Fishing
By Inarae
Disclaimer : Not mine- its your fault Im addicted, so please dont sue.
Lex blinked at the intercom and wondered idly if he should just save some time and call his lawyers now. Well, at least his bad week was being consistent. And he had to admit, while the doorbell ringing wasnft a good sign, it was far from the worst either. After all, neither Clark nor his fatherfs little minions bothered with such pesky things as locked doors; they just walked in- hesitantly and rather appealingly looking for him in Clarkfs case, or just making themselves at home and waiting for Lex to find them so they could ruin his day in just about every other case. People with official business relating to the plant called and set up appointments, and most anything else was handled by his help without inconveniencing him at all. Which pretty much left the police, or the FDA, or who knows what other official government body here to tell him about something terrible he was supposedly doing.
Lexs hand hovered over the phone for a second before he sighed and pushed his chair back. He was feeling rather sick of being himself at the moment, and masochist or not, acting like a normal person held a great deal of appeal. After all, he couldnft hurt his father, so why shouldnft he inconvenience himself to get back at him and the rest of the world? Self indulgent bordering on stupid perhaps, well more accurately, crossing over said boarder, but while illogical, it wasnft really dangerous. And a little self flagellation never hurt anybody. Everyone has to let off steam somehow, and while giving his father back his garbage- i.e. Dominic- had been highly pleasant, there was still plenty to go around. Kind of like a bad case of gas, actually.
He pressed the button for his staff to let his unexpected and unwelcome guests in, and decided that he might as well fulfill the stereotype and let them interrogate him while he played pool. Looking at stock reports while dealing with the police was more than even his masochistic mood felt like handling.
He heard the clunk of footsteps coming down the hall; slightly hesitant, thick rubber soles like work boots- not something someone would wear to the office, which meant they were probably the local cops, and only one person, which meant it probably wasnft anything too bad. Somehow, he couldnft work up the energy to be grateful. Another lovely smear over the Luthor name in Smallville; hefd rather have a herd of FBI agents- he didnft give a damn what the asshole stock brokers in Metropolis thought about him, but if he got another dirty look- or perhaps puppy dog eyes was the appropriate term- from Clark, he was fucking going to regret not taking his father up on his offer to move back to Metropolis. And as a general rule, he detested regretting an action that pissed his father off.
The footsteps slowed even further. Good, let the bastard sweat over giving bad news to the rich kid who owned the factory where most of his family worked. Or maybe he was just lost. Lex smirked and slid the cue just a little faster than normal, the white ball clanking against the red three with more than enough force for the impact to be heard out in the hall. The footsteps picked up again. Yep, hefd been lost. Lex made a mental note to give his footman a bonus. The man was a genius as reading Lexs mood- probably said something like, gthe master will await you in the conservatory,h and then disappeared, letting the guy search the dump Lexs father called a castle by himself. Lex was a firm believer in sharing misery, after all. And his shot had sunk the three even with the extra speed. Who knows, if this isnft anything serious, he could probably even have fun dealing with the bastard.
The door creaked open behind him- Lex had deliberately arranged himself so his back would be to whoever entered, and he wasnft planning on turning around either.
gLex?h
Oh shit. gMr. Kent. I wasnft expecting you.h Lex dropped the pool cue on the table and turned around, leaning nonchalantly against the mahogany edged green felt.
Clarks father entered the room frowning, his faded jeans and the plaid felt work shirt somehow fitting in perfectly with the raw Irish stone, if not the décor. Made Lex feel like the one out of place, but of course he was, so that wasnft much of a surprise.
gDo you always greet guests while playing pool?h
Ah, so, while money could apparently buy Kent approval insofar as the man was actually talking to him, courtesy of when he bought the entire fucking Sharks football team for a day, plus the stadium, just so that Whitney kidfs father could watch him play pro before he died- and how that was apparently an appropriate use of his money when buying a truck for the guy who saved his life was merely rubbing everyonefs face in how much money he had was beyond him- in any case, apparently the couple million he had dropped on that stunt wasnft quite enough to pass beyond the suspicious glare stage.
gNot always, no. Howfs Clark doing.h Generally a safe subject- or not so safe, considering that Lex had been the cause of their last argument, and oh boy had Lex enjoyed listening to Clark mope about that while his own father sent assholes to pester him and made it fucking clear that he and Lex were enemies now. Now that they had ever been anything different, of course, but the new openness still required an adjustment period. Watching Whitneyfs parents so happy and proud of him had been delightful fun too.
