fic: All the Difference (it begins!)
Feb. 26th, 2007 05:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xparrotAll right, cats & kittens, lace up your boots and strap in for the long haul. The rough draft of this is 80 pages and counting (if I'm lucky, I've reached the halfway point. Note: when it comes to estimating story lengths, I am rarely lucky) and it's eating me alive.
I have a secret love for the basic premise of this story. I say secret because while I've started various fics with such a concept (ask me sometime about when Kaiba Seto met Mutoh Seto) this is the first I've posted in any fandom. So yeah, I'm enjoying the hell out of it! Hope you will, too.
Smallville: All the Difference, 1/? {2,007 words}
NC-17, Clark/Lex, futurefic, AU (halfway)
Lex Luthor wakes up in his own bed, in his own penthouse, infinitely far from home.
All the Difference (1/?)
X-parrot
Lex Luthor awoke in his own bed, alone.
He had not had any company when he retired to his bedroom, so this should have been no surprise. Yet he started up in a cold sweat, heart pounding from a dream he didn't remember, like someone had shaken him awake. Morning sunlight shone around the edges of the blinds and the silvery liquid crystal display of his alarm clock showed 08:30 exactly. He frowned. He never set the alarm, but never awoke later than eight, as a rule, and it was a weekday. He passed his hand over his eyes, sat up in bed and allowed himself one minute to marshal his thoughts before rising.
He only noticed the rushing sound of the shower when it suddenly stopped. The light was on in the master bathroom, the door ajar. He could hear bare footsteps padding on the tile inside.
He had gone to bed alone. And Mercy would never use that shower. Lex was raising his voice to call her when the bathroom door swung wide and Superman stepped into his bedroom.
He wore no costume. He wore nothing save the maroon hand towel he was tousling his hair dry with. But this was not Clark Kent; there were no glasses, no unkempt ruffle of bangs falling into his eyes, no diffident slouch to disguise too-broad shoulders.
This was Superman, and his outfit might leave little enough to the imagination, but now he left nothing at all. There was not an inch of him that was not perfect, not the water beading on his biceps to run rivulets down the slope of his shoulders; not the Greek sculpture of his abs, his thighs, his ass; not the half-hard cock between his legs, darker rose than the pink of his shower-warmed skin.
More perfect than any mere mortal man: this was the demi-god pretender that was his nemesis, the alien force which he had set himself against for a decade; but Lex could not look away. Not for the crucial, lethal instant, the only chance he had against a being who could outrace a neural impulse. His enemy flicked the towel out of his face, met his eyes. Blue that could heat to red and kill in a second, if he willed it, but that wouldn't be why he had come.
"Did I wake you? Sorry."
There were a hundred reasons why he might have come, why he would be here this morning, and Lex was sifting through them as fast as a mortal, human brain could reason. He had no less than six major projects that Superman would certainly oppose, and a host of others more questionably objectionable, but none that would definitely account for a visit this particular morning. Or the nudity. That was an unexpected sticking point in any hypothesis.
Time; he needed time. "So, Superman," Lex drawled, forcing himself to relax back against the pillows. He was naked under the sheets, as he always slept. If Mercy hadn't already realized the invasion by now then she wouldn't, and no chance to call her. And the nightstand drawer was five feet away. Too far to risk it yet. "What brings you here?"
Superman's eyebrows raised. He dropped the towel and smiled, strange and satisfied. "So that's how you want to play it, Luthor?" he said.
Then he moved, faster than a human could think. Not even a blur registering on his optic nerve, and the blankets were whipped aside, and Superman was on top of Lex, straddling him as the billowing sheets settled on the bed around them. His hands around Lex's wrists were like satin-lined cuffs, warm and smooth and absolutely unbreakable, forcing his arms down into the mattress. His mouth was hot against Lex's, tongue pushing past his teeth, shoving his head into the pillow.
This was madness--kryptonite-induced, most likely; possibly viral, otherwise. Brainwashing; subliminal stimulation; psychosexual or pheromonal manipulation. Superman's body was generally invulnerable but his mind was not so impenetrable.
