All the Trappings of Love
There's days when you just know you shouldn't have gotten up.
And I know that today is one when I step out of the elevator on the fortieth floor of the Daily Planet building, and everyone is staring at me. Cautiously. Like I'm about to crawl out on the ledge around the big floor-to-ceiling windows and wave a semiautomatic weapon around before leaping to my death.
I mean, not that I could, but it's the general sentiment from the looks of it.
"What?" I ask self-consciously.
Maybe it's the fly. It has to be. No one would be staring that hard otherwise.
I glance down at my pants. Okay.
I glance back up at my coworkers. Lois is chewing her nails and sitting on something.
"Clark," someone says, and I turn to my left to see Jimmy. He's shifting around nervously, like this is really hard for him. "Clark," he repeats.
I roll my eyes and sigh. "Look, guys. What's going on?"
Lois takes a deep breath, and hops off the desk. There's a newspaper in her hands, ours, I think. She looks just as nervous as Jimmy, a little sad, and not a little bit smug, too.
This cannot be good. Lois smug is all kinds of bad.
"Anyone want to let me in on the big joke?" I ask, voice squeaking.
Oh, God. Lex bought Panama. Or Mongolia. Lit a big fire that reads: "Clark Kent Gives Great Head." NASA has photos. On CNN. Or, he had a skywriter put that above Metropolis, just to fuck with my mind. Or, or maybe something worse. I knew I shouldn't have let him to the Pacific Rim for that conference. Why do we need more money, anyway? Maybe assassins got him or something and Lex being Lex was too proud to yell for help and how the fuck am I supposed to save his ass if he won't tell me if something's wrong.
"This isn't funny anymore," I say, shakily, "what the hell is going on, guys?"
Lois places one hand on my shoulder and says, "We're really sorry, Clark. Journalistic integrity and all. We can't just...not print it."
My mouth goes dry.
"Ma-maybe it's a misunderstanding," Jimmy offers.
Perry emerges out of nowhere in the crowd, snatches the paper out of Lois' hands, shoots a lethal glare at Jimmy, and says, nicotine gum snapping loudly, "For chrissakes, you pussies." He turns to me and holds up the newspaper. "Sorry about this, son."
I look down at the front page photo.
Shit.
*
Lex is in Hong Kong.
Which is good. Because Lex can't fly, so he can't just pop over and kill me.
Which he would do. I mean, yeah, sure, he loves me more than anything and we have papers and wear rings and the whole shebang, but Lex would kill me. Wrap his long fingers around my neck and squeeze while shoving Kryptonite down my throat.
This image is very clear in my head.
Which is why I have to fix this before he hears about it.
The phone rings, and in between frantic scanning of various news webpages, I pick up.
"Hello?"
"I'll have you shot, Clark. Kryptonite bullets. I can do that, you know."
Shit. Shit times two.
"Uh. Hi. Lex."
The newsroom screeches to a dead stop, and everyone turns around to stare at me, waiting for a reaction. Will Clark Kent yell? Cry? Be stoic and strong? Or will he dump Luthor's cheating ass right then and there?
Well, Clark Kent really needs to get down on his knees and grovel for forgiveness and give Lex a really great blowjob in apology, but he can't do that.
"I hate you. I'll just zip over, Lex. No one will see, Lex. Gosh, if you can be an openly gay man, I don't see why I can't visit you, blah fucking blah blah blah. I hate you. We're through, you hear me?"
Right.
He's not taking this as well as I'd hoped.
So.
There's really not much I can say about this right here.
"I can't talk about this right now," I say, trying to sound stiff and hurt.
"Oh, boo-fuckin'-hoo, Clark, I don't care if everyone's listening," he shouts, and I wince at his tone. "This is character assassination, Clark! Social death!"
Okay, yeah, retrospect.
So, flying over to Lex's hotel room in Singapore probably wasn't a good idea. But it had been nearly three weeks and I was lonely and horny and getting myself off is hard (hah!) without Lex or at least his voice. So I visited. Big deal, right?
