A/N: Apologies for the minor, passing slur in one section voiced by one character, which does NOT reflect the feelings of the author or of any sane person.
***
Clark carefully pushed the steel bars back into place, then spent a few extra minutes trying to smooth them down so they looked untouched. It would be kind of funny, but not really, if they fingerprinted it and found his fingerprints not on but in the metal.
The jewels seemed to be winking at him, almost conspiratorially, and he swallowed back the last bit of troubled conscience. The breastplate was just on loan to the museum anyway. And he'd think of a way to give them something in return, too.
He put the lettered sign in front of the case. "Down with all symbols of violence! This piece of antiquated imperialism has been liberated for peaceful purposes by Nonviolent Chaos." He'd not wanted any employees to get blamed for the theft, especially since he was trying to make sure that nobody would suspect superhuman strength, so he'd made up a name of a group. He carefully attached a sticker of a ring-tailed lemur to the sign, just like the ones he'd put on the security camera lenses, adding a bit more misdirection.
Let's see. Breastplate. Case closed again. Cameras taken care of. Sign. All done. He grinned, grabbed the prize, and ran back outside.
He'd found that spandex worked best when he was flying, cutting down on things like leaves and insects and on one memorable occasion, a bird, getting caught in his clothing. The sky was just too full, what with birds and planes and such. But he felt that something was missing, and now he'd finally made up his mind.
*Now* he'd show Lex why he was in such a good mood and occasionally snickering to himself. And he'd done it even earlier than he expected.
***
"Look, no hands," Susan murmured huskily as Lex undid her front-closure bra with his mouth. He brought his hands back to stroke her breasts as he pulled it free. Oh, he was more than ready for-
"Hey, Lex! Look at this!"
He whisked around. Clark--who had said that he planned to be gone all evening--was standing in the doorway. In spandex. Very revealing spandex. And carrying the Alexander the Great breastplate.
"Oh. Uh," Clark dropped the breastplate, groaned, buried his face in his hands, and ran into his room.
Susan had instinctively retrieved her bra. "Oh, my God, you're a fa-"
"He's my brother!"
She frowned, obviously not buying it. Dammit, why did the truth have to be so implausible? "He doesn't look like you," she snapped, and *dammit* redoing the hooks he'd just unhooked.
"Adopted," Lex answered, feebly.
"Riiiiight." The blouse went back on, too.
"Look, really, he..." Lex's voice trailed off as he remembered that Clark could see through walls. And was probably doing just that. Now that wasn't an erotic thought.
The woman pointed to the evidence that he'd lost most of the mood. "He lives here, models skintight spandex for you, goes all miserable when he sees us, seeing him makes you all shrinky, and the best you can make up is that he's your brother?" She stalked out, but pausing in the doorway. "I should have known from your clothing, anyway. *Real* men can actually wear primary colors."
Lex closed his eyes and heard the door click shut with a certain definitiveness. When Clark returned to the doorway, muttering, "Uh, Lex, uh, sorry about that," Lex didn't even want to think about what had just happened and instead just shook his head.
"But, uh, what do you think about the-?" Clark looked a lot more subdued as he held up the breastplate. "I decided that if the bat guy dresses up, I should, too. You know, a disguise. Just like in the comic books." Clark's voice was just plaintive enough to make Lex resolve his dilemma, so instead of throwing something heavy at Clark, he looked over the expanse of spandex.
"It's...unforgettable." Clark grinned, apparently missing or ignoring a certain acerbity in Lex's tone.
***
Gotham City wasn't noted for people who noticed things. Particularly not things that it would be generally safer to ignore. Lionel Luthor intended to take advantage of that fact.
"Yeah, well, if ordering online is so great, how come you got as many as I did? Or maybe more?" Clark's voice was raised in a challenge, but the tone was almost teasing.
"I also like to support small independent businesses," Lex answered with an attempt at hauteur.
"No, you just know that you lose control once you get in there and start fondling the-"
"Checking the condition, *if* you don't mind."
Judging from the credit card records, his sons made this trip weekly, every Thursday night, and Lionel was ready to bet that the mock-argument was just as regular. Something about comic books brought out the considerable levels of immaturity in both of them. Even if now they were supposed to be called graphic novels or something ridiculous like that.
He was five steps behind them, a sweatjacket hood hiding much of his face as he admired the intricacy of the moves that slowly surrounded the two boys with his hired men, under Philip's competent direction. It was completely unobtrusive, looking just like the ordinary flow of people on the sidewalk.
By the time they reached the spot where the appointed alley intersected the sidewalk, the two of them were completely surrounded, and as some of them opened lead boxes, revealing pieces of meteor, others shoved them into the alley, where the car waited.