Lex kissed back, desperately, helpless. It might be his only chance and he was far from unskilled; he had been seducing men and women, in the boardroom and in the bedroom, since he was fifteen. Let his mouth open, before that inhuman strength forced his jaw wide and stole his last breath. Let himself struggle only enough to excite friction between their bare skin.
Superman broke the kiss. His hands still closed around Lex's wrists, he licked a long, agonizingly slow trail up the line of Lex's neck, scraped his teeth against his earlobe. "What wicked evil things have you been doing lately, Luthor?" he whispered. "And how should I stop you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Lex panted back, pitching his voice low to almost hoarseness, breathless anticipation, deliberate allure. "I'm a respectable businessman," and it was parody, satire, spitting on years of verbal fencing in his penthouse office. Good and evil bastardized, all the elaborate, perverse morality of vigilante heroism that Superman pledged himself to reduced to a bedroom game.
And Superman laughed. Superman's hips ground down, and Lex arched his back to push his own up, thrusting against him, their erections brushing, sliding along one another's length. He was hard and this was madness. Not skill but instinct. The seducer seduced, an elementary mistake. His wrists were still trapped in his enemy's grip and the nightstand with its vital lead box was still too far away.
Superman bent his head to Lex's chest, caught his nipple between his teeth and tugged gently and Lex's spine curved and twisted as he choked back a moan. No one should know that vulnerability, not so surely or precisely. Superman was laughing again, low and deep in his throat. He pressed kisses in a trail across Lex's pale collarbone, found the other nipple and explored it with his tongue, his lips, even as he slid his legs lower to sink down onto Lex, close enough to feel every twitch and tremor he fought to suppress.
Superman's hips thrust down again, with more purpose. So much unfathomable strength, and Lex was still hard, aching enough to want it.
He needed control, any control he could wrest from this. Curling up his head, shoulders braced back against Superman's unmovable hold, Lex brought his lips to Superman's brow, kissed the crown of his head, the thick black curls. Moving down, he coaxed the superhero to raise his head to Lex's, suckling kisses to his brow, the angles of his cheekbones, until their mouths met again, fused. Lex closed his eyes to this kiss, let his body relax, giving in, while he worked his tongue, his lips, every trick he knew to engage him, hold him, even in this madness.
He had left women and men alike breathless, wanton and laid bare, with one such kiss. But Superman broke free. Stared down at him, the immobilizing grip on his wrists loosening. "Lex?" he said, and his eyes might still be half-lidded with lust, but his tone was confused. "What's the matter?"
Lex might have laughed, but he wasn't the insane one here. Before he could compose an appropriate reply, Superman looked past him to blink at the alarm clock. "What--oh, darn it! How'd it get that late?"
He rolled off Lex and scrambled off the bed in a flurry of motion so ungraceful the power of flight had to have been involved, else he would have ended up on his ass on the rug. Over his shoulder he yelped, "I'm so sorry--"
He was diving for--not the window, but the walk-in closet opposite the bathroom, perhaps mistaking it for the exit. Lex didn't care. He was on his back on the bed, sweaty and panting and his cock stabbing up between his legs. Superman was looking away and this might be his last chance.
"--make it up to you tonight, I swear--"
Lex lunged for the nightstand, wrenched open the top drawer. The 9mm would do little good against the alien, but the little lead box beside it would be more than enough. All he had to do was touch it; body heat would trigger the spring lid, and the refined kryptonite's radiation would flood the bedroom.
After that, he could summon Mercy at his leisure. This might turn out to be a very good day after all.
Except the lead box wasn't there.
Lex stared down into the drawer. The pistol was there, the leather-bound planner, the electronic microterminal, all neatly set in their places. The kryptonite was gone.
Not removed. There was no empty space for the box.
He yanked the drawer off its sliders and out of the stand, dumping it onto the rug. No box. He yanked out the bottom drawer as well, spilling papers and assorted mess, tubes of lotion, the tangled wires of a headset, dull pencils and uncapped pens, a notebook with a bent cover, an eyeglasses cleaning kit--nothing he even remembered owning, and there was still no box. "Damn it, Mer--"
Superman was there, grabbing the drawer out of his hands. "Lex? What's missing?"