Yeah, apparently.
Because now, very incriminating pictures of Lex Luthor making out with Superman on the balcony of a Singapore hotel penthouse are...everywhere.
"You know what?" he says, angrier now than before.
"What, Lex?" I say stupidly. Lois is staring a hole into my head.
Dump him, she is mouthing, dump him now.
"Put me on speakerphone," Lex demands. "I'm going to break up with you in front of the entire bullpen. Do it now, Clark."
"No," I say simply. "We'll talk about it when you get home."
"If I come home!" he roars, and hangs up with a bang.
I pull the receiver from my ear and look around the room.
"Well?" Jimmy prompts.
I flash them all a weak smile.
Shit.
*
It's like a goddamn funeral around here.
Everyone is gathering in little groups to talk and point and look at me.
Having superhearing at times like these sucks:
That poor Clark Kent, fell in love with the wrong guy. Luthor's such a jerk. But hey, Superman. Not like geek reporter could compare with savior of the world. I didn't know he was gay. Sure he is. All that spandex. Red and blue; only a flamboyantly gay man would wear that many primary colors, right? Luthor's such a creep. I should sell Luthor's stock.
It's getting more and more apparent that not only is Lex going to kill me, we're never going to have sex again. And really? That's the greater tragedy.
"Clark, how are you holding up?" Chloe asks. I can hear her grin through the phone. "You want a tissue? Chick flick? You can cry on my shoulder."
I glare down into my coffee mug. "I don't need this from you, too, Chloe."
"Rumor has it Lex has been throwing a tantrum in Hong Kong," she says casually.
"Off the record? I think that "tantrum" isn't strong enough a word," I sigh.
"Gosh, that self-righteous prick," Chloe says, giggling. "After all, he cheated on you."
"Have I ever mentioned how much I hate you, Chloe?"
"I'm sure you hate everybody today, Clark," she says. "Look, a word of warning: Lex's pilot says that he got a call this morning, and that they're moving out early. He ought to be home by seven-thirty tonight."
I swallow hard. Shit. I told him we'd talk. I just didn't think it would be...soon.
Lets take a look at the combined factors here: Lex is exhausted from a three week romp through the Pacific Rim working complicated business deals; Lex is jet-lagged; Lex hates flying, which he's been doing a lot of; Lex, thanks to yours truly, is also being treated like universal scum as a result of "cheating on his boyfriend."
Well, yeah, I'm dead.
"Oh?" My voice is two octaves too high.
Chloe sighs. "Look, regardless of what you're going to say and how you're going to try and weasel out of this one? It's your fault. And Lex is taking the fall for it. His stock dropped sixteen points this morning alone, do you know that? Millions down the tube."
Oh, sweet God. The only way this could be worse is if I crashed his Aston Martin, too.
Right. As if I don't feel shitty enough. Thanks, Chloe, now I can finally look the part of the betrayed lover.
The worst part is...
Lex is suffering so much worse than me. Always has. He got completely destroyed by the press when he moved back to Metropolis with a boyfriend from nowhere. Further destroyed with the Inquisitor found out that we were friends since I was fifteen. The ugly insinuations had always been there, but Lex never let it bother me, despite the fact that I knew his lawyers and publicists ran constant interference. Sixteen companies to date have canceled their contracts with LexCorp because of "personal reasons," and Lex always locks himself in the den for the night when that happens.
That's how I know, you know. Because Lex doesn't do normal people things like say "I love you," but he'll let himself get dragged through the mud, abused, and looked down on by the Metropolis business world - all for me.
It got better. About seven years ago. It got better. People started to...I guess take us seriously. LexCorp rocketed.
But that's all gone now. Lex Luthor, after having finally earned the grudging respect of everyone in Metropolis and the world, is caught cheating on his boyfriend, his boytoy since fifteen.
Oh. God.
*
There are some things you can apologize for, some little things that you can make dinner or grovel or provide oral sex in recompense.
This is not one of those things.
