Locus Classicus

For miss_tress. Prompt #46 Star. The boys talk about home. Clark/Lex.

( This one wanted to be angsty too. But I foot-tripped it, and beat it into submission. )

I have drunk from the keg of victory, and I have eaten all the muffins and bagels in the land. But it is not enough. For:

1) I finished my Big Bang story. What, you didn't hear me shrieking???

2) I had a fantastic dinner with The Wellington Fangirls (tm) and some new Wellington fangirls (there were some I didn't know about? Bzuh?) and astolat. It was awesome.

I arrived half an hour early because I came straight from work where I'd stayed on editing my Big Bang! and I sat there alone in a restaurant, always awkward, and a big party opposite me was rip-snortingly drunk and yelling at the top of their lungs about office shenanigans and their sex lives. And I was popping nurofen and wishing fiery death on them, and then a wee angel said: "That will you be youx1000 in a short time! And your explicit porn and incest and mpreg trumps their broom closets!" So I turned off the death glare, and lo, it was so. And also, astolat is outstanding. Witty and funny and generous and kind, and everything that fandom should be in a shiny package. Yay. The rest of us weren't so bad either. ;-p

3) I moved into my new office. It is magnificent. Except for how the walls and all the furniture are the snowiest white you've ever seen. It's like being on the Arctic tundra, or in an operating theatre. Until you look down. The carpet is tartan (our proper clan tartan) and while the blues and reds and greens look good, the narrow white stripes create a hella funky optical illusion. I'll keep my eyes on the snow.

4) This one is technically spoilery if you actually read DC comics, in this case Legion of Three Worlds. If, on the other hand, you really only care about a certain character who was very dear to the hearts of Smallville fans who shipped Lex and Clark, then ( read on. )

So. To celebrate. I will write a ficlet for absolutely everybody, friend or lurker, who requests one on this post. Only condition: you have to pick a keyword from this table here. Then give me a brief prompt to go with it, eg "Prompt 16 - Purple. Lex buys a new shirt". I will do any fandom/pairing I have ever written (Smallville (Clark/Lex), Atlantis (John/Rodney), Supernatural (Sam/Dean *or* gen, please specify!!!), Doctor Who (Doctor/Master; or, ahem, that one Master/Lex masterpiece/travesty), Classics (Alexander/Hephaistion; Achilles/Patroklos; actually, technically, Harmodios/Aristogeiton, but let's forget that one, shall we?), and also from the fandom I've never written but would really like to because it's eaten my brain (wider DC/JL), let's have a stab at, say, erm... Clark/Bruce, Bruce/Dick, Tim/Kon. Hit me people! First in first served; because I am newly disciplined I will write in the order they come rather than follow my inclination. :-D

For digitalwave. Prompt #31 Sunrise. Clark discovers something important while watching Lex stare at an amazing sunrise.

You had me stumped for a while with this one. Sorry about the delay, but it's twice as long to make up for it. I hope it's what you wanted!

*****

Clark wakes with a start, hand reaching out automatically to the space beside him. It's empty, sheets already cold. He flings back the covers and climbs out of bed, stepping gingerly between the piles of textbooks, an abandoned pizza box, and oh, god, is that underwear? Not the underwear he was wearing last night, that would be okay, but a pair of inside-out boxer shorts that have somehow escaped the hamper. His mother told him to keep his apartment tidy, You never know when you'll have visitors, she said, but did he listen?

It's not so much that he's gotten lazy, just that he's barely had time to breathe recently, between interning at the Planet, and studying for exams, and hitting the streets as Superman in a blur of red and blue and a storm of publicity. He's also gotten used to cleaning up at light speed when he hears his mother climbing the three flights of stairs to his place. The last thing in the world he expected was a hammering fit to wake the dead at three in the morning, and opening the door to find Lex Luthor standing in his hall, wild eyed and strangely dishevelled, brandishing a copy of the Daily Planet and Lois Lane's Superman exclusive.

"You have one chance!" Lex had shouted. "One! We haven't spoken in three years, and I said awful things the last time I saw you, and so did you, but I will forgive everything if you tell me now."

And Clark had stared in disbelief for almost a minute, unable to say a word, till Lex's face hardened and he started to turn away, and then he'd grabbed Lex by the arm, fingers digging into his biceps, pulling him into the apartment and kicking the door shut hard enough to rattle the hinges.