Superman was dressed now, not in superhero regalia but one of Clark Kent's suits. Not one Lex recognized, navy pinstripe, a little better-tailored than he usually wore, cut to minimize the breadth of his shoulders. His tie was, as usual, a little crooked, and his hair was pawed down into his eyes, the better to hide Superman's broad forehead.
But the smile he gave Lex was not Kent the reporter's self-conscious humility, anymore than it was Superman's show of indestructible white teeth. Lex hadn't seen that easy grin in years. It was almost unrecognizable, as unsuited to this Metropolitan penthouse as a castle had been unsuited to Kansas farmland.
Lex was staring. He might have been twenty-one again, on the bank of the river, soaking wet and coughing. And Clark--Superman was kneeling beside him, anxiously waiting for him to catch his breath. "What's this about, Lex? Did you have another one of those nightmares?"
"Nightmares?" Lex repeated, stupidly, staring and not able to stop.
"Okay, dreams, whatever--you say they're not that bad but God, Lex, you should see your face when you talk about them--like they're real to you. I'm sorry, you were sleeping so soundly when I got up, I thought you were fine. And we haven't had enough time together lately..." He glanced up at the clock, winced. "Time. Damn it, I've gotta move, if I'm not there by nine o'clock sharp Perry is going to have my head."
He blindly reached up to the nightstand, grabbed the pair of black-framed glasses there and settled them on his nose. "I'm so sorry, tonight, I swear--" and he kissed Lex, not hastily for all the hurry in his voice, slow and full of promise, one hand to the back of Lex's head to pull him closer.
He licked his lips when they parted, a little flushed. "Tonight," he whispered.
Then he was gone, leaving a vacuum in his wake as he cleaved the air at the speed of sound. The door rattled, settled back on its hinges as if it had never been opened.
Lex sat on the floor of his bedroom amidst the strewn debris from his nightstand, knees drawn up, naked, sweat drying on his skin, still mostly hard. He wasn't shaking. But his hands were set on the frame of the bottom drawer, clenching hard enough the polished hardwood creaked.
Madness. Whose?
It wasn't until he looked down at his own hands--his hands, pale hairless skin over muscles and tendons over bone, all ten fingers flexing in answer to the impulses of his brain, without that quarter-second delay he always had to allow for the right hand. No minute twinge of the electro-neural interface engaging. Flesh and blood hands. Both of them.
It wasn't until he saw that change, and understood, that he started to laugh.
***
Lex Luthor awoke in his own bed, alone. "Clark?"
tbc...
All chapters
I have a secret love for the basic premise of this story. I say secret because while I've started various fics with such a concept (ask me sometime about when Kaiba Seto met Mutoh Seto) this is the first I've posted in any fandom. So yeah, I'm enjoying the hell out of it! Hope you will, too.
Smallville: All the Difference, 1/? {2,007 words}
NC-17, Clark/Lex, futurefic, AU (halfway)
Lex Luthor wakes up in his own bed, in his own penthouse, infinitely far from home.
All the Difference (1/?)
X-parrot
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.--Robert Frost
"The Road Not Taken"
Lex Luthor awoke in his own bed, alone.
He had not had any company when he retired to his bedroom, so this should have been no surprise. Yet he started up in a cold sweat, heart pounding from a dream he didn't remember, like someone had shaken him awake. Morning sunlight shone around the edges of the blinds and the silvery liquid crystal display of his alarm clock showed 08:30 exactly. He frowned. He never set the alarm, but never awoke later than eight, as a rule, and it was a weekday. He passed his hand over his eyes, sat up in bed and allowed himself one minute to marshal his thoughts before rising.
He only noticed the rushing sound of the shower when it suddenly stopped. The light was on in the master bathroom, the door ajar. He could hear bare footsteps padding on the tile inside.
He had gone to bed alone. And Mercy would never use that shower. Lex was raising his voice to call her when the bathroom door swung wide and Superman stepped into his bedroom.
He wore no costume. He wore nothing save the maroon hand towel he was tousling his hair dry with. But this was not Clark Kent; there were no glasses, no unkempt ruffle of bangs falling into his eyes, no diffident slouch to disguise too-broad shoulders.
