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It began, as most of Lex’s problems do—with him taking something personally.
“If you don’t recall,” Lex drawls, eyes peering down at his manicured fingers and fixing a glare onto a stray Mees’ line on his thumb—the faint, white streak marring his otherwise flawless nail, “I don’t tolerate late dates.”
He glances out the tinted window, spotting a dot of red and blue in the sky. It hovers around an enormous creature that had managed to stumble its way through an interdimensional portal, and is now unintentionally wreaking havoc on Metropolis’ finest skyscrapers.
“And considering you have one in approximately,” he pauses to take a look at his custom, million-dollar watch, “two minutes and thirty-nine seconds, I sincerely suggest you take care of that useless hunk of a beast as soon as possible unless you want to be locked out of all Luthorian premises for a week.”
“Lex,” Clark groans, “don’t degrade it. It just lost its way, that’s all. It doesn’t deserve the brunt of your insults.”
Lex clenches his jaw and scoffs, “Of all things, that's what you choose to respond to?”
He could nearly hear the shit-eating grin the Kryptonian has on his face as he yells through the explosions in the background, “That’s ‘cause your worries are unnecessary. I’ll be there before you are, my love.”
With a roll of his eyes, Lex hangs up, and delivers a firm instruction to his chauffeur, “Arrive there within the next minute if you still want your job.”
He's met with a shaky nod and darting eyes, soon followed by the soft zoom of the car’s engine accelerating at a pace that would alert every speed camera nearby. Good. What use is his wealth if he can’t pay off every ticket the lousy government attempts to send his way?
He exits the car exactly fifty-seven seconds later, lazily waving away his chauffeur. His fur coat flares behind him as he walks with the assurance of a champion. He strolls into the elevator and presses the button to the top floor, thinking of all the petty revenges he could make Clark suffer through, starting with dragging him across the city on a frantic search for Lex to beg for his forgiveness.
The doors slide open and Lex is wearing a conniving smile, his clipped tongue well-prepared to taunt and jibe Clark for a tardiness he's sure is imminent. But devastatingly, his face falters at the sight of one dashing Clark Kent already standing on the other side, with a generous forty-two seconds left on the clock.
He even has the audacity to bow and extend a hand towards Lex. “Take it you had a pleasant ride, my liege?”
Lex slaps his hand away, internally screaming at the sudden inability to enact the hundred-step plan he had conjured during his elevator ride. “You’re infuriating,” he hisses, brushing past him and striding towards the only table on the sprawling penthouse floor, reserved for the city’s most notable members.
Clark follows closely behind him with a pep in his step, catching up to his lover and wrapping his arms around his waist. He pulls him towards him, toned back flush against a muscled chest. “I missed you too, sweetheart,” he murmurs, peppering soft kisses along his nape and trailing up to his chiseled jaw.
The heel of Lex’s patent leather shoe stomps down on one of Clark’s worn-down Timbs before he continues walking, the Kryptonian still trailing after him like a loyal puppy. As Clark devours his five course meal that was sure to leave him still hungry for his classic breakfast-for-dinner afterward, Lex observes him over the rim of his wine glass. A silent, mostly one-sided war has just been declared.
Clark Kent - 1, Lex Luthor - 0.
—
Clark had taken him home again, to visit Ma and Pa. Lex swears those feral animals they keep on their land are aware of his intense disdain towards them and deliberately attempt to torture him by irritating him every chance they get. A lick here, a peck there—it's truly a wonder that Lex has managed this long without ripping his skin off and fully replacing it with a synthetic graft.
At least, Clark saves him the trouble of having to actually help around the farm. Ma and Pa always give them both a to-do list at the start of the day, but completing it is more of a one-man job. Clark knows better than to ever make Lex get his hands dirty—he did it once when he first came over, and swore to never repeat it.
Instead, Lex typically leans against a fence, wall, or even a stack of hay, and indulges in the view of the other man’s muscles straining, studying each flex with the same care he'd devote to one of his experiments. Clark's sweat pools at his scalp and dampens his curls into an unruly mess. Lex's eyes trail the stray drops as they slip down his face, resisting the urge to lick them clean.
When the sun begins to paint the horizon in streaks of dark yellow and tangerine, Lex playfully chides Clark, “Hurry up, Superman. Wouldn’t want to miss dinner, would we?”
Clark shoots him an annoyed glance and drops the mountain of hay he was carrying with a bit more force than necessary before stalking up towards him. He grips Lex’s hips, trapping him against the barn’s plank wall. “You're gonna stand there like a pretty princess, but act like a brat?”
Lex smirks, leaning forward to bite at Clark’s bottom lip, pulling at it with his teeth. “Isn’t that exactly what you like about me?”
He watches as the other man stares down at his lips, pupils dilated in want. Lex knows he’s winning this battle. He wraps his arms around Clark’s neck, pulling him down, ever so slightly grazing his teeth against the shell of his ear.
