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The engine of the rented, beaten down Ford dies as the wheels strike the muddy path up to the Kent estate.
A great thing, really. With sights that extend past the treeline, overlooking the hills beyond. The scents of fertilizer and rain are strong, almost too strong. It's the last place in the world he'd choose to be, but then again… his choices are limited.
“You got him?” Clark asks, slipping out of the driver's seat, pulling Lex out of his haze.
“Mh.” Lex hums, reaching for Conner's seat and unbuckling him carefully. He babbles and kicks, baby blue onesie stained with the apple sauce they'd fed him earlier.
When he'd decided to make a biological product of his and Superman's DNA the last thing he'd imagined was that he'd be spending entire weekends visiting grandparents.
No, he expected them to view Conner as something to be buried. A secret they would never tell, hidden in the dark history book of the Kent family that keeps piling up with randomized moments of their lives brought on by their super son. From murder attempts to accidental fatherhood, they've got it all.
But then Kal-El – Clark – had come to him, weeks after the announcement of Conner's existence to the world. His head had been kept down, like a dog who'd done something bad, eyes drifting from the sleeping baby in a bassinet and the man in an all black suit. He'd confessed what happened to his parents, out of desperation and need of advice, of shelter, and they'd shown interest in meeting their grandson.
Lex couldn't believe it. Not at first, not for a few days.
And now he's here, walking with Conner in his arms up a dirt paved road while Clark manages their luggage like it's nothing. The door opens to reveal an older woman wiping her hands on a cherry-patterned apron, Clark's mother – Martha, rushes over while snickering to herself.
“We could've picked y’all up!” She yells, a smile pulling at her face already. “You must be Lex.”
“Indeed, Mrs. Kent. It's great to meet you.”
He swallows the bile that raises as Martha approaches him. Not out of disgust. No. Lex just feels like running, making it past the hills and spitting his lungs out before stepping foot inside that tiny, cozy home.
“And this must be Conner…”
Clark mutters something about introductions happening inside, so Lex swallows and follows behind them.
The inside of the home doesn't make him feel any better. He stands there, in the doorway like a ghost, his gaze drifting from the LuthorCorp branded TV to the framed pictures and articles on the walls – Clark's graduation pictures, a clumsy headshot, his first ever front page at the Planet.
So much love is stored in those framed memories.
He'd tried to destroy this – To rid a family of their son. He was going to destroy the world in order to achieve that, caring very little for whoever got hurt in the process, and they're just letting him walk into their home. They're receiving him with open arms while chatting about clutter in the barn and dusty blankets put out to get some sun that Clark will have to retrieve before it gets dark and cold.
“May I?” Martha asks, Lex's eyes snapping to her.
Dumbly, he blinks. “I'm sorry?”
“May I hold him?”
Lex glances at Clark, his broad back covering half the arch that leads to the kitchen, and he nods.
Martha is careful, though her warm hands graze against Lex's cold, slender ones and the feeling of her aged skin against his makes him feel odd. Knowing his mother never got there, he never saw her like this, it makes him want to hurl.
He doesn't, though. He lets Martha carry a confused Conner, whose eyes admire everything around him as he's seeing it all for the first time – She coos at him, softly speaking in a way he'll understand, introducing herself as his grandma and taking him away despite the pit of despair that settles inside Lex's stomach. He watches, from a distance and while in a daze, as Martha disappears into the kitchen with his son – his creation.
“Lex,” Clark's voice, nearer, warmer. “You look sick.”
“Airplane food.” He quips dismissively.
“He's okay,” Clark reassures him, a steady hand lands on his shoulder, far too kind for him to stand. “My mom's got him. Come on, I'll show you my room.”
Lex feels glued to the floor, peeling himself off that spot in order to follow Clark upstairs.
Clark's room preserves an essence that transports them into another time. A younger Clark, collecting band posters for the worst band in the world and science fair trophies. An unfair advantage, Lex wants to say, he wants to dig into old wounds and bring Clark down.
He can't. All of this… The display of one's proudest moments, a dusty corner desk with scribblings on the wood done in black ink, a collection of CDs. Clark's bedroom is so entirely him. His essence is even in the bedding, bright blue and checkered. Lex scans every corner, noticing a lack of sports memorabilia and any sort of sport-related trophy.
“You didn't do physical activities?” Lex asks, hands held behind his back as Clark fixes up the bed.
“Uh, wasn't allowed to,” A faint pink blush creeps up Clark's cheeks, probably remembering high-school years. “My strength was always something hard to manage, I didn't wanna hurt anyone.”
Lex hates that answer. He scoffs. “Of course you didn't.”
“Yeah, so,” Clark motions with his hands. “No sports. I did other stuff, though. Like theater.”
“You? You've done theater?”
It's almost impossible to picture a younger Clark up on a stage. As Superman he's almost flawless, managing himself and his persona with a certain swiftness that sweeps even the harshest shelled ones off their feet.
But as Clark? He's a mess. Clark Kent is a clutz. Always tripping over his own feet, breaking pairs of hypnoglasses from sitting on them, getting himself into awkward situations and crying about them later. Theater doesn't sound like the thing an anxious mess like him would go for, and yet, Lex is endeared by this new information.
“You don't think I have the talent?” Clark's grin reaches his ears, almost. He's too bright. Too distracting against the sudden doom.
“The guts, rather. I've seen you try to interview someone who wasn't yourself. I'm surprised.”
Clark feigns offense, clutching at his chest and pulling a pained expression. “Ouch. Low blow.”
Lex doesn't laugh, but he's sure he does something close to laughing. He begins pacing around the room, his feet burning under him. “So, why journalism, then? Why didn't you become an actor, Kal-El?”
“I think I've done enough acting my whole life,” Clark's tone is suddenly too honest, barren of that barrier he usually pulls around Lex. “As Superman, I mean. Or maybe as Clark. I'm not sure which one’s the role, which one's me.”
“They're both you,” Lex says, because he means it. There's no distinction other than just a little bit more style and smoothness – But Clark plays the dork part really well, it's suave in a way. “I'm curious which plays you interpreted.”
He doesn't miss the smile in Clark's face, softer now, eyes glinting against the sunlight.
“I can't remember,” Voice faint, borderline sweet. Clark's shoulders rise as he takes a stuttering breath. “My yearbook is stored in the barn, I could show you later… if you want.”
Lex, always the curious man, bites his lower lip at the proposal. In a way, being alone with Clark feels less insane than being with his parents, it just doesn't feel quite right still.