This was Superman, and his outfit might leave little enough to the imagination, but now he left nothing at all. There was not an inch of him that was not perfect, not the water beading on his biceps to run rivulets down the slope of his shoulders; not the Greek sculpture of his abs, his thighs, his ass; not the half-hard cock between his legs, darker rose than the pink of his shower-warmed skin.
More perfect than any mere mortal man: this was the demi-god pretender that was his nemesis, the alien force which he had set himself against for a decade; but Lex could not look away. Not for the crucial, lethal instant, the only chance he had against a being who could outrace a neural impulse. His enemy flicked the towel out of his face, met his eyes. Blue that could heat to red and kill in a second, if he willed it, but that wouldn't be why he had come.
"Did I wake you? Sorry."
There were a hundred reasons why he might have come, why he would be here this morning, and Lex was sifting through them as fast as a mortal, human brain could reason. He had no less than six major projects that Superman would certainly oppose, and a host of others more questionably objectionable, but none that would definitely account for a visit this particular morning. Or the nudity. That was an unexpected sticking point in any hypothesis.
Time; he needed time. "So, Superman," Lex drawled, forcing himself to relax back against the pillows. He was naked under the sheets, as he always slept. If Mercy hadn't already realized the invasion by now then she wouldn't, and no chance to call her. And the nightstand drawer was five feet away. Too far to risk it yet. "What brings you here?"
Superman's eyebrows raised. He dropped the towel and smiled, strange and satisfied. "So that's how you want to play it, Luthor?" he said.
Then he moved, faster than a human could think. Not even a blur registering on his optic nerve, and the blankets were whipped aside, and Superman was on top of Lex, straddling him as the billowing sheets settled on the bed around them. His hands around Lex's wrists were like satin-lined cuffs, warm and smooth and absolutely unbreakable, forcing his arms down into the mattress. His mouth was hot against Lex's, tongue pushing past his teeth, shoving his head into the pillow.
This was madness--kryptonite-induced, most likely; possibly viral, otherwise. Brainwashing; subliminal stimulation; psychosexual or pheromonal manipulation. Superman's body was generally invulnerable but his mind was not so impenetrable.
Lex kissed back, desperately, helpless. It might be his only chance and he was far from unskilled; he had been seducing men and women, in the boardroom and in the bedroom, since he was fifteen. Let his mouth open, before that inhuman strength forced his jaw wide and stole his last breath. Let himself struggle only enough to excite friction between their bare skin.
Superman broke the kiss. His hands still closed around Lex's wrists, he licked a long, agonizingly slow trail up the line of Lex's neck, scraped his teeth against his earlobe. "What wicked evil things have you been doing lately, Luthor?" he whispered. "And how should I stop you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Lex panted back, pitching his voice low to almost hoarseness, breathless anticipation, deliberate allure. "I'm a respectable businessman," and it was parody, satire, spitting on years of verbal fencing in his penthouse office. Good and evil bastardized, all the elaborate, perverse morality of vigilante heroism that Superman pledged himself to reduced to a bedroom game.
And Superman laughed. Superman's hips ground down, and Lex arched his back to push his own up, thrusting against him, their erections brushing, sliding along one another's length. He was hard and this was madness. Not skill but instinct. The seducer seduced, an elementary mistake. His wrists were still trapped in his enemy's grip and the nightstand with its vital lead box was still too far away.
Superman bent his head to Lex's chest, caught his nipple between his teeth and tugged gently and Lex's spine curved and twisted as he choked back a moan. No one should know that vulnerability, not so surely or precisely. Superman was laughing again, low and deep in his throat. He pressed kisses in a trail across Lex's pale collarbone, found the other nipple and explored it with his tongue, his lips, even as he slid his legs lower to sink down onto Lex, close enough to feel every twitch and tremor he fought to suppress.
Superman's hips thrust down again, with more purpose. So much unfathomable strength, and Lex was still hard, aching enough to want it.
