SMALL FAVOR IV: SLEEP DEPRIVATION
by ingrid
It had been a long, tiring day. Livvie's first big tooth was cutting through and Lex was at his wit's end, trying to soothe away her pain.
Nights were spent rocking her in his arms, the dawn eventually peeping through the blinds in dull shades of pink and gold and Lex fought to stay awake, even as she screamed.
He got used to rubbing useless anesthetic on her gums, wincing at its sour smell. She drooled over his favorite shirts until he wised up enough to put on t-shirts instead. She chewed on her hands relentlessly, screaming when he pulled them out of her mouth. She slept fitfully, for minutes at a time, allowing him even less.
She cried some more.
Lex cried with her. And kept the chair rocking.
The nanny offered to take over until the worst had passed, but Lex knew in his heart that this was his job. His test as a father and as usual, failure was not an option. He showered sporadically, ate when he remembered to and Gabe Sullivan was getting a bonus that would probably make him faint beneath the Christmas tree, but it was worth it to have every minute to do what had to be done.
By the second week of misery and no sleep, the man in the mirror frightened Lex. He looked drawn and sickly white, lost beneath the razor sharp lines of his cheekbones and skin. Livvie was hiccoughing in her crib and for the first time ever in Lex's life, sincere prayer seemed like a really good idea.
Dear God, he swore, if you make her stop crying, I'll be a much better man that anyone might have hoped for.
If you make her pain go away, I'll be good. So good.
If you give me a full hour of sleep, I'll so be your bitch, oh Lord, my god.
But it seemed that God didn't listen to the prayers of new fathers. Not right away, at any rate. Livvie kept howling and chewing on Lex's medicine-soaked fingers, while a silently hysterical Lex wondered how the hell any human being survived their first year as a parent.
According to his father, he was supposed to be a survivor, wasn't he? But that only applied to the fists of maniacs and gunshots headed in his direction from disgruntled people.
Come to think of it, a bullet headed his way would have been good at that moment. Very good.
By the time this morbid thought occurred to him, it was four-thirty a.m, fifteen days past Livvie's first restless night and it was at that moment Lex called Clark, laughing and sobbing like a madman into the phone.
He heard the receiver on the other end clatter to the floor. Fine, leave me here alone to my fate, you bastard, Lex thought dizzily, not even knowing if Livvie was still in her crib, unable to get up and check. He didn't leave her anywhere, did he? Where was she? If he'd ...
A warm rush of air in the room and somehow Clark was there, kneeling in front of the rocker. His handsome face was dark with concern and Lex didn't even feel the hand that caressed his knee, that's how far gone he was.
"Livvie?" Lex croaked, looking around with eyes that barely worked.
"She's in the crib, Lex. Jesus, you look awful. When was the last time you slept?"
Lex tipped forward in the chair, nearly falling over with relief. "I can't do this," he said with an air of miserable finality. "I can't. I'm a failure. Ask your mother to take Livvie in, Clark. I don't deserve her. I'm a horrible father. I should be taken outside and shot. Do you have a gun?"
Clark looked horrified. And furious. "Don't say things like that, Lex. Don't ever say anything like that." His voice softened. "You're just tired, that's all. You need a break. How about I get you into bed, Lex? Would you like that?"
For some reason this struck Lex as incredibly funny. "Of all the times to ask me, Clark. You could have tried when I was sane, you know. But now ..."
Clark flushed a deep shade of pink and stood. "Come on," he said, tugging Lex up into a standing position. He balanced him in his arms. "Let's get you to your bed."
When this proved to be too difficult a task for Lex under his own power, Clark simply hauled him up into a fireman's carry over his shoulder, rubbing the back of his legs comfortingly as he carried him down the hallway to his bedroom. "I'll look after Livvie. You just sleep, okay? If I have any problems, I'll call my mom. So there's nothing to worry about, okay? Everything's under control."
Lex was already half asleep, even while hanging upside down. "You don't have to call your mother, Clark. I can do it," he yawned. His eyes fluttered shut and he only vaguely felt Clark laying him onto his bed, tucking the covers around his shoulders and ... God ... the soft comfort of a warm pillow beneath his head, that was heaven right there.
Normally, he would have jolted awake a few seconds later with Livvie's name on his lips. But Clark ... Clark was there and his soft voice soothed Lex toward a deep sleep, something he didn't think he'd ever enjoy again.
"It's all right now. I'm going to take care of everything," Clark whispered, sprawled out beside him on the bed, brushing warm fingers along Lex's cheeks. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
Lex tried to reply, but his lips were silenced by a very gentle kiss. "Good night, Lex. Sleep tight."
I must be dreaming, Lex thought, before sleep took its inevitable hold.