“I'd like that.” Lex's words come out heavy, and if Clark notices then he doesn't say a thing.
—
After lunch Clark's parents call it off for a midday nap. Lex reads a couple emails, responds to even fewer, relying on his duties to Mercy as he announces he'll be off the grid for the weekend.
His path of boredom leads him to the stables, where Clark is holding Conner in his arms, allowing him to pet the horses.
They're majestic creatures. Well taken care of, groomed and strong. Conner watches in awe as they chew on hay or try to eat Clark's jacket, which causes him to giggle in that bubbly way he often does. Lex can't remember the last time he rode a horse, maybe in his early twenties – Back when he would be a concurrent invitee of the country club.
Sad that they didn't like people having sex in the open fields. It could've worked out.
“You don't wanna lie down?”
Clark's question makes him shrug, his hand coming up to pet the horse's face. “I don't nap, Clark. My day consists of working until the lights are off, and then some more.”
“Okay,” Clark huffs. “But that's not happening here. You can rest and nobody'll judge you.”
“I don't wanna lie down.”
“Alright,” Clark throws his hands up in defeat. “Sorry. You just seem tired.”
“I'll manage.” Lex bites down, ignoring the frown in Clark's face.
Clark breathes out, patting Conner's back softly until the boy practically dozes off in his arms.
“You wanna ride?” Clark asks, tilting his head towards the horse while looking at Lex.
The question brings a pink tint to Lex's cheeks, smoothly asked. For a minute he wonders if there's some hidden innuendo underneath it, but he knows Clark's not that type of guy.
“What about Conner?” Lex quirks a brow.
“We lay him down in my parent's room,” Clark grunts as he shifts the child from one arm to the other. “They'll look over him, mom's not a heavy sleeper.”
Lex tries to fill the pit in his stomach by swallowing saliva, “Okay,” he mutters, quieter than before.
He just watches as Clark struts back to the house, making sure not to wake up Conner in the process. Lex waits, patiently switching from one foot to the other as he ponders what the hell he's doing.
Five minutes later Clark comes empty handed. A successful delivery.
Clark lets the horse out of his stable, leading him through the back as he clicks his tongue and coos at the animal. Lex follows silently behind, admiring how fitting this all is for Clark – He blends into the scenery, suddenly no longer greater than humanity but just a farm boy with his horse and his stained jeans.
The horse just lets himself be saddled, Clark's hands work expertly and quickly. Probably has done this so many times before – He makes sure that everything is in order before turning to Lex with an extended hand, which he looks down at and bites his tongue about it. Lex grabs it, tensing under the warmth of Clark's skin, and yelps when he's pulled up onto the horse. The animal doesn't even react, but Lex's heart is racing.
“Okay?” Clark asks, and Lex wants to yell at him, abort the mission and go back inside.
But blue eyes look up at him, brighter than the sea, and Lex just nods like an idiot.
Clark climbs behind him, his body encompassing Lex's despite a lack of important height difference. Pure muscle pressed against slender, more of an athletic physique – Lex chokes on his breath, the itchiness of his sweater a harsh contrast against Clark's flannel, his legs threaten to give out beneath him one Clark gives the first hiya.
Through the forest, up the hills. Lex's eyes are rarely captivated, but he can't lie about the view.
It's gorgeous. Everything is so green, so full of life in a way. Clark's warmth feels like a protective shield against him, technically is, and the soft bounce of the uneven terrain makes it hard to focus but he's not sure he minds. Clark's got the reins, anyway, and he leads the horse through paths well traveled, ones he probably knows like the palm of his hand.
“I used to do this,” Clark's faint tone of worry doesn't annoy Lex as much as before. “When I was younger and needed to clear my head… I'd take my horse and ride through these parts.”
Lex can't look back at him, physically feels unable to. “Is that what we're doing? Clearing our heads?”
“Mine’s crystal, Lex. I'm trying to help.”
“So benevolent,” Lex snickers. “Don't worry, I'll put in a for your consideration note for your Nobel.”
Clark brings the horse to a jolt, stopping his movements with simple communication. Lex drops backwards into his chest, a solid wall thudding when it meets his shoulders.
“Then what's your problem? If you're so relaxed and zen.”
“You know what my problem is.”
“That's too fucking bad, Lex,” The words come out like they hurt. Superman doesn't cuss. He doesn't use foul language. He's a midday event for children, goddammit. “You should've thought about it deeper when you made these decisions.”
Lex clicks his jaw, licking over his top row of teeth. “It wasn't supposed to go this way.”
“Yeah,” Clark sighs, eyes distant. “Should I turn back?”
“No,” Lex murmurs. “Let's keep going ahead.”
The horse moves again, slowly bouncing up the hills and rounding the edge of the property until they run out of walkable paths.
Clark tells him to go back inside once they've returned, he walks off to put the horse back where he belongs without another word. The awkward trek back to the house after their mild fight makes Lex want to crawl out of his own skin, opening the door to find Martha holding a fussy Conner in the kitchen.
The moment Conner's eyes lock on him the dam breaks, inconsolable cries fill up the household in seconds.
Lex hurries, grabbing him in his arms and trying to soothe him. Martha's worried frown isn't helping.
“We've just never spent time apart,” Lex explains, rocking Conner against his hip, wiping his tears. “It's a whole new thing for him.”
Sympathy crosses her every facial detail. “When Clark was a baby, smaller than this, he'd cry for entire nights,” Martha rounds the counter, pulling stuff out of the pantry. “We didn't know what to do. I mean, we suddenly had a baby and he was no normal baby,”
She fills up the kettle, setting it over the oven with her trembling hands. “After one too many attempts at soothing him, we gave up. Jon took him outside one night, showed him the stars – Clark had never stopped crying so fast.”
Lex holds onto Conner tightly, his hiccuping now buried against the fabric of his sweater. His words come out heavy, sluggish. “He missed his home.”
“Still does, sometimes,” Martha smiles sadly to herself. “He won't say, no. Clark's very proud of being from earth. And after that message – His feelings on his origins are complicated.”
Lex is too close to say he's sorry. Behind them the door opens, Martha turns back to the stove and Clark comes up, his worried frown stays until he reaches them.
“I heard the cries, is he ok?” Clark's soft, gentle tone disarms Lex. All he can do is just nod. “Closed up the barn, looks like a storm's nearing.”
“Jon! We gotta check up on the cattle!”
