Chapter Text
Despite Lex Luthor’s best efforts, he’d landed himself on the naughty list every single year since the age of twelve. It’d never bothered him. Hell, he never even noticed until he lost his mom and stopped receiving gifts on Christmas Day. Still, he didn't care until his release from prison. He’d become very curious about what Santa Claus could possibly give him that he couldn’t buy or create for himself.
In the two years since he’d regained some of his freedom, he’d tried to redeem himself. He knew somewhere in his mind that many of the citizens of Metropolis would never forgive him for opening a rift that destroyed a large portion of the city, but he tried nonetheless. Between charity donations and volunteering, he was almost certain he’d be on the nice list. Last year, when he woke, underneath the Christmas tree was just as bare as the night before.
This year, he upped his goodness. More to charities. More volunteering. He’d worked on projects that benefitted everyone, not just himself. Conservation projects, affordable housing, you name it. If it helped people, Lex found a way to get involved. He’d even begun offering up his brilliance to help Superman, though it humiliated him. They’d become some kind of acquaintances and reached a level of civility neither of them ever thought possible.
Maybe Santa could give him redemption. He could give him the power to save the world just as Superman did. Maybe people would finally start giving him the recognition and appreciation he so deserved. He couldn’t understand the full length of Santa’s power, which troubled him. If he cared a fraction more, he could try to capture him and study him. By all accounts, he was just another alien dictating what was right and wrong among humans. This troubled Lex a bit too. But if he were truly magical beyond imagination, could he shift public opinion in Lex’s favor? Just what were the limits to his abilities?
Lex pondered this as he took his seat for the auction. Tonight, he hosted a charity gala, the second annual. All proceeds went to feed hungry people around the globe. He didn’t care to win any of the artwork or antiques up for auction, but it delighted him to no end to bid up other bidders. Why not? It was for a good cause, after all.
“Mr. Luthor. Have you got time for an interview?” Clark Kent pushed up his glasses that never seemed to want to stay on his face. Lex had offered to get him new ones more than once. If they slipped any further, Lex worried his secret wouldn’t be so secret anymore.
“Sure thing, Kal-El,” Lex said, a smirk playing on his lips. He’d known of Superman’s secret identity from the moment he sampled his DNA. Superman’s Kryptonian name was revealed to the world in the message from his parents. He enjoyed holding that little secret of Superman’s true identity over his head. He kept it close to his heart in case he ever needed to blackmail him.
“Lex, somebody might hear you calling me that,” Clark took the seat beside Lex.
“Nobody’s going to hear me. Who even knows besides me?”
Clark looked around the room, “Out of the people here, just Bruce.”
“I’d expect nothing less from the world's greatest detective, or whatever it is they call him.”
“That’s what they call Batman.”
“Also known as Bruce Wayne.”
“Not. Nobody knows Batman’s identity,” Clark pushed his glasses up again. His cheeks turned a light shade of pink.
“Except for us, at least. Lying doesn’t suit you. You’re terrible at it.”
“Exposing my friend’s secret doesn’t suit me either.”
“You’re not exposing it if I already know.”
“You know everything,” Clark rolled his eyes. “So, about that interview?”
“Ask away, Mr. Kent.”
“What motivates you to put on these charity galas?”
“This time of year is the season of giving and spending time with our loved ones. Nobody should have to stress about where their next meal is coming from, especially not during a time of such love and warmth,” Lex explained. “The goal of these events is to feed those in need, not only for the holidays, but hopefully through the entire year.”
Clark nodded. His tongue poked out from the corner of his mouth as he wrote on his pad of paper. He said, “That’s very admirable, Mr. Luthor. Now, off the record, what motivates you to put on these galas?”
“You don’t have to believe that I’ve changed my ways, Clark, but I am telling you the truth,” Lex said.
“You’re not just trying to get on the nice list?”
Lex didn’t answer him.
“Your heart rate just increased, so you must be.”
“Two things can be true at once, Kent, and you’d better not write that in your silly paper.”
“I said “off the record.” You know, Lex, I can help you get onto the nice list.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“We’ll talk about it more later, okay? Now, on the record, what’s the most rewarding part of these galas?”