"I'm Superman," he'd blurted. "I'm from Krypton. You hit me with your car. It wasn't junk mail. It was never adrenaline. Meteor rocks can hurt me. I've missed you every single day."

And Lex had breathed out, and like that he'd looked five years younger and happier than Clark could remember seeing him.

"I've called in auditors. And the EPA. I'm closing the weapons division. And reining in the bio-researchers. I want Lexcorp to be more than a dirty word. You were the best friend I've ever had."

"I had a ridiculous crush on you in Smallville."

"I think I was in love with you."

"I think I still am."

And in light of secrets shared, it had seemed appropriate to float Lex into the bedroom, bypassing the debris, and in the dark it hadn't looked quite such a bombsite, and Clark had resolved, with his last coherent thought, to wake up first and speed-clean before making breakfast. Well that was one more brilliant plan shot to hell.

There's no sign of Lex, and his clothes are gone too. Probably to be deloused and burnt. Typical that slovenliness can put him off when lies and betrayal can't. Clark stomps out into the lounge, ready to phone in sick for the first time ever. The ugly seventies disco print curtains that came with the apartment are billowing madly, and he crosses the room to close the window.

"Hey," Lex says softly from his perch on the fire escape.

"Hey!" Clark gasps, giddy with relief. "You're here."

Lex smiles. "I'm watching the sunrise. Where did you think I was?"

Clark looks up. Pinky orange tendrils are licking round the sides of the buildings, making their dull, battered grey look warm and new. The sun itself is breaking through the omnipresent cloud cover, casting its light over the world and ushering in a brand new day. It's nothing on Smallville sunrises from the barn, and at the same time the most beautiful thing Clark has ever seen, full of new beginnings and untold promise. He climbs out the window and wraps his arms around Lex, who leans into him, eyes still transfixed.

"I always watch it," Lex whispers. "It makes me feel like it's not too late. No matter what happens, the sun still comes up, and I still get up, and…"

The similarity to his own thoughts makes Clark shiver, and he hugs Lex tighter.

"It's not too late," he says fiercely.

"No." Lex's thumbs rub against the backs of Clark's hands. "But it would have been one day. One day it would have just been me, standing on the balcony, thinking of all the things I'd always wanted and never got to have."

"It's not too late," Clark repeats, and he knows it's true. "It won't be easy, we're both going to have to work at it, but you came, and I let you in, and we have a chance. I want this to work."

Lex turns in Clark's arms. "I want that too."

He's thinner than Clark remembers, and there are faint violet shadows under his eyes. Clark rubs a thumb along one sharp cheekbone, and smiles when Lex leans into his hand, eyes fluttering closed. His lips are cool as Clark presses his own against them, but his mouth when it opens is hot. The kiss changes quickly from sweet to passionate, and Clark finds himself climbing back through the window, dragging Lex after.

"Aren't you going to offer me breakfast before you ravage me?" Lex laughs weakly, panting against Clark's neck.

Clark pulls back and stares in surprise. "I didn't think you'd want anything, now you've seen the kitchen."

Lex glances round, taking in the experiment in penicillin production that used to be hot chocolate, sitting abandoned on the table, and the mountain of dishes piled in the sink.

"I must be slipping," he says. "I hadn't noticed. But you can't poison me with toast and coffee. I'll have it in bed."

Clark feels the grin splitting his own face. He never should have worried.

"I'll tell your mother, though, if you haven't cleaned up by next time."

Perhaps he should worry. A lot.

For furius. Prompt #60 Drink. Lex drinks in a room that he doesn't own.

A time before he could make every room he stepped into his own...

*****

"Lionel, no, he's too young."

"Nonsense. You're never too young to acquire a taste for the finer things in life."

Lex glances nervously from his mother to his father and back again. Lillian looks exhausted, almost as white as the fine linen sheets draped over her, purple shadows stark under her eyes. Lionel, though, looks happier than Lex has ever seen him, unable to keep from smiling even as he lectures.

"Krug, Clos du Mesnil," he intones reverently as he pours one-handed, not spilling a drop. Lex holds his glass carefully, conscious of the thin stem. They're his mother's favourites, and they almost never use them, even at home. He can't believe his father brought them to the hospital.

