Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville, Superman, its characters, or anything associated. If I did...heck, even this story would never have happened.
A/N: I know it's a little late on the calender, but I can't fight the muses, and they tell me to write about these boys.
Please review. It's really appreciated.
The Pity Between Then and Now
2003
Despite what many people tended to believe, Lex Luthor did not hate Christmas. There was just a part of him that despised the way it made him feel.
Christmas used to be a truly joyous occasion once upon a time, a day that signaled sweet, precious hours in his mother's protective arms. Though education and drinking in knowledge came naturally, Lex always looked forward to the short break spent curled in a warm embrace, hidden from the world in a silken stronghold.
One would think Lionel Luthor did not celebrate Christmas, but he did. The tree was always fresh and grand, carried in by annually hired hands. Opulent decorations glistened from every tree branch, not a single bare spot marring the picturesque image. Presents would surround the base in an ocean of shimmering foil, wide and turbulent enough for one to lose their way.
Still, the presents inside were typical for a Luthor's son.
Afterwards though, after the pompous revelry and extravagance, towers of Aristotle, Plato, and Sir Thomas More, there would be his mother's room. It was inside that Lex understood Christmas.
There would be a miniature tree on her desk, small but full, and the smell of pine would permeate her quarters to compliment the delicate scent of her perfume. They would decorate their little tree together, the heavy bulbs and tinsel dragging down the branches. They'd exchange presents together, too, and Lex would sink into his bed that night happy.
So now, over a decade later, remembering those special but covert nights, the smooth surface of his mother's favorite purple wrapping paper, Lex's heart would ache from love and loss.
Lex only allowed himself two days a year to really mourn Lillian Luthor; the day she passed and Christmas, the one day a year that he had been happiest with her.
So Christmas came covered in somber black wrappings, and as much as he treasured his mother, her memory haunted him in every reflective bauble.
Besides that burning pain in his heart, hidden in his room at the castle, Lex would decorate his own little tree on Christmas. He'd taken their ornaments, gathering dust in boxes his father didn't want to remember, and with him they came to Smallville.
It was Christmas now, and the mansion was silent as a morgue, and almost as dead. The servants had been dismissed to their proper families, probably playing with children or hearing mass with another's hand clasped in each of their own. Lex treasured the silence as he sat on his bed, eying the tree on his dresser with trepidation. Every time he lifted a hook, he could hear his mother's kind voice, guiding him to be careful, warning him of how delicate glass could be. Lex could feel her long fingers curling around his own, lifting his unsure hands toward the waiting branches. Feet away, Lex knew the way the spines would feel on his palms as he brushed past.
About to stand, Lex stilled at the thundering sound of approaching footsteps not far off, taking no care to be surreptitious with their loud stomping. He heard his own name echo over the high ceilings, the voice resounding an identity before the eager face appeared over the threshold.
"Hey, Lex!" Clark grinned, white snow dotting his hair to reveal the weather outside. "I thought you'd be in your office."
Lex did not bother to ask how Clark had found his never before visited bedroom when the castle was Jason's labyrinth built of stone, not to mention the lack of servants to show him the way. Instead he replied.
"Even I understand the concept of Christmas, Clark."
Clark's good mood appeared to brighten then, and he entered fully, revealing a body dampened with melted snow yet not shaking a bit from the cold.
"Is that why everyone's gone?" he asked, gesturing about the abandoned mansion.
"They're on their Christmas leave, yes. The staff will be back after New Year's."
"So you'll be alone until then?"
There was disapproval in the inquiry, explicit and obvious, and Lex could see the frown polluting Clark's excited face.
"I appreciate the quiet," Lex assured him, watching the furrows in Clark's brow only deepen. "Even Lucifer needs time to relax now and then."
"You're not the devil, Lex," Clark reprimanded, but it was uttered over a chuckle that told the pair that the moment had passed.
"So what brings you so far out, Clark?" Lex questioned, standing and slipping his hands into the pockets of his formal black pants. "I thought you'd be celebrating with your parents."