"What the-" Lex was ready to struggle and shout, but quieted as the man standing next to him put a gun to his temple. "Clark?" He looked anxiously at his brother, who had twisted and fallen, his face covered with perspiration.
Lionel stepped forward. "You're both going to be all right. I promise it." Knowing that a gesture would be still more effective than his words, he crouched next to Clark and helped him up, supporting him against the wall. It annoyed--and upset--him that Clark looked so terrified. With his free hand, he reached out and closed the box closest to Clark, and saw that it seemed to ease his pain and weakness.
"All right? As in cut up?" Clark sounded almost close to tears. "Still alive?"
"No. I'm taking you to a place I've gotten ready for you. You'll have every luxury there, anything you can ask for."
"A beautifully gilded cage?" Lex smirked at him.
Lionel stopped to laugh shortly. "Every imaginable comfort, everything provided for you, most people dream of that kind of life."
"But Luthors aren't most people."
He realized Lex was trying to stall things. "True. Now get in." He could see the way Lex's mind was working, how he was trying to think of all the possible options, even while the men were guiding him to the car, keeping their guns pointed at him. Another joined Lionel in supporting Clark to the car, and he raised an eyebrow in surprise as Lex reached to touch Clark reassuringly on the shoulder, and Clark forced a smile at his brother.
There was a flurry of motion behind them and he turned around. Some *thing*, no, a man in a fantastical costume, was standing behind them, then quickly kicking and fighting its, no, *his,* it was a *man,* not some kind of mythical creature, way towards the car, seemingly invulnerable to the bullets being fired at it. He shoved them into the car and just as quickly, Lex was trying to drag Clark out the other door, then realizing that it was sealed, managed to push himself and Clark past the stunned Lionel.
Lionel grabbed onto Clark's arm. The boy was too weakened by the meteors in the car to put up a serious struggle, and for a while, Lex and Lionel played tug-of-war with Clark as the rope. Lex suddenly cried out in pain and let go, slumping to the ground.
"Lex," Clark whispered, and Lionel released him, pushing past him to see if Lex was seriously injured, Clark scrambling after him.
He was. Even though the bullets were low-caliber, intended to disable rather than kill, the one that had struck Lex's leg must have opened the femoral vein. Lionel pushed hard on the wound, trying to apply enough pressure to slow the blood flow, and barking to anyone who would listen, "Call an ambulance."
Clark, through some unimaginable force of effort, knelt next to Lex, cradling him. Seeing that things had failed, the men stopped shooting at the figure, who strode over to Lex.
"It's no use," the black-clad man said, almost coldly. "He'll bleed to death before an ambulance gets here." Nonetheless, he crouched and pulled out some kind of rope, looping it around Lex's leg as a tourniquet.
"Dad," Clark whispered. "Please. Just have them close the boxes. I can save him, Dad."
Lionel realized what the decision was. Lex's life or his own victory. He had to decide in an instant, or the decision would be made for him. He wouldn't let that happen. "Close the meteor boxes."
Clark brushed away the stranger's hands on Lex's leg and stared. A faint light appeared on Lex's thigh where the laser touched it, cauterizing the wound, sealing it shut. Clark scooped him up and looked at the stranger. "Is it enough to stop the bleeding, or do I need to get him to a hospital?"
"He needs treatment. Come with me. There's enough time." The man's voice was absolutely expressionless. Until he asked, "How *did* you do that?" as he led them to a low-slung armored car, and then his voice was full of overt envy.
***
"Urban myth *that*," Clark taunted as Lex took his first uneasy steps the next day. The man, who had made it very clear that he prefered "Bat," or "Batman" over "Bat guy" or "Bat dude," seemed to have a hospital's worth of equipment and supplies, including more than enough blood for transfusions, as well as a certain expertise.
Lex just looked at him.
"Anyway, he said that I have an incredible talent and he asked me to join something he calls the Justice League."
"Do you get a secret handshake?" Lex smirked.
"Decoder rings." Lex almost looked for an instant as though he believed it. "But he did give me a kind of code name." Clark squirmed in a mixture of embarassment and delight, but he was going to make Lex ask.
"Out with it."
"Superman."
Lex snorted and swayed a little, and Clark caught him under the shoulders. "Superman?"
"Oh, get back in bed!" He carefully helped Lex back. "He was...pretty cool, actually. Gave me a lot to, well, to think about."
"What about Dad? What are you going to do?" Lex wasn't sure what he himself thought or wanted.
"Well...he did let me save your life, when he could have...let you die and taken me back. So I guess I can't hate him." Clark had slowly come to realize this, sorting through his own feelings under the Bat's probing questions. "But I think I'm going to end up spending a lot of time fighting him." He picked at the fabric of his jeans. "It's kind of weird. The world is going to think that I hate Lex Luthor. But...instead...I...I kind of got used to him. The real one."