“Off the record, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. On the record, we don’t organize these galas for any sort of reward. As I stated previously, these galas are all about helping those in need.”
“Off the record, I’m not giving you a choice. On the record, how has this year's gala evolved from the first annual Luthorcorp Charity Gala that took place last year?”
Lex crossed his arms, “Off the record, who do you think you’re talking to? On the record, this year I, along with my amazing team of organizers, have really tried to expand our outreach to include not only more donors, but more people in need.”
“Off the record, I’m talking to Lex Luthor, the man who almost destroyed all of Metropolis six years ago, only spent four years behind bars, then miraculously got out on “good behavior.” And I’m sure, a handsome bailout,” Clark crossed his arms back. “I’m offering to help you figure out why you’re stuck on the naughty list.”
“Does all of that really matter, Clark? I’ve been out for two years and haven’t done anything wrong. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. I have to get approval to even leave my house if it’s not for regular working hours, not to mention the fucking eye-sore I have to keep on my ankle for god knows how long. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed my shadows over there," Lex motioned to the two officers standing in the corner. “That’s all besides the point, I don’t need your help.”
“I’ll come over later,” Clark stood up. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Luthor. I’ve got some more interviews to conduct if you’ll excuse me.”
“Thank you, Mr. Kent. I do hope you enjoy your time at the gala,” Lex forced a smile. He didn’t want Clark to come over later, but he supposed he couldn’t do much about it, considering he literally could not leave his home. His supervising officer would never allow Superman to visit his home as it might trigger some sort of outburst, but Clark Kent was a friend, which his therapist would insist he needed.
He watched as Clark crossed the room to Bruce. They shared a quick chuckle about something. Clark’s demeanor became much more relaxed and casual around Bruce. Lex’s fists clenched, nails dug into his palm.
Sit with your emotions, his therapist said in his head. Is this anger or something more? Is it sadness? Anxiety? No, of course not, he felt envy. The one emotion he’d always been able to distinguish from anger. But why? What are you envious of? Bruce, he thought. Stronger, taller, better looking, full head of hair, great friends with Clark. Wait. Why did that last thing even matter?
The seats around him began to fill up and the auction started shortly after. He was able to bid Bruce up on a couple of pieces, until he caught on to what he was doing, which left Lex with a very expensive historic oil painting. The officers investigated him thoroughly on the way home about why he wanted the painting so badly. He told them he didn’t really want it, but as the gala’s host it was good publicity for him to win an auction. They took it in for testing anyway.
He kicked off his loafers and loosened his tie before sprawling across the sofa. He shut his eyes, letting a wave of exhaustion fall over him. The ringing doorbell interrupted his cat nap not twenty minutes later. He’d let the butler get it if he still had one. He never really wanted anyone around anymore. Existing in public felt humiliating enough these days. He peeled himself away from the sofa and answered the door.
“Kal-El, what a surprise,” he yawned and moved away from the door to let him in.
“You don’t have to call me that.”
“You know I like to feel special.”
“Where’d you hang the painting?”
“Nowhere, yet. The officers had to make sure it’s just a painting and not a bomb or something.”
“How annoying.”
“Yes, well, as I said. That’s my life now.”
“Would you rather still be in prison?”
“No. The boredom alone was torture.”
“Isn’t it boring having this whole place to yourself?”
“Well, sometimes,” Lex opened the fridge and grabbed two bottles of water. “But I have books and movies.”
“Hey,” Clark scratched the back of his head. “I’m sorry I went off on you earlier.”
Lex shrugged, “I get it. I’m sorry I trapped you in a pocket universe and almost destroyed Metropolis.”
“Are you?”
“I think so. You know I’ve been forced to deal with a lot of my bullshit in the past six years.”
“It isn’t bull, Lex. It’s trauma.”
“I went through a lot as a child. Then, I turned around and I hurt people. I killed people. For what? To prove to my dead father that I’m not a pansy? I never proved anything and now I have to live with the things I’ve done,” Lex said. He looked into his bottle of water so he didn’t have to look at Clark. “I can’t blame people for their distrust in me, but I want to redeem myself. I want people to realize I’ve changed.”