Lex will forgive me. It's not about "if," it's about "when."
But in the process, he'll tear down the careful world that he's worked so hard to build. And I don't want him to do that. He doesn't deserve to suffer for my mistakes.
So right. There's...really only one way to do this.
*
"Are you sure, Clark?" Chloe asks, eyes big and shocked.
I grit my teeth. "I have to do it, Chloe."
"Or, Lex could just, I don't know, apologize to you and stuff. But this is...this is a really dramatic move! I mean, you've got until seven-thirty tonight and then you guys are going to talk, shouldn't you work something out together - "
"Chloe - "
"- Or, hey! Lex could break up with you - "
"Chloe - !"
"- And start dating Superman, and - "
"No," I say.
And that's the one thing I'm sure about.
Lex wouldn't let me do this. I have to do this before he gets home.
Lex has had more lonely nights at home that any husband or wife ever, and that includes wartime. He bitches about it, asks me to drop the cape and stop doing it because the crime rate in Metropolis is a fucking joke now, what with LexCorp technology, and a highly efficient police force (armed with LexCorp technology).
He asks in not so many words if he's important enough.
I gave up my life to this world, gave up Lex's, too.
Outside the diner window, Metropolis streams by. My city. No, not true. Lex's city. He loves it here, cares more than he likes people to know. This is his home, our home, everything. I've been here since I was eighteen years old, and Lex has never really left. And I'm out romancing his creation more than him. Every night, every day, patrol and then emergencies. Or, accidents in Bangladesh, mudslides in California, floods in the Carolinas, wildfires in God-knows-where. A thousand different reasons for Lex so sit by himself.
And I'm sick of seeing that same disappointed expression masked behind ambivalence.
I don't want to miss anything anymore. So maybe, this is the perfect opportunity.
"You're going to be crucified, Clark!" she says.
I shrug. "Better me than Lex."
She gives me this look. Like after fourteen years, she finally gets it.
"You really love him, don't you?" she asks softly. "Really."
I smile, because I do. "Yeah, Chloe."
*
The Fortress of Solitude disapproves.
And I know this because all the doors take just a second too long to open.
The AI was programmed to take care of me as a baby, so I'm not really surprised that it still treats me like a teenager.
But it offers up the gold Kryptonite, just like I ordered, after only forty-six requests.
*
The press conference is called at City Hall at exactly four forty-five. All cell phones are requested to be shut off, so Lex can't call and interrupt. All laptops with internet connections are banned from the room.
So I take a deep breath, red cape fluttering and a sea of expectant people down below me, and walk up to the podium. They're all poised for the jump, like vultures or a pack of wild dogs out for a kill. The questions explode. All sorts of extremely rude things about me and Lex and me again.
Is Luthor leaving Clark Kent for Superman? Well, Lex had damn well better not.
Are you gay? No, I was saving Lex from gum disease.
"Have you spoken to Clark Kent?"
I clear my throat. "Yes, actually. At length."
The crowd falls silent in shock save for one lone, familiar voice. "And?"
Goddamn it - of course it's Lois. Of course she'd be at this feeding frenzy.
"I," I start.
And this is the end. This is it. No longer the Man of Steel, Son of Metropolis, savior of thousands. No, in one fell swoop, all of it gets broken into pieces, shattered to infinity.
"I apologized," I say, and it's so easy. Because Superman fucking owes Clark Kent an apology. "I apologized for being so forward with Mr. Luthor when he was obviously attached and..."
Oh, Jesus. God help me. Lex forgive me. May the people have mercy and lawyers never find my place of residence - so many lawsuits, so many, horrible, ugly things...and - God, Lex. I can do this.
"Unwilling," I finish with a choked swallow.
The rumble through the crowd would probably register on the Richter scale.
"I actually...owe all of Metropolis an apology," I say quickly.
These guys look like they're out for blood. I can hear the whispers, all of them. Superman forced himself on Luthor? Sweet God! Someone out there is writing down the words "attempted rape," I can feel it.
