Anote: Don't get me wrong, I liked Lana very much, and I have great sympathy for her character for the most part.
Chapter 6- Look who's coming to dinner
'Welcome, come in…come in!' Mrs Kent chirped happily, the moment Lex apprehensively stepped inside the kitchen door. Excitedly, she helped her guest out of his long coat, 'It's so nice to have some CIVILISED company for a change.'
From across the other side of her kitchen, mock cries of outrage came from the Kent men in response to her teasing smile. The happy hostess then gestured for Lex to join the others.
Struggling with a mad urge to flee, Lex finally wandered over to the kitchen sink, where Clark and his father were scrubbing their hands and arms in preparation for the meal. He had already unconsciously decided to stay close to Clark and just follow his lead, but hesitated when he realized that this would put him into close proximity to Mr. Kent. The two of them still fought to find a balance where they could both share Clark and Martha in an amicable way, and the young Luthor sincerely did not want dinner to collapse into a fiery fiasco of epic size proportions.
Lex hoped he had done the right thing in accepting this invitation. It's not that he didn't want to be here, it was that he didn't excel in social settings like the one that he had unexpectedly walked into. The former playboy was beginning to feel great empathy for Alice down her rabbit hole.
In the meantime, the young man leaned against the counter and with a pang of regretful longing, watched father and son. Lex was pretty certain that Clark knew how to wash his hands but the teenager stood still and allowed his father the opportunity to take his arms and soak in the lather. It was a small but very telling gesture of love and of family, perhaps told out in this way for years since Clark was a little boy.
'Your turn Lex,' Clark announced suddenly startling him, 'roll up your sleeves.'
The older man hesitated for a moment before obediently undoing his cuffs. Stepping up to the sink, Lex flipped his tie over his shoulder and plunged his hands under the running water. With a small cry he quickly pulled away but immediately sensing the trouble, the farmer turned off the heat and in a few seconds the water ran cool.
'My bad,' Clark apologized, 'are you alright? Here, let me get you a fresh towel.'
Just as he turned to ask his friend not to leave him, Clark had already trotted away to the linen closet.
Great.
However, never one to be intimidated, the businessman turned and gave Mr. Kent a polite smile and a murmur of thanks as the farmer poured some of the soap over his hands. He could feel the older man rudely studying the side of his face but he didn't press the issue. Lex was determined to keep a civil tongue in his head tonight, even if it killed him.
'Hard day at work?' Mr. Kent inquired.
Interesting…an attempt at polite conversation.
Lex decided to answer in kind but was careful not to read too much into the gracious offering because in his opinion, the mark of a man was how he reacted under pressure, not when he was relaxed and surrounded by the beguiling influence of family.
'Some days are harder than others,' he chose to say.
In reality, Mr. Kent had suddenly distressingly realized how pale and skinny Lex was, so much so that a good stiff breeze would most likely lay the man out flat. He also couldn't get over that bare, bald head. At this close range, it made him look like a cancer patient.
'Do you want to talk about it?' the farmer pressed kindly.
In response, the Luthor heir contemplatively turned to face him. The younger man might be frail in body, but energy and intelligence with a healthy dose of caution shone from his eyes. Only a fool would underestimate such a powerful combination.
'Not particularly,' he murmured, 'do you want to discuss your day?'
The older man reflexively smiled in response to the polite turn of phrase, 'Not much to tell and besides, I don't want to miss my daily download on what the wonderful and extraordinary Ms. Lang wore today.'
'Or how she arranged her hair,' Lex added with a half smile of exasperation, cluing Jonathan in to the fact that he wasn't the only one that Clark rambled on incessantly to.
'Or what she ate for lunch,' the older man volleyed back in quiet amusement.
'Or how many times she smiled in certain people's direction…'
For someone so large, Clark had somehow managed to creep up behind them unawares but fortunately, seemed to be oblivious to the subject of their conversation.
'Mom! Lex is a guy, he doesn't care what color his hand towel is!' Clark reasoned firmly as his mother lightly scolded him on his choice out of the closet.
The teenager looked anxiously between the two men, suddenly sensing something a bit off, 'Everything alright?'