Conner is chewing on his own fingers when Lex looks down, bright blues looking up at him, soaked in crystalline tears. Lex smooths the pads of his fingers across Conner's forehead, kissing right on the spot.
Martha slides two cups of steaming cocoa across the counter, smiling kindly at her son and his not-so-archenemy before she walks away behind Jonathan, following him through the back door.
It's the best damned hot cocoa he's ever had. And Lex doesn't indulge in these drinks – They're pure sugar, basically a trick for children. But he wouldn't want Martha's effort to go to waste, and Clark dives into his cup without a second thought, Lex envies his tolerance to heat. It's rude to finish before others in your own home, but Clark isn't very classy when it comes to cocoa, it seems.
“I'll prepare his bottle.” Clark gives Lex's shoulder a soft, firm squeeze of reassurance.
Conner can eat solids. His body doesn't develop like that of a normal child's, despite his half human DNA, so he would be just fine eating solid meals. But Lex had managed to brew an infused version of baby milk that would give him sufficient nutrients and vitamins for a system like his.
Still, Conner enjoys the casual bite of cheese and anything sweet drives him crazy. Lex guesses the sweet tooth is hereditary.
Clark turns out to be right. Light rain begins as the day comes to an end. Martha calls him up after having been on the phone for some time, asking if he could go help a neighbor who's injured with pulling his animals together before the storm gets worse. Clark, local hero and sheep whisperer, doesn't miss a beat and is out of his home so fast one would think he's happy to have something to do that isn't writing articles on local news.
Lex eats casserole for dinner, watches across the table as Clark wolfs down four plates of the stuff. He'd be endeared if Clark had better table manners.
Of course, they've been on a streak since the afternoon, so a fight had to break out at any given moment.
It's over their sleeping arrangements now.
“Just take the bed, Lex,” Clark sighs, shoulders down, face tired. “I don't even fit in it anymore.”
“I can't sleep in here.”
“Why not? The couch isn't any better, there's ancient crumbs on it. Please.”
He'd be staining a memory. A preservation of innocence, and maybe that wouldn't make sense to Clark, who's so willing to give himself up so Lex can be comfortable, but it makes sense to him. And that's about enough.
“Conner will be okay sleeping here.”
Clark rolls his eyes, grabbing onto Lex's wrist before he can exit the room. Lex glares at his hand like it burns.
“Alexander.”
“Kal-El,” Lex grunts. “Unhand me.”
Jon comes up the stairs right at that moment. His eyes are drawn to Clark's hold on Lex's wrist, who lets him go immediately. Lex stumbles back slightly, pulling himself together, swallowing down his awkwardness.
“Goodnight to you both, boys.”
They murmur it back, waiting as Jon clicks the door of his bedroom closed to return to their cat and mouse bit.
“We make a deal then, you're good at those.”
Lex narrows his eyes at that. He's good at closing them, at choosing business partners, at knowing where to sink his teeth.
Clark often ends up being shot because he tries to talk people out of their own madness.
The deal makes no sense, really. Clark spends the next twenty minutes rummaging through a hallway closet until he hits gold, or – a sleeping bag that doesn't look big enough for him to fit inside. He sets it up on the floor of the room, right at the end of the bed, and triumphantly closes the door behind them like he's won something.
“This deal is terrible,” Lex frowns, his words lacking malice. “If we were in LuthorCorp I would've thrown you out the window.”
Clark smiles, bright and blinding. “Good thing I can fly.”
They take turns brushing their teeth, washing their faces and getting ready for bed. Clark sleeps in old, worn down pajamas. Lex's silk feels wrong against the fabric of the comforter.
He fits in the bed, somehow. He's not tiny, but Clark's just – He's Superman.
This bed kept getting smaller as he grew up, Lex guesses. Has Clark ever had anyone else in here? He was a theater nerd, a naturally designated outcast given his background. Clark didn't have the same experiences as every other high-school kid, and neither did Lex. Years before Clark stood on a small stage interpreting Shakespeare Lex had been showing up to class so high he didn't even know what day it was.
Lex laughs to himself, airy and dry. If there's two people more different than them then he'll willingly give them each a gold medal.
“Night, Lex.” Clark murmurs from the floor, his bulk illuminated by the moonlight.
“Goodnight, Clark.”
—
“A gallon of oil,” Clark snorts. “Bet ya’ never bought that in your life.”
Lex just responds with an eyeroll. They're in town, strolling around because they were kicked out of the home while Martha prepares for the upcoming weekend and the local fair. She participates every year, her apple pies are locally famous.
Conner's tightly wrapped around Clark's chest, he'd insisted on getting that ridiculous baby sling months ago and he hasn't let it go.
He doesn't seem to mind. He looks like a happy baby, overall, and Clark keeps talking to him because Lex won't respond to his teasing.
They hit up a few spots. Lex insists on paying out of his own pocket for everything, Clark refuses to fight him while outside so, very reluctantly, he allows Lex to swipe that black card every time.
So many people say hi to Clark. He ducks his head shyly and nods at everyone, blushing every time anyone mentions how big he's gotten – Lex stands awkwardly to the side every time. The grocery store is small, filled up with the necessary things for the small town life. Rows of things Lex would never eat, and yet Clark has a story for each treat he sees on the shelves.
“Clark Kent!”
Their heads whip around. A woman the same age as Clark is standing there, blonde, bright eyed.
“Chloe?” Clark's question is spoken with slight disbelief. She nods, engulfing him on a side hug as soon as he recognizes her.
“Look at you, big city man,” She punches his arm lightly. “And who's this?”
“This is Conner, and this is Lex.”
Lex reaches over for a handshake, her hands are warm and soft. Her attention is drawn back to Clark. “Thought you'd be, quote-unquote, forever alone. Or what did you say before we graduated?”
“Ah, that,” Clark flushes pink all the way up to his neck. “I'm – We're just coparenting.”
“Sure thing, cowboy. Hey, let me give you my new number!”
Lex thanks all the gods above as they exit the store. Clark carries their stuff back to the truck, whispering he's sorry as they hit the last of their store-stops.
The hardware store is a cluttered mess. Properly right out of some late eighties movie. Lex walks behind Clark, trying not to step on anything or kick anything down by accident – Clark glances down at the list, tapping on the front counter while Conner babbles up at him.
The man that walks out of the back seems like a weird stereotype. Rough. Rugged. Intolerant.
His narrowed eyes scan over Clark, then Lex. He clears his throat. “You the Kent boy?”
