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It didn't make any sense, but that's never what it was about with him. His dignity, buried under the ruins of what once was his empire, his everything—physically, at least—. Now, with swallowed curses and a head so low his father would die again of disappointment, he stood in front of her apartment. The place he'd—uninvitingly—visited with the intention of killing her, as old enemies, it was almost tradition.
"Coming!" Her voice rang from the inside a few moments after his finger tapped the doorbell with a hesitation that made him feel weak, but again, he wasn't sure if he even deserved to see her face again.
He sighed yet again, a nervous habit he didn't wish to go back to. The door creaked open, (Y/n) stood in front of him. Lex Luthor, old friend, she could say. Drenched under the rain, his million dollar suit and shirt, ruined. His whole persona looked pathetic, like a wet puppy.
"My. God." Her shocked words sent an imaginary bullet through his chest. ‘Yeah.’ He thought.
"I'm not here for apologies." He stated, trying his hardest to appear powerful in her eyes. "This is... desperate measures taken in desperate times."
"I thought you died in the explosion, I heard your remains were found." She replied almost carelessly, but God, the sight of him made her heart pretend he mattered.
"Clearly not mine." He crossed his arms, a proud frown forming on his face. So she's informed. He bit his inner cheek. "Is there space?"
"For what?" She asked, playing dumb but keeping a straight face.
"An old enemy." He said, his voice carrying a hint of desperation she caught effortlessly.
"Come in."
He walked in, making his way to the couch like he’s done a thousand times. His hands were clasped together, he didn’t dare face her gaze, didn’t dare look her in the eye. Not like this. Not now.
“So… care to explain yourself, or…?” She began, arms crossed as she glanced at the mess he’d made while entering with wet shoes.
“No. Just—just hand me a towel or, even better, prepare me a bath.” He spoke like a spoiled child, looking at her for a brief second.
“Please, tell me you’re kidding.” She laughed. The sound brought his gaze up to hers, he’d missed that sound. That sadistic laugh she let out every time she had him trapped. “You really think I’m gonna be your goddamn servant? Oh, no, you’re wrong then. Also, you’re gonna have to start paying me rent if you plan on staying here.”
He groaned in annoyance, reaching for his pocket, then taking out his wallet. “Sure, sure whatever, pick a card and—” He froze when his fingers didn't feel anything in the little leather pouch. “Right.” He sighed, throwing it to the other side of the room.
(Y/n) facepalmed, and walked towards the bathroom. “I’ll prep the bath just this once. You’re cleaning that, however.” She pointed at the water poodle near the entrance before disappearing into the bathroom.
He reluctantly got up, and grabbed some paper towels. After cleaning, with minimum effort. He groaned, the damped clothes were starting to annoy him, so he took them off. Piece by piece, until he was standing just in his boxers, holding the rest of his clothes in hands.
“Alright, it’s ready. If you take too long I’ll—” (Y/n) almost dropped her phone, her eyes staring at him up and down. “Jesus.”
“What?”
“I don’t know, why the fuck are you changing in my living room!?”
“What other option did I have?”
“Literally waiting for the bathroom to be ready.”
“... You took too long.”
“Too long my ass, get in.” She basically pushed him into her bathroom, closing the door behind him. She closed her eyes, trying hard to erase the image of a damped, shirtless, only–in–his–boxers Lex Luthor in her living room. “When the fuck does he have time to go to the gym, anyway…”
Lex inside the bathroom looked at himself in the mirror, even with the steam covering the air, he could make out a blurry reflection of him. “So pathetic, I need to fix this.” He mumbled, then stepped in the shower.
(Y/n) outside was sitting behind the closed door, hands gripping her hair in frustration. “Dammit, why the hell did I let him in…? He’s a wanted man, oh I’m in so much shit.”
The sudden movement of the door opening made her stumble since she had been leaning on the door. “Agh!” Her back hit the floor and she was greeted with the sight of… under his towel.
“(Y/n)!” Lex yelped, and stepped back. He’d only seen fall to her back sitting down, her face disappearing under his towel.
“Listen, listen, I saw nothing I–” She basically scurried off and then got up, leaning into the couch for support. “Okay fine, I saw it all, sorry.”
“Were you spying on me?!” He asked, holding the edges of the towel wrapped around her waist tightly.
“No! I just—ugh, I was freaking out over letting you stay because you’re a wanted man, I’m gonna get arrested for your bullshit and—” He interrupted her by throwing his damped pants against her face.
