she saved her suspicions to share with Jonathan until after they had left.

The tension that had broken the night before settled between them again on the car ride back. Lex knew Clark was thinking about it as much as he was. What happened now? Clark was silent in the passenger seat, watching the rows and rows of fields fly by. Conner had fallen asleep in the backseat, head lolling against his carseat.

“I want to give you an opportunity to back out of this,” Lex said, keeping his eyes on the road. Clark snorted and Lex could practically see him roll his eyes

“When we met, you said we had a destiny together. I don’t think either of us are getting cold feet after all this time. It’s not your style to give up,” Clark said.

“It’s as much for my self preservation as it is for your sake,” Lex explained, his hands flexing on the steering wheel, “You know I won’t let you walk away from me or Conner. You’d have to kill me first.”

“I know you’re trying to sound scary, but you’re not the only one with a jealous streak,” Clark said, starting playful but growing more serious, “I’ve always been able to let other people go before, mostly to keep them out of danger. But, not you. For better or worse, my self control never applied to you.”

Lex chuckled. It was like a suicide pact.

“I’m controlling, paranoid, and manipulative, Clark. All those things you hate about me won’t just suddenly go away. What happens when I make some unreasonable demand of you?”

“You’re not Lionel, Lex,” Clark sighed, “We’d have a fight and then sort it out like adults. And what would you even ask me that would be unreasonable? I… I’d be willing to give up Superman if you wanted.”

“What? Why?” Lex glanced over at Clark, a frown flashing over his face.

“Because it wouldn’t be worth losing you again. The way things are now, how you are now, how we are now.”

It dawned on Lex, “You felt like you failed me before.”

“I did.” He could see Clark nodding in his peripheral vision. “I never gave up on you but I was bitter about how things had turned out. About how I’d pushed you away.”

“I don’t want you to stop being Superman. It’s part of you and it’s a positive role model for Conner. We’ll just have to work out a balance between us,” Lex said and then paused for a moment.

He smirked and continued, “And I suppose I won’t be trying to provoke you all the time, so I expect you’ll only have to destroy one of my labs every six months.”

“Lex!” Clark squawked before shooting a look to the back seat. Conner slept on.

“Really, Clark,” Lex said, growing serious again, “We’ll still have philosophical disagreements. We always will. I’ll keep pushing your boundaries and you’ll be insufferably moral, but…”

“But?” Clark prompted.

“If you’re really willing to commit to this, I think we can make it work. You’ll stop me from going too far and I’ll make sure you always keep the full picture in view.”

“So, we’ll be a team, then,” Clark said.

“If you like,” Lex nodded.

“I’d like us to be a family.”

It was a testament to Lex’s nerves that he didn’t drive them into a ditch.

“Is that your idea of a proposal, Clark?” Lex hissed, shooting another frown toward the passenger seat.

“No, I thought I’d wait a month or two for that. This can’t be a surprise to you, Lex. You know how I feel,” Clark said, unscrupulous as he always was after having said something outlandish.

“Yes, but, still,” Lex said, incredulous.

A long silence settled over the car, Lex’s mind working in circles. In the end, Clark was right. Lex had always, always believed in destiny.

“Your mother will want to plan the wedding, which means all of Smallville will inevitably be involved.”

Clark’s smile was blinding. He reached over and squeezed Lex’s thigh.

“At least the flowers will be good.”

That night, Clark donned the suit for the first time since his resurrection. It was just a quick zip over Metropolis to give the papers something to print the next day. Post-patrol, he crawled into bed and two o'clock in the morning found Lex warm under the weight of Clark’s body. Lex ran his hand up Clark’s bare spine, settling between his shoulder blades. Clark’s deep sighing breaths were the only noise in the dark bedroom. 

“I do love you,” Lex whispered into Clark’s temple, his curly hair kissing Lex’s cheek.

Clark surprised him, tightening his arms around Lex’s waist and murmuring into his shoulder.

“I love you too. Very much, Lex.”

Conner picked lint off his suit. Fifteen and stuck going to one of his dad’s galas. Boring.

He sat cross legged on the balcony overlooking the hall. Dancing hadn’t started yet, so there was very little entertainment in the way of people watching. Tim Drake sat down beside him and immediately stole a cookie off of Conner’s desert plate.

“Your tie looks weird,” Conner said, turning to his friend and wrinkling up his nose. He’d gotten Lex’s fashion sense to some degree. Lex had rejoiced that he wouldn’t spend Conner’s childhood wrestling flannel away from him.

“Selina bought it for me,” Tim said, grimacing down at the offending object, “She’s trying to win over the Robins.”

She clearly wasn’t doing a very good job. Conner said as much and Tim snorted, nodding along.

“I’m jealous of you sometimes,” Tim said, “Bruce has this on-and-off thing with half of the supervillains in Gotham. Sure, your dad is Lex Luthor, but at least he’s, like, normal at home.”

A little too normal. His dads were ridiculously cuddly.

“I’m getting my ears pierced next week,” Conner said, tilting his head with a smirk.

“Luthor finally convinced Clark to let you?” Tim grinned, pulling his knees up so he could cross his arms around them.

“Yeah,” Conner nodded, “No luck on Dad Clark convincing Dad Lex to let me do patrol though. Dad Lex wants me to focus on school right now.”

“Eh, give it time,” Tim said, waving his hand dismissively, “Can you imagine, though? You’d have to help one dad bust into your other dad’s secret lab.”

“They always get extra gross when they have an ‘epic confrontation,’” Conner made air quotes, “I’m glad Dad had the whole penthouse soundproofed.”

“Oh, ew,” Tim’s face crinkled up.

“Right? Grandpa says they’ve always been like that,” Conner said. Grandpa was always a reliable partner in complaining about his parents' PDA. “I mean, look at them.”

It was easy to spot them in the crowd below the balcony. Lex was schmoozing with a few senators and foreign dignitaries, looking perfectly at ease. Clark hung off him, playing a perfect Pulitzer Prize winning trophy husband for the evening. As if he’d heard them, Clark tilted his head to look over at the boys and winked. He then turned back to his husband, looking as love struck as any nineties rom-com lead.

“Super gross,” Tim agreed, “But it’s kinda nice too. That they love each other.”

“Yeah,” Conner grinned, the twist in his smile making him a mirror of Lex, “I know.”

Tim went a little pink and ducked his head. He leaned over to bump his shoulder against Conner’s.

Keeping his voice low, he asked, “Do you think we could sneak out to the movie theater down the street before anyone catches us?”

“Aunt Mercy’ll kill both of us, but, yeah, let’s go for it,” Conner said, tugging Tim to his feet. His dads would chew him out for it, but he was pretty sure they’d understand. After all, they’d done far crazier things for their best friend at his age.

-fin-