“Won't you be naughty for once and leave your chores to make love with your boyfriend?” he whispers in a sultry voice, strategically using make love instead of a cruder alternative—Clark’s favorite. Typical of such a sentimental man.
He pulls away with a grin, sure that Clark couldn’t possibly resist such a temptation. He looks up at Clark through lidded eyes, only to be met with a flat, unimpressed expression.
Clark unravels Lex’s arms from his neck, sighing, “No, Lex. These are things that Ma and Pa can’t do on their own. They’re getting older, weaker. I have to finish this up before we leave tomorrow.”
Dumbfounded, Lex watches with his mouth slightly agape as Clark goes back to his duties, stacking the hay and sorting them into neat bales. He falls back against the wall with a loud thud, crossing his arms. He most definitely doesn’t pout. Or sulk.
Clark Kent - 2, Lex Luthor - 0.
—
Lex tugs his tie off, tossing it onto the distastefully mediocre teak table in the corner of the hotel room, his index and middle fingers rubbing the wrinkles that have formed between his furrowed brows. He’s been in Jarhanpur for the past five days, on one of the frequent damage-control trips his PR team has forced him into ever since the war he instigated a few years ago, and each one is just as exasperating as the last.
He’s guaranteed a young death if he has to endure any more of those annoying reporters who keep dredging old news like children holding onto lifelong grudges. That is, if he hasn’t found a way to achieve immortality by the time he’s forty. Seriously though, the war was ages ago, can’t they come up with new questions?
His phone rings, and it takes every ounce of willpower in his body not to fling it out the balcony. His shoulders sag in relief when he sees the contact name, and promptly swipes right to pick up the call.
A familiar, charming voice fills his ears, and his body relaxes even more—a fact he’d never admit. “I saw the conference, you looked about three seconds away from starting another war.”
Lex removes his diamond cufflinks and unbuttons his shirt. “I thought you knew I was made to swear that I’d leave that life behind when a certain extraterrestrial baboon asked me to date him.”
Clark hums, “Just making sure. After all, your temper is quite nasty. If I didn’t have my powers, I think my back would still be covered with scratches from the last time you were ‘mad’ at me.”
Flopping onto the pristine sheets and feet dangling over the edge of the bed, Lex sighs. “It’d be nice to reenact that tonight. Too bad you’re a thousand miles away and I still have two days left of this press tour.”
What Clark doesn’t know, is that he's lying. He's heading back first thing tomorrow morning, right after what is sure to be an unstimulating breakfast with the president. He’s ready to show up at Clark’s apartment unannounced, wearing nothing but one of the Kryptonian’s shirts that hung off his body.
“You can just say you miss me, Lex.” Clark’s voice is soft, “I do,” so tender it makes Lex shiver.
“Oh please, spare me your overload of emotions. I’m not nearly drunk enough to deal with your sappy ass,” he says, though he couldn’t quite hide the faint tremble in his voice as his heart warmed at Clark's words. Fuck, when did he get so soft?
He hears a faint chuckle across the line. “Okay, Lex. Get some rest, I’ll see you soon. I love you.”
Lex pauses, wondering if he should say it back. It wouldn't be the first time, nor would it be the last. But saying those three cursed words when he can’t crash his lips against the other’s the very next second would only make him painfully long for him even more.
So, he settles for a contradictorily gentle, “I hate you too,” before hanging up.
He continues undressing and heads into the shower, ready to wash off all the bullshit he’s had to deal with today. As he’s applying his moisturizer made from Japan’s finest pearls, he hears a gust of wind burst through the balcony doors. Cladding a fluffy bath robe, he grabs a pistol from under the sink and cautiously peeks out the bathroom.
Clark Kent is sitting on his bed in his pajamas, hair unkempt from the distance he just travelled to get here.
Lex drops the gun and certainly does not run towards him. “What are you doing here?”
Clark answers with a beam, rushing to embrace him and twirl him around. “I missed you so much.”
After his feet were once again firmly planted on the ground, Lex mocks, “Yeah, yeah. I got that. Still doesn’t answer my question though.”
Clark stares into his eyes with a pitiful expression, before stating the most ridiculous statement Lex has ever heard in his life. And believe him, he’s heard a lot. “You didn’t say I love you back.”
Lex stares at him with a blank face. “What.”
Sheepishly rubbing the back of his head, Clark rambles, “Well, I just missed you a lot and I missed you even more when you didn’t say it back. And I know I could’ve just called you again, but why would I, if I could hear it in person? Tomorrow’s a weekend anyways, so I figured, why not?”
Lex regards him incredulously before releasing a quiet, amused scoff. “You’re such an idiot,” he mumbles, leaning up to kiss him. “I love you, too, you moron." Even though you beat me to my own surprise.
Clark Kent - 3, Lex Luthor - 0.
