Archive of Our Own ^beta

The heat is suffocating.

Lex can’t catch a full breath. 

Not with the weight pressing down on him.

Into him. 

It’s splitting him apart. 

His face is pressed into something soft, and his eyes are squeezed shut. There’s someone on top of him. Someone inside of him. A hand reaches over his shoulder. It grabs the back of his neck and holds him down.

Fingers so long they lace around the front of his throat.

The weight is familiar.

Heavy.

“Is this what you want?”

Lex knows that voice.

That voice is everywhere. It saturates everything in his life. The source of all his obsession, his passion, his envy, his hatred. 

Lex swallows, mouth dry. He opens his mouth to speak, but the cock drilling into him presses just a little deep, a little too fast.

Lex feels his legs start to shake. Words fail; instead, he pants open-mouthed into the bed. 

“This is what you always wanted. Is it all you wanted?” 

He presses down on Lex, holding him in place. Lex couldn't move even if he wanted to. 

Content. Full. Satiated. 

The hand around his throat squeezes. Lex can’t help the whimper that forces its way out of his throat.

“Weak.” He spits into Lex’s ear. 

“No–” 

He presses deeper. “Weak.” 

Lex can feel saliva start to pool in his mouth, and it starts to trickle past his lips onto the bedsheets. 

“Do you want to kill me?” He demands. Lex can almost hear that cocky grin. 

“Yes. Yes.” Lex is panting. 

He can’t think, mindless. Both revulsion and arousal twist and turn in his belly. 

“Are you sure?”

Lex chokes on his breath. 

He’s so deep. 

Lex can’t think. Nothing beyond being stretched so far that he feels he might rip apart. 

Desire sets his blood alight. He pushes back into the body atop of him, to be ruined so deeply and so thoroughly that he’ll never think again. 

Something occurs to him then.

 An inkling.

The beginning of a thought, as the most powerful being in the world, holds him down. Drilling into him. 

As he becomes an extension of Lex. 

Under his control, his discernment.

He becomes a tool. Useful.  A creature that answers to Lex and Lex alone. 

An acolyte serves a purpose. Lex’s purpose. 

The last line of defense.

“Are you sure you want to kill me?” 

Lex gasps sharply. He shoots up from his bed, silk sheets slipping. Lex is immediately filled with the deepest kind of revulsion. Gut-twisting, soul-shaking. 

Every nerve in his body is on fire.

Disgusting. 

Lex grits his teeth. He turns his head and looks at the large bedroom window, sheer curtains fluttering in the open breeze.

It’s a cloudless night. The stars twinkle mockingly, and Lex heaves. Sweat drips down his brow, and he watches as the drops make little marks on the bedsheets below. 

The incessant itch has returned. Full force. It throbs at the bottom of his skull, demanding Lex’s attention. The appalling dream echoes in his head. The pleasure, the satisfaction, the power. 

Lex swallows down the lump in his throat and dismisses it. 

It’s been proven numerous times that dreams are not always a reflection of one's desire, but instead the brain putting a puzzle together. 

A method of processing. 

“All you’ve ever wanted is Superman. So you had his child.”

Evie.

Lex’s stomach roils.

Lex grips the sheets tightly in frustration. 

That idiotic woman. 

Such a brilliant mind, gone to waste. Lex doesn’t know where she went or what she’s doing. He debated blacklisting her. Perhaps leaking to his competitors that she’s unreliable.

Unfortunately, the second anyone meets her, they’d immediately know those claims to be untrue. The woman eats, speaks, and breathes competence. 

It makes her absence particularly irritating. 

Lex stands up and tries to ignore the remnants of throbbing in his lower region. He walks across his room and slips on his robe before wandering to the window. The moon is full and bright. 

Lex wonders what he is doing. Flying through the stars. Sitting on the moon. 

Bitter envy burns in his veins. 

It’s cheating, coming to Earth with all the capabilities of a god. 

A joke. 

The people here need giant machines, billions of dollars, and numerous sacrificed souls of scientists to get a singular person on the moon. 

Lex thinks of Superman often. What he’s doing, what he’s eating–if he eats– which Lex expects he does. Mostly because Conner eats, Conner eats a lot of food.

A heavyweight makes a home in his gut, and his stomach roils.  

Conner is nothing like him. Conner is human. Everything about him is human. The way he speaks, the way he laughs, the way he learns, and engages with the world.

There’s nothing alien about it. 

Lex moves over to his nightstand and yanks open the drawer. Inside lies his silver revolver. Lex picks it up, feeling the cool metal and heavy weight in his hand. He flicks it open with a precise click. 

Still empty. 

Lex looks at it for a long moment. He makes a decision. 

He pads to the large door of his bedroom and steps out into the dark hallway. He steps lightly. Conner is sleeping right below him. Lex walks down the stairs into the dark kitchen. Only the oven light is on, but the dining room is bathed in moonlight. 

He takes one of the kitchen stools and leans it against the fridge. He climbs up but still has to reach to open the high cupboards. 

Inside rests a dark metal box. 

Lex picks it up. From the outside, it looks normal. It’s made of regular steel, not lead. There’s nothing conspicuous about it.

He steps off the stool and carries the box over to the kitchen table. He sets down the revolver before opening the box.

Inside lie six bullets. 

Each nestled in a bed of foam. Lex picks up the gun and flicks the cylinder open. 

He picks up a bullet. It’s heavy and warm with radiation. The laced kryptonite emits a dull green glow into his palm. 

He places it in the cylinder, one after another. Each bullet makes a small, satisfactory clink. As it slots into place. 

Lex has had these bullets for years. Before Conner, the gun was always loaded. Always in his nightstand drawer, ready for use. Lex isn’t an idiot. He’s painfully aware of the power imbalance between himself and the alien.

The gun is necessary.

It evens the playing field. 

But Conner loves crushing metal objects–particularly steel–far too much to keep the gun loaded with kryptonite-laced bullets in his nightstand. 

Fortunately, Conner’s too short to notice the cabinet where he keeps the bullets.

Lex flicks the cylinder shut with a certain finality. 

Superman is coming. 

Lex is sure of it. 

Lex has made some pretty public weapon trades with dictators in recent weeks. Everything above board, of course. Everything legal. All American allies. 

The exact sort of thing Superman loves to confront him about. 

Superman is coming. 

Lex knows hiding Conner will be very difficult. Conner has saturated every aspect of Lex’s life. He’s not so unaware as to not realize that. 

Lex knows it. 

Conner’s toys are scattered across the living room. Poptarts, of all things, have become a regular staple in his pantry. Conner’s space magazines and comic books are a permanent installation on his coffee table. 

Little shoes live by the door. 

Lex, honestly, isn't that surprised. He’s always taken a particular liking to his own creations. Mr. Handsome was similar in that sense. 

Lex engenders perfection. 

Conner is no different. He’s intelligent, strong, and will be formidable. In due time. 

Lex slips the gun in the large pocket of his silk night robe and turns towards the window, bathing the room in moonlight. Lex wonders how far Conner’s powers will reach. 

How far will he reach? 

Maybe to the moon.

It’s strange to think about powers— those of which are so similar to Superman’s— in a context that doesn’t elicit envy. If anything, it’s pride.

It’s foreign. 

A strange and disturbingly stubborn warmth has made a home in Lex’s chest.

He stands and pads back down the hallway. He passes the stairs.

Lex makes for Conner’s room. 

Conner’s door is covered in stickers. 

Some stars, some planets. 

There’s a poster of the Apollo 11 launch. Lex notes the green, bulbous-headed, martian stickers. Conner seems to have internalized the comments from the interns about him being an “alien baby.” 

Ridiculous.

Lex stands outside the door. It’s likely the early hours of the morning, far too early for Conner to be awake. 

Lex slowly cracks the door open, the door isn’t too squeaky, and Conner is a heavy sleeper, despite the super-hearing. 

Conner’s room is dark. Only just barely illuminated by the nightlight in the corner. It’s enough. Conner is curled up in a little ball, completely passed out. Little face relaxed, bed head on full display.

Lex feels that warmth in his chest light up a bit brighter. A sense of weightlessness. 

The fondness has reached levels he never thought possible. 

Lex Luthor is viscerally aware—and proud— of his own humanity. It’s why Superman is an affront, an insult, to humanity’s achievements and potential. So, Lex has known love.

Or at least a version of it.

It's human. 

And yet, this level of attachment is still so foreign. At times, revolting. Alienating. It makes his skin crawl with distaste. 

Lex often wonders if it’s because he considers Conner an extension of himself. His progeny. 

But that doesn’t feel quite right either. 

Lex steps closer. Quiet. He makes his way to the side of Conner's bed. The bed is solid wood and very small. Behind it are numerous glow-in-the-dark star stickers. They decorate the entire span of the wall. 

It’s very Conner. He doesn’t seem to love anything with restraint. 

Lex leans down and sits on his knees beside the bed. Conner doesn’t move. He’s still asleep, breathing deeply.

There are times Lex is ambushed by a flood of memories from the months when he would observe  Conner in the cloning tank. Suspended in fluid.  

Un-breathing.

Too still.

The sound of him choking, reaching for breath. His tiny, terrified face. 

Lex resists the strange and uncomfortable urge to put his ear to the child’s chest. To listen to his steady heartbeat thumping, and the strong inhale and exhale of his lungs. 

Lex debates brushing the hair out of Conner’s eyes, a compulsion he hasn’t been able to resist in the recent months, but decides against it. 

Conner is breathing.

Lex feels a sudden overwhelming tiredness. As if he's being dragged to the floor. His eyelids feel heavy, weighted. Lex stands and walks to the door. Lex has another meeting tomorrow with the Department of Defense.

It’s a good opportunity. 

Perhaps he’ll be able to convince them of Superman’s threat to humanity, once and for all. 

The world will learn about Conner eventually. It's an inevitability.

Lex would prefer for it to be on his terms. 

It’s a miracle no one has posted him on social media yet. It’s not uncommon for protesters and paparazzi to stake out Lex's penthouse. 

The reality is that unless he puts him back into the lab for the next ten years, Lex can’t hide Conner. Conner will eventually need to be socialized in some capacity. He must learn restraint and the realities of the world.

Which is why they are standing in line at a high-end coffee shop in downtown Metropolis. The shop is warm and busy. It’s mid-morning on a Saturday, which means people aren’t bustling; they’re lounging.

Apparently, Lex Luthor standing in line with a small child as his only company makes for good entertainment. Lex can feel the burning stares of the surrounding patrons, and it’s grating harshly on his nerves. Conner is completely oblivious and will not stop pulling on Lex’s arm.  

“Stop that,” Lex snaps. It comes out a little too sharp. Conner drops his arm immediately. 

Lex sighs and looks around, hoping no one noticed how sharply he snapped at his “son.”

“What is it that you want? I wasn’t listening.” 

“I want coffee,” Conner says, seemingly recovered, but Lex notices the discomfort in the way he kicks the ground nervously. 

Lex places his hand on Conner’s head. 

“It’s okay. You were pulling too hard.” 

“Okay,” Conner mutters, it’s a little off-handed, but Lex excuses it. 

“And no. You can’t have coffee. You’re too young.” Lex checks his watch and sighs again. The wait has been far, far too long. 

Do people do this on a daily basis? Willingly? 

“Why?” 

“Because caffeine is bad for kids.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“That’s nice. Do you have money to pay for your coffee?” 

Conner looks at the ground, seemingly in deep thought, before looking back up at Lex. “ No,” a big frown on his face. 

“Okay, then no coffee.” 

Conner kicks the floor again, obviously irritated.

The people around them are looking at them strangely. 

Whispering. 

Lex pulls Conner a little closer to him. The last thing he wants is Conner hearing things. People have been generally displeased with Lex in recent months. 