Clark nods. “Yeah, my dad asked–,”
“You some kind of fag?”
Lex almost laughs at that. Clark visibly tenses, a protective hand coming to rest at the back of Conner's sling. “I need – Here, why don't you take a look at it, you should know better than me.”
He hands over the written note, the guy murmurs something about them and walks off again.
“What's his problem?” Clark huffs.
“We're staining his all-American, red white and blue traditional family, Clark. I'd be mad too.”
His sarcasm doesn't seem to soothe Clark. Lex doesn't attempt to joke again, instead he just stands back, wondering if this would make a good trendy café spot. Maybe a good spot to sell LuthorCorp tech.
“I don't got the screws he needs, those come next week,” The older man groans, he has everything else, though. “That boy needs a mother.”
Clark's jaw tenses, his fingers flexing at his side. “How much do I owe you?”
“This why I won't let my boy go into the city. They all turn out like y'all, come back wrong. Them people on the box that say life's better there know nothing–,”
“How much do I owe you? Don't let me ask you again.”
Last time Lex heard Clark's voice turn to that tone it'd been directed to him, sternly scolding him for trying to destroy the world. Darkness clouds over Clark's eyes and he refuses to let the eye contact dissipate, intimidating the older man into making himself smaller.
Lex can't lie. It's kind of hot.
He'd say so, tease Clark even further, but it's clear he's actually upset as they storm out of the store. He unfolds Conner from the sling, settling him on the backseat. Lex jumps on the passenger side, side-eyeing Clark as he starts the truck and drives away, hands clenched around the leather with controlled anger flowing through his veins.
Clark goes off once he's through the front door. His parents stare, wide eyed and horrified at what they're hearing. Lex just stands back, Conner in his arms.
“We're so sorry,” Martha frowns, helplessly trying to soothe a fuming Clark. “He's never been like that to us, we've known him since you were little.”
Clark scoffs, rubbing a palm over his face. “I wanted to grab him and shake those thoughts away.”
“I'll have your pa go talk to him–,”
“It's no use, Mrs. Kent,” Lex sighs, tilting his head. “Not saying this to be a downer, but it's clear he's been like this for a long time. He's old. There's no changing his mind.”
Clark just storms off. Lex doesn't know how familiar Clark is with public displays of intolerance like those, but he guesses he's never been the victim of many before.
Conner takes his afternoon nap after Lex rocks him for a while, right on the couch, in eye's view so Lex can help Martha with her tasks.
Lex's first experiences with homophobia came from his own father. He was young enough to be horrified and old enough to understand what he'd been told – A man should never lie with another man. Lionel considered the most perverse thing one could do, all the while using the back of his hand to teach his son manners.
Faggot was just a synonym used to refer to him for a long time. When Lionel wanted to hit him where it hurt he'd pull his strongest armory.
When he first had sex with a man he'd had an entire mental breakdown right after. For the longest time one of his worst fears was to have the world know the heir of the LuthorCorp empire was gay. So, he chose to pretend – He would have a rooster of women he'd go through, usually showing them off in public, posing with them for his socials. All the while, during private parties and lonesome nights, he'd find the quickest fix in the first man who complimented him enough.
But then Lionel died, and the world kept changing. Spinning. It kept going.
Bruce Wayne's bisexuality was widely accepted. More and more CEOs began coming forth with their own confessions after that. So, Lex stopped pretending.
He didn’t come out. Didn't feel the need to. He just stopped faking for the cameras.
“Lex, would you be a dear and go get Clark for me? He usually hides out in the loft right out there in the barn.”
He's about to tell Martha there's nothing he can do for Clark, emotionally-wise, but her eyes plead and he's weak to those Kent puppy-eyes, he's realized.
The scent of hay strikes hard. Lex's fine shoes are buried deep into the soil as he enters the bar. He walks up the steps with his hands buried deep in his pockets, finding Clark just sitting there in that red couch, fidgeting with his fingers.
Their eyes meet as Lex gets close to the open window that overlooks the property.
“I'm guessing my ma sent you.”
Lex nods curtly. “Zero respect for your elders, Clark.”
“I don't get how you're so calm after such a bad interaction.”
Sighing, Lex motions at Clark to make space for him on that dusty couch. Their thighs are touching, Clark's a living furnace next to him.
“You might find it surprising but even the most powerful men on this earth are subject to the sick and sour bigotry of homophobic assholes.”
“What he said about Conner,” Clark swallows. “He's wrong.”
“Yes, of course he is. Millions of children worldwide grow up in odd families, multiple without mothers, there's no need for you to comfort me.”
“He's got us.” Clark turns to him, and he's so disarmed by the events that Lex can't help it – He reaches over, his movements hesitant and nervous, placing his hand on top of Clark's where it's resting on his knee.
Clark makes it worse by interlocking their fingers together. Intimacy isn't Lex's thing, but his heart skips a beat as Clark's soft hands engulf his own.
They don't – Lex doesn't know what this is.
One second they're at each other's throats and the next they're acting like a happy family. God. Clark had called it coparenting back at the store. There's nothing written in official papers because, technically, Conner was never born.
He hatched out of a test tube, bigger than your usual baby. Lex gave him his last name once it was suggested he raise him as his own, just so Conner could grow used and indoctrinated towards the anti-Superman sentiments shared with his father. Father. Lex Luthor isn't cut out for fatherhood, neither was his father. He carries the weight of sin, the branding of scars that won't fade.
And Clark, bright eyed and overly optimistic, wants him to play house. Even if knows what the end will bring.
Right here, in this middle earth where they're no longer close to godhood, where they can just be Lex and Clark, that fantasy almost edges on reality.
“How many people have you kissed here?”
Clark laughs, blushing at the question. “Zero.”
“That's a bummer,” Lex's eyes flicker from his lips then back up, locking gazes. “It's a good spot.”
“Yeah?” Clark leans in, unaware of just how stupidly hot it is when his voice drops low, almost into a rumble. Without his glasses he loses the obstacle of nerdiness, looks-wise, at least.
“Perfect, almost. It needs a cleanup.”
They're so close, Lex smells like apple pie and sugar, sweet and tangy. Clark's face is right there, inching closer as his hands come to rest on Lex's thighs.
He can almost taste him, Lex feels parched.
But then –
Clark whips his head around, lips pulled into a tight smile. “Baby's crying.”