'Of course,' Lex replied taking the hand towel, 'but I think your father is a bit surprised that I am capable of mindless conversation just like everyone else.'
The farmer looked a little sheepish at this admission but said nothing. What could he say? It was embarrassing to think that his words and actions probably made the young man feel more like a freak than he most likely already felt, given his strange outward appearance.
'Mrs. Kent, how can I help?' Lex inquired, stepping up to the stove to investigate the various pots and pans bubbling energetically, filling the kitchen with enticing aromas.
The millionaire's offer was rewarded by a gentle kiss on the cheek but she hastened to insist that as a guest, he should take a chair. Sadly, he reluctantly settled on a small stool tucked away by the wall when suddenly the Kents kicked into high gear. After observing them for a few moments, Lex realized that it was better this way. The three of them had established a clear rhythm and seamlessly moved around the small kitchen without any collisions.
'Sweetheart, use the harvest green napkins, cream tablecloth with the bone white china,' Mrs. Kent instructed her son as she ladled stew into a serving dish, 'and put out the little pumpkins that Bethany made for you to finish off the table.'
In the interim, Lex took the opportunity to look around him while everyone's attention was elsewhere. In the mansion, he would usually have the television on to the news or in lieu of that one of his favourite classical composers on his music system, but the Kents appeared to prefer the sound of only their voices to keep them company. The Kents also preferred an abundance of wooden furnishings but it suited the country styled theme and of course the family that lived in it. He on the other hand preferred a bit more metal and glass but it was really their lighting that was starting to harangue his senses.
Hang on, was he seeing things? Did Clark just pick up that hot plate with his bare hands?!
'Lex, are you alright?' Martha asked anxiously as she settled another of the dishes in the middle of the table, her mommy radar on full alert as the young man squinted at her.
Quickly he nodded his head but as Clark looked up to observe him, Lex couldn't quite meet his eyes due to the light fixture right above his head.
'It's the light,' the teenager announced, 'its too bright in here.'
Lex blinked in surprise as the trio immediately scattered, switching off lights and lamps until all that remained was a single reading light in the living room. Clark, in charge of setting the table, found some candles and the dining area was now suffused in its warm glow. The young Luthor was moved by such thoughtfulness, but they would never know that for a chance to sit at their table for a family meal, he would have gladly suffered worse. Was that as pathetic as it sounded?
'Sweetheart, did you damage your eyes?' Martha asked gently, cupping his chin and titling his head upwards for closer examination, 'Clark, did something happen?'
Lex couldn't help but feebly smile at such motherly concern, even as he was stunned into stupefied silence by the fact that she was calling him by the same endearment that she reserved for her son.
'Not to my knowledge,' the teenager replied in uneasily, 'but I just remembered how dark the mansion is and Lex is always in shades.'
'I am fine,' he now insisted, gently pulling away from her hold as he tried to rein in their conversation, 'there is no need for this worry. I just prefer soft light.'
Unexpectedly it was Mr. Kent that came to his rescue, 'Don't fuss Martha, he said he's alright. Let's get the steak on the table, I'm starving.'
As she hesitantly turned away, the two older men nodded discreetly to each other behind her back.
Finally, all was ready and Clark beckoned his friend to approach the table. With a nervous smile, Lex walked forward and sat on the chair closest to Clark, only to spring to his feet when he realized that the Kent men were not doing the same. He could have slapped himself in the head. Martha was still removing her apron and washing her hands at the sink and obviously no one could sit before she did! His father would disown him on the spot for such a display of bad manners. He was so focused on doing everything right and making a good impression, that it was making him careless! While they stood quietly, he used the opportunity to take a few discreet calming breaths.
This time Lex waited for everyone to sit before he took his chair. Next, Mrs. Kent folded her hands for a prayer, and he quickly looked around the table to see what everyone else was doing. Curiously, he noticed that Clark was respectfully following her words but made no effort to participate. The energy level then picked up considerably as spoons began flying around as everyone packed their plates. The farmer leaned over to kiss his wife, thanking her for the meal she had provided, even as Clark stretched his mouth wide trying to eat a whole half of a baked potato at once.