It suddenly occurs to Lex that Conner can hear everything. 

The thought is only mildly terrifying.

“Stay close when we’re in public, okay?” 

Conner grabs onto Lex’s slacks and leans his head against his leg. “Okay.” 

Then he leans down and whispers, “I’ll give you a sip of my coffee. It’s probably okay for you to have. 

Conner grins lopsidedly. His dark curly hair is still too long and a little in his eyes. “Because I’m an alien baby?” 

Lex swallows down a laugh and reluctantly pushes Conner’s hair from his eyes. “Because you’re an alien baby.” 

Fast metabolism and all that. In all honesty, caffeine could potentially be worse. Conner is half Kryptonian.

There’s only one way to find out. 

Conner starts humming a song he’s been obsessed with for weeks now. Lex’s chauffeur turns it on as soon as Conner is buckled into his seat. 

It’s driving Lex crazy. 

It’s been quite a few months since Lex has debated throwing the child out a very, very high window, but the song has been a trigger. 

“It’s an experiment,” Conner says. The line moves forward. Just a bit.

Lex looks down to where Conner is… dancing? Or trying to dance. Wiggling in place. 

The sip of coffee might be a very bad idea. 

“Good word. Well done. What’s the experiment?”

“The coffee,” Conner says, punctuating his sentence with a little hop. Lex glances at the flooring to make sure nothing is cracked. So far, so good. 

“That’s true. It is an experiment. Do you know what we’re testing?” 

Conner shakes his head. 

“Caffeine makes most people energetic. For most kids on this planet, they get too excited when they drink coffee, or more accurately, caffeine. Caffeine is in coffee.” 

“Okay.” 

“So what’s the experiment?” 

Conner stops wiggling. He stills and stares at the ground. Thinking. 

The line moves up a little further. They’re next in line.

“Mmm. I don’t know.” Conner moves his feet up and down and swings his arms back and forth. It seems he has a hard time standing still.

“Try. I think you know.” 

“What coffee will do? To me.”

“Well done. Yes, we’re testing the effects of coffee on your slightly different physiology.” 

Conner squints his eyes at Lex like he just spoke complete nonsense. Lex has to bite down on more amusement. He officially understands why people decide to have these things. 

They are completely ridiculous and utterly amusing. 

“I can take whoever’s next in line!” The barista calls them over.

Lex grabs Conner’s hand and pulls him gently in the direction of the counter. He leans down to whisper in Conner’s ear.

“Do you remember what to say?” 

Conner nods rapidly, blue eyes a little too wide. “Hot chocolate.” 

“Good.” 

Lex turns and addresses the barista. He orders. The barista simply nods and inputs it. Lex looks down to see Conner looking slightly shell-shocked. Eyes too wide. Lex squeezes his hand and tilts his head. 

The barista seems to catch on and leans over the counter a bit to look at Conner. 

“What can I get for you, honey?” 

Conner looks at Lex, who nods. Almost immediately, the tension melts out of his shoulders. 

“Hot chocolate.” 

“Exciting! You and Dad out on the town?” Her eyes flicker to Lex knowingly. Lex realizes that this woman recognizes him.

Lex can’t help the way he tenses up. It’s a good thing that Conner’s invulnerable because he’s sure the grip on Conner’s hand would have hurt any other child. 

Conner doesn’t notice anything amiss. He just grins. “We’re doing an experiment!” 

“Oh yeah? What’s the experiment?” Lex can tell she’s surprised at Conner’s eloquence. 

Lex pays for their drinks and looks at Conner and the barista, waiting for them to finish their interaction. 

“Seeing if I can drink coffee. I’m an alien baby.” 

The barista laughs. “What?” 

Conner is clearly about to elaborate, but Lex interrupts him. “Excuse us,” he turns to Conner. “Come. We have to wait over here.” 

Lex very nearly drags Conner to the opposite end of the counter.

Despite the fact that the barista clearly took Conner’s comment as nothing other than the silly ramblings of a small child, the way she watched them leave, brows slightly furrowed, causes a spike of anxiety. 

Lex kneels to Conner’s level, voice low. “Conner, you can’t tell strangers that you’re an alien baby.” 

Conner looks at him, clearly confused and irritated at being yanked away from his new friend. “Why? I am an alien baby.” 

“Yes. But it’s a family secret. Only your friends at Cadmus can know.” 

Conner looks at Lex skeptically, but nods. “Okay.” He pauses and turns to where the baristas are making drinks.  “I like being an alien baby,” he says.

Lex grimaces. “You’re not special because you’re an alien baby. You’re special because you’re human. You’re me, too.”

Conner nods. “I know. I’m special, I’m both.” 

That was very clearly not Lex’s point. It’s been a losing battle. 

The barista calls his name. Lex pointedly ignores all the phones aimed at them as they walk towards the counter where their drinks are waiting. Lex picks up his coffee and hands Conner his steaming cup of hot chocolate. 
 
Lex reaches across the counter to grab some napkins when he hears Conner’s footsteps walking in the other direction. Lex turns his head to call Conner back over, only to see Conner squeeze his soft paper cup a little too harshly, causing hot chocolate to explode all over Conner’s hands and clothes. 

Lex nearly rushes over to him, napkins in hand and an unnecessary amount of urgency because Conner is invulnerable, but someone beats him to it.

One moment, Conner is there.

Then there’s a man squatting in front of him, clearly trying to wipe the exploded hot chocolate off his skin.

The man is large. Very large. Conner is nearly entirely hidden behind his body mass. Lex approaches them from behind. Something about the man seems familiar. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lex hears. 

“Yes! Tough skin,” Conner says. Holding up his arms to the stranger.

Lex reaches them in time to see a perplexed look on the stranger's face. Curly black hair falling into his eyes, thick rimmed glasses, a wide face, and a strong jawline. Lex can’t place where he knows him from. 

Lex turns to Conner. “Did it burn you?” 

Conner turns to look at Lex, seemingly dumbfounded. “What? No. Tough skin,” he says. 

Lex shoots a glance at the stranger, all to see the man staring up at him. Eyes wide and mouth gaping slightly. The stranger looks like he’s seen a ghost.

What a freak. 

Lex knows he’s unpopular in some circles, but it’s rude to stare. 

Lex gives him an unimpressed look. “Excuse me.” 

Lex takes Conner’s hand and fully intends on heading for the exit. 

“Wait!” The man calls, Lex turns around hesitantly. He has no desire to deal with a heckler. 

The stranger rushes over, heavy footfalls clumsy. 

As he approaches, he watches Conner strangely. Far, far too intense to be normal. It makes discomfort squirm in Lex’s gut. The stranger finally blurts, “Is he your father?” 

The question is clearly pointed at Conner. Lex feels indignation rise. He opens his mouth to retort. 

Conner cuts him off. 

“Yes,” Conner grins. “He made me!” 

The stranger tilts his head, perplexed. Lex swears he can see the man’s brain going a million miles a minute.  

The stranger looks up at Lex and back down at Conner. Then, at Conner’s arms, which look perfectly normal, Lex checked.

“Are you sure you aren’t hurt?” the stranger says. “That drink looked hot.” 

Lex swears he knows the stranger from somewhere, but he’s sure he’d vividly remember meeting such a large man. Not many people are larger than Lex; it’s an encounter significant enough to recall. 

“He’s fine. We asked the barista to make it cooler. You know how kids are. Can’t wait for anything to cool down.” He gives the man a forced smile before once again trying to drag Conner away from the stranger.

Unfortunately for Lex, Conner is a super-powered child who does not have to move if he doesn’t want to.  

Lex has to be careful not to pull too hard, or else it’ll become vividly clear to all the people in the coffee shop that Lex is physically incapable of moving Conner. 

Conner looks at Lex, confused and peeved. “We didn’t tell her that.” 

“Okay. That’s it.”  He stoops down and lifts Conner into his arms. 

“What?” Conner grips Lex’s biceps. Hard. 

Ugh. More bruises. Irritating. 

Lex marches towards the door. Lex turns to push the door open with his back, arms occupied, only to see the large man with his back turned, walking to the trash can. 

That’s when he sees it. Hanging out of the man’s back pocket. It’s a lanyard. 

A Daily Planet lanyard.

It clicks into place. Lex knows him, knows his face and his name. No wonder his height didn’t ring a bell, Lex had never met him in person. 

It’s Clark Kent. Clark Kent, Daily Planet reporter.

Superman’s reporter. 

Lex pushes the door open and nearly dashes outside. Lex rounds the corner and gets as far as he can away from the coffee shop.

Conner is whining, but it falls on deaf ears. He places Conner on the ground and calls his chauffeur to pick them up.

They need to get home. 

Lex needs to do something. He isn't sure what. It's only a matter of time until Superman knows that Lex Luthor, famously controversial and ruthless, is suddenly in the possession of a four-year-old child.

No matter what Superman thinks he knows, Lex knows that he’ll be coming. 

Soon. 

Lex sits at the kitchen table. 
 
The stars twinkle, and the moon is partially hidden by a wispy, pathetic excuse for a cloud.  It does nothing to filter out the moonlight dancing across the kitchen table. 

It’s been three days. 

Three days since Superman’s pet met Conner in that godforsaken coffee shop. 

Clark Kent. 

There is no doubt in Lex’s mind that Superman knows about Conner’s existence.

Yes, the point of the coffee shop was to introduce Conner to the public eye. In part to increase sympathies on Luthorcorps’ actions, and the fact that keeping Conner a secret for ten years was never sustainable. But, there is a monumental difference between a blurry photo of a child on social media and its loyal dog meeting the child. 

Lex tightens his grip on the silver revolver. Loaded. The radiation from the kryptonite emits in waves. The metal is warm from body heat, slightly slick with sweat. It’s a windless night, and the curtains are still despite the open window. 

Lex has been waiting for the past three days. He knows the bags under his eyes are deepening, that Conner has begun to notice his short temper.

It doesn’t matter. 

It’s only a matter of time, and he refuses to wake up and find his masterpiece, his progeny, gone.

Who says Kent didn’t notice the similarities? The shape of his eyes, the smile, the curly hair. Superman will immediately be suspicious. Maybe not of the reality of Conner’s parentage, but he may wonder why on earth Lex Luthor is a child’s guardian. And perhaps decide that Lex Luthor shouldn't be permitted to keep him. 

It’s the exact type of overbearing ‘justice’ the alien commits on the daily. Control under the guise of care. 

Lex watches the stars. It was once a favorite hobby. Now, no matter how beautifully the night sky twinkles, it’s always tinged with a slight bitterness. Envy, longing, resentment. There’s no escape.  

Lex feels his eyelids droop. Heavy and demanding. He knows the physiological impacts of sleep deprivation. They can be extreme. Yet, he can’t bring himself to rest. Each time he lays his head on the pillow, he’s flooded with dread. A nonsensical dread, as if he’s about to be robbed blind. 

Lex blinks and endeavors to stay alert. He checks his watch. The night is still young. Conner had just gone to sleep only about two hours ago. 

At some point, it feels like the muscles in Lex’s eyes have given up. No longer interested in focusing on any one thing, leaving his vision bleary and tired. Lex sighs. Exhaustion is setting in. Perhaps it's the paranoia. Perhaps Kent is not as close to the beast as Lex presumed. 

Maybe Superman doesn’t care. 

Lex lets his gaze fall onto the dining room table. He lazily glances at the revolver resting on the table, fingers wrapped around the grip. He doesn’t know how long he has been sitting there. Time passes, eyes blurring.

Lex is aware that he’s slumped in the chair, but that’s as far as the awareness reaches. 

A shadow moves over the room, rendering the room in near-complete darkness. Lex looks up from the table, expecting to see the moon blanketed in clouds. 