Clark asked, “That’s why you want on the nice list? So people realize you’ve changed?”
“I want redemption.”
“I don’t think you can ask for that for Christmas.”
“Why?”
“It has to be reasonable. Are you sure you weren’t on the nice list last year?”
“I got coal in my stocking.”
“Woah, I didn’t think he actually did that.”
“It’s so cliche, isn’t it?” Lex rolled his eyes. “I wrote to him and everything. Then he put coal in my stocking. It was humiliating.”
“You wrote to him?” Clark smiled.
“Well, yes. Aren’t you supposed to?”
“Yes. It’s just…cute to imagine you writing a letter to Santa.”
“Cute?”
“Nevermind that,” Clark shook his head. “You did plenty of good deeds last year. There has to be something that got you stuck on the naughty list.”
Lex rubbed his chin, “He can’t read minds, right?”
“No, he just sees everything you do throughout the year.”
“I imagine it could have been that my attitude towards you still wasn’t the best.”
“That’s one way to put it. You told me that I should’ve died with the rest of my planet and my “freakish parents” so you didn’t have to finish the job,” Clark said. He leaned back against the counter and took a sip of water.
“I’m sorry,” Lex looked at him now, hoping he could see the genuinity in his eyes. “It was the first time I’d seen you since the rift. I was still learning that I need to take responsibility for my own actions instead of finding a scapegoat for all of my misdeeds. I’m sorry I said that and I’m sorry for trying to turn the world against you.”
“I forgive you.”
Lex gave him a small smile. He certainly didn’t deserve any forgiveness for the things he’d done to Clark, but even this amount of redemption felt good. He said, “Thank you. I am sorry, and I don’t believe any of those things I said to you then or six years ago. Not now.”
“You don’t?”
“Maybe I still don’t trust metahumans. Perhaps I never will, but I’ve realized there are better uses of my time and money than trying to destroy you. Plus, I’m still working on that envy problem of mine.”
“You’ll get there,” Clark smiled. “Now that we’ve had this heart to heart, you should probably start on that letter.”
“You think so?”
“You publicly apologized to all of Metropolis many times, but never to me.”
Lex supposed he was right. Whenever Clark was around, Lex typically tried to act like nothing had ever happened between them. He never considered that the reason he’d still been on the naughty list was because he’d been ignoring this long overdue apology.
Clark said, “But don’t ask for redemption. It’s not tangible.”
“But it’s what I want.”
“He may be magical, but he can’t dictate how people feel about one another. It’s the same reason he couldn’t make my high school crush be my girlfriend.”
Lex chuckled, “Now that’s cute.”
Clark’s cheeks went pink, “I suppose I'll leave you to it then. Lex.”
Lex walked him to the door, “Thank you, Kal-El. This has been…insightful.”
“The only other people that used that name for me were my birth parents. I don’t care much for them after you uncovered their full message.”
“I’m sorry, I’ll stop calling you that,” Lex said. He kicked himself mentally. Even if unintentional, he could be such an asshole.
Clark shook his head and smiled small, “Don’t. You, um, you give it a new meaning. It reminds me that you know me better than anyone.”
“Oh, that can’t be right.”
“Oh, but it is. You spent years of your life studying me. You even cloned me. You learned my native language. It’s honestly quite flattering.”
“You find all that endearing now, do you?” A smug look settled on Lex’s face. “I’m fairly certain you called it “creepy” before.”
Clark chuckled, “That definitely still rings true.” He sighed and looked down at his shoes. “It’s nice to be known like that, that’s all.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Do you want to know?”
Lex crossed his arms, not in his usual sassy manner, but almost as a way to comfort himself. Being known sounded horrifying. Even his therapist didn’t know everything he’d been through. He told only enough to make progress.
“You don’t want to know me, Kal-El.”
“Yes, I do.”
Lex opened the door, “I’ll see you around. I’ve got to get to work on that letter.”