"I was," Clark admitted, "But I forgot to give you your present so…"
He rummaged in the pockets of his jeans, eventually wrapping his hands around a box and tossing it unsurely towards Lex. The uncomfortable feeling in Lex's stomach reminded him why he had nothing to offer in return; his track record of giving the Kent's gifts had advised him to not stray down that path again. The soft look on Clark's face told Lex he understood, so Lex nodded in recognition and gratitude.
Thank you, Clark," Lex revealed a smile. "You didn't-"
"Come on, Lex," Clark rolled his eyes. "You're my friend, and I wanted to."
Swallowing his sigh, Lex peeled back the layers of uneven paper, watching it pop up to reveal the package concealed beneath. The red paper crumpled atop his bedspread where he let it fall, and the cover of the plain box joined it after a second's contemplation.
"I know it's kind of…" Clark started to stumble, ever so unsure and awkward. "But I made it myself so you don't have to worry about how much it cost or anything."
"Clark."
The other stilled, and Lex raised his eyebrow with amusement.
"Allow me to open the gift before you begin formulating excuses, okay?"
Clark smiled then, his hunched shoulders leaving his ears and returning to a relaxed state.
Finally plucking whatever was inside, Lex stared at the item in his hand.
It was him, and Clark. They were sitting in the Talon, and somehow the photographer had captured them both in a burst of laughter. His own smiling face looked unrecognizably happy and open in a way he didn't know it could be.
"How'd you manage this?" he murmured, knowing the frame around the photo couldn't possibly be constructed of popsicle sticks.
"Chloe's really good with a camera," Clark admitted, still awaiting a reaction from his friend.
Lex moved his thumb over the frame, reasoning that the loop of blue yarn was destined for a tree branch.
"This is wonderful, Clark, truly," Lex released with a breath. There was a warmth spreading through his chest, surprising but still pleasant. The object cradled in his hands, bright and cheery against his pale skin, filled him with the rare kind of joy he only felt in Clark's presence. This was no cynical satisfaction at crushing a fledgling company with a single email. This was so much more, somehow.
"I know it's not…" Clark began again, shuffling his feet in a manner that was sure to scratch the floor if he wasn't stopped.
"It's you, Clark," Lex interjected to put him at ease, "and that's what makes it so valuable. I can't remember the last time I received such a thoughtful gift."
And that was true. Lex, as tightly, as he held onto his memories, could not best the cruel hand of time. Though he could remember his mother's Christmases, the presents he had received were not the prominent detail after so many years.
"I'm glad you like it, Lex," Clark finally relented. "I thought you could hang it on your tree, but I didn't see one when I came up."
Clark's attention was caught on the timid tree on Lex's desk, gazing from its perch curiously, and he stepped closer in confusion.
"This can't be it! Come on, Lex, don't tell me you don't get a real Christmas tree?"
The words shouldn't have hurt as much as they did, but the pain took its reign suddenly and real.
Lex could picture Christmas at the Kent's house, a haven straight out of an after school holiday special. The tree would probably reach the ceiling, some branches charmingly uneven, real like his father's had never been. Every ornament would have some story behind it; perhaps one from Grandmother Kent who lives in the city, others crafted by Clark throughout the years. Presents would be scattered underneath, each carefully thought about and meticulously saved for since the last Christmas.
A perfect scene for a perfect family.
"Lex?" Clark called after Lex didn't answer, but Lex turned his attention to the gleaming surface before him.
A real tree. If he parroted his father, ordered in the ideal tree and painted it with the ideal façade, would the tree count as real? And what was his weak tradition reduced to then, but a subject of pity for a man who could not leave behind the ghost of his mother?
"Hey, Lex?"
A tanned hand passed his face, and Lex found himself jerking back before he saw Clark's worried green eyes closer than they had been before.
"Thought I lost you for a second," Clark laughed with some unease, watching when Lex stepped away, looking at the tree and turning his back to Clark.
"Did I ever tell you about Luthor family Christmases, Clark?" Lex began, feeling Clark shake his head but knowing the predetermined answer without it.
"To ensure I received the most suitable education, my father had me shipped to various boarding schools," Lex continued, deciding not to mention why the noun was plural.
"Most of the schools I attended didn't recognize the concept of summer vacation, and Christmas was one of the rare holidays were we were allowed to visit home."