Instead, he’s met with the silhouette of a man. 

Lex jolts back. He stumbles as he stands and knocks over the heavy wooden chair he was just sitting on. It crashes with a loud thunk. Lex doesn’t even glance at it.

Instead, he watches the creature hovering outside his dining room window. It reminds him of that day, all those months ago, in Lex’s office. The only difference is that this time he’s silhouetted by moonlight.

Lex picks up the gun from the table. He points it down, at the floor, but he knows Superman sees it. 

Knows what’s in it. 

“What do you want?” Lex spits. Full of venom.  

Lex can’t see his face, but he watches the way the silhouette raises its hands in surrender. It just feels mocking. 

“I didn’t know you’d be awake.” 

“Then why are you here?” Lex demands. 

Superman shifts, uncomfortable. Then, he floats forward until he lands softly on the hardwood floor. His face comes into view. “I heard some strange…rumors. I have a source.” 

“I know. Kent. Whatever he told you is wrong. Leave.” 

“So you don’t have a child? One with a curious pain tolerance.” Superman makes a pointed survey of the room. Some of Conner’s toys are on the kitchen counter, and a few magazines are underneath the dining room table. 

“No. I don’t. Get out.” 

Superman tilts his head at him, seemingly in warning, and Lex debates drawing the gun. 

“Luthor,” Superman starts. “I know there’s no line you won’t cross, but genetically modifying a child is…” He cuts off. A pause. “Well, it’s a line.” 

Lex furrows his brows at that, then he realizes that Superman is clueless. He thinks he edited Conner like Angela. 

“He’s not genetically modified.” 

Superman raises a thick brow. “He’s not? Where are his parents? Kidnapping is also a line. A big one.” 

“I am his parent. His mother was a temporary…engagement. I didn’t know about his existence until six months ago.” 

Superman looks incredibly skeptical, eyes slightly narrowed. He steps forward. Lex steps back. “Your heart is racing.” 

“As you so astutely observed during our last meeting, my heart is always beating fast when you’re in the room, because I hate you. 

“I know.” Superman surveys the dining room. “You have a fancy house.” 

“It’s a penthouse. I don’t know why you’re surprised.” 

Superman shrugs causally. “I dunno. I’m not surprised; it was just a comment. 

Lex rolls his eyes. “Why are you here?” 

Superman looks nearly bashful. 

Ridiculous. 

“I came to check on the kid. I wasn’t expecting to find him here,” Superman glances around awkwardly. “I thought he'd be stuffed away in a secret lab somewhere.” 

“Well, he’s here. He's asleep and perfectly fine. You can leave.” 

“I know. I can hear him.” He pauses and looks at Lex uncertainly. “You’re his…father? You’re raising him?”

“Yes,” he spits it a little too aggressively. 

“You get why that’s hard to believe.”

“What? Do you want me to wake him up?” Lex demands, sardonically. 

Superman doesn’t answer. Superman’s eyes flicker to the hallway. 

A pause. 

“No. You don’t have to. He’s awake.” 

Sure enough, a moments later, there's the sound of little feet padding down the hallway. Lex feels his stomach roil. A stubborn lump in his throat.

If Conner shows any semblance of being a super-powered child, game over. 

Lex freezes. The footsteps come to a halt. Lex almost can’t bring himself to turn his head, but does anyway. 

Conner is standing in the middle of the doorway. 

He’s in his pajamas, bed-head sticking up every which way. He looks like a baby deer in headlights. His eyes are as big as dinner plates, his mouth slightly gaping. Lex follows his gaze.

Conner is staring at Superman, presumably, in awe. 

There is no way they’re getting through this without Conner mentioning Krypton or being an alien baby. 

There’s no way. 

Lex expects Conner to bolt towards Superman. Perhaps ask many ridiculous questions. 

Conner does none of these things.

Instead, he takes a step back into the hallway and grips anxiously onto the side of the doorway. 

Hiding. 

Superman shifts, where he’s standing. He shoots a glance at Lex before he starts in Conner’s direction. 

Superman squats down to his level. “Hi. I’m Superman. Sorry for waking you.” 

Conner doesn’t move.

“What’s your name?” 

Conner is silent. He steps a bit further into the hall and looks at Lex. Not knowing what to do. 

Lex feels slightly off-kilter. 

Conner has only ever expressed positive sentiment towards Superman. 

The boy's reaction is nonsensical. 

Lex sighs. Well, if Superman isn’t going to leave until he’s sure the boy is safe. Might as well get it over with. 

Lex schools his expression. “It’s okay, Conner. Come here.” 

Conner looks back and forth. From Superman to Lex. And back again. 

Conner takes a step forward. 

The quickest route to Lex would be around the table, close to the window, and past Superman. 

Lex can see the way Conner considers this. 

Instead, Conner chooses the long way. Keeping close to the kitchen, Lex notices how carefully Conner never turns his back on Superman. 

Smart boy. Good instincts. 

When Conner reaches him, he clings onto Lex's robe, silk slipping through his fingers. He hides behind Lex’s legs. Lex looks at him, just slightly perplexed. 

Conner grabs Lex’s hand and places it atop his own head. Lex relents and allows his hand to rest fully on Conner’s messy curls. The irritating warmth wiggles its way into his chest and makes its home there. Like a permanent addition. 

Superman stands from his previously crouched position and slowly makes his way over to where Conner is standing in front of Lex. He stops a couple of feet away, just at the opposite end of the table.

That’s when Lex realizes that his other hand is still holding the gun. A gun loaded with kryptonite. 

Lex doesn’t think. 

Lex slams it down on the kitchen table and aggressively slides it to the other side of the table, in an effort to get it as far away from Conner as he can manage.

Which effectively puts it right in Superman’s reach. 

Oh, Goddamn it. 

Superman eyes the gun before looking back at Lex, mystified. 

Lex pulls the boy from behind him so that Conner is standing in front of his legs, facing Superman. 

Superman, who is observing them. Inquisitive. 

If Lex had to guess, he’s watching for Conner’s comfort. Perhaps even checking for bruising or any sign of abuse. 

“See? My child is now both awake and confused, in the middle of the night. Are you happy?” 

Superman ignores him and addresses Conner. “It’s okay. What’s your name?” His voice is gentle and kind. 

Lex can’t stand it. 

Conner turns his little head up to Lex. Lex nods. Conner pulls Lex’s hand from his shoulder and holds it to his chest. Lex sees the way Superman’s eyes follow the action. Observing. 

A pause. 

“Conner,” a small voice says. 

Superman smiles. It’s nearly blinding. “It’s nice to meet you, Conner. I’m sorry for visiting so late at night.” 

Conner shifts nervously, and Lex notes that it’s a behavior that he and Superman share. 

Conner squeezes Lex’s arm a little too tightly. “It’s okay,” he pauses. Then he lets go of Lex's arm, and he takes a few steps forward, in Superman’s direction. “Can I touch?” He points to the cape draped along Superman’s back.  

Superman’s brows raise, surprise written all over his face. Then he pulls the red cape over his shoulder. “Sure.” 

Conner walks over and stands in front of Superman. He’s so little in comparison, it’s almost cute.

A tiny, helpless Superman. 

Conner reaches out and grabs the cape with his fingers. He yanks on it a little bit before bringing it up to his face and rubbing his cheek into it. 

Lex feels the following exasperation in his marrow. 

Superman goes still, eyes wide. Then, he laughs, eyes twinkling. “I know, it's pretty soft.” 

Conner moves closer, looking into Superman’s face. Intensely watching. Lex can’t see Conner’s expression, but he can imagine his eyes look too big for his head. 

“You’re an alien baby?” Conner asks. 

Superman tilts his head, “A what?” He laughs again, confused.

Conner continues holding onto the cape but points his finger at Superman’s face.  “ Alien baby?” 

Superman smiles down at him, but his brow creases. His face is curious, but tinged with something else. Something Lex can’t name. 

“I guess so. I was, once. A long time ago.” 

Conner lets go and swings his arms back and forth. He kicks one foot excitedly. “Cool! I want to fly?” Conner turns and points to Lex in accusation. “He says I’m too short to fly. 

Lex leans back against the dining room table and uncrosses his arms. Lex can feel a bit of tension melt out of his shoulders now that the alien baby comment is out of the way. It’s a miracle. “I said that he’s too short to start jumping off buildings.” 

Conner shrugs. Then raises his arms to be lifted. Which is very out of character. Conner has never asked to be held. 

Superman looks from Conner to Lex. “Erm. I guess, but only if your…Dad is okay with it?” Superman looks incredibly uncomfortable, features twisted a bit strangely. He backs up a bit. 

“I am very much not okay with it. Conner, come here,” Lex snaps. He wishes he had the gun. There is no way in hell Superman is flying anywhere with Conner.  

 Conner looks at him, pouting. “Why?” 

“Because I don’t trust Superman. Come. Now.” He demands. Conner doesn’t move; he just moves to cling to Superman’s cape. 

“I trust him,” Conner insists. 

Something bubbles in Lex’s chest. Something bitter and burning hot. Conner has never disobeyed him before. Never. Not until Superman. Lex is powerless. He doesn’t have his gun, and if he forcibly dragged Conner away, his super strength would make itself known. 

Superman could take him, and Lex would be completely helpless. 

Superman watches them. “You’re very honest with him,” he notes.

Lex glances up from glaring at Conner. “Children respond best to honesty.” A bitterness sits heavy. “They’re good at poking holes.” 

“Hmm.” 

Superman looks down at Conner, who is still gripping onto his cape. Lex hopes he doesn’t try to remove his grasp. There is no way Conner isn’t holding it with all his strength.

“Conner, you should listen,” Superman says, leaning over to meet Conner’s eyes. 

It’s so striking to see them in the same room. Conner looks every bit Superman’s son. Lex swallows down the sudden possessiveness that burns his throat. 

Superman looks at the gun, then he reaches a hand out. Momentarily, Lex is afraid he’ll throw it out the window. But it’s suddenly sliding back across the table towards Lex.

It comes to a halt right at Lex’s fingertips.

The temptation of control, of gaining the upper hand, is too difficult to resist. 

There’s a tense pause.

Lex caves. 

He snatches the gun and aims at Superman’s chest. 

Right where his heart should be. 

Superman freezes.

Lex knows that despite everything, he’d never fire it. Not with Conner standing right there, but Superman doesn’t know that. 

Superman raises his hands in surrender, again. Lex doesn’t miss the way he places a leg in front of Conner, effectively shielding him. The cape drapes over Conner, causing him to disappear from Lex’s sight. Lex hears a giggle and is momentarily grateful Conner is distracted. 

“Hey. Put it down.” Superman’s tone is deadly serious. 

“Why’d you give it back?” Lex demands. He has the urge to cock the gun, but he can’t, not with Conner right there. 

“So that you’d calm down.” 

Lex doesn’t move. He keeps the gun aimed directly at Superman’s chest. “Give me the boy. Now.” 

Conner peeks his head out from under Superman’s cape. “What’s wrong?” He asks, his little brows furrowed in distress. Lex doesn't think Conner has ever seen a gun before. There’s no reason for him to be afraid. 

“Conner, come here. I’m serious,” he orders. 

Conner slips out from under Superman’s cape and looks up at him longingly. “You are so cool,” he whispers, dramatically. 

Before running back towards Lex. Lex catches him with one arm and lifts him, ignoring the way his bones creak and muscles strain under Conner’s abnormal density.

“Get out.” Lex orders with the gun, he gestures to the window. “Now.” 

A silence falls over the room. Superman doesn’t move.

Lex turns slightly and aims Conner away from Superman. “You’ve seen that I don’t beat him. I don’t hurt him. He’s fine. Leave.” 