It had to be nothing more than a dream.
But what a dream it was.
~*~
Hours later, Lex blinked through the fog of the deepest sleep he'd ever known without the help of pharmaceuticals. His muscles ached as he stretched himself out of the bed, sitting and rubbing his eyes wearily, trying to read the digital clock on his night table.
Three. Zero. Six.
He rubbed harder and squinted. The clock said three, but it wasn't dark outside his window and that made no sense, but ...
Gaping, Lex rose and bolted out the door. Ran down the hallway to Livvie's room and finding it empty, he stumbled down the main staircase two steps at a time. "Livvie! Clark!"
Clark stood at the bottom of the stairs, smiling. "Good morning, sleepy. Come on in the kitchen. We have a late breakfast on."
"Where's the baby?" Lex asked. He didn't mean to sound abrupt, but ...
Clark didn't seem to mind. In fact, he looked positively understanding. "She's in the kitchen and she's fine. You'll see," he said, slinging an arm over Lex's shoulder and steering him toward a wonderful smell coming from a part of the mansion Lex didn't remember visiting all that often.
Lex sniffed the air tentatively. It was heavy with the warm scent of home cooking. "Is the cook here?"
"Sort of," Clark laughed, pushing open the kitchen door and revealing his parents -- Martha sitting at the island, playing with Livvie who sat contentedly in her carrier, chewing on something long and red and Jonathan, standing in front of the stove, studiously flipping a piece of food that looked suspiciously like a pancake.
"He lives," Jonathan said, not looking up from the sizzling frying pan. "Clark, can you get me that plate over there?"
Clark scurried to obey, and Martha waved to Lex. "Good morning." She took up Livvie's free hand and wiggled it in Lex's direction. "Say good morning to Daddy, sweets."
Lex blinked, not knowing whether to laugh with joy or scream in terror. He did neither, opting instead to take a seat across from Martha, pulling Livvie's carrier close. "Hey, sweetie." Lex gingerly fingered the bit of red cloth she was holding onto so tightly, surprised to find it was wet and cold.
"Frozen washrag," Martha explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Best thing for teething. Just wet it and throw it in the freezer, then give it to her to chew on when she cries. It numbs her little gums and helps the teeth break through."
"Right," Lex said, making an inner vow to toss every baby book he owned onto a bonfire. A big bonfire. He leaned down and kissed Livvie's forehead. It was cool and she looked like she hadn't cried in hours. Never before had Lex Luthor believed in blessings, but now ...
He turned around. "You don't have to cook, Mr. Kent. I can order something for us."
Jonathan Kent raised an eyebrow at him. He held up a pancake-covered plate. "You think can order these outside?"
Lex examined the plate. The pancakes were golden and fluffy and practically bursting with blueberries. "No, I don't think I could," he admitted. Honestly, too.
"Darned right, you couldn't," Jonathan replied, adding the plate to the row of additional dishes already lined up in soldierly fashion along the counter. "Start the dishing out, Clark."
"Yes, sir," Clark said, and a few minutes later, Lex was staring at a plate piled high with pancakes, bacon, eggs and toast, his stomach growling its approval. There were jams and tiny muffins on the side, along with a big bowl of granola mix and dried fruits. Some hash too, and Lex wondered what the rest of them were going to eat when he tucked into the food with gusto, fully intending to devour everything in sight.
Oh, it was good. So good, and it felt like he hadn't eaten in weeks. Probably because he hadn't eaten properly in weeks. "Fis isf defilicious," he muttered past a mouth full of scrambled egg. "Reaffy goodf."
Martha laughed. "Slow down, sweetheart. You'll make Clark nervous. He's not used to having competition at the table."
"Mom!" Clark whined, sneaking a hand toward the last muffin.
Lex held his fork up in a defensive position, ready to skewer wandering fingers. "Don't even think it," he grumbled and Clark edged away with a scared look. A quick buttering later, the muffin was gone. "Wonderful," Lex sighed, when the last crumb was scraped away. "Best breakfast I've had in years."
Jonathan chuckled into his coffee cup. "Hear that, Martha? You might have to hand over your crown."
Cornflower blue eyes narrowed. "Someone wants to cook dinner too, I'm sensing."
"I'll wash," Clark said, gathering the plates with impressive speed, cutting off any arguments before they could begin.
"There's a dishwasher, Clark," Lex said, pointing to a stainless steel door tucked between the lower cabinets, next to the sink. "Rumor has it you put them in there, push a button and they're done."
"I've heard stories of these magical machines," said Martha, with only a little irony. Maybe a lot. "Jonathan? Have you ever heard of such a wondrous thing?"
"Nothing beats a good hand washing," he replied quickly. "Get to it, Clark."
"Yes, sir."