Well, actually, for some reason Lex actually did enjoy listening to Clarkfs simple and uncomplicated family life, regardless of how blind it was. It actually hadnft made him mad- itd been kind of fun actually, and even funner to offer a fix- it wasnft till he was with his own father that he got so angry about it. Clark just somehow made people believe. . . in what, Lex wasnft exactly sure, but it wasnft his world, and sometimes, that escape was all that mattered. Regardless of how painful it was to return.
gHefs fine. . ,h the elder Kent looked down at his feet and stuffed his hands in his pockets. It was a gesture more appropriate for a child than a grown man, an admission of weakness, or perhaps Lex had a twisted view on how much openness it was normal to show. gActually, thatfs sort of what I wanted to talk to you about.h
Lex cocked his head. gTalk away.h
gClark says I owe you more of an apology than I gave you, at the stadium.h
gMr. Kent, you care about your son and want to protect him. I understand that, and respect it. There is nothing for you to apologize about.h Or more to the point, if you make an apology, youfre going to qualify it, and force me to reply, and then wefll argue, and Ifd just as soon keep our current relationship, since Clark disappears when youfre angry at me.
gI didnft say I agreed with him.h
gAh.h Well, that pretty much summed everything up, didnft it.
Clarkfs father had wandered over to the bookcase next to the door, looking everywhere but Lex. He picked up a small glass figurine- Egyptian, circa 200BC- and held it up to the light, turning it as if studying it in detail. Which Lex might have believed, if he had even the slightest suspicion that Mr. Kent had any interest whatsoever in archeology. Or maybe he was studying the proportions- it was a cow, after all, and the Kents did know cows. Fuck. He didnft mean that. And now he was apologizing for a thought. God but Clark was a bad influence. Lex was going to end up penniless on his fatherfs doorstep if he kept picking up Clarkfs traits.
gClark and I have decided to go fishing next month.h
gIfm glad you worked things out between you.h Oh, wonderful, Clarkfs just going to kowtow down to his dadfs wishes like some brainless drone. Another overbearing bastard of a father who doesnft give a damn what his son wants. And here you were worried that I was a bad influence on Clark- look at what Ifve apparently done to you. Because it must be all my fault, after all. Clark could use some of my influence-at least I donft let people walk all over me.
gYeah, well.h Jonathan Kent scratched a hand through his dusty blond hair.
Would he just get to the point so Lex could take some Valium and crank up the music loud enough that his brain eventually turned off from it. Actually, Valium and a sports car sounded even better, but he was actually trying not to kill himself these days. Be kinda rude to overwork Clark, after all. God, he needed a vacation. Maybe he could go to France this evening, for no particular reason except that there was nothing there that particularly reminded him of Smallville. Although, Clark could be French- the tall, dark and handsome look was certainly accurate enough.
gAnyhow, Clark and I were wondering if youfd like to come with us.h
Blink. gFishing.h It had taken a second to rewind the conversation and figure that out.
gWell, yeah.h
gClark assured me that fishing is rather. . . unappealing.h
The man actually winced.
g Yeah, well, I guess he doesnft really like it that much. But itfs kind of important to me, the tradition and all. . . Clark and I compromised. Wefll fish in the morning and then go rafting down the rapids downstream. Brown river- Clark says taking a boat down it is one of the popular things for kids to do around here.h
In other words, itfs probably dangerous, Lexs mind filled in, which was good because his brain was otherwise rather empty at the moment.
Lex cocked an eyebrow. gAnd youfre inviting me. Ifm honored.h
gAre you coming?h Was that a challenge? From Mr. Kent??
gMr. Kent, if Clark put you up to this. . . Itfs really not necessary.h
gClark doesnft know anything about it yet. But Ifm sure hefd be glad to have you along.h
Hefs actually serious about this. I guess Ifm not the only masochistic one. Now, the smart thing would be to express my gratitude and decline, since the odds of me being able to stay on his good side after an entire day together is almost nonexistent, but. . .
gOne of the pleasant things about being filthily rich is that I can write my own schedule, sparing visits from my illustrious father. Just give me a week or sos notice.h
gSure. Ifll um, be in touch then.h
gIfll look forward to it.h
Smallville turns people insane. Thatfs really the only explanation for it. Lay out a graph of possible positive and negative consequences, and the risk of this little endeavor far outweighs any possible gain. Said gain being practically nothing anyhow- Ifm not going to get on any better terms with Mr. Kent that I already am, so why bother? And arguing with Clarkfs father in front of Clark may be what pushes us over the edge to where he can no longer forgive me. Or not. Besides blindness to reality, I think Clark was also born with an endless wellspring of forgiveness.
So why am I going?
Itfs Smallville. As Clarkfs dad said, you donft need an explanation for everything. Especially not here.
Besides, I never turn down a challenge.