Superman’s eyes flick between them. Lex is momentarily convinced that he can read suspicion in them. Perhaps recognition. 

Superman exhales. “Okay. I’m going.” He walks towards the window and jumps up on the ledge, balancing as if on a knife's edge. He hears Conner’s sharp inhale of excitement. 

Superman points at Lex with one finger. “I was going to save this for your business hours, but I’ll say it now.” 

Lex raises his brows at him. 

“Stop giving bombs to the worst people on the planet. Please? It’s not like you need the money.” 

Lex snarls. “I don’t take orders from aliens. Get the fuck out.” Lex feels Conner flinch in his arms. Ever so slightly. Lex can’t help but squeeze him tighter.

Superman gives them one last look, and he looks over at Conner. “It was nice to meet you.” 

Then he steps out of the window.

Gone. 

Lex leans against the table in front of a monitor. Behind him is the endless chugging of a treadmill as Conner runs. Not full speed–it would break the machine–but increasing every so often. Conner seems content enough running at 30 miles per hour. Although he hates the fact that he has to stick wires on his chest. Sophie, the lab technician, was insistent that they begin testing Conner’s limits. 

Frankly, Lex agrees.

 Evie was right about one thing. They grew Conner in a tube to kill Superman, and he will kill Superman. Conner will begin to learn all the fight commands in six months. Or, his “fifth” birthday. 

Technically, his first year on the planet.

“He seems completely fine. His heart rate is steady. Honestly, all his vitals look as if he’s barely moving. He most definitely has a significant amount of Kryptonian physiology. He doesn’t read completely human.” 

Lex nods, not paying very much attention. He can’t peel his eyes away from the new broadcast on the monitor. 

“Superman has arrived at the scene of a multi-vehicle car wreck on Interstate 40. Superman has reportedly saved,” there's a pause as the reporter presses his finger on his earpiece. “We are getting new information that Superman has saved numerous civilians. Numbers are uncertain. So far, there have been no major injuries or casualties.” 

Lex scoffs and crosses his arms. “They have no interest in Luthorcorp or his,” Lex points at Conner, “existence.” 

Sophie hums, and he hears her swivel her chair around to face him. “Well, people are talking about him on social media. No one knew Lex Luthor had a son. Have you talked to PR?” 

“Yes. They claim that it’s working, that people are being less critical of the company. But I disagree.” Lex snatches up the remote and flicks through multiple new channels. “Nope, nope, nope. Nothing about Luthorcorp.” Lex grips the remote tightly; the thin plastic creaks under his grasp. 

Lex finally peels his eyes away from the screen. “Critique is always better than nothing. Infamy is better than insignificance," he hisses. “It’s quite simple.” 

Sophie tenses and her eyes downcast. 

Lex can feel his temper flare. He stamps down the urge to throw the remote at the screen. He looks back at the news.

 It’s not just about the lack of Luthorcorp; it is about the abundance of Superman. Of course, there is no mention of firefighters or first responders.

Nothing. 

Superman acts, and the world worships.

“Conner, slow it down. You’re going to break it again,” Sophie’s voice rings out in warning. Conner is running, still not breaking a sweat, and is now pushing 80 miles per hour. 

“I can go faster!” Conner yells, excited. 

“No, Stop!” 

Conner looks at Sophie, face falling in clear disappointment. “Why not?” 

Lex shakes his head, eyes glued on the news channel. “You know why. Don’t play dumb.” Conner doesn’t respond. Lex looks over to see Conner slowing down, but sticking his tongue out at Lex. Lex gives him an incredulous look, “Where did you even learn that?” 

Conner shrugs.

Lex clicks his tongue and pushes away from the table. He moves towards Sophie and leans down to look at Conner’s vitals being measured. 

Sophie was right. His BPM is low. Incredibly low. The equivalent of an Olympic athlete. 

“How fast do you think he is at full speed?” Sophie asks. 

“It depends. Conner is half human, and despite his muscle density, he is small. He only has so much of it. Ultra-man could run 1000 miles per second, but he was both full-grown and had a few… issues.” Lex gestures to Conner. Unlike Ultraman, Conner isn’t a bad imitation. He’s Kryptonian.”

Sophie nods. “We need to test his actual speed, then, next time. We’ll have him run as fast as he can and use a streak camera to measure it.” Sophie saves all the collected data. “Conner, I’m slowing it down,” she yells over the noise, and pushes a button to incrementally decrease the speed. 

“Aww.” A little voice rings out, and slowly, what was once just a blur becomes a small child. A very hyper one. 

Lex walks over to him and starts to pull the stickers off his chest. “Go put your shirt on. I'm sure the interns have food for you somewhere.” Conner gives him a grin before bolting to the counter, grabbing his shirt, and running out of the room at definitely more than 20 miles per hour.

Sophie laughs, amused. “You’d think he’d learn his lesson after crashing so many times.” 

“What’s there to learn? He can't feel pain. There are no natural consequences to his destructive tendencies.” 

Sophie’s face drops, and she looks at him. Curious. “I guess. Are you worried about it?” 

Lex scoffs. “Not in the slightest, because against all odds, the boy is still empathetic. How is that possible? For a creature to have never felt pain, and yet still feel it? It makes no sense.”

Sophie just looks at him strangely. As if he’s a puzzle she’s trying to solve.

Lex cracks his neck one way, shoulders stiff. “Have you heard from Evie recently?” 

Sophie looks hesitant. “No. I haven’t heard from Dr. Morris since she quit.”

“Hmm.” 

She tilts her head. “What?”

“Nothing.” Lex tries to ignore the itching dread at every thought of Evie. She’s been impossible to find. Not one piece of Luthor technology has picked up her up anywhere in the city.

Sophie stands up and brushes the eraser remnants from her lab coat. “Give Luthorcorp’s reputation some time to breathe. All things considered, we are doing very well.” 

“I suppose.” 

She raises her brows at him. “We tore the city apart. It’ll take some time.” 

Lex narrows his eyes at her. “For the greater good.” 

“You sound like a comic book villain.” 

“There is always some truth in clichés, Sophie.” Lex checks his watch. “I have a meeting with the board. Send me all the data you collected today.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Lex is lounging on the sofa, laptop on his lap, phone in the other hand. Conner is in bed and has been for the last few hours.

It’s a good thing, too. Lex is busy. 

He can’t find Evie. 

It’s as if she’s completely vanished off the face of the planet. 

Which is impossible. 

Lex clicks through surveillance footage from over the city. Running it all through Luthorcorp’s best facial recognition software. 

Nothing. 

Evie is either dead or she hasn’t set foot in the city for a month, since Lex fired her. 

Knowing Evie, it’s likely the latter.

Lex slams his laptop shut and grits his teeth. Tension wiggles its way into his jaw. If she’s hiding, she’s hiding for a reason. Evie isn’t vindictive, but she is devout to her philosophy. 

A loose cannon. 

Lex stands and paces.

The late-night newscast plays in the background. It’s mostly noise, but Lex keeps an ear out for any mention of Luthorcorp.

It’s true, people are now somewhat aware of Lex’s “son.” It’s more of a distraction than anything else, which, according to his PR department, is a success. 

“At least people aren’t shitting on us.” 

What they don’t understand is that Luthorcorp exists for the people. It lives and breathes humanity. Luthorcorp isn’t supposed to be tolerated.

It’s supposed to be revered. 

Lex licks his teeth and checks the time. Midnight. 

Lex flicks through numerous channels.  

Not one mention of Luthorcorp. Not even a snide comment. 

Lex debates blowing up a building. Perhaps one of his labs. A few casualties would be unavoidable. They would show the world Superman isn’t faultless. That he can and will fail them all. 

It’d have the desired effect.

Luthorcorp would be the topic of conversation. 

Lex licks his teeth again. Although it’s unfortunate.  Any “tragedy” would surely be mentioned in the same sentence as Superman. 

Even if it were a Luthorcorp lab exploding, Superman would show up and save the day. 

Once again, he would be the topic of the world's conversation. 

Humanity encircling, dedicating, and obsessing over a thing. 

Lex makes his way back to the couch and collapses, head in his hands. He rubs his palms into his eyes until they start to sting. 

When he looks up at the TV, his vision is blurring. 

Lex reaches out and picks up his gun. The grip is familiar and comforting. Lex is no longer worried about Superman coming to visit, but he can’t kick the habit of having it on him. 

Superman seemed thoroughly convinced that Conner is Lex’s child, which he is. 

On a technicality. 

Since their last interaction, Lex has stopped trading with the two major aggressor governments in the world. Not out of obedience.

But because of Kryptonite, or the lack of it. The last remaining pieces reside in Lex’s gun. Six bullets and Conner are the remaining effective weapons against Superman, and every disgusting false ideal he stands for.

It isn’t worth the risk. 

Lex can’t risk Superman finding out what exactly Conner is.

It would ruin everything. 

If Superman finds out, the world finds out. Everyone finds out. 

Lex has no fear of the law. No, the law can’t touch him, but Conner would never come to fruition. He would be stamped out, his potential scrapped and trashed. Perhaps he’d become another hero. 

A photo of Superman flashes onto the screen. He’s grinning at a group of children, a singular curl fallen over his forehead. Lex squeezes the grip of the gun and points it between Superman’s eyes.

The screen flickers. 

Suddenly, it’s Luthorcorp’s Logo being projected behind a talk-show host. Lex scrambles for the remote and turns up the volume.

The host laughs. “Now, this sounds ridiculous. How can you be sure it’s true?” 

Lex’s eye catches the woman’s Daily Planet Lanyard around her neck and infers the guest is a reporter. 

The reporter smiles politely, bright red lipstick popping. “I have someone on the inside. A whistleblower, if you will.” 

“And so, this whistleblower claims that Luthorcorp not only has a secret basement laboratory—”

“Correct.” 

“But that they also have access to incredibly advanced cloning technology?” 

“Yes.”  

“And Ultraman, the meta-human that was associated with Luthorcorp’s agreement with Boravia, was not a person, but a clone?” 

The reporter nods her head in confirmation, long platinum hair bobbing. “Yes, that's right.” 

The host leans in, interested. “So, this whistleblower. How do you know they’re the real deal?” 

The reporter uncrosses and crosses her legs. “Well, that’s part of the issue. We don’t. It’s why this story won’t be on the front page tomorrow morning.” She smiles at the audience. “But, there was just enough detail that wasn’t published publicly for us to be listening.” 

The talk-show nods understanding. “And so, that’s why you’re here with us tonight.”

“Yes, sir.” 

Lex stares at the TV, a pit in his stomach making itself known. An itch at the base of his spine. 

“So who, exactly, does this whistleblower claim Luthorcorp cloned? Everyone assumed he was like the Engineer. Biogenetically engineered.” 

The reporter’s face drops. Her lips thin, and her expression turns serious, stony.

“Superman.” 

The in-studio audience gasps, shocked. There’s scattered muttering.  

It takes the talk show host a moment to gather himself and close his mouth. 

Lex stands up, spine stiff. Glaring into the screen. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck 

Fucking Evie. 

Lex’s eyes shoot towards the hall to where Conner is sleeping. 

He looks back at the TV, heart pounding, and hopes that Evie’s ridiculous devotion to her philosophy holds true, and that she didn’t mention Conner. 

That she didn’t reveal his existence. 

Evie wants Superman dead. She wouldn't throw that away for the sake of humiliating Lex. 

The reporter nods, understanding of the audience’s shock. She brings her hands up placating, “Remember this is all alleged–for any Luthorcorp lawyers watching–but there’s more.” 

“What is it?” The host says far too earnestly, leaning out of the seat. 

Lex grips the gun so tightly that it almost slips out of his sweaty grasp. 

“They have built a new weapon.” 

“A new clone?”

