A/N: Yay, another chapter! This story is like crack to me; Conner Kent is MY anti-drug.

Hey so remember when I said this story was in a vague AU? Yeah you're going to want to keep that in mind for this one. Also if anyone wants more specific details on what I've changed and the consequences thereof, let me know. I've got a whole thing blocked out, but I don't want to clutter up the A/N if nobody cares.

Finally the latter half of this chapter is dedicated to Amber Esme Hermione who asked for Chloe as an aunt figure for Conner, which I thought would be ridiculous, but turned out to be ridiculously awesome.


The office, when Conner and his Dad walked in on Monday afternoon, was nothing short of enormous, an impression that was no doubt helped by the solid wall of windows directly across from the doors. Conner didn't think his and his Dad's apartment could fit inside the room, but it was a close call. Half the space was taken up by a lounge type area with leather couches, a glass coffee table and, of all things, a small bar, while on the other side of the room there was a long conference table. And behind a desk that was twice as big as anyone could possibly need, looking immaculately polished, sat Conner's Father.

His Father tracked his Dad's progress across the room with a hostile glare that turned into a look of condescending amusement when he spotted Conner. "I hadn't realized it was 'Bring Your Son to Work Day,' Kent."

His Dad winced, actually winced, when his Father said that, and Conner wondered again how he managed to keep anything a secret when he was such a bad liar. "Stop wincing, I know he can't actually be your son Kal-El, though I am interested as to where exactly he came from. He does look a bit like you, maybe a cousin or brother who was stuck in suspended animation?" Oh, right he managed to keep secrets because people always jumped to ridiculous and completely wrong conclusions.

"He is my son Luthor," his Dad insisted.

"You know, Kent I think this may be the least believable lie you've ever told me. Even if by some miracle of convergent evolution you look completely human, you're still an alien. So unless you've found a female Kryptonian somewhere, you couldn't possibly have a son."

"Not unless he was made in a lab," his Dad returned.

Languidly his Father stood up and walked around the desk to lean on the front of it. "Are you trying to claim that he's your clone? And you honestly expect me to believe that? I stand corrected, that's the least believable lie you've ever told me. Unless he's the result of a failed experiment…"

Conner's body went completely still. He doesn't know... he doesn't know… The thought went round and round in his head as he fought off the prickle of needles in his eyes.

"He is not a clone and he is NOT a failed experiment." His Dad sounded really angry, Conner noted distantly. "He is my son. And he's your son too."

His Father threw back his head and laughed. Conner's Dad had been right this was a bad idea; this was a horrible idea. His Father thought he was a failed experiment, hated him and Conner just wanted to grab his Dad and run, wanted to go back home, to Smallville, to the Fortress, wanted to bury his head under the covers and never come out. His feet wouldn't move.

"Well this is by far the weirdest paternity case I've been involved in," his Father commented, amused. "Do you have any proof?"

His Dad reached into his laptop bag and pulled out a folder. "Documents from Alcmene Labs, where he was made."

"And who's to say those aren't a forgery?"

"He has your eyes Lex," His Dad hissed and his Father snapped to attention. Slowly he got up and walked over to Conner, seeming to really see him for the first time. Trembling, Conner stood there as his Father looked him up and down, gaze lingering on Conner's eyes and hands especially. Wordlessly, his Father reached over and plucked the folder out of his Dad's hands and began flipping through the papers inside. Reaching the end, he set the folder down before collapsing on the desk and staring, eyes unfocused, at Conner's Dad.

"We have a son. I have a son," he whispered.

"Yes, you do." His Dad's voice was still hard, but Conner thought he could hear a bit of relief in it too.

Nodding, his Father reached behind him and groped blindly until he managed to grab the phone. "Charity, cancel the rest of my appointments for the day… Under absolutely no circumstances… I don't care if the whole Justice League is in my office; Mercy and Hope are not to come in until I say otherwise is that understood? Good."

For a minute no one spoke or moved. Finally his Father stood up and, uncertainty written in every line of his body, approached Conner. His hand came up and hesitated in midair between the two of them before coming to rest, light as a butterfly, on Conner's shoulder.

With that, whatever it was that had been holding Conner in place broke with the force of a rubber band, and he launched himself at his Father, wrapping his arms around him with a furious intensity. After a moment or two his Father's reached up to return the hug. His grip was loose and awkward, as though he wasn't really sure what he was supposed to be doing, which only made Conner hold on all the tighter.

Conner could have stayed there indefinitely, and probably would have if his Dad hadn't cleared his throat, causing Conner to pull back, embarrassed. His Father let him go and, eyes suspiciously bright, turned away to walk over to the mini-bar.

"Can I get anyone something to drink?" he asked.

"Water," Conner's Dad replied quickly. "We'll ALL have water, Lex." And oh, his Father looked positively mutinous at that, but, with a quick glance at Conner, he obediently pulled three blue bottles out of the little fridge, tossing two over to the Kents. The third he cracked open for himself, and threw back a gulp of it like he was taking a shot.

"So… Conner Kent…" he began.

"Conner Julian Kent," corrected Conner. He liked his middle name, he thought it made him sound… refined.

His Father paled visibly at the comment and nearly choked on his water. "Julian?" he questioned, looking at Conner's Dad.

"He's your son too," his Dad replied. "Besides, it's not like I was going to name him Alexander."

"Ke– Clark I need to talk to you," his Father said. Then he literally grabbed Conner's Dad by the arm and dragged him over to the conference table, thus cementing them as the weirdest arch-nemeses ever in Conner's mind.