He takes a cautious sip and tries not to grimace at the taste. It's bitter, and dry, and feels strange on his tongue. His father laughs, but he's still smiling, and somehow Lex knows he's not laughing at him. His mother manages a smile of her own as Lionel offers her a taste from his own glass.

"Just don't give the baby any," she whispers, relaxing back into the pillows.

Lionel looks down at the shawl-wrapped bundle in his arm and chuckles. "He'll grow up soon enough," he says fondly. "Plenty of time."

Lex wonders if he should be jealous. He stares at the bubbles rising and exploding in the narrow flute, and wonders with a sudden pang what they drank when he was born.

Lionel reaches out, gently clinking the rim of his own glass against the side of Lex's. Lex looks up and meets his eye.

"We couldn't afford this when you were born, son," he whispers, and it's as though he read Lex's mind. "But whatever we had tasted just as good."

Lex grins, and takes another mouthful.

For lapetite_kiki. Prompt #28 Children. Sleepover at the Kent-Luthors' house.

Some things just come naturally...

*****

The mansion has twenty bedrooms. Naturally Lara Lillian Kent-Luthor insists on having her first official birthday party at the penthouse, which has six.

Lara has red curly hair that already reaches her waist when braided, and big green eyes with very long lashes. Naturally her fathers think she is the smartest and most beautiful girl in the world, and give in.

She and Daddy make a list of twenty-seven boys and girls from grade one to invite. Naturally Papa panics and invites another fifty from the creche at work.

Luthor pessimism insists they will all come down with chickenpox, break their ankles, or go to visit their grandparents. Naturally Kent charm prevails and the entire ravening horde descends, clutching overnight bags and elaborately wrapped gifts.

Seventy-seven five year olds with very high pitched voices eat cake and chips and pizza, and play pin the tail on the donkey and musical chairs. Naturally raspberry cordial spills on the carpet, tomato sauce fingerprints trail the walls, and three vases break.

One was Lex's favourite, extremely rare and very valuable. Naturally when Lara promises to buy him a new one out of her allowance he says it was ugly and he's glad to be rid of it.

Clark kisses him on the temple and says he's the best dad in the world. Naturally Lex demurs, and says he learned everything he knows from Clark.

The children shriek and giggle and stay awake all night. Naturally Lex and Clark keep their door open in case of mishap, and lie sleepless in heavy pyjamas.

It's hot and uncomfortable, and even Clark has a headache. Naturally when Lara abandons her friends to come crawl into bed with them, whispering that this is the best sleepover ever, they both know they've never been happier in their lives.

Eeek. For a moment there, I really thought I'd lost my Smallville mojo. I've been reading nothing but Atlantis for the last fortnight, and despite an excruciating six hours at my desk yesterday, I just couldn't finish any of the clex pieces I had open (all of which are so damn close). Out of duty more than joy, I decided to spend this morning archiving all the new (read last two months worth) fic at sv_fanfic. And what do you know, I'm on the road to recovery. I think it was a simply a case of absence making the heart grow less fond. SV hasn't been on tv here for at least two years, and I've been too busy recently to download. But, no more!

Help me kickstart the block. I'll write drabbles ficlets for everyone who comments to this post. Absolutely everyone, friends or lurkers. Here's the catch: you have to match your scenario to one of the prompts from my fanfic100 table, here. That's all. I called general series, so it doesn't have to be clex: it can be character exploration, fix it, missing scene, back story, you name it. I'll also take mpreg, crack, harlequin, deathfic, whatever. It's open slather, just this once.

First in first served with regard to prompts, and I'll do them in the order I get them. One prompt to a comment please, so I can keep track. I'll do at least one or two every day, this is all about speed and regaining momentum. So hit me! Now! [Example comment: Prompt 16 - Purple. Lex buys a new shirt.]

*****

ETA: Okay. So none of them so far have turned out to be drabbles. Let's call them ficlets, huh?

*****

For those of you who were away over Christmas, I did post my undermistletoe story. My prompt was "Ghosts of Christmas show up..."

Clex, PG, non-specific angst warning.

Past, Present, Future.