—
Lex was horribly bored. He's starting to nod off as his kidnapper drones on and on about how terrible of a person Lex is, the atrocious crimes he's committed, and most importantly, the savage torture methods awaiting him once the ransom is paid. He yawns through his fatigue, which apparently ticks off the masked man enough to earn him a slap across his cheek.
“Is this a joke to you? Because I assure you, it’s not. I’ll make sure you regret you were ever born, Lex Luthor.” Lex cringes. Did this amateur get his lines from a TV show?
His kidnapper continues, overconfidence oozing from every word, “All those years trying to kill Superman. Look where it got you. No one’s coming to save you, Luthor. Because you’ve made the only person who has a heart big enough to save a monster like you into your arch nemesis. Having any regrets yet?”
Lex could only snort at the irony of it all. If only he knew what Superman would do to him if he found out. Lucky for him, he wouldn’t, because the only thing that may be bigger than Clark Kent’s love for him, is Lex Luthor’s ego. And he’d be damned if he lets himself get rescued by fucking Superman.
Anyways, that's why Mercy is only a few minutes away with his kill squad.
Suddenly, one of the walls enclosing the desolate concrete box of a room shatters, and an explosive force comes barreling through. It crashes into Lex's assailant, pinning him down.
Lex merely lets out a sharp yell of frustration. No, no! This is exactly what he didn’t want to happen—becoming Superman's damsel in distress.
After twisting the man's arms, knocking him out and tying him up, Clark leaves him slumped in the corner of the room, rushing to untie the binds around his lover. Worry is painted all over his face, complete with tears welling in his eyes.
“Lex! Are you okay? Did he do anything?” He does a full body scan, and Lex is sure he even used his x-ray vision to be thorough.
“I’m not that fragile, Clark. He couldn’t even slap me as hard as Eve did when we broke up,” he responds in typical Lex fashion, incapable of taking anything seriously.
Clark isn’t having it. “You could’ve gotten hurt. You could’ve died, Lex. Why weren’t you more careful? Why did you walk around without your usual security personnel?”
“Oh, please, Clark. You severely overestimate his abiliti–” Lex is cut off by a low growl from Clark. He then adds, tilting his head, “What was that? Needed to clear your throat?”
Clark grips his waist, hard. Hard enough to bruise. “Stop screwing with me, Lex," he snaps. "I’m serious. Don’t play with your safety. Stop treating it lightly.”
He furiously wipes at his tears. “Don’t you understand,” his voice cracks, “how much you mean to me? How I would feel if I lost you?”
This is one of the rare occasions where Lex Luthor is well and truly speechless.
“I need you, Lex. I can’t live without you. I’ve imagined the rest of my life with you—I want to marry you. So please, don’t joke about this. I can’t lose you. I just can’t,” Clark chokes out, cocooning Lex’s face in his big hands, placing a wet kiss on his forehead.
Clark would later swear that he saw a single tear roll down Lex’s cheek, but this abominable claim would be vehemently denied by the accused party. Lex reaches up to where Clark’s hands rested against his face.
“I’m sorry. I’m fine, Clark.” He gently guides Clark’s arms back around his waist, pulling him into a hug. They stay that way for a few moments, basking in the warm sunset glow spilling through the impressive hole in the wall Superman had made.
“While that whole rant was… touching,” Lex breaks the silence with his unsurprising tactlessness, "are we going to ignore the fact that you said you want to marry me?"
Clark lets out a nervous chuckle. “Uh—yeah. I did.”
He rummages through his cape before pulling out a black velvet box, and was met with Lex’s immediate protests. “Oh, fuck no. You’re going to do it here?!”
“Wait, wait, just hear me out.” Clark placates, kneeling on one knee, head tilted up to gaze into Lex’s eyes. “I’ve been carrying it around for weeks now, but I just never found the right moment. You’re unpredictable—I couldn’t tell how you’d prefer I do it.”
“But after what just happened, I knew I can’t wait any longer. I need you in my life, forever. And yeah, I know this isn’t how or where or when you imagined getting proposed to and you have every right to say no because of it,” he at least has the decency to sound apologetic, “but I love you. With all my heart and more. My mission is to help save the world, and I’ve just realised that you are my world. You’re my purpose, Lex.”
Clark takes a deep breath, opening the box to reveal a simple silver band inside. “Lex Luthor, will you marry me?”
He’s an idiot. A stupid, unprepared, alien monkey, who is just crazy enough to think that Lex Luthor would accept his proposal in an abandoned building after being kidnapped—with said kidnapper passed out a few meters away from them. Clark Kent is clinically insane. The clear correct answer is for Lex to reject him, break his heart, and never look back.
So obviously, he says, “Yes.”
Technically, he lost once again that day. His pride would never fully recover from the fact that he was saved by Superman, and that he accepted the shittiest proposal known to mankind. But then again, he did get to marry Clark Kent, so he figures it balances out. Maybe he even won.
Clark Kent - 3, Lex Luthor - ∞.