“Shut up, they’re not going to come here, and they’re not going to arrest you, okay? I won’t let them.” He said, his tone defensive, almost protective.
“Oh?” She smirked.
“That’s not how I meant it, and you know it.” He glared, only getting a scoff out of her.
“What? So you’d let them take me and–and let me rot in a cell for God knows how long?” She yelled at him, both trying to get a reaction and sheer curiosity.
He didn’t respond, just stormed off into a room. Slamming the door behind him.
“God, you’re such a tantrum thrower… and hey, that’s my room!” She threw one of his shoes at the door, then sighed, turning towards the kitchen.
. . . Timeskip
“Hey, egghead, dinner’s ready.” She knocked on the door of her room, a glare in her face.
“Egghead?” He asked, opening the door in the process. He was wearing one of her pj’s, one that didn’t fit her.
“No way.” She held back a laugh. “And yeah, egghead, fits you both physically and metaphorically.” She bit her lip. “And why are you wearing that?”
“It was this or nothing.” He responded flatly, trying to ignore how pathetic he knew he looked.
“And ‘this’ is better than the latter because…?” She walked towards the kitchen, he followed.
“You’d rather I walk around your place with nothing on?” He asked, raising a brow as he sat on a stool, glancing down at the meal.
“Eat.” She said, taking a bite off one of her tacos.
“This isn’t a five–star meal.” He said flatly, to which she rolled her eyes.
“No shit, Sherlock. What’d you expect? I’ve been living off money laundering since my other place got destroyed by–”
“Superman, I know.” He interrupted, looking at her with a soft gaze, a rare sight. He clenched his wrist, and then looked back at her plate. “Thank you.” He mumbled, and took a bite off one taco. Maybe it wasn’t a 5–star meal, but it tasted like home.
“Like them?” She asked, gesturing to the food on his plate.
“Descent enough.” He muttered, taking another bite.
. . . Timeskip
It was now late at night, he was lying on the couch with a blanket on top of him. Half-awake. The occasional noises of police sirens kept him glued to the reality of the moment. He feared the possibility of getting tracked down to her place, he wouldn’t bear the image of them taking her away, especially if it’s his fault. Dammit, he was getting paranoid again. Less than ten minutes later, he found himself at her doorstep. He just kept sinking in that hole of pitiness, of feeling pathetic. He had nothing left to lose now, anyway.
“(Y/n).” He called out her name softly, half of him wishing she’d heard, half wishing she hadn’t.
“What?” She whispered, opening the door. She was half-asleep herself.
“The police are lingering.”
“I told you—”
He covered her mouth with his hand, shutting her up.
“They’re not gonna knock, just… let me sleep here, for old times sake?” He asked, removing his hand off her mouth.
“What do you mean for old times sake? We’ve never shared a bed.” She crossed her arms.
“Don’t you remember that one time…”
Start of Flashback…
11:46PM, Lex Luthor’s penthouse.
“How the fuck do you sleep in this bed, it’s so… stiff.” She complained, looking up at him.
“Stiff? Your body isn’t used to expensive mattresses, maybe.” He laughed, his arms around her pulling her closer, if that was even possible.
“How’d we end up here, we were arguing in the lobby of your building…”
“Drinks, remember?”
“Oh, right…”
He chuckled, she did too. Then she shifted on top of him, now looking down at him with her palms on the pillows beside his head. His hands went to her waist, slightly moving up and down from waist to hips.
“So… I can stay the night, right?” She asked, a little grin forming on her face.
“Yeah, what are friends for?” He grinned, pulling her body against his.
“Asshole.” She chuckled. Leaning closer down.
“Say it on my lips.”
Back to the present…
“Oh right, we said it was a drunken mistake, though.” She clarified, closing the door behind him as they made their way to her bed.
“Doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”
They both got under the covers, and stared at each other.
“I want to slap you and fuck you at the same time.” Her words sent a shiver down his spine. “Would you let me?”
“Slap me, never, never unless you’re fucking me.” He bit back, his hands finding her waist under the covers and pulling her body against his in a swift movement.
A small gasp left her lips, and her arms snaked his neck. She closed her eyes, feeling their breaths mixing.
“You stupid woman… stupid, beautiful, perfect…” He shut up the moment her lips pressed against his. His thoughts became mush. He kissed her back with desperation. “Fuck…” He mumbled, their lips parting from each other and connecting again right away. “Thank you, dammit, thank you for letting me stay… I’m going to wreck your hips…”
“Right back at ya…” She mumbled, shifting her body so her legs straddled his body down. “Don’t be too loud, the cops might hear.”