And oh shit, I'm going to chicken out on the last part.
"And...I've got to go...fight something," I finish awkwardly and fly away.
Right through the ceiling.
Chloe's going to kill me. She wrote a great speech.
It's going to be okay, though. It's all been arranged.
Photos of the Man of Steel battling a large, angry monster in what seems like outer space will be leaked tomorrow morning, and Chloe Sullivan, esteemed reporter for the New York Post will write the article: the Death of Superman. Clark Kent and Lex Luthor will make a very public appearance at the funeral and Clark will also mention something about how he's very sorry about the events that happened, and he's grateful Superman apologized. That he and Lex have things to work out still.
And of course they do. Lots of things.
And then it's over. All of it.
Flying through the clouds, I don't know whether to laugh or cry, and it doesn't matter because by the time I set down on the balcony of the penthouse -
I know for sure.
*
Lex gets through the door at eight o'clock.
He looks haunted, and tired, and...thrown. Like a semi just barely missed him.
"What the hell did you think you were doing?" he asks.
I step toward him, pull the briefcase out of his hands gently and take away the keys before dropping them in a dish by the door. "I made a decision," I tell him.
He glares at me and only fights a little when I start pulling his coat off. "I noticed. Clark, you're so rash! You didn't have to do that - do you know what they're saying about you out there?" He seems indignant, and I have no doubt that CNN at least has gotten one really ugly phone call from Lex regarding rumor and innuendo.
I coax one arm out, and then the other, and tug the wool from his shoulders. "Well, Chloe's been giving me hourly reports." I frown a little. "Fourteen years of saving their asses, you think you'd hear the term "sexual predator" less."
Lex huffs and I pull off his gloves, unwind his scarf from around his neck. "I could have...I could have just apologized. Made a public statement. You're being completely destroyed, Clark."
I shrug and pull him gently toward the bedroom. "You shouldn't have to. It was me."
"It's not the principle of the matter," he insists.
I give him a little push, and he sitting on the bed. His eyes are glazed and his shoulders are tense and I can tell that he's flagging. Fighting exhaustion with every breath. So I sigh and kneel down to pull off his shoes.
"Look, Clark, I appreciate what you did for me," Lex says, "but when it comes down to it, there's blame to go around. I never should have been as reckless as to - "
"Lift your feet," I instruct, and he does so I tug his socks off, too.
" - Kiss you where we were openly visible. Granted, you flew over after I'd asked you specifically not to, but I let you stay and really, Clark - "
"Stop moving around," I say, and he does.
" - There was absolutely no need for you do to that. My publicists would have been all over it in two hours, tops. They were in the middle of plans and communications and - "
"Lex," I interrupt, catching his eye. "Shut up. I wanted to do it. I love you and I've watched you take the fall for me for fourteen years. It was my turn. So shut up."
He opens his mouth and closes it. But his eyes are even shinier and he looks stunned, touched. So he just nods and lets me undress him.
I pull off his suit coat and toss it over a chair before I unbutton his shirt at the wrists, and then pull off his tie. A few more moments later, his pants and shirt are completely gone, and I pull back the covers enough to tuck him inside.
"I'm accepting this turn of events under protest," he tells me, his voice soft as his head hits the pillow. His eyes drift closed.
I smile and stroke his pale brow. "Okay."
There's a long silence before he cracks open one gray eye. "Aren't you sleeping?"
I pull off my sweatshirt and crawl in next to him, wrapping my arms around his slender waist, thinner than when he left me three weeks ago. No one feeds him enough when he's on these business trips.
I can feel him breathe against my chest, and he doesn't even know the other stuff yet.
"Lex?"
He makes a soft noise in reply.
"Will you...always forgive me?" I ask.
"Sure," he says through a yawn.
"Okay."
There's more, and more complicated things.
But that's for the morning, and for now? Clark Kent and Lex Luthor are licking their wounds. Fourteen years of Superman coming between them is going to end in just twelve hours, and I can't wait.