“I'll go back,” Lex mutters, regretting looking down almost immediately. Clark's affected in very deep, big, hard ways down south. “You should fix yourself up before coming inside.”
He rejoices in the shade of red Clark turns when he notices, too. The innuendo isn't meant, but Lex laughs all the same as he rushes back indoors.
—
Lex is, obviously, forced to participate on the stand during the weekend.
Not forced – Martha asks him and Clark if they'd be willing to manage it for them. Clark says yes for the two of them, in exchange they get the day off, Conner sticks behind with his grandparents.
Lex is looking up at the billboard, eyes narrowed.
“Letters could've been less wobbly.”
Clark sighs, he's carrying boxes of apples and setting up the stand. “I'm not an artist. I'm a journalist. I got the best try award in art class when I was fourteen.”
“Alien powers didn't grant you perfect artistry?”
“I pack a mean punch, even when I'm holding myself back.”
People begin to flood the space around them. An assortment of things are being sold by the locals, but Clark is entranced by the food around him.
Lex is glad he'd hit up the ATM at the airport before they came here, Clark keeps asking for bills and saying I'll pay you back. Lex doesn't comment on the journalist salary versus his own, he just takes bites out of funnel cake and drinks black coffee.
Clark is a surprisingly good salesman, or a good apple-pie-seller, at least. Lex just watches him, convinced that Clark could bring the world to its knees with that smile alone. All deep dimples and white teeth showing, shimmering against the sunlight, people can't help but smile back at him.
He gets hit on a lot, actually. Women come and give their best viper impressions as they try and sneak some sort of flirting into the conversation. Clark, while not clueless to their intentions, couldn't care any less. They leave with apple pies and broken hearts, ushered by the next customer. Lex gets close, hand on the small of Clark's back, using his best faux gentle tone on the poor victims of Clark's charm.
“They'd eat you alive if they could.” Lex murmurs, eyes following their last customer.
Clark chuckles under his breath. “Jealous?”
“Of whoever sticks to the guy who gets a hard on just from kissing? Sure. Dying of jealousy.”
“Didn't think you'd pull away if Conner wasn't crying.”
He wouldn't have. No. Lex would've ridden Clark into that rusty couch – But that's not something that needs to be said out loud.
“The loft gives you a weird sense of bravery, Kent.”
Clark just rolls his eyes, suddenly he's grabbing Lex by the front of his jacket, pulling him close.
He's about to protest when Clark's lips press against his, short and chaste and sweet. Sweet like nothing else Lex has ever tasted before. The world fades into the background, Lex's hands cup Clark's face in between his palms and the oxygen is punched out of his lungs when they pull apart.
Someone clears their throat in front of them, none other than Jonathan Kent.
Lex wishes he could take that punch Clark was talking about.
He's bringing a new batch of pies, or something. Lex doesn't speak for the rest of the afternoon. Clark manages the stand all by himself, pleased to death, smirking at Lex anytime their gazes meet.
They return home with a good gathering of capital and a sense of burning shame. Lex wishes the truck would explode, but then again, Clark would save him – There's no getting away from this feeling. Lex just takes Conner back upstairs, locking himself in Clark's childhood bedroom as his mind spins with uncertainty.
His phone buzzes on the nightstand, Mercy's caller ID accusingly stares back at him.
“Miss Graves.”
“Lex,” She greets, breathing deeply. “Thought I'd lost you in the hay.”
“No way, Mercy. Heat vision would make that impossible.”
She chuckles. “How are things?”
“They're –,” Lex swallows, he can still taste Clark's lips on his. Sweet. Apple pie filling with a perfectly cooked crust. Hot cocoa on top. “They're good.”
“Okay. I've got news about our deal with the Balkan territory placement for the nuclear plant. Local government leaders want total immunity in the eyes of international law. They also want signed ownership of half the weapons.”
Conner babbles, laughing softly. Lex taps his nose.
He's got us.
Us. As if they were a unity. Lex's never ending list of crimes forgiven, just like that.
“Call it off.”
Mercy goes silent on the other end, then, “Lex. You're kidding me.”
Clark's voice echoes from the hall, something about fetching Lex and Conner. Lex's chest tightens – Conner grabs his finger, happily cheering as he sees Clark standing in the doorway.
“Do as I say, Mercy. It's not a discussion.”
He shuts the call off, tossing his phone to the side. Clark's chewing around an apple as he steps forward. “That sounded serious.”
“Things are rarely not serious with business.”
“Which is why I chose journalism.” Clark smiles, sitting down next to Lex and Conner.
“Right. An unserious profession, closer to clown school than one would think.”
Clark actually laughs. He brushes a hand across Conner's soft, black hair. Seven months inside a test tube and he's the vivid image of his alien parent. Lex is a bit bitter about that.
He'll excuse it with his freedom hanging on by a thread. Lex is well aware that Rick Flag Sr and Waller's sympathy only goes as far depending on what he has to offer to make them look good or to save their asses. Mercy will not believe him, but that's okay, she's never been one to push him on subjects and that's why he keeps her around.
Maybe he can pretend for a little longer. Cling onto made up normalcy until he's left hanging dry again.
“Ma wants us to hit the diner before we go back home,” Their eyes meet, gazes softening. “That's a gourmet meal here, Mr. Luthor.”
“If I'm allowed to pay, yes. I'll go with you.”
Clark's laugh is loud, bark-like. “Yeah. You're totally free to fight Martha Kent over the bill if you want.”
The Kents are adored everywhere, it seems. The diner staff receives them and greets them happily, fussing over baby Conner like he's the first baby they see in eons.
Lex isn't sure what he's supposed to order. He's used to eating at restaurants that export their food from remote places of the world – His most normal meal is usually crab risotto with a steak carved from the finest cows the industry can slaughter. The things on the menu are foreign to him, not taste-wise but he hasn't eaten any of them in… well, years, maybe. He doesn't remember.
Clark is squeezed close to him on the booth, clearly unable to decide. Lex leans in, quietly says, “Order for me.”
Beaming, Clark nods. “Sure, honey.”
Lex kicks him under the table, it does nothing.
He eats a mixture of waffles, bacon and eggs. Something he wouldn't touch in his life, really, but it's good. He might be falling victim to Stockholm Syndrome caused by the niceness of everyone around him. Victim to Clark's Midwestern charm and his stupid deep dimples and the way he squeezes his leg under the table to soothe his nerves.
Martha's face when he suggests paying could freeze a man and break him in pieces.