With a quiet sigh, Lex looked down the table. The flickering candles made everything look warm and inviting and coupled with Mrs. Kent decorating scheme, the affect was flawless. A feeling of deep calm suddenly suffused his being as he shook out his napkin before draping it across his lap. For once he wasn't the centre of attention and it was pleasant to be just part of the crowd; no need to be on his guard, no responsibilities crowding his mind, no thoughts of tomorrow.
The businessman leaned forward to examine the small decorative pumpkin in the centre of his plate. A face with an extremely toothy grin was drawn on it with black marker. He looked across at his hostess questioningly.
'One of Clark's admirers sent them,' she replied with a smile.
'Clark? I didn't know you were such a ladies man,' Lex smirked teasingly as he put his pumpkin to one side, and picked up the platter of vegetables.
The dark haired teenager waved his hands in a no-no gesture but thankfully didn't try to speak until he swallowed his latest mouthful, 'I'm not! Beth is Pete's niece and she's eight!'
With a frown Clark looked across at the food that was slowly building on his friend's plate, 'Lex, you want the cheesy baked potatoes not that yucky steamed stuff.'
The millionaire playboy held out his hand, trying to block the teenagers' eager assistance as he tried to tip the entire serving into his plate.
'Clark, concentrate on your plate,' his mother admonished him quietly, as Mr. Kent stood and poured some wine for all the adults at the table.
'But mommm,' he was quick to protest, but subsided under her stern look.
The Luthor smiled and just to make his young friend happy he took one of the smaller baked potatoes. As per his habit, Lex then picked up his knife and fork and began slicing into bite sized pieces before he began eating. This was in direct contrast to Clark's style, who, with the happy enthusiasm of youth, was busy shoveling in his mother's cooking as if he hadn't seen food in several days. However, as the businessman picked up the first morsel and slowly chewed, he began to appreciate why Clark was eating so ecstatically. Martha smiled proudly because Lex didn't even have to say the words when the look on his face said it all.
'I may have to just steal you away, Mrs. Kent,' he remarked quietly. The farmer's wife blushed warmly at his praise, knowing full well that Lex had a world renowned chef at his beck and call. The very polite French woman had telephoned her last week, trying to get ideas of what to prepare for Clark, who apparently was at a loss regarding what to order from the mansion's kitchens for his after school snack.
'It's good, isn't it?' Clark remarked happily, as he grabbed a warm roll of bread and popped it generously on his friend's plate. All the while, the teenager had been intently observing Lex's expertise with the knife and fork and he looked down with a scowl at his own utensils. He and his father didn't really bother much with them, except on the rare occasion when they had some company over.
Only when it was too late did Clark realize that Lex was left handed.
The hot potato he was trying to cube, skidded off his plate, sailed through the air and nailed his father right in the eye before falling into the man's lap. Mr. Kent leaped up with a cry of outrage!
Two minutes later all was now calm and orderly. Plates had been refilled, Mr. Kent had ice cubes wrapped in a kitchen towel to soothe the burn on sensitive areas and Clark had been relieved of his knife (with a gentle request to practice at another time).
During the entire time Lex didn't look up. His face hurt with the effort it took not to laugh out loud at the classic three Stooges moment. This was quickly turning into the best dinner party he had been too for a very long time! He would be sending Mrs. Kent roses (no, red tulips) along with a thank you note in the morning.
Mr. Kent cleared his throat as he comfortingly squeezed his wife's hand, 'Well, we are certainly having an eventful evening.'
Lex, realizing that the farmer was perhaps trying to unnecessarily apologise for the unscripted dinner table entertainment, raised his hand to cut him off.
'I think this is the first time I have felt relaxed all day, sir,' he revealed, lowering his protective walls bravely, 'I am very happy not to be alone tonight; flying hot potatoes not withstanding.'
The older Kents looked at each other and smiled in tandem at such a gracious remark.
'Speaking of eventful,' Clark interjected excitedly, 'you would not believe what Lana did in gym today!'
The teenager was so busy relating his story that he failed to hear the three quiet sighs of resignation echo around the table.