Hot soapy water bubbled up in the massive sink. Lex got up from the stool with some difficulty and searched through the drawers for a towel. "I'll dry," he said when he finally found a clean one, noticing an impressed look from Jonathan Kent as he padded past.
The assembly line started. Wet dish, dry dish, stack of plates put away as the cutlery clattered back into the drawer. Martha hummed a song to Livvie, something from an old Disney movie and Jonathan drank his coffee silently, just watching as Clark and Lex worked, side by side.
Eventually, the last spoon was put away. Lex turned around, feeling a strange sense of triumph, overjoyed to see Livvie sleeping peacefully in her carrier. His throat caught as he watched Martha and Jonathan Kent sitting in his kitchen, whispering to each other, lightly holding hands, and he could feel Clark's presence next to him, filling the entire room with warmth. With love.
Not that Clark noticed. He was too busy shaking his head with bemusement at his parents. "When are you guys going to act like married people? " he asked with mock disgust. "Lex is going to toss you out."
Jonathan drew himself up. He wasn't a tall man, but Lex decided he was one of the strongest-looking ones he'd ever seen. "Speaking of that, I think it's time we left," Jonathan said. He clapped a hand to Lex's shoulder. "When you need help with the baby, young man, I hope you'll call us before things get so bad again. You can't care for your child if you don't take care of yourself."
Lex smiled. Finally, a platitude he could live with. "You're right. Thank you for being here when I needed help."
"Don't be a stranger, either," Martha said, tiptoeing up and kissing Lex's cheek. "Come over anytime. We'll be glad to have you both."
Heat filled Lex's face and was he blushing? No. Impossible. Still, he returned Martha's kiss. Shyly. "You might never get rid of me," he admitted. "Treatment like this is addicting."
God, he sounded like a sap, but Martha only laughed. "We have to break you in slowly, before you're inducted into the real hardships of Kentdom, Lex. Remember, no air-conditioning and no dishwasher."
"I can handle that," Lex protested, over the laughter of two departing Kents. "But I can," he said weakly, frowning at Clark's snorted response.
"Uh, huh. You're the salt of the earth, Lex," Clark chuckled. "I'll build a trailer for you in the lower forty. Luxery like you've never known. Literally."
"I don't appreciate this sort of prejudice. Rich people are people too, you know."
"And once I get you a blond mullet wig, you're set. We'll call you 'Lex Dirt', good ol' Kansas boy with the dishpan hands."
"Shut up, Clark."
"And we can sing while you fry up the chicken necks. 'Don't tell ma heart, ma achy breaky heeearrrrrt ..."
"I said, shut up, Clark."
~*~
The phone calls Lex made that evening were short and to the point. One to the plant, one to Gabe Sullivan and a message left on his father's answering machine, giving him his bi-monthly warning away from Lex's business and baby, just for good measure.
Lex felt a tiny twinge of guilt when he hung up -- the man had been keeping a respectful distance for months -- so he decided to assuage it with an emailed picture of Livvie in her crib.
Who knows? All that prettiness might charm some goodness into the Devil himself. Maybe.
Pipe dreams, Lex thought, snatching a blanket on his way into the living room where Clark was watching Livvie for him. If he were really sneaky and lowdown, maybe he could catch a final nap on the sofa before Clark headed home.
As luck would have it, Livvie and Clark had already beaten him to the punch. Curled up on the couch together, Clark sat with his head thrown back in sleep and Livvie nestled in the crook of his arm, her little fingers clutching a handful of wrinkled plaid, soggy where someone had obviously been drooling on it.
Someone who wasn't a baby with teething issues.
Mental note, Lex thought. Mock Clark mercilessly for that later.
In the meantime, Lex bit his lip and watched as his two favorite people in the world snored in tandem. Clark with a "bzzz-rcck-snork!" and Livvie with her delicate, more lady-like "whee-wee-heeeee."
Where the heck was a video camera when you needed one, he thought, taking his place at Clark's side on the couch, sliding down carefully so as not to wake either of them. The scene needed a Third Stooge and Lex was more than happy to oblige, ready to join the snore symphony.
He looked around for a pillow. There wasn't any. Thought about it for a moment, then shrugged.
His head. Clark's knee. It was meant to be.
Lex settled in with a sigh. He pulled the blanket up and closed his eyes, nuzzling the warm denim-clad leg.
A heavy hand flopped down and landed on Lex's shoulder, rubbing sleepily. "Mmmphargh," Clark mumbled incoherently, tightening his grip before returning to his snoring. And drooling.
"Good night to you too," Lex replied with a yawn. He reached up and patted his daughter's chubby leg. "Sleep tight, angel."
"Whee-wee-heee," was the only response.
~*~
tbc ...