She scolds him all the way to the truck, and then some more. Clark's very amused by the situation, holding Conner in his arms, who had fallen asleep in the borrowed high chair after eating handfuls of mashed potatoes and cut up pancakes.
“Hey,” Clark grabs his coat before walking inside, leaning in to whisper. “Put him to bed and meet me in the loft later.”
Lex shivers, nodding at the command.
He feels like a teenager once again, sneaking around the dark household once he's set Conner on the bed, pillows surrounding him and even on the floor – To protect the floorboards, mostly.
Clark's on the same spot on the couch. He's got a book open on his lap, tapping the space next to him.
Lex sits down, silently staring at the pages.
“Told you I'd show you my yearbook,” Clark flips through them, endless rows of pictures. Lex just stares, most faces unrecognizable to him, but then Clark's on the page about the theater group. “We did Hamlet for one year. The only show that got us any applause.”
“Harsh crowd.” Lex frowns.
“Smalltown folk don't care much for classic plays, I guess.”
“I would've clapped,” Lex leans closer. “Well, maybe. Only if you did a good job.”
“Get me on a stage and I'll show you.”
“There's no way you can do that by yourself.”
“You have the money, you can get me some stage mates.” Clark shrugs.
He lands on the page for his class. That girl – Chloe – is there, she looks exactly the same. Clark rants about a few of his classmates, his good memory is a punishment, considering he's still holding grudges over stolen chocolate pudding twenty years later.
Then there's Clark.
His dark hair slicked back, white shirt with a red flannel, smile lopsided and awkward. His glasses were different back then, which makes Lex wonder if anyone from back then recognized him on the television when he first showed up.
Clark was cute. Boyish charm and bright blue eyes as he posed for the camera, which is piss poor in quality but it's as if his entire personality can be felt through the page. Lex tilts the page closer to him. Would they have been friends, had they met back then? He doubts it. He's always hated optimistic and charming people. Envious of their natural predisposition to be liked, adored, without having to mask who they truly were.
But Clark, at his very core, has always been good.
“At sixteen I was already taller than most kids in my class.” Clark reminisces.
“You're lucky the basketball leagues don't scout their players from the middle of nowhere, Kansas.”
“Mh. And also, football scholarships were the thing back then and I never liked football all that much,” Clark shuts the yearbook down, tossing it aside. “Do you think Conner will be able to live normally? I mean, he's half human, isn't he?”
“I don't know about sports, but we could find a way for him to burn energy.”
He catches himself on the use of we, Clark says nothing about it.
He hates the silence that stretches on between them. He can hear the nighttime fauna outside – The soft breeze coming through the open window.
“Why did you call me over here, Clark? It wasn't the yearbook, was it?”
Clark flushes pink. “I just – Earlier, when we were at the diner, things felt… normal, almost. I let myself believe that that was our normalcy. I forgot about everything else.”
“But that's not us.” Lex looks down at his lap, feeling his chest sinking.
“Isn't it?” Clark laughs. “I mean, it's easier when we're not trying to cause harm to each other. My ma even said we look good together.”
That feeling – guilt, Lex recognizes – comes back in full force. His stomach turns and tosses, churning at the idea of things being easy.
Not because he wouldn't like that to be what his life is, but rather because he doesn't deserve it. Everything he's done, all the way to baby trapping Clark, has been to do harm. Conner's sole existence is proof of his vitriol, of how his hatred for the man next to him controls him and drives him to the extremes. He'll have to confess that at some point, when Conner asks why his life is so far away from that of everyone else's.
And here's Clark, saying it doesn't have to be like that.
Leaving the ball in Lex's court, waiting on him, being patient even after everything that has happened. Clark's initial horror had worn down so fast, his heart soaring once he'd seen that little baby in that overly expensive bassinet who looked like a carbon copy of him.
“Mh, I'd say I look a little more fashionable.”
Clark beams, giggling. “What's so bad about my clothes? They're farm-adequate.”
“Those hellish suits you wear at home would like to make a case for themselves. If you even want to be seen next to me you'll need to be seized by a tailor.”
More laughter, Clark's hand comes up to rest on his hip. Lex turns to look at him, feeling his body turn all jelly-like. Warmth takes over, leaning into Clark's space feels easier than anything he's ever done, letting himself fit against his pieces.
“I'll get one tailored suit,” Clark murmurs. “Per year.”
Lex scoffs. “We will see about that.”
Their lips connect, the kiss starts slow and passionate though it turns heated too quickly. Lex is pushed against the arm of the couch, thighs spreading so Clark can crawl right in between.
Clark's all over him. His scent. His warmth. His hands. God. Those broad, big hands that sneak below his sweater and his shirt, touching him all over. Lex gasps into the kiss as his nipples are caressed by the pad of his fingers. Thumbs flicking them as Clark's tongue assaults the inside of his mouth, licking over the taste of the dinner they'd had earlier.
Lex grabs his jaw, nails digging into the shaved skin. Clark grins at him, like he's won something.
Even through his stupid jeans Lex can tell that he's sporting a hard on that must hurt. Clark angles their bodies in a weird way, close enough so that he can grind forward – The friction has Lex biting back a groan, his own cock twitching inside his slacks, already staining them with his pre-come.
Lex pulls back, licking over his lips to break the trail of saliva that connects their mouths. “Did you masturbate on this couch last time? Did you think of me?”
“God – I, I had to,” Clark confesses, burning beneath his clothes. “Couldn't get it down.”
“From just a kiss? My, my, Clark.”
“Don't tease me,” Clark pouts, pressing soft, chaste kisses to his lips. “It wasn't just a kiss.”
“You're such a romantic. It sickens me.”
“Should I write an apology for my whimsical nature? How many pages?”
“I think you should shut up and fuck me.”
Clark does as he's told, mainly the shutting up part. He's not done toying with Lex just yet.
It's not as cold as it is during the winter, but Clark worries about peeling all their clothes. He also worries about the barn being wide open and free to the public – Said public being his parents, who could easily walk in on them.
But Lex is looking at him with gleaming blue-green eyes, pleading. Clark's just a man underneath that harsh exterior, a man with needs.
Undressing Lex takes a second, but Lex's hands are on him and his lips are latched to his neck, making it impossible for him to get his shirt off. Clark's cock strains against the seam of his jeans and he grunts when Lex palms him through the fabric, wishing he could feel that soft hand on his skin, wrapped around his length.
“Honey,” He croaks. “Let me – I can't proceed if I'm not naked.”