Conner tried to listen in on them, but something, something associated with kryptonite if the pained look on his Dad's face was anything to go by, prevented him. Straining his hardest Conner only got scattered words here and there, most of them meaningless, though he did hear his own name, as well as the names Julian and Lucas a number of times. Then he heard his Father say something about a "bad influence," to which his Dad replied "I'm not going to let you corrupt him." And that probably should have been a threat, but it sounded softer than that, more like a promise or reassurance. Whatever it was, after he heard that, Conner's Father – he didn't slump exactly, Conner was pretty sure that Luthors didn't slump, but he looked decidedly more relaxed. After that they talked a little longer, something about Wednesday s and alternate weekends, before walking back over to Conner.

Conner's Dad, looking satisfied, if not happy exactly, said "Your… Father and I talked it over and decided that you're going to stay with him at his penthouse this weekend, and then we'll decide where to go from there, alright? Now we need to head home so we can let Lex get back to work."

"But earlier he said–"

"Conner," his Dad said, voice firm "We're going now; you'll see your Father this weekend." And Conner was going to protest, but suddenly he remembered the way his Father had gone after that water bottle. That really wasn't the reaction Conner had been hoping for. But, Conner supposed, finding out you had a teenaged superhero for a son couldn't be easy. Besides he had totally hugged Conner back, so he probably just needed time to adjust, right?

Right, Conner decided, fiercely optimistic. His Father would take the week to get used to the idea and then when Conner saw him this weekend it would be great. And then everything would be perfect.


Unfortunately, by Thursday afternoon Conner was feeling markedly less optimistic, lying on his bed staring at the ceiling and debating which was going to kill him first, the nerve-wracked nausea or the mind-numbing boredom. His Dad had seriously chosen the worst time ever to ground him, because now Conner had no one to talk to about his new-found Father. Technically Conner still had his phone and could have called one of his friends, but it's not like he could talk to any of his friends from school about this in the first place, and he felt like the Titans deserved to learn that his Father was actually a supervillain in person. He flipped through his phone contacts and considered calling his Grandma, he was seriously that desperate, when he stumbled across his salvation: Chloe Sullivan.

Chloe was by far Conner's favorite non-superhero friend of his Dad's. This might have something to do with the fact that Lois's intensity scared Conner a little, and definitely had a lot to do with her epically embarrassing rendition of "The Tale of Clana: A Teenaged Clark Kent Love Story." At four o'clock in the afternoon, Chloe would still be at work at The Topeka Capital-Journal, but Conner was reasonably sure that she'd be willing to talk to him anyway, something that really wasn't hurting her standing either.

He clicked on her number and, after two rings, she picked up.

"Hey Conner, what's up?" Conner could hear the clicking of a keyboard in the background and he could picture her working away with her cell phone cradled between her ear and shoulder.

"Did you know?" he blurts out without thinking.

"Did I know what?"

"You know," he hedged, "about the fact that I'm not actually a clone exactly."

"Oh that. Yeah, of course I did," she replied absent-mindedly.

"What?" Conner yelped, catapulting up into a sitting position. "You mean Dad told you?"

"I don't think Clark's ever actually told anyone a secret if he didn't already know that they knew." And yeah, that was probably a pretty accurate assessment of his Dad from what Conner seen. But that still didn't explain how Chloe knew.

"So who told you then?"

"No one told me. Clark's been one of my best friends since eighth grade; I think I'd remember if he had blue eyes."

"Yeah, well apparently I have my Father's eyes." Conner muttered sullenly. Seriously, had everyone known he wasn't a clone but him?

"Wait Clark actually told you who your other parent is? And it's a guy?"

"Yeah, it's… my Father is Lex Luthor." Conner had expected her to burst out in disbelief or maybe go into a rant about how evil Lex Luthor was. He hadn't expected her to laugh. And laugh. And laugh some more. And–

"Chloe! It's not that funny!"

"Actually Conner," she said and he could hear her wiping the tears out of her eyes. Fine, see if he ever told her anything personal ever again. "It really is. So is Clark going to let you meet Lex, or did he decide it was too dangerous?"

"Well, I already got to meet him last Monday and I'm supposed to go over and stay with him this weekend."

"That's great; I'm really happy for you," Chloe said and she sounded so genuine that Conner thought he might forgive her for laughing after all.

"So you're not going to lecture me about how evil he is?" Conner had been fruitlessly waiting for a lecture from his Dad about how evil "Luthor" was all week, and was a little surprised that now Chloe was going to pass up the opportunity too.

"Look, I'm not going to try to pretend like Lex hasn't done some pretty bad stuff because we all know he has. But I don't think he's really as evil as everyone makes him out to be either."

"What makes you say that?" Conner asked, honestly curious. He'd never heard anyone defend his Father before, even half-heartedly.

"I guess after a guy saves you from being blown up twice, you start to give him the benefit of the doubt," she said casually, like she wasn't talking about his Father saving her life, twice.

"He did? How?"

"Why don't you let Lex tell you himself? It'll give you something to ask him if things get awkward this weekend." Which Conner had to admit was a pretty good idea, even if he really wanted to know now.

"Alright. Thanks, Chloe."

"Any time. So was there something else, or is that it, because my editor needs this article by five."

"No that's it."

"Okay. Well good luck this weekend. Call me on Monday and let me know how it goes."

"Okay, talk to you later," Conner said before hanging up. He laid back down and stared at the ceiling again, feeling strangely more confident about the up-coming weekend.