He needed control, any control he could wrest from this. Curling up his head, shoulders braced back against Superman's unmovable hold, Lex brought his lips to Superman's brow, kissed the crown of his head, the thick black curls. Moving down, he coaxed the superhero to raise his head to Lex's, suckling kisses to his brow, the angles of his cheekbones, until their mouths met again, fused. Lex closed his eyes to this kiss, let his body relax, giving in, while he worked his tongue, his lips, every trick he knew to engage him, hold him, even in this madness.
He had left women and men alike breathless, wanton and laid bare, with one such kiss. But Superman broke free. Stared down at him, the immobilizing grip on his wrists loosening. "Lex?" he said, and his eyes might still be half-lidded with lust, but his tone was confused. "What's the matter?"
Lex might have laughed, but he wasn't the insane one here. Before he could compose an appropriate reply, Superman looked past him to blink at the alarm clock. "What--oh, darn it! How'd it get that late?"
He rolled off Lex and scrambled off the bed in a flurry of motion so ungraceful the power of flight had to have been involved, else he would have ended up on his ass on the rug. Over his shoulder he yelped, "I'm so sorry--"
He was diving for--not the window, but the walk-in closet opposite the bathroom, perhaps mistaking it for the exit. Lex didn't care. He was on his back on the bed, sweaty and panting and his cock stabbing up between his legs. Superman was looking away and this might be his last chance.
"--make it up to you tonight, I swear--"
Lex lunged for the nightstand, wrenched open the top drawer. The 9mm would do little good against the alien, but the little lead box beside it would be more than enough. All he had to do was touch it; body heat would trigger the spring lid, and the refined kryptonite's radiation would flood the bedroom.
After that, he could summon Mercy at his leisure. This might turn out to be a very good day after all.
Except the lead box wasn't there.
Lex stared down into the drawer. The pistol was there, the leather-bound planner, the electronic microterminal, all neatly set in their places. The kryptonite was gone.
Not removed. There was no empty space for the box.
He yanked the drawer off its sliders and out of the stand, dumping it onto the rug. No box. He yanked out the bottom drawer as well, spilling papers and assorted mess, tubes of lotion, the tangled wires of a headset, dull pencils and uncapped pens, a notebook with a bent cover, an eyeglasses cleaning kit--nothing he even remembered owning, and there was still no box. "Damn it, Mer--"
Superman was there, grabbing the drawer out of his hands. "Lex? What's missing?"
Superman was dressed now, not in superhero regalia but one of Clark Kent's suits. Not one Lex recognized, navy pinstripe, a little better-tailored than he usually wore, cut to minimize the breadth of his shoulders. His tie was, as usual, a little crooked, and his hair was pawed down into his eyes, the better to hide Superman's broad forehead.
But the smile he gave Lex was not Kent the reporter's self-conscious humility, anymore than it was Superman's show of indestructible white teeth. Lex hadn't seen that easy grin in years. It was almost unrecognizable, as unsuited to this Metropolitan penthouse as a castle had been unsuited to Kansas farmland.
Lex was staring. He might have been twenty-one again, on the bank of the river, soaking wet and coughing. And Clark--Superman was kneeling beside him, anxiously waiting for him to catch his breath. "What's this about, Lex? Did you have another one of those nightmares?"
"Nightmares?" Lex repeated, stupidly, staring and not able to stop.
"Okay, dreams, whatever--you say they're not that bad but God, Lex, you should see your face when you talk about them--like they're real to you. I'm sorry, you were sleeping so soundly when I got up, I thought you were fine. And we haven't had enough time together lately..." He glanced up at the clock, winced. "Time. Damn it, I've gotta move, if I'm not there by nine o'clock sharp Perry is going to have my head."
He blindly reached up to the nightstand, grabbed the pair of black-framed glasses there and settled them on his nose. "I'm so sorry, tonight, I swear--" and he kissed Lex, not hastily for all the hurry in his voice, slow and full of promise, one hand to the back of Lex's head to pull him closer.
He licked his lips when they parted, a little flushed. "Tonight," he whispered.
Then he was gone, leaving a vacuum in his wake as he cleaved the air at the speed of sound. The door rattled, settled back on its hinges as if it had never been opened.