"Pesky kid brother," Lex muttered. "I kind of got used to you, too."
***
Clark carefully pushed the steel bars back into place, then spent a few extra minutes trying to smooth them down so they looked untouched. It would be kind of funny, but not really, if they fingerprinted it and found his fingerprints not on but in the metal.
The jewels seemed to be winking at him, almost conspiratorially, and he swallowed back the last bit of troubled conscience. The breastplate was just on loan to the museum anyway. And he'd think of a way to give them something in return, too.
He put the lettered sign in front of the case. "Down with all symbols of violence! This piece of antiquated imperialism has been liberated for peaceful purposes by Nonviolent Chaos." He'd not wanted any employees to get blamed for the theft, especially since he was trying to make sure that nobody would suspect superhuman strength, so he'd made up a name of a group. He carefully attached a sticker of a ring-tailed lemur to the sign, just like the ones he'd put on the security camera lenses, adding a bit more misdirection.
Let's see. Breastplate. Case closed again. Cameras taken care of. Sign. All done. He grinned, grabbed the prize, and ran back outside.
He'd found that spandex worked best when he was flying, cutting down on things like leaves and insects and on one memorable occasion, a bird, getting caught in his clothing. The sky was just too full, what with birds and planes and such. But he felt that something was missing, and now he'd finally made up his mind.
*Now* he'd show Lex why he was in such a good mood and occasionally snickering to himself. And he'd done it even earlier than he expected.
***
"Look, no hands," Susan murmured huskily as Lex undid her front-closure bra with his mouth. He brought his hands back to stroke her breasts as he pulled it free. Oh, he was more than ready for-
"Hey, Lex! Look at this!"
He whisked around. Clark--who had said that he planned to be gone all evening--was standing in the doorway. In spandex. Very revealing spandex. And carrying the Alexander the Great breastplate.
"Oh. Uh," Clark dropped the breastplate, groaned, buried his face in his hands, and ran into his room.
Susan had instinctively retrieved her bra. "Oh, my God, you're a fa-"
"He's my brother!"
She frowned, obviously not buying it. Dammit, why did the truth have to be so implausible? "He doesn't look like you," she snapped, and *dammit* redoing the hooks he'd just unhooked.
"Adopted," Lex answered, feebly.
"Riiiiight." The blouse went back on, too.
"Look, really, he..." Lex's voice trailed off as he remembered that Clark could see through walls. And was probably doing just that. Now that wasn't an erotic thought.
The woman pointed to the evidence that he'd lost most of the mood. "He lives here, models skintight spandex for you, goes all miserable when he sees us, seeing him makes you all shrinky, and the best you can make up is that he's your brother?" She stalked out, but pausing in the doorway. "I should have known from your clothing, anyway. *Real* men can actually wear primary colors."
Lex closed his eyes and heard the door click shut with a certain definitiveness. When Clark returned to the doorway, muttering, "Uh, Lex, uh, sorry about that," Lex didn't even want to think about what had just happened and instead just shook his head.
"But, uh, what do you think about the-?" Clark looked a lot more subdued as he held up the breastplate. "I decided that if the bat guy dresses up, I should, too. You know, a disguise. Just like in the comic books." Clark's voice was just plaintive enough to make Lex resolve his dilemma, so instead of throwing something heavy at Clark, he looked over the expanse of spandex.
"It's...unforgettable." Clark grinned, apparently missing or ignoring a certain acerbity in Lex's tone.
***
Gotham City wasn't noted for people who noticed things. Particularly not things that it would be generally safer to ignore. Lionel Luthor intended to take advantage of that fact.
"Yeah, well, if ordering online is so great, how come you got as many as I did? Or maybe more?" Clark's voice was raised in a challenge, but the tone was almost teasing.
"I also like to support small independent businesses," Lex answered with an attempt at hauteur.
"No, you just know that you lose control once you get in there and start fondling the-"
"Checking the condition, *if* you don't mind."
Judging from the credit card records, his sons made this trip weekly, every Thursday night, and Lionel was ready to bet that the mock-argument was just as regular. Something about comic books brought out the considerable levels of immaturity in both of them. Even if now they were supposed to be called graphic novels or something ridiculous like that.
He was five steps behind them, a sweatjacket hood hiding much of his face as he admired the intricacy of the moves that slowly surrounded the two boys with his hired men, under Philip's competent direction. It was completely unobtrusive, looking just like the ordinary flow of people on the sidewalk.
By the time they reached the spot where the appointed alley intersected the sidewalk, the two of them were completely surrounded, and as some of them opened lead boxes, revealing pieces of meteor, others shoved them into the alley, where the car waited.
"What the-" Lex was ready to struggle and shout, but quieted as the man standing next to him put a gun to his temple. "Clark?" He looked anxiously at his brother, who had twisted and fallen, his face covered with perspiration.