Lex huffs, pouting like a child as he pulls back so Clark can undress.
Yeah, the friction feels better now that there's less layers in between them. Briefs thin enough that Clark can feel the stickiness inside Lex's.
Clark trails a path of kisses down Lex's neck, all the way to his collarbone and then even lower, he paints beautiful bruises onto that pale skin with his mouth. The moonlight beams down on them, providing natural light that makes it all seem almost magical. Clark wishes he could take Lex there, let him sit on top of that cold, vast rock and show him the endless expanse of everything he's willing to protect and defend just to keep him safe.
He sucks bruises onto Lex's pelvic bone, fingers hooked around the waistband of his briefs.
Lex sighs in pleasure as his cock is freed. Clark licks over his teeth, getting lower and lower until he's practically dealing off the couch.
“I've got an idea.” Clark murmurs, Lex narrows his eyes at him, expecting a follow up.
He grabs every blanket he's got lying around, positioning them on the floor. It's a sturdy base, warm and plush, Clark extends a hand towards Lex and smiles when Lex takes it.
This is his safehaven. His first ever Fortress, to put it simply. Teenage Clark would be psyched to know that he's getting it on right here.
He returns to the task at hand – Lips ghosting over Lex's cock, choosing to litter Lex's thighs with hickeys and lovebites. A hand curls around his dark locks of hair, pulling as hard as possible, which he still can't feel. He doesn't want to make Lex come too fast, though two orgasms sound nice; they're under the threat of Conner waking up in the middle of their little playtime session.
“Turn around,” Clark comes up, kissing Lex deep on the mouth. “Gonna eat you out.”
Lex's eyes widened for a second, pupils dilated, blue turning darker. “Freak.”
“Pervert.” Clark spits back, smiling to himself as Lex turns to get himself on his hands and knees – His hand travels down his back, all the way to his ass, where he squeezes him firmly.
Lex is such a sight like this; bent over, exposing himself so beautifully against the moonlight that creeps in. His body pulled taut by his own desire, soft skin littered in moles and freckles that Clark wants to kiss one by one.
He'll make time for that later. Now, though, he used his hands to spread Lex's ass open, tongue swiping over the ring of muscle without a second thought.
The gasp Lex sucks in is loud, hands twisting around the blankets beneath him. Clark's tongue is warm and velvet – Lex's spine snaps as he jolts forward, sensations already overwhelming him from the inside out. Moans escape him, Clark's arm loops around him, pulling him close and holding him in place as he continues to devour Lex's hole like a man starved.
Then there's the fingers; thick and powerful, rubbing around his sloppy rim. Lex's eyes roll back as they're eased inside him, two and it already feels like he's being filled up.
“Lex,” Clark breathes from behind him. “Is this okay?”
His caring nature, nurturing and soft, shouldn't have any place during sex. Lex likes it fast, rough and he likes walking up alone. Used is how he wants to feel, not how others dictate he feels.
But Clark's too careful with him, even as he's knuckle deep inside Lex's ass.
No one's ever been this soft. Lex usually doesn't even let people kiss him on the mouth – That much contact is already too intimate. Clark kisses like he's hungry, like he's parched. He kisses like they do in the movies, all romantic and passionate and fucking love full. His touches are heavenly, too. Lex can't stand it. He can't get enough of it.
“ ‘s okay,” Lex murmurs, browbone already damp with sweat. “Keep going.”
Clark hums, adding a third finger. Lex isn't sure that'll be enough. He's not sure how long he'll need to be prepped for until he can take Clark.
Good thing he's a man who takes risks, then.
Three fingers do a good job at stretching him out, Clark keeps spitting on his hole – which is ridiculously hot and pornographic – since they're lacking the usual resources. Lex didn't think of bringing lube on this one adventure, he'd guessed Clark would've gotten sick of him the second day.
Clark's fingers brush against prostate, again and again until Lex is practically crying out in pleasure. He'll probably be blanket-burned from how hard his chest is rubbing against them but he doesn't care. The harsh contact of the fabric against his nipples adds onto the overstimulating sensation that clouds his every thought.
“I'm ready,” He whines, unsure if he truly is, but not caring much either. “Clark – Just, come on.”
“Okay,” Clark pulls his fingers back, cleaning them on the blankets below. “Lemme see you, hey.”
Lex is tossed on his back, Clark's fond gaze bearing down on him like an anvil that's about to drop on his head cartoon-style.
He's truly about to do this. He's about to have sex with Superman. The… father of his son. His worst enemy. His greatest reason to exist. His other half.
And Clark is looking at him like nothing has ever been wrong between the two. Like Lex didn't murder a man in front of his eyes just for the sake of torture. He's no longer thinking about Kryptonite poisoning, or how Lex kidnapped someone's baby to blackmail them into harming Superman.
Or maybe he does think about those things. Clark hasn't let them go – Lex knows this. But he never brings them up, either. Not since Conner came into their lives, at least. And Lex wants him to. He wants Clark to squeeze a whole lemon onto his wounds, to remind him everyday that he'd almost given it all up for the sake of killing a man who only wanted to help. Whose purpose is to protect.
He's about to hurl, but he doesn't want to ruin this moment. No. If this is the only opportunity he's got to make Clark his in a way no one else can then he'll take it.
“Let me ride you,” He pleads, breath ghosting over Clark's lips. “Please.”
Clark nods, letting Lex maneuver him back into the blankets and lifting his ass so Lex can slip his briefs off.
He's big and heavy in Lex's hand, which makes him wonder about the byproduct of raw sex with someone who isn't from this planet. Clark looks – is – human, of course, but his biology is completely different to that of an earth-born male.
Lex, being the science driven man that he is, is willing to be the lab rat on his special occasion.
Clark watches him, dazed and flushed pink, as his hands hold onto Lex's waist. Lex spits into his own palm, feeling the primal nature of it all – One would think they're stranded on an island and not staying in Kansas, where Lex is more than sure the pharmacies sell lube. Somehow all of that makes it hotter, as if they were doing something that's clandestine, prohibited.
Lex hisses through gritted teeth as he lines himself up, Clark's cock slowly easing into him, inch by inch.
“Easy, baby.”
Call me that again, he wants to say but –
“Baby? You like that? Being called baby?”
Oh. He said it out loud.
He might be more dick-drunk than he thought, and just about half of Clark is inside him. He can't will himself to open his eyes, his ass hurts as he lowers himself and the stretch burns. But it's good. The kind of pain Lex needs.
One final thrust upward by Clark has him buried to the hilt. Lex can taste him in the back of his throat, head lowered and hands splayed across that perfectly shaved chest. Maybe Kryptonian men just don't have a lot of hair, or maybe Clark waxes – That's a funny thought.
“Lex,” Clark calls.
“What.” He hisses, but it turns into a whine.
“You're supposed to be enjoying yourself.”
How in the hell is he keeping his composure? Lex knows he's not normal, but, God. Clark looks like a cool glass of water and he's a mess.
“You're so big,” Lex whines prettily. “So deep inside me, Kal-El.”
“Right here,” Clark's hand rests upon his stomach, and when Lex looks down through blurry eyes he can see the slight bulge from where Clark's cock is resting inside him. “I'm right here, Lex.”
Lex moves, his entire skin feels like he's been lit on fire, molten lava running through his veins.
He's not sure if he's being too loud or too quiet, but Clark's noisy enough. Groaning and moaning and murmuring sweet nothings to him as he rides his cock, holding onto him for dear life – Lex works his hips until he's aching. Clark seems to notice, but he doesn't change their positions. No. He engulfs Lex with his arms and begins bouncing him on his cock, meeting him halfway with harsh, pointed thrusts.
Their skin slaps against each other's. Pure indecency now taints this barn. The scent of sex, of sweet, of something sweet.
Lex can't help the way he's crying out loud, genuinely sobbing as Clark keeps on hitting his prostate. Tears stream down his pretty face, crystalline and salty, as he clutches onto Clark's shoulders and drags his nails down his back, feeling the skin heal over itself in real time.
“Ah, Clark – s'good, want to – touch me,”
Clark reaches in between their bodies, hand wrapping around Lex's weeping cock. “Like this, honey?”
“Yeah, yes. Please,” Lex nods eagerly. “Wanna come. Want you to – hah – come inside me.”
“Anything. Anything for you.”
A dangerous promise, given Lex's selfish nature.
When his orgasm hits it feels like the sun explodes. Lex has suddenly rushed billions of years into the future and lands on a place where all he can feel is white, wet heat trickling down his back, consuming him from the inside. His spine goes taut, his body seizes on itself, Clark's holding him or else he'd be folding over – His come spurts onto his own stomach and Clark's chest, getting them both sticky with it.
Clark keeps fucking him through it. The mad man. He's erratic and exhausted, yes, but he's also Superman.
He follows suit, though. A few thrusts in and Clark's flooding his insides with his seed. Lex's oversensitive nerves scream, he's clenching around Clark's cock as his cock spills inside him. Totally the best sex he's ever had in his life.
It takes ten minutes for him to come down from his high. Clark softly places him back onto the blankets, grabbing his flannel to wipe away at their mess and try to get as clean as they can. Lex's thighs are coated by their combined mess, though he's still leaking. His ass is sore. His back hurts. His thighs are on fire. He's also really thirsty.
Clark's wiping his sweat away with a gentle hand. His voice has Lex's eyes fluttering open. “Are you okay?”
“Mhm,” Lex hums, grabbing onto his wrist. His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. “Positively fucked into stupidity.”
“Not my intention,” Clark laughs, leaning down to kiss him. “But I'm happy that you're happy.”
Lex nods, he's about to drift off when he remembers that they can't leave Conner all by himself in the room. “We should – I need to go back inside.”
“I can sneak us back in a minute.”
“Don't tell me you're worn out from that. We could go all night.”
Clark just shakes his head fondly. “I'll take that offer up when we're back home, Luthor.”
Lex agrees. It'll be easier to do it in the penthouse. Or maybe in the roof of LuthorCorp, Lex's curious to see if Superman floats as he comes.
They wake up indoors, somehow. Lex calls dibs on the shower first, grimacing as he cleans the mess in between his legs and inside him. Clark smirks at him when they meet on the bathroom doorway, making Lex regret not suggesting a joint shower.
Clark's parents don't say a word, but it's clear they suspect many things.
Lex hopes they didn't hear them, that's all. They'd been pretty vocal, he knew the cattle no longer liked them after what happened. But Martha and Jon seem to be on the same wavelength to treat them differently now – Clark doesn't question it but he's clearly confused, the dummy.
It's during lunch that Clark gets bold with it, pulling Lex's chair back and keeping his arm around it the entire time. Lex is feeding Conner, forgetting himself, when Clark leans in and cleans off a stain on his face – You've got something, dear, he says and Martha's face says a million words without even having to open her mouth.
—
“Promise you'll be back.”
Lex smiles, nodding along as Clark hugs his mother and father. They're about to board their plane back home, and he's dreading flying like a normal person already.
“Always,” Clark beams. “We'll bring the boy back for the holidays, I bet.”
“You have to. We'll have presents!”
Mercy called right before they'd gone to bed the previous night. The deals were off, their foreign friends weren't happy but they understood. The LuthorCorp funds that were going to be used for the weapons project are now directed to a renewable energy project that'll benefit Metropolis in the years to come.
He'll never confess any of it to Clark, of course. He already knows Lex is capable of change.
The voice on the speakers announces their flight will be boarding soon, Clark sighs as he fixes his glasses and goes in for another set of hugs.
Martha pushes him off, laughing at his reluctance to let her go, and she brings Lex in on a hug just as warm – She pinches Conner's cheeks, kissing his forehead as a goodbye.
“Don't be a stranger now, okay?”
“I'll be back,” Lex nods, hugging Jonathan as well. “I'll take care of Clark back home.”
“Make sure he eats and sleeps enough!”
“Will do, ma'am.”
Clark hurries them into the plane as soon as he's done with his goodbyes, sending kisses across the hall and telling Conner to wave at his grandparents.
On the plane Lex settles on the window seat, and when Clark reaches over to hold his hand he's the one to interlock their fingers together this time.
They'll be okay, he guesses. And even if they're not, it won't be the end of the world.
He can learn to love. He knows it's in him – And he'll also let himself be loved. Their wounds will heal and they'll remain together despite the scarring. Even if it's ugly and gnarly, pulling at the skin. Lex knows he has to let go in order to save the only good thing he'll ever be able to have, so he's willing to do just that.
The future might be uncertain, sometimes bleak, but there's nothing he can do about it except place his trust on the man who wears his trunks outside of his pants. Like everyone else, Lex believes in Superman. He just so happens to be his number one fan, by pure accident.