Lex sat on the floor of his bedroom amidst the strewn debris from his nightstand, knees drawn up, naked, sweat drying on his skin, still mostly hard. He wasn't shaking. But his hands were set on the frame of the bottom drawer, clenching hard enough the polished hardwood creaked.
Madness. Whose?
It wasn't until he looked down at his own hands--his hands, pale hairless skin over muscles and tendons over bone, all ten fingers flexing in answer to the impulses of his brain, without that quarter-second delay he always had to allow for the right hand. No minute twinge of the electro-neural interface engaging. Flesh and blood hands. Both of them.
It wasn't until he saw that change, and understood, that he started to laugh.
***
Lex Luthor awoke in his own bed, alone. "Clark?"
tbc...
All chapters
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-02-26 10:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-26 05:49 pm (UTC)Hee, yes, that's too true of Clark. Oh, Clark. ^^
no subject
Date: 2007-02-26 05:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-26 03:53 pm (UTC)So Kaiba Seto and Metoh Seto? =D
no subject
Date: 2007-02-26 05:52 pm (UTC)I've got 20-something pages of Mutoh Seto I might post sometime...was a complicated story I'll probably never complete, but I'm fond of it...
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2007-02-26 04:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-26 05:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-26 06:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-26 09:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2007-02-26 07:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-26 09:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-26 08:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-26 09:15 pm (UTC)(I gotta ask, do you know of other Lex swapping-fics, then? I've not had luck finding any but doubted I could be the first one to come up with the thought...am curious how else it's been done!)
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2007-02-26 08:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 04:34 am (UTC)great stuff
Date: 2007-02-26 09:04 pm (UTC)please more!!!
Re: great stuff
Date: 2007-02-27 04:34 am (UTC)nichts , dass ich was dagegen habe
From:no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 12:01 am (UTC)I don’t want to miss a beat so I’m friending you! :-)
no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 04:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 12:04 am (UTC)The story premise sounds very intriguing, too - I've never read something like this combined with futurefic.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 04:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 03:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 04:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 05:29 am (UTC)My favorite line was Lex might have laughed, but he wasn't the insane one here.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 08:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 06:10 am (UTC)Very interesting. Can't wait for more! *g*
no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 08:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 01:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 05:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-28 09:26 pm (UTC)I already start to pity the other lex :D
no subject
Date: 2007-03-01 06:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-01 07:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-01 07:47 am (UTC)Re: nichts , dass ich was dagegen habe
Date: 2007-03-01 11:31 am (UTC)so sorry hab gedacht das wäre for free, werde the clex factor fragen.
i am really sorry:(
natürlich sind die icons free :)
Date: 2007-03-05 11:44 pm (UTC)aber dir ist auf jeden fall verziehen, wenn ich sehe, wie neu du hier bist :)
Re: natürlich sind die icons free :)
From:baby-steps
From:Re: baby-steps
From:no subject
Date: 2007-03-02 03:52 pm (UTC)Also, because you DID say...
What happened when Kaiba Seto met Mutoh Seto?
no subject
Date: 2007-03-02 06:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-02 06:56 pm (UTC)I feel sorry for the Lex in the cliffhanger already.
*scampers off to read next chapter*
no subject
Date: 2007-03-03 03:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-04 01:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-04 04:38 am (UTC)(also, your icon!! *dies of squee*)
oh goddess this is going to hurt ...
Date: 2007-03-04 05:59 am (UTC){Glomps Lex} Oh poor, poor Lex. How terribly unfair and unkind. He shouldn't have to reap the rewards of a universe that fell apart after he did everything that was needed to have the life he has with his Clark.
You had me from your greeting ... and as disappointed as I am in myself for such weakness, looks like I'll be laced and strapped in for the long haul, I can not resist this wip.
Hugs you for the wonder that is your wonderful Clex musings.
Re: oh goddess this is going to hurt ...
Date: 2007-03-04 10:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-05 07:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-05 06:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-05 07:26 pm (UTC)http://xparrot.livejournal.com/tag/fic:+all+the+difference
no subject
Date: 2007-03-15 10:36 am (UTC)