"Dad," Lex couldn't help but drawl," took Christmas very seriously. It was an opportunity to dominate his enemies during an unexpected season. He also used the occasion to impress his allies and tie them closer under the pretense of friendship."
"To secure success, and to preserve the delusion of a functioning family, my father would order the largest tree in Metropolis to his doorstep. I watched strangers decorate the tree for us, because 'why do yourself what you can pay a lesser person to do for you?'"
Lex could feel Clark's confused but sympathetic eyes on the back of his head, but he had no desire to meet them. Somehow, he doubted he could have stopped the flow of words if he tried.
"Dad was always present Christmas morning. He had the staff wake me at seven so it would all be over before he left for LuthorCorp at nine."
"With each package I opened, I received a lecture on its importance or historical significance. Every gift was an opportunity for him. After Dad left to tend to his empire, my mother would call me into her room."
His hand graced a branch of the tree, remembering how it would look covered in lights and bathing in a glow of red and blue.
"We'd decorate a tree together, one exactly like this. We exchanged gifts that represented our love for one another, not the dynasty of some fallen emperor or king."
"So even though she's gone, I keep these trees to remember. Sentimental, yes. So to reply to your original statement, Clark, yes, this is my tree. It's the only real tree I've ever known, or ever plan to have."
Lex finally turned, meeting Clark's stare strongly and forcing himself to ignore the lump in his throat, only increased by the glow reflected in Clark's green eyes.
"I can understand that it may not be up to your standards, but-"
"No, Lex. I…"
Clark interrupted with a small sigh, staring down at his feet in familiar humble fashion.
"I'm sorry if I insulted you. I didn't know…"
Clark smiled tentatively, the flash of white burning away some of the dark anger that had oppressed the room.
"I understand," Lex absolved him, the pounding ache of hurt fading into the background of rarely, yet freely, given forgiveness.
"Those moments must've been special," Clark struggled, obviously unsure of where to carry on. "I'm sorry-"
"They were," Lex saved him from the trouble, looking down at the ornament in his hand with sudden remembrance. Clark watched his line of sight, stepping forward in question.
"Can I," he asked, a mix of eagerness and uncertainty, "decorate it with you?"
Lex glanced from the unopened box on the floor to Clark's waiting face. The urge to accept astonished him. Often, he guarded such sacred memories for himself alone, keeping them locked away for no one to grab and taint with their soiled hands. Yet now, the idea of sharing the experience with Clark sent a wave of happiness washing over him, and how could he refuse then?
"Sure, Clark," was the simple reply that relit the unleashed joy in Clark's face and pulled some rays of light from Lex as well.
Before opening the flaps to reveal the loops of lights and reels of garland, Lex stepped forward and placed Clark's gift on the highest branch. He took a minute to memorize the sight of two happy faces against a Christmas backdrop of green.
Lex turned around to see Clark watching him with a soft expression he wasn't ready to take the time to analyze. Instead, he bent down to pick up the box of ornaments.
"Don't just stand there, Clark. Let's get to it."
2010
It was snowing on Christmas. Few people knew it, so as they were tucked sleepily in their warm beds, cocooned safe from the rest of the world. The glittering flakes danced past the impressive windows of the LexCorp penthouse.
Lex sat in his favorite armchair, his body molded to the fabric that had come to know him as a close friend. The drink in his hands shone dark red in the remaining sun, temporarily sparkling gold in the firelight when the flames dared to reach an inch higher.
His other hand was curled around a small object, slender fingers twisted in string that had become worn through the years, the yarn slowly unthreading.
Catching a glimpse of movement in his peripheral vision, Lex halted from lifting his glass to his lips, instead returning his attention to the windows. A red and blue figure hovered before him. Lex raised his glass in a silent toast, drinking deeply when the being sped away in a blur.2
Standing, Lex strolled over to the raging fire, ashes dusting the air as logs crackled and collapsed. He looked down at the frame of wood in his hand, protecting the picture within that had grown wrinkled and torn thanks to time and age.
With a lift of his arm, Lex tossed the object into the fire, spoils thrown to a master's hunting dogs.
Raising his glass again to his dry lips, Lex watched two smiling faces burn.