Lionel stepped forward. "You're both going to be all right. I promise it." Knowing that a gesture would be still more effective than his words, he crouched next to Clark and helped him up, supporting him against the wall. It annoyed--and upset--him that Clark looked so terrified. With his free hand, he reached out and closed the box closest to Clark, and saw that it seemed to ease his pain and weakness.
"All right? As in cut up?" Clark sounded almost close to tears. "Still alive?"
"No. I'm taking you to a place I've gotten ready for you. You'll have every luxury there, anything you can ask for."
"A beautifully gilded cage?" Lex smirked at him.
Lionel stopped to laugh shortly. "Every imaginable comfort, everything provided for you, most people dream of that kind of life."
"But Luthors aren't most people."
He realized Lex was trying to stall things. "True. Now get in." He could see the way Lex's mind was working, how he was trying to think of all the possible options, even while the men were guiding him to the car, keeping their guns pointed at him. Another joined Lionel in supporting Clark to the car, and he raised an eyebrow in surprise as Lex reached to touch Clark reassuringly on the shoulder, and Clark forced a smile at his brother.
There was a flurry of motion behind them and he turned around. Some *thing*, no, a man in a fantastical costume, was standing behind them, then quickly kicking and fighting its, no, *his,* it was a *man,* not some kind of mythical creature, way towards the car, seemingly invulnerable to the bullets being fired at it. He shoved them into the car and just as quickly, Lex was trying to drag Clark out the other door, then realizing that it was sealed, managed to push himself and Clark past the stunned Lionel.
Lionel grabbed onto Clark's arm. The boy was too weakened by the meteors in the car to put up a serious struggle, and for a while, Lex and Lionel played tug-of-war with Clark as the rope. Lex suddenly cried out in pain and let go, slumping to the ground.
"Lex," Clark whispered, and Lionel released him, pushing past him to see if Lex was seriously injured, Clark scrambling after him.
He was. Even though the bullets were low-caliber, intended to disable rather than kill, the one that had struck Lex's leg must have opened the femoral vein. Lionel pushed hard on the wound, trying to apply enough pressure to slow the blood flow, and barking to anyone who would listen, "Call an ambulance."
Clark, through some unimaginable force of effort, knelt next to Lex, cradling him. Seeing that things had failed, the men stopped shooting at the figure, who strode over to Lex.
"It's no use," the black-clad man said, almost coldly. "He'll bleed to death before an ambulance gets here." Nonetheless, he crouched and pulled out some kind of rope, looping it around Lex's leg as a tourniquet.
"Dad," Clark whispered. "Please. Just have them close the boxes. I can save him, Dad."
Lionel realized what the decision was. Lex's life or his own victory. He had to decide in an instant, or the decision would be made for him. He wouldn't let that happen. "Close the meteor boxes."
Clark brushed away the stranger's hands on Lex's leg and stared. A faint light appeared on Lex's thigh where the laser touched it, cauterizing the wound, sealing it shut. Clark scooped him up and looked at the stranger. "Is it enough to stop the bleeding, or do I need to get him to a hospital?"
"He needs treatment. Come with me. There's enough time." The man's voice was absolutely expressionless. Until he asked, "How *did* you do that?" as he led them to a low-slung armored car, and then his voice was full of overt envy.
***
"Urban myth *that*," Clark taunted as Lex took his first uneasy steps the next day. The man, who had made it very clear that he prefered "Bat," or "Batman" over "Bat guy" or "Bat dude," seemed to have a hospital's worth of equipment and supplies, including more than enough blood for transfusions, as well as a certain expertise.
Lex just looked at him.
"Anyway, he said that I have an incredible talent and he asked me to join something he calls the Justice League."
"Do you get a secret handshake?" Lex smirked.
"Decoder rings." Lex almost looked for an instant as though he believed it. "But he did give me a kind of code name." Clark squirmed in a mixture of embarassment and delight, but he was going to make Lex ask.
"Out with it."
"Superman."
Lex snorted and swayed a little, and Clark caught him under the shoulders. "Superman?"
"Oh, get back in bed!" He carefully helped Lex back. "He was...pretty cool, actually. Gave me a lot to, well, to think about."
"What about Dad? What are you going to do?" Lex wasn't sure what he himself thought or wanted.
"Well...he did let me save your life, when he could have...let you die and taken me back. So I guess I can't hate him." Clark had slowly come to realize this, sorting through his own feelings under the Bat's probing questions. "But I think I'm going to end up spending a lot of time fighting him." He picked at the fabric of his jeans. "It's kind of weird. The world is going to think that I hate Lex Luthor. But...instead...I...I kind of got used to him. The real one."
"Pesky kid brother," Lex muttered. "I kind of got used to you, too."