In a moment of utter insanity I signed up for the challenge at fanfic100. Because evidently I thought I wasn't busy enough. *eyes massive pile of Alexander essays with some irritation*

I called dibs on Smallville generally, as opposed to a specific pairing or character. Lex/Clark was already gone and I didn't want to do anyone else. I daresay that the bulk of my work will still be cough*clex*cough. But I'll be exploring a few other denizens and scenarios that have always intrigued me too.

Fear not, patient ones, Parallel is still top of my list. Except for the fact that I have to do my Gift Exchange fic first... But right after that! And then I'm finishing the next chapter of the L&Cverse...

And then...

See, the thing is, a hundred fics is a lot. I don't want to have to think of a hundred new universes. So I figure I'll write more within the universes I already have. And roadtrips are always more fun in groups, so help me out, guys.

I'm making no absolute, binding promises. But. Vote for what you want to see. And when.

[Poll #588654]

I'm thinking I'll alternate L&Cverse chapters with whatever else you guys pick. And the academic year is almost over, so I'm hoping to get the ball rolling asap.

I... ahem... have a... friend. Who is currently maniacally taking over the world. Seriously. He's really quite a lot like Lex, even down to the Alexander obsession and the tendency to talk about his business in ancient history metaphors. If only he dressed more snappily. I digress. It's his birthday in *two days*, and he's breezing into town overnight to have dinner with me, and he wants *porn*. Well, porn and chocolate cake, but I have the second thing covered. But I don't have time for plot in two days. What do I do??? Since you guys get it when he's done, it's only fair you help me out. NC-17 PWP Clex, no time for angst, nothing. Where do I start?

My sekrit gay boyfriend, the one who reckons that if we drink enough champagne beforehand, and I call him Alexander in bed, we can conceive our love child the old fashioned way instead of resorting to science (I'm never sure whether this is flattering or insulting), wants to read my fic.

He stumbled across it by asking me if he could send an email from my pc, and then gratutiously and rather rudely opening all my minimised files. And I was extrememly annoyed as well as embarrassed - this is a fairly gross breach of etiquette, surely, even for very good friends? - but I'm over it now and he keeps begging.

And when I said, "You're not exactly my target demographic" he was outraged, and insisted, "But it's *gay* porn!"

Which it is and isn't. Good old, much missed timian is the only man who's ever been on my flist¹, and I really do think I write for women. Or at least, I write for *me*, and I'm a woman. Surprise!

So should I let him? Is this a red herring and I really just don't want a good friend reading my stuff in real life? Thoughts? Comments?

In other news, my rah-rah squad has done excellent work and the next *three* chapters, no less, of Parallel are in editing. Thank you all. :-D

1. If you are in fact on my flist and you're a man, and I don't know it, I apologise sincerely. But in that case, say hi, damn it!!!

ETA: Actually, forked may also have a y-chromosome. And if not, I'm just digging myself deeper.

I have survived the term! The move, the weary commute, the new bosses and colleagues, the insane students... And lived to tell the tale.

Highlights:

The sheer unceasing ridiculously cheerful obsession of 75% of my boys with eunuchs, who was doing who out of Alexander and Hephaistion, how the rules of the harem and the 365 concubines worked, and the competition to write essays in purple prose that would do fanfiction.net proud - quote: Hephaistion's love was a flower blooming in the dessert [sic] that helped the glorious sun that was Alexander's genius shine.

Lowlights:

Continuous earthquakes portending the end of the world. Or Wellington, anyway.

Staying with my best friend/flatmate's parents. Well as a whole it's fine, but there was that time they helpfully did my washing - which I hate anyway - and when I got home lying neatly on my bed with my unmentionables was a copy of the Joy of Sex which hadn't seen daylight in a decade but had been lying in wait in the bottom of my odd sock drawer for just such a humiliation.

Having to set up my computer out in the garage in sub-antarctic temperatures and sneak out to check my email at odd hours. Having no clue what was going on in ljland.


Yeah, on the whole, it's been good. And now, more importantly, I get to do nothing but sleep and surf the net for two weeks. Oh, and grade papers, but let's not let that harsh the buzz.

To celebrate, I hereby rashly? insanely? offer a one off chance to loyal readers to make requests. That's right, friends. First come best dressed as the saying goes, so hit me. Now's your chance to get in with rude polite reminders about which of my broken promises you're waiting on most breathlessly, or prompts for teeny snippets. Any of my universes or none, it's open slather. But for a limited time and while stocks last.