Clark frowned, “Bye, Lex. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” Lex shut the door. He shut his eyes and sighed before going to his office. Hours went by. A mess of crumpled papers littered the desk and floor before Lex decided on a final draft of his letter.
Dear Mr. Claus,
Kal-El says I shouldn’t ask for redemption again. I suppose he’s right, but in that case, there is nothing tangible I could request from you. Besides redemption, I don’t want to spend Christmas alone. I’m not sure if that’s something you can even help with, but at the very least I want to know that I’m finally doing the right thing.
Sincerely,
Alexander Joseph Luthor
He sealed and stamped the envelope and brought it out to the mailbox. This was as far as his house arrest would allow him to walk. Some nights he’d just stand here, right outside of his gate, and see how far he could see in each direction. After five minutes, he looked into the mailbox again to see it was empty. He shuddered and went back inside.
He couldn’t sleep that night. Clark’s words replayed over and over in his mind. Do you want to know? Did he? Did he want to be known by Clark of all people? What would it mean for Clark to be the one person who knew the extent of Lex’s father’s abuse? A secret he’d intentionally kept to himself his entire life. Clark might not want to know him after that. He imagined Clark looking him in the eyes and telling him either “I see you” or “you’re disgusting.” He imagined him exposing the traumas of his childhood to the world, the same way he’d exposed his parents' message.
Two days later, he forced himself out of bed. Somewhere in his gut he knew there would be nothing under the tree besides the battery powered train that circled it. He was right. The single stocking over the mantle looked heavy and full. With a sigh, he pulled it down. He held his breath as he peaked inside. A childlike smile took over his lips. The stocking was filled with candy. All of his favorite treats. Only then did he notice the solitary envelope addressed to “Alexander” on the tree. He grabbed it and paid no mind to the beautiful red wax seal, instead he ripped it open.
Alexander,
Kal-El is right to tell you I am unable to change the way anyone feels. Even magic has its limitations. Here’s what I can offer you: a piece of advice.
Let yourself be known.
Merry Christmas,
Santa Claus
Lex sat with the advice for a while. By now, Clark was likely enjoying Christmas morning in Kansas with his parents. Would it be completely and utterly selfish to call for him? Yes. Had selfishness ever stopped him before? No. He climbed the stairs and went out onto the second floor balcony, the cold air wrapped around him.
“Superman!” He shouted. He felt like an idiot, but he didn’t have any neighbors for miles. A rush of wind almost knocked him off his feet. A hand on his shoulder steadied him.
“Lex, what’s wrong?”
“I needed to see you.”
“You could have texted me. I would’ve come.”
“You’d really leave Kent family Christmas to see me?”
“Sure.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t have to.”
Lex walked back into the warmth of the house, Superman followed behind him. He didn’t even scold him to remove his boots this time. He turned to face him, “Kal-El, I-”
Clark cut him off, “I’m glad you called for me. I wanted to see you today.”
“You did?”
“I didn’t want you to be alone on Christmas.”
“I thought my letters to Mr. Claus were confidential.”
“They are. What do you mean?”
“I wrote that I didn’t want to spend Christmas alone,” Lex held up the folded letter he’d received this morning. “In return I got some advice.”
“Lex,” Clark’s face lit up. “You did it.”
“Thanks to you,” Lex cleared his throat. “I didn’t call you here to brag about that though. I, uh, need to tell you something.”
Clark sat down in the chair at the corner of Lex’s bedroom. The blue and red suit looked extremely out of place in Lex’s darkly decorated room. He looked up at Lex, expecting him to continue.
“I want you to know me too,” Lex’s voice was very small, barely above a whisper. He waited for Clark to burst out laughing, to call him ridiculous.
Clark smiled softly, “I’d love to know you.”
“You would?”
“Of course,” he rose from the chair. “How beautiful would it be to be known so completely by each other and nobody else?”
“Very,” Lex dared to take a step closer to him.
Superman pulled him into a hug. Lex couldn’t remember a time he’d ever been held like this. The strongest man in the world held him as if he were fragile. Tears filled his eyes. Next year, he’d ask Santa for Kal-El to hold him this way forever.