“No. Something entirely different,” she pauses and clasps her hands on her lap. “That’s all my source would say.” 

The host leans back, clearly disappointed. “That’s unfortunate. But it does call into question Lex Luthor’s ideology, doesn’t it? Self-proclaimed humanitarian, but so keen on the destruction of an innocent man?” 

The reporter grimaces, disgust dripping from her expression. “Unfortunately, Lex Luthor is nothing if not coherent. His humanitarian values don’t extend to non-humans. In his mind, Superman is no man. But the reality is, Lex Luthor is no humanist. He will put anyone on the line to reach his goals.” 

“Hmm.” The host says, “There’s also the conversation about his alleged involvement with the Boravin government.” 

Lex doesn’t want to hear it. He fumbles for the remote. 

“Not alleged. That is a fact—” 

The screen switches off, engulfing Lex in darkness. 

The room is too silent.

Lex swears he can hear the thumping of his heart in his ears. Adrenaline courses. Racing through his body. Lex takes a breath and pulses his grip around his gun. He tries to gain some semblance of control, rein in his racing mind.

Subdue the paranoia. 

Lex glances towards the hallway and debates checking on Conner. Lex stamps down the disgustingly incessant urge to check on him. 

Superman knows. He must. Superman must have known about the aforementioned “weapon,” since Evie first leaked Cadmus Labs. Clark Kent would have told him immediately. 

Lex takes another breath. He paces back and forth in his living room. 

There is no reason for Superman to suspect what exactly the weapon is. There is no reason for him to suspect it has anything to do with Conner. 

Lex paces over to the kitchen counter and throws the gun down. He braces himself on the surface, head hanging between his arms, and takes another deep breath.

“We need to talk.” 

The air is stolen from Lex’s lungs.

He can’t breathe. 

Lex jolts back and hits his lower back hard on the counter behind him. 

Lex shouldn’t be surprised to see Superman standing in his kitchen, but he is. 

“You didn’t knock this time,” Lex says, still breathless.

“Where’s the weapon?” 

Lex looks at the gun on the counter. It’s out of reach. Closer to Superman than it is to Lex. 

“Luthor,” Lex looks down at him, bright eyes narrowed, brows furrowed. “Where’s the weapon?” 

“How do you know there is a weapon? Didn’t you hear,” Lex pants. “It’s all alleged. Nothing more than a rumor.” 

Superman isn’t usually so keen on showing up at Lex’s penthouse, let alone in the middle of the night.

“I know you, Lex. You’re insistent,” Superman points down at the gun. “That is the last kryptonite you have, and you can’t make the synthetic kind. You proved that with Metamorpho. You’re desperate." 

“Come up with that all by yourself, did you?” 

Superman doesn’t respond to that. His jaw just tightens.

Lex continues. “Why are you here? Why do you think I would hide a weapon of mass destruction in my home and not somewhere more protected?” 

Superman raises his brows and crosses his arms. “I searched your building and your ‘secret lab’ already. Nothing.” 

Lex’s eyes narrow in disbelief. The idiot didn’t even think to turn on any of the computers. There is so much data about Conner in the lab. They just don’t leave it lying around.

“So you’re here now?” 

Lex notices the way Superman’s jaw pulses with tension. “Where is it?”

Lex pushes down the building panic. The only way he can get Superman to leave is to convince him that there is no weapon.

Lex schools his expression. “Well,” he holds his arms out in invitation. “Go ahead. Scan whatever you want. There’s nothing here.” 

Superman gives him a look. “I already checked. I know.” Superman points to the gun on the counter. “That’s the only weapon in the house.” 

“Okay.” Lex crosses over the walkway to lean over the counter, closing in on Superman’s face. That strange, intoxicating scent makes its way into his senses.  “Then why are you still here?” he hisses out. 

Superman shuffles and bites his lip nervously, strangely boyish.  “I need you to wake up your son.” 

Lex’s heart drops. 

“What?”

“I told you that genetically augmenting a child was a line.” 

Lex growls at him. “And I told you he’s not genetically augmented.” 

Superman stares at him a little too long. 

“What?” he demands. 

“I can never tell when you’re lying.” 

Lex ignores the way his neck flushes. “Well, you should know that polygraph exams have always been wildly inaccurate. Your superpower ‘lie detector’ doesn’t cut it.”

Superman sighs. For a moment, Lex swears he sees exhaustion seep through Superman’s demeanor. His large body caves into itself. Only for a moment.

“I need you to wake him up. My source said the boy spilled boiling liquid all over himself and had no reaction. No blisters, no crying, nothing.” 

Lex feels spiteful. “Maybe my kid is just better than everyone else’s.”

Superman gives him an unamused look. “Wake him up.” 

Lex breaths. The project is over. Conner will never kill Superman. 

Game over. 

Lex turns around sharply. He glances over his shoulder and watches as Superman trails behind him. 

Lex walks down the hallway and stops in front of Conner's door. He takes a moment to look at the poster and stickers scattered across the surface.  

Lex can’t stop that same warmth from returning. It’s too quick. Too bright. 

Just as he’s reaching for the doorknob knob he peeks at Superman’s face. 

The expression there isn’t one Lex can name.  

Superman is gazing at something, Lex follows his gaze to the poster on Conner’s door.

Lex shakes it off and opens the door.

Inside, Conner’s nightlight is as bright as always. 

This time, Conner is sprawled across his bed like a starfish, little mouth slightly agape as he breathes in and out. His breath is slow and relaxed. 

Strong. 

And despite it all, it’s still nice to hear him breathe. 

To see his chest move. 

Lex steps in, holds the door open for Superman’s massive frame, and closes it gently behind him. A shallow attempt to preserve the moments left before everything implodes. 

Lex makes towards Conner’s bed and realizes Superman has already closed in. But he’s not looking at Conner. 

Superman is standing next to Conner’s bed, but he isn’t looking at him. Instead, he’s gazing at the glow-in-the-dark stars behind his bed. He reaches out a hand and touches the corner of one gently. 

“I had these as a kid, too.”

Lex approaches from behind, arms crossed. “Hmm,” he hums. 

Lex blatantly ignores how his stomach as Superman’s expression morphs. Maybe something fond, something sad.

Human. 

“Move. I need to reach him.” 

Superman clumsily moves out of the way, stepping back from the side of Conner’s bed to allow Lex through. 

Lex kneels next to Conner’s bed and watches him sleep. Dark eyelashes lay on his little cheeks, and his tiny arm twitches amusingly.

Something strong and possessive rips at the inside of Lex’s chest, like a beast trying to crack open his ribs. 

“If–” Lex breaks off. He pauses, then starts again. “If he’s… not quite normal, what will you do?”

Lex doesn’t need to look up at Superman looming over him. 

“Was that a confession?” 

"No," Lex hisses. “It was a question.” 

There's a pause. A painfully long one. 

Lex presses a hand to Conner’s head and brushes back his curly hair. Maybe for the last time. 

Probably for the last time.

“I don’t know. It depends on what makes him…not normal.” 

“And if I actually am his parent? Then what?” 

“As in if you are actually his father?” Superman asks, confusion coloring his voice. 

Lex rolls his eyes. “Yes, genius. I believe that’s what I asked.” 

Superman ignores his snide comment, which is irritating. 

Always taking the moral high ground. 

“It would still depend. If he’s augmented or has been experimented on, that’s child abuse. I would take him to the authorities and try to find his mother.”  

Lex strokes Conner’s head gently and allows himself to feel the affection burning in his chest. It won’t be there for much longer. Lex tells himself he’ll just make another one. 

Another clone. 

A hybrid was a bad idea. 

“He isn’t augmented,” Lex breathes out. A pause. “And he doesn’t have a mother.” 

“What?” 

Lex puts a little more force into stroking Conner’s head and brings his other hand up to shake Conner’s shoulder.

“Conner.” he shakes the boy gently, who just curls up in a fetal position. He curls in the direction of Lex’s body heat. “Conner.” 

Conner makes a sound of protest and reaches up to grab onto Lex’s hand. After a few moments, he blinks open lazily. 

“Are you awake?” 

Conner looks through Lex, like he isn’t really seeing him.

Lex reaches out and grabs Conner’s other shoulder to pull him upright. Conner sits. Hair sticking up every which way, eyes blinking slowly. 

Lex leans back on his knees. “You have to give him a minute.”

Superman answers a little too quickly. “That’s okay.” 

After a few moments, Conner’s vision seems to focus. His gaze lands on Lex, and his little brows furrow in confusion. 

“Guess who’s here?” 

Conner blinks and tilts his head. 

“It’s Superman, he’s here to ask you some questions.” 

Conner blinks in quick succession before looking to his left, where Superman is shifting in place, in all his awkward glory.

Conner blinks. Thrice. 

Then his eyes light up, and a wide grin stretches across his little face. 

“Hi, Conner,” Superman smiles back at him, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

“Hi!”

Conner reaches his arms up again, asking to be lifted. “Fly? I want to fly.” 

Superman laughs, seemingly despite himself. He moves a little closer and gently pushes Conner’s arms down. “Maybe later.” 

A silence falls over the room. Superman is rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. His jaw is still tense, but Lex watches as his eyes flit around the room. 

Likely not knowing how to ask a child what makes him “abnormal.” 

What would make him a weapon.

Lex sure as hell isn’t going to help him.

Instead, he keeps kneeling by Conner’s bed, watching as Conner’s expression twists from excitement to confusion at Superman’s prolonged silence. 

Conner looks from Lex to Superman, questioning. 

Superman breaks the silence. He clears his throat. 

“So, I see you like space?” 

Conner blinks at him.

Conner nods.

Superman shifts. “Me too, I like space too.”

Conner beams and rocks a bit back and forth on his bed. “Is it because you’re an alien baby?”

Superman blinks twice before smiling sadly and tilting his head. “Yeah, I think you’re right. That’s probably why. It’s also beautiful.” 

“Yes! I want to fly there.”

“Conner, I have a question for you.”

Conner goes quiet and sits still, waiting.

“Have you ever been hurt, somehow? Any scary place? Maybe with bright lights or sharp tools?”

Conner thinks, before shaking his head.

“No, I can’t get hurt. But I don’t like the stickers.”

Superman looks at him. Brows furrowed, clearly thinking. 

“What stickers?” 

“The ones I have to wear when I’m running.” 
 
“Okay.” 

“And Sophie never lets me go fast.”

Superman raises a brow and leans a little forward. The comment caught his attention. “How fast can you run?” 

Conner leans back and smiles, proud of himself. “Really, really fast.” 

Lex sighs. Lex actually can’t watch this. This it’s physically painful. He presses a finger into Conner’s arm to get his attention. “Conner, why can you run super fast?” 

Conner looks at Lex, clearly confused at why he’s asking such a dumb question. “Because I’m an alien baby.” 

There’s a pregnant pause. The air around them swells with tension.

Superman snaps his head around at Lex with an expression he has never seen before. 

Disbelief, mostly. 

It’s a good look on him.

Lex throws his arms up in the air. “See? I told you he’s not genetically modified.” 

Superman doesn’t respond. He just stares.

“Can I fly now?” Conner asks, not caring for the fact that no one was paying attention to him.

Superman, incredibly out of character, ignores him in favor of staring at Lex.

“You were involved with an alien woman?” Superman asks suddenly. 

Lex can’t help the laugh that bubbles in his chest at the amusing idea. “No, I told you, he doesn’t have a mother.” Conner looks between Lex and Superman again. 

Despite the uncertainty playing in Superman’s eyes, his jaw tightens. His features are especially striking in the low light of the room. “Tell me what this is. Or I’m taking him. Now.” 

If possible, Lex’s heart drops harder, heavier, a lump in his throat. Just as he is about to open his mouth but Conner beats him to it. 

“I’m like you!” Conner tilts his head and reaches to grab Superman’s cape. He pulls him closer, and Lex can tell he pulled hard because Superman stumbles.

“What?” Superman breathes out.  He’s closer to Conner, leaning over his bed, staring at him with something strange and unreadable on his face. 

“I’m from Krypton!" 

“You’re–” Superman starts. 

Lex doesn’t think. He snatches Superman’s wrist. It’s the first time he’s ever initiated contact. 

“Let’s talk in the living room. I’ll tell you everything,” it comes out humiliatingly desperate. 

Lex wants to shoot himself. 

Superman looks down at Lex, at the hand on his wrist, and back to Conner. Disbelief twisting his features. Lex tightens his grasp and ignores the way it feels like he’s grasping a piece of steel instead of flesh and blood. 

Lex grits his teeth and swallows what’s left of both his precious dignity and ego. 

“Please.” 

Superman looks back down at him again, eyes too big for his head. Curly hair escaping from that obnoxious slick back. 

Finally, Superman nods dumbly. 

Lex stands up and turns to Conner. He places a hand on his head, cradling it, and gently pushes his shoulder. He guides him back down to his pillow. 

Despite the excitement of waking up to Superman in his room, Lex can tell he’s exhausted. 

“It’s bedtime. I’m sorry for waking you up. Superman and I need to talk. 

Conner furrows his little brows, mouth in a tight line. “I want to talk to Superman!” 

Lex doesn’t have the bandwidth for this. “If you go back to sleep, next time you see Superman, I’ll let him take you flying.” 

Conner relaxes immediately. Tension seeping out of his muscles. He grins. “Really?” 

“Really.” 

Lex pulls the blanket up to Conner's chin and forces himself to take a step back. He’s had enough humiliation for one day; no need to pile it on. 

His ego can only take so much. 

Conner immediately squeezes his eyes shut, as if he’s trying to force himself asleep. 

Lex stands and ignores the way his knees pop painfully. He walks towards the door. 

Just as he goes to open it, Lex turns back to see that Superman hasn’t moved. He’s still looming over Conner’s bed like a ridiculously dressed ghost. 

“Come,” Lex hisses. 

Superman looks over at him, still dumbly, before looking back at Conner. 

Eventually, he trails after Lex, but still watches Conner with every step he takes.

Lex slips out the door. Lex doesn’t look behind him. Instead, he walks the entirety of the way past the kitchen and into the living room without looking back at Superman. 

Lex collapses on the couch. Feeling more resigned than ever before. 

Lex is perplexed to hear the sound of steel on granite. He looks up to see Superman standing in the kitchen, and snatching the gun off the counter.  

Lex gets a glimpse of his face in the moonlight, only to notice the tension in Superman’s shoulders, the way his face is contorted. He doesn’t know what to call it. 

Perhaps frustrated. 

Definitely peeved. 

Maybe angry. 

“Your son,” the word was a little too mocking for Lex’s taste. “Is part Kryptonian, and you still kept a loaded gun with Kryptonite bullets in your house.” Superman’s tone is almost, almost sounds venomous. It’s close. 

Lex is resigned. He doesn’t care anymore. 

Game over.  

“You talk like you don’t know me.” He says off-handedly. He lets his head loll back against the couch and looks at an upside-down Superman. “That is the most ‘me’ thing I’ve ever done.” 

“I’m disgusted. Not surprised.” 

“Hmm.” 

Superman is definitely not giving his gun back this time. 

“How is it possible?” Superman demands. “How is he Kryptonian? You say he doesn’t have a mother. So there isn’t a Kryptonian woman on Earth? 

“No.” 

Superman seems to be losing his patience. “Then how is he possible?”

“I grew him in a cloning tank.” 

Superman’s mouth falls open. Superman’s constant expressions of disbelief are becoming exhausting, so he turns away. Instead, leveling a lazy gaze at the dark TV screen in front of him, paying close attention to the way the moonlight glints off the smooth surface. 

“He’s a clone.” Superman’s voice is tinged with something interesting. A certain drop in cadence. 

But Lex refuses to look at his face. 

He’ll make peace with the mystery. 

“No. Ultraman was a clone. Conner is half human. He’s fifty percent human. Fifty percent Kryptonian.” 

There’s a sharp intake of breath, but Superman doesn’t respond. 

At some point, the suspense becomes too much. Lex gives in and faces Superman. 

The strongest man on the planet is leaning over his kitchen counter, elbows resting on the granite, with his head in his hands.

It's perplexing and a little addicting. 

Conner’s existence, while eventually would have proven to be a problem–he was created to kill Superman, after all—shouldn’t be that…distressing. 

“I didn’t realize it would disturb you so much.” 

Superman looks up. For a moment, he looks stricken.

Then, it’s gone. Something stony and hard replaces it. 

“Isn’t that why you made him? To mess with me?” 

“I made him to kill you. Replace you with something that has at least a remnant of humanity. Something with all your powers but with a soul.” 

Superman stares. “You don’t think I have a soul.”

That incessant itch returns. Driving up the nausea in his stomach and increasing the panic. Heart pounding.

If Lex could rip out his own spinal cord, he’d do it. Just to stop that itch. 

"Earth is my home. Humanity is my family."

"Me too! I’m from Earth."

Lex pushes it down. 

“I know it doesn’t matter,” Lex says. Exasperation seeping into each word, every syllable. 

“Conner is mine, then.”

Lex's head shoots around sharply as if on a swivel.

“No,” he hisses. 

“You said he’s fifty-fifty. You’re his parent? Right. You’re the human part.”

“Yes. So he’s mine.” That possessive, irrational beast scratches bloody lines on the inside of Lex’s chest. 

Superman sighs, and it’s like his entire body deflates. He lifts himself off the counter and trudges over to the couch. He collapses onto it, as far away from Lex as he can manage. 

Despite everything, Lex can’t help the rush he gets at the proximity. That strange, alien scent makes its way to his nose. It’s hidden under some cheap cologne, but Lex could identify it anywhere. 

“Contrary to what you may believe, I’m not actually an idiot. He’s Kryptonian, I know you have my DNA, and Jesus Christ, Lex. He looks like me.” 

“That doesn’t make him yours,” Lex spits. 

“Then he’s not yours.” Superman snaps.

“What? Do you want him?” Lex mocks.

Superman looks at him incredulously. “No!” he says far too loudly. He pauses, shoots a glance towards Conner’s room.  He turns back to Lex. “No, I don’t want him,” he hisses much quieter. “You stole my DNA, then you biogenetically engineered a clone with that DNA. Of course, I don’t want him.” 

Lex absolutely rejects the tumultuous bitterness he feels at that comment.

Ridiculous. 

“He’s not biogenetically engineered. I didn’t edit him. A clone is a pale imitation of another living thing. He’s not a clone.” 

Superman squints his eyes at him, confused. “Then what do you call him?” 

Lex suddenly feels exposed, like a naked wire. “I grew him. The only difference between him and a child grown the… normal way, is billions of dollars.” 

Superman gapes at him slightly, bewildered. “So, you just,” he flails his arms. “Grew an actual baby. Like our baby? Why?” 

“To kill you. And don’t call him that.” 

“That’s what he is!” Superman stands up, talking with his arms. He is almost shouting. “You combined our DNA, made an embryo, and grew him in a lab!” 

Lex feels the panic start to build in his chest. Everything feels raw. His heart is pounding, unrelenting. The itch is nearly painful. Pushing. Demanding. 

“Yes. I did. To kill you. Adding a piece of myself made him better. Smarter. Human. It has nothing to do with what you’re implying. 

“Oh yeah,” Superman says, completely exasperated. “What am I implying?” 

Lex swallows and feels the heat rising in his throat. He ignores Superman’s comment because he can not deal with that. 

Not at all. Not right now. 

Not ever. 

“So. Now you know. I grew him in a tank in my ‘secret lab’ to kill you in ten years. Now what?” 

Superman leans over, hands clasped on his knees, and looks at Lex with that same face of disbelief. “Now what? What do you mean now what?” The question is clearly rhetorical. 

“Are you going to take him?” Lex taps his foot on the rug and forces his muscles to relax, attempting to maintain his dignity. Some semblance of plausible deniability. 

Superman pauses, his eyes flit back in fourth before he leans back, arms spread across the spine of the couch, eyes closed. 

“I should. You grew a child as a weapon. You were going to use and manipulate him. Train him like a machine to kill me.” Superman leans over again, hands pressed to his temples, “And you’re asking if I’m going to take him?” 

“Yes.” 

There’s a pause. A moment of stillness. So quiet, Lex can hear the steady pink, pink, pink from the dripping kitchen faucet. 

Lex wonders what Superman can hear. 

Lex wonders if he can hear Conner breathing in the other room. Superman could make sure Conner’s heart was always beating, no matter where he was in the world. 

“No.” 

Lex looks up from his thought-induced stupor, disbelieving. 

“No, what?” 

“No, I’m not going to take him from you. 

Lex feels knocked off kilter. Like someone hit him with a truck. 

“Why?”

There’s a heavy weight in the air, and Lex feels it pressing down on top of him. 

Almost suffocating.

“Because you love him,” Superman's voice is matter-of-fact.

Lex lets the words sink in. And is surprised to find a shocking lack of defensiveness. 

“I feel,” Lex trails off. “A surprising amount of affection for him.” 

“You stroke his hair out of his eyes. He’s always clinging to you. You’re physically orientated towards him whenever he’s in the room. You’re attached.” 

Lex thinks of Evie. About her words. Her accusations and her general proclivity for the truth. 

Lex considers himself an intelligent man, and yet perhaps it’s true he is too keen on self-deception. “Maybe.” 

“Just maybe?” Superman asks. 

Lex turns and looks at him sharply. “Yes. Just maybe.” 

More silence. 

“I am upset.” Superman starts. 

Lex scoffs.

Superman continues. “It is cruel and unusual. Creating a child only to call him to a weapon. Dehumanize him. It’s horrific.” 

“I would do whatever is necessary to ensure the survival of humanity,” Lex states, matter-of-factly. 

Superman looks at him, seemingly doubtful.

“What? Lex says, suddenly feeling a little defensive. 

“Nothing.”

“If you’re done, you can leave.” 

Superman stands. His hands are shaking. 

It does something interesting to the inside of Lex’s chest. 

Lex turns his head and watches Superman walk over to the window, unsteady. His gait looks a little off. When he reaches the window, he freezes. Lex notices the way his shoulders seem to heave, back noticeably expanding with each breath.

 In the moonlight, Lex can see the flush climbing up the back of his neck. 

“I feel obligated to him,” Superman says. Emotion lilting the last word. 

“You shouldn't. He isn’t yours.” 

“Well, I do.” A pause. Superman shuffles and takes another deep breath. “It’s difficult–” he hesitates, then continues. “It’s difficult growing up so different.” 

Lex catches the way Superman shudders as the words leave him. Lex doesn’t know what to say to that. 

He doesn't want to think about it. Lex feels strangely sick. As if he consumed some poisonous creature, and it wants to claw its way back out. 

“Can I come back?” Superman’s voice is resigned. 

Lex blinks. 

Superman is asking for permission. Lex thinks about it. He really does. Lex pushes down the 
instinct to tell him to fuck off.

Unfortunately, he made a promise. 

“You have to,” he says and swallows down the shreds and tatters of his ego. “I told Conner you’d take him flying.” 

“Don’t you fucking dare get my floors wet. I’ll actually shoot you this time.”

“You can’t. I took your gun.” 

Lex spins his head around to glare daggers at Superman, who is climbing through Lex’s open window. Rain drips off his hair and cape. Boot makes a distinct squish sound as he lands softly. 

Lex doesn’t dignify him with a response and instead turns back to the stove where he is currently sautéing meat and onions. Lex hears the distinct sound of something unzipping and turns back to see Superman slipping his boots off.

Superman catches him staring. 

“What? You told me not to get water on your floors.” 

Superman is wearing the stupidest, most grotesque, bright yellow socks he has ever seen. Lex allows the revolting scene to fill his gut with unrelenting nausea. 

Superman is in his home and was invited.

The end is near.

“What are you doing?” Superman asks, suddenly stands behind Lex. Too big and way too close for comfort. Lex can feel the body heat radiating off of him. 

“What does it look like?” Lex demands, feeling a little short at the stupid question. Lex shoots a glance in Superman’s direction. Water is dripping from his hair onto his face, his nose is scrunched, mouth is slightly twisted. 

“It looks like you’re cooking. It’s weird.” 

It’s a fair observation. Lex never used to cook. Wouldn't demean himself to it. That changed after Conner, who ate way too much food. Any private chef would start asking questions. 

“Go away. Conner is playing in his room.” 

Lex feels the radiating heat behind him disappear, and there is a dull thud to his right. Lex looks over to see a pair of red boots where Superman dropped them, leaning against the yellow wall of the kitchen. Lex catches a glimpse of a red cape disappearing down the hallway.

In the distance, he hears an excited squeal. Superman must have found Conner. 

Lex flips the meat and tries to rationalize the visceral disgust he can’t beat down. Something about Conner and Superman interacting, something about finding himself in the middle of it. 

So disgustingly domestic. It’s wrong. Ill-fitting. 

As if he’s trapped in another person’s life. Another person’s skin. A deep-seated and ever-present fear has been growing. That his soul is metamorphizing, changing. Not for the better. Not for goodness—Lex knows all about goodness—but to conform to the life he has happened upon. 

The life that’s happening to him. 

Nightmarish. 

The little pitter-patter of feet races down the hallway. Conner sprints past Lex’s legs, holding one of his puzzles. Lex pointedly ignores the heavier footsteps following after him. He pretends not to note how that hair-raising scent wafts as Superman sweeps past him. 

Power emits off of him in waves. It projects to everyone around him.

Conner sits down in the living room. Between the TV and the sofas, he immediately dumps the puzzle pieces out onto the ground. Superman follows, and presumably sits next to him.

Lex can’t see them very well, the back of the sofa blocks his view, so he listens. 

“Okay, this one goes here.” 

Superman laughs loudly. “Did you memorize the whole thing? 

“No. Just a lot of it,” Conner responds.

“That’s impressive.” 

“Hm. It was easy.” Conner makes a frustrated noise. “No, that’s wrong.”

“Sorry!” Superman lets out, it’s ridiculously defensive. It almost makes Lex laugh. 

They sit there entertaining themselves for however long it takes for the meat to cook. When it’s done, Lex serves himself a plate–one piece of steak. Three on Conner’s. 

Lex walks across the room and places his own at the dining table. 

Then he walks over and hands Conner his food.

Conner drops the puzzle pieces he was holding and immediately digs in. Picking up the meat with his fingers and biting off little pieces with his teeth, before chewing and swallowing. 

Lex ignores the way Superman’s brows jump in surprise. “I was always made to use utensils as a kid.” 

Lex shrugs. “I don’t care, " he points to Conner. “He’s not at risk for asphyxiation like human kids, and he likes his food better this way. I’m not going to fight it.” 

Superman doesn’t respond. Instead, he watches Conner eat. 

“Want some?” Conner asks, trying to hand Superman a piece of already bitten steak.

Superman laughs. “No, that’s okay, I already ate.” 

“Okay.”

Lex sits at the table and picks up his fork and knife. He cuts into the meat slowly, metaphorically, and attempts to quell the tumultuous nausea in his gut.

 At least long enough to finish his dinner. 

“Conner, why do you like space so much?” Lex hears Superman ask. 

“Hmm. I don’t know,” Conner sounds distracted. Probably too focused on his puzzle. 

“You don’t know? You have rockets all over your room. We’re building a space puzzle!” 

“I like being an alien baby,” Conner says confidently. 

Because, of course, he does. 

Superman clears his throat. “So, you like it? Being a little different.” 

 “Yes! He says I’m special.” Lex doesn’t need to turn to know Conner is referring to him. 

“He does?” Superman sounds genuinely shocked. 

“Yep.” A beat of silence. “Move that piece,” He orders Superman.

Lex brings his dish up to the sink. 

After much debate, he gives in and sits on the sofa near Superman and Conner. Conner is lying on his belly, examining their partially completed puzzle. Superman is sitting cross-legged across from him. The rain made his hair dry down curlier than usual. 

“Conner, are you done?” Lex asks, referring to the dirty dish by his side. “Yes!” Conner pushes himself up to his feet and goes to pick up the dish. 

“Conner,” Lex warns. “Be careful, it’s fragile.” 

Conner grins at him. “I know. You told me.” 

Conner grabs the plate a little too quickly.

It shatters immediately. 

Conner makes a distressed sound. Close to a whimper. The pieces of the plate have fallen apart in his little hands. 

Conner’s wide eyes start to well, mouth twisting downward. 

Lex sighs. This was expected. Conner breaks a lot of dishes. He’s about to stand up, pat the boy's head, and clean up the ceramic shards when Superman cuts in. 

“Aww. Hey, it’s okay.” Superman says a little awkwardly, like he’s uncertain. But Conner doesn’t care. He looks at Superman, big blue eyes wet and teary. 

“Um.” Superman shifts in place uncomfortably. 

Conner looks from Superman to Lex and from Superman again. Conner makes eye contact with Lex, who raises his eyebrows at him. Questioning 

Conner stands up and makes his way over to Lex.  He climbs onto the sofa and leans into Lex’s arm, pressing his wet face into the sleeve of Lex’s shirt. 

Disgusting. 

Lex allows the boy to lean into him. At some point, Conner looks up from Lex’s sleeve and stares at Superman. It takes a minute, but he finally speaks. 

“Do you break stuff? On accident?” His voice is a little watery. 

It’s pathetic. Weak. Lex wraps his arm around and tucks Conner into his side. 

Superman blinks. Then breaks out into a grin, perfect teeth glinting in the warm lightning of the room. 

“All the time,” he breathes out a laugh. “When I was a kid, I broke nearly every door handle I touched.” 

Conner giggles. Lex’s chest feels a little lighter at the sound.

Superman’s grin turns into something a little more mischievous, lips tugging at the corners of his mouth. Lex has seen that expression before, would recognize it anywhere. 

Lex could have sworn it was cockier.

“Do you want a tip?” Superman asks Conner, who nods his head, maybe a little too hard.

Superman’s eyes flicker to Lex, and he is still cradling Conner into his side. 

“Hold your hand out,” Superman says. Lex gives him an incredulous look. “Just do it, please. It’s for Conner.” 

Lex relents and holds out an open palm in front of Conner.

Superman turns back to Conner. “Okay, hold his fingers.”

Conner does. It’s fine, maybe a little strong, but not painful. Lex notes the way his pointer finger juts out a little bit, it healed crooked from when Conner broke it. 

Superman stands up from the floor and moves over to Lex and Conner, where he sits at the foot of the sofa. 

“Ask him if it hurts,” Superman instructs Conner. 

Conner looks at Lex, eyes huge and still a little wet. “Does it hurt?” 

Lex shakes his head slowly. “No, you’re being gentle.” 

Superman reaches out and grabs Lex’s hand, engulfing both Conner and Lex’s hands. His touch is so light, barely there. 

Something in Lex’s chest twists painfully, and the nausea returns full force. He has to physically stop himself from pulling his hand away. 

“I’m bigger than you. And I'm a full Kryptonian.’” he pauses, meeting Conner’s eyes. “So I have to be extra gentle.” Conner nods, drinking in every word. 

“I keep breaking plates,” Conner says. 

Superman laughs and releases Lex’s hand. Lex snatches it back like he’s been burned, and Superman gives him a funny look. It disappears quickly as soon as he turns to Conner. 

“Next time you pick up a plate, pretend it's his finger, or maybe someone’s hand.” 

Conner blinks. 

Superman elaborates. “When you’re strong, really strong like you are, you have to treat the whole world the same way you would someone’s hand. You have to be careful not to hurt it.” 

Conner nods. He squishes his face up really tight, scrunching his nose. 

Superman laughs; his shoulders bounce a lot when he laughs. “What are you doing?” 

Lex cuts in. “It’s his thinking face. He’s thinking really hard.” 

Conner unscrunches his face and blinks up at Superman. “It makes me smarter.” 

Superman smiles at him, softly. His eyes are warm. “Next time, when you go to pick up a plate, what are you going to do?” 

“Pretend it’s alive.” 

Superman chuckles. “Yeah. That’s about right.” 

Conner wipes his teary face on Lex’s sleeve.

Gross.

Conner jumps off the sofa and resumes his puzzle. It takes him under an hour to finish, despite Superman giving up and sitting on the opposite end of the sofa.

It makes sense.

Conner must have solved it over ten times. 

At some point, Conner ends up on the sofa. He clings to Lex’s sleeve while the TV plays absolute nonsense, until he eventually passes out on Lex's arm.

Lex resents him for it the tiniest bit, because now he’s effectively alone in a room with Superman. 

Lex’s gut churns. 

“You tell him he’s special.”

Lex shoots a look over at Superman. The sofa is large, and so he’s multiple feet away. Despite this, Lex feels like they’re too close for comfort. 

“Conner hears what he wants to hear,” Lex responds. 

Superman just shakes his head and laughs a little humorlessly. “Your motivations are so corrupt. You have such terrible ideas about the world and human nature. Yet, somehow, he’s okay.” 

Superman looks at Conner and smiles. His eyes crinkle a little bit, dimples on full display.

Lex pulls Conner closer to himself. Lays his head of messy curls on his leg. Conner mumbles a bit, but quickly returns to unconsciousness. 

“I don’t understand why you care about him,” Lex says. 

Lex watches Conner. He’s breathing deeply, evenly. His face is turned away from Lex, but he’s obviously relaxed. 

“Only you would ask me something like that.” 

Lex scoffs. “I didn’t ask you anything. It was an observation.” 

Superman rolls his eyes dramatically, and it’s ridiculously juvenile, before pausing. His expression tightens, serious. “I told you I feel obligated to him.” 

“But why?”

“That was a question.” 

“It was. Answer it.”

A pause. 

Lex keeps his eyes on the TV, but he isn’t really watching it. He’s listening to Superman shuffle in place. 

Superman clears his throat. “It’s not that he’s technically related to me—“ he cuts himself off. “Well, maybe a tiny bit. Only because it’s impossible to look at him and not feel a little responsible for his existence.” 

“You’re not. I did it. You weren’t supposed to know until—” Lex glances down at Conner. “Until the end.” 

“Yeah.” Superman stretches his arms over his head and yawns. “I know that, logically. Anyway, that’s not the point.” 

“Then get to the point.”

“It’s his powers. They’re difficult to control. Difficult to grow up with. Finding your place in the world when it was never your planet to begin with.” Superman pauses. “He’s like me. He’s the only other person like me. Kryptonian, but feels human. Feels that earth is home.”

Lex lets his eyes flicker down to Conner, where he is sleeping soundly against Lex’s leg. 

Sweet. 

That’s it. There’s no nausea. No roiling. Just soft blooming warmth.

Something lashes, snaps. Lex looks up to Superman and his stupid human posturing. The yawning. 

“He’s nothing like you. He is human.” 

Superman stiffens. Hurt flits across his face. A crinkle between his brows, a twist of his mouth. Lex doesn’t care. 

The bitterness returns, swimming around his chest and churning his stomach. 

Superman stands up, drawn tight like a bow. Tension and power radiate off him with every step. Lex can’t help but lean back towards him as he walks behind the couch and towards the kitchen. He grabs his boots and moves towards the window. 

Superman pushes it all the way open and freezes. Shoulders tight, he seems to have curled into himself. Lex thinks he’s going to leave without saying a word, or perhaps drop his Boy Scout act once and for all and spit something cruel and biting. 

Vow to never come back.

“I’ll come back. It was raining, so I couldn't take Conner flying. Next time.” 

Lex blinks.

He shouldn't be shocked, but he is. 

Superman doesn’t turn around. He just zips up his boots, slowly, calmly.  Lex pretends not to notice the way his hands are shaking.

 Superman stands and jumps out of the window.

Lex snaps his head away from the window and refuses to watch him fly away. He presses a hand onto Conner’s head and lets his fingers tangle in his soft hair. 

Superman isn’t his problem. If he wants to hang around Conner like a lost puppy, Lex can’t stop him. 

That doesn’t mean he needs to be happy about it.  

Lex walks down the hallway from the towel closet. He’s walking towards the living room when he hears a loud thump coming down the hallway. Loud enough to be concerned. 

“Conner?” Last time he checked, Conner was coloring at the kitchen table. Content to color on white sheets of paper with exclusively blue crayons, each a slightly differing shade of blue.

The kid is so weird. 

“Conner?” Panic around Conner’s physical safety is foreign to Lex. He can’t get hurt. 

That doesn’t mean Lex’s furniture can’t be damaged. Conner is always so upset when he breaks things. 

It’s been better. He hasn’t broken a plate since Superman’s lesson. 

Lex walks out of the hallway into the kitchen. He immediately looks towards the table, only to find Conner’s abandoned blue crayons and a half-done drawing. 

“Help!”  A little voice calls out. 

“I’m okay,” someone else says. It sounds winded.

Lex's gaze shoots over in the direction of the window, only to see a smoke-streaked Superman sitting, leaning against the closed window. Conner is crouched down next to him, clinging to his cape, obviously worried. 

Lex narrows his eyes at Superman. “What’s wrong with you?” Superman’s suit is ripped, or more accurately, seared in parts. His face and hands are covered in what looks like soot. Despite this, his skin is untouched. Not even a scratch. 

“Lots of fire.” Superman coughs a bit, and it’s startling. 

Lex walks over and just barely stops himself from tugging Conner away from Superman. “You’re invulnerable and fly through space at the speed of light. You expect me to believe a little fire did this to you." 

Superman shakes his head a bit before slowly standing to his feet. “Water, please.” 

“Yes!” Conner jumps up from where he was crouched and scampers to the kitchen. Lex sighs and follows him. Conner can’t reach the cabinets or the kitchen sink. Lex grabs a tall glass from the cabinet, fills it with water, and hands it to Conner. 

“Gentle.” 

Conner nods. “Yes. It’s alive.” 

Conner takes it gently and holds it in his hands for a minute. Before slowly carrying it back towards Superman. Lex notices how his little arms are so tense, they’re almost vibrating.

 Lex has never realized how difficult it was to hold so much restraint. The fact that Conner can do it at all is astounding. 

“Here. Water.” Conner hands Superman the water. Superman smiles down at him, already looking better. He takes the glass. 

“Thank you, Conner.” He downs it in one gulp.

“I didn’t break it!” 

Lex moves to the other side of the kitchen island and leans against the counter. “Well done.” 

“You did really well.” Superman raises a hand to Conner’s head and ruffles his hair affectionately. Lex is stuck by how quick and simple the gesture seemed. Superman didn’t even think about it. He just did it. 

No hesitation. 

“So are you going to explain how this is possible?” Lex demands, gesturing to the entirety of Superman. He can’t help the anxiety twisting in his belly. Call it paranoia, Lex calls it preparedness. 

“Give me a minute?” Superman says, tone tight. Irritated. His brows crinkle under the smoke, mouth pressed into a firm line. 

Lex finds himself mildly amused. He looks at Conner. “Can you bring the cup back?” 

“Yeah.”

Conner gently takes the cup from Superman’s hand and brings it over to Lex. Lex takes it and leans over to put it in the sink. “You’re getting good at that,” Lex says offhandedly. 

“I know,” Conner exclaims. Then he looks back at Superman. “Do you want to color with me?” He takes his seat at the dining table.

“Yeah. Sure. I need to wash this off first.” Superman says, gesturing to his hands. 

Lex cuts in. “It’s all over your face.” 

Superman laughs, suddenly. His teeth are blinding in contrast to the smoke smeared down the length of his face. “Really,” he laughs out.

Conner picks up one of his crayons before looking back at Superman again. “Yeah. You look funny.” 

Superman scoffs lightheartedly. “Thanks.” 

Superman walks towards the kitchen. He passes where Lex is still leaning against the outside of the kitchen island. He runs the water and starts to rinse off his face and hands. Lex gets a glimpse of him from over his shoulder, and the drops of water running down his cheekbones and nose. 

Lex looks away immediately and tries to ignore the way his scent invades Lex’s nose. Warm and alive with energy. Power. Tinged with the slightest bit of acrid smoke. 

“Is it gone?” Lex turns around to see Superman looking at him in question. Most of it is gone. 

Only the slightest smudge remains on his left cheekbone.

“Yes. It’s gone.”

Superman grins, dimples making themselves known. “Thanks.” 

Lex knows his heart jumps. He’s painfully aware Superman can hear it. Superman’s eyes twinkle playfully.

Lex sneers. 

He turns away from Superman in favor of watching Conner. Conner and his blue crayons. 

Superman walks from behind the island to join Conner at the dining room table. He looms over, looking too large for the room. Too large for life. Superman's brows crinkle in clear confusion. 

“Why are they all… blue?” 

Conner turns his little head up at him. “Because it’s the best.” 

Lex shakes his head and sits across from Conner. “Because he’s strange.” 

Conner nods in confirmation. “Yes. Because I’m strange. Sit down.” 

Superman looks at Lex, his face a mix of amusement and disbelief. Lex shrugs.

Superman chuckles and then takes the seat next to Conner. He leans in closer to Conner’s side and looks over at the boy's drawing. 

They look right together. Like father and son. Lex waits for that possessiveness to rise. To snatch away his ability to breathe. Lex waits for the sudden urge to pick Conner away and hide him forever. 

To take him away, to train him. To keep himself until he’s old enough to kill Superman. Then, humanity will be safe. Conner will be safe. Lex would be the defender of humanity. 

The last line of defense and Superman’s end will be at the hands of a human being with power engendered by Lex himself.

Poetic. 

Destroyed by the very thing he condescends. 

When you’re strong, really strong like you are, you have to treat the whole world the same way you would someone’s hand. You have to be careful not to hurt it. 

Lex’s heart catches in his throat. 

The revulsion is nowhere to be found. Discomfort? Yes. Revulsion? 

No. 

Lex watches as Superman stares at two of the blue crayons. Trying to tell them apart. Unnaturally bright eyes narrowed and focused.

The two crayons are, in fact, the same color. It’s Conner’s favorite shade of blue. 

But Lex isn’t going to tell him that.

Lex allows his eyes to trail across his face. That smudge of smoke is still there. Right on his cheekbone. 

“You actually missed a spot.” Lex points to Superman’s face. “It’s here,” he lightly touches the same spot on his own face. 

Superman looks up from the crayons. He blinks. Then he smiles, “Oops,” he says with a laugh. He brings up one large hand and rubs the spot in an attempt to clean it off. When he finishes, Superman looks up at Lex expectantly. 

“It’s gone.” 

Superman nods and returns to coloring with Conner. Conner, whom Lex is realizing, is incessantly bossy.

“No! Superman. That’s the wrong color.”

“They’re all the same color!” 

“They are not!” 

Lex watches them squabble and comes to the devastating realization that he doesn't mind this. 

The discomfort itches. Disquieting. 

No nausea. 

Lex cuts them off. “So how is it that ‘Superman’ was so hindered by a few fires?” 

Superman looks up from where he and Conner are coloring. “It’s night.” 

That would make sense. It had slipped Lex’s mind that Kryptonians are effectively solar-powered. 

“Also, there was a lot of fire. Tons of homes in Bakerline were burnt down.” Superman looks back down at Conner. “People were home and scared. I needed to talk, so I inhaled a lot of smoke.” 

Conner drops a crayon and looks up at Superman, eyes wide. “Were you scared?” 

Superman meets his gaze, brows rising, eyes too big. “Um-,” he cuts off and glances briefly at Lex before looking back at Conner. “Yeah. I was scared that I couldn't save everyone. I was tired.”

“Why?” 

“Why, what?”

Conner scrunches up his face. “Why do it?”

Superman gapes at him for a minute before shooting a strange look in Lex’s direction. Lex feels the defensiveness rise, and has to bite down the sudden urge to snap at him. 

“Because I need to,” Superman answers. “It hurts when I don’t.” 

Conner nods like it makes all the sense in the world, and goes back to coloring. 

Superman coughs again. 

Lex looks at him and raises an eyebrow. 

“I’m okay,” he waves Lex off. “It won't hurt me. It’s just irritating."

Lex didn’t intend for it to come off as a concern.  

Without much thought, Lex stands and moves towards the fridge. He takes an entire glass container of leftover chicken stir-fry out of the fridge. He sticks it in the microwave for exactly one minute. Lex didn’t bother checking the temperature before setting it down in front of Superman. 

Superman looks up, brows climbing into his hairline, eyes as big as dinner plates. “What–”

Lex sits back down. “I have grown two Kryptonians in a lab. The first one was Ultraman, the second, Conner,” he pauses.  “When there’s no sun, you eat.” 

“I-” Superman cuts himself off. “I don’t know what to say.” 

Lex is choking on immediate regret. “Don’t say anything.”

“Thank you,” Superman says, meeting Lex’s eyes. His voice is firm, “I appreciate it.” 

Conner drops his crayon in favor of reaching over and grabbing a handful of stir fry out of the container. 

Superman laughs and Lex hides and looks down at the table to hide a reluctant smile, forcing its way across his face. 

Conner notices nothing amiss and continues to grab food intermittently as he finishes his drawing. 

Superman eats. He finishes the large container of stir fry, and Lex feels the regret bubbling back in his throat. He still doesn’t understand why he fed Superman. It wasn’t out of desire. It wasn’t envy. It wasn't hatred. It was mindless. Thoughtless. 

Humiliating.  

Lex puts Conner to bed. He doesn’t touch him, doesn’t hold him close or stroke his head, but when Lex goes to close the door behind him, he watches Conner breathe. 

Just for a moment. 

The door shuts with a click.  

“Do you see it?” Superman is waiting for him at the end of the hallway. He’s standing a little awkwardly, feet too wide apart.

Lex brushes past him. “See what?” 

“That you’re different.” 

Lex does see it. He feels it. 

“I don't know what you’re talking about. Conner’s in bed. You can leave.” Lex makes his way to the couch and picks up his laptop

“Your heart jumped. I think you do see it.” 

“Leave,” Lex deadpans, careful to keep any inflection out of his voice. “And I told you polygraph tests are bullshit.” 

“Polygraph tests are bullshit, but I have a much, much wider sample size.” 

Lex looks over to him, brows furrowed. “What?” 

Superman just smiles. “I’m always listening.” 

“You know that’s fucking creepy.” 

Superman shrugs. “I can’t turn my ears off; the rest is just pattern recognition.” 

Silence falls. Lex scrolls through his emails and documents. He stumbles upon the NDA that he had everyone in Cadmus sign. “Doesn’t make it less creepy.” 

Superman walks from the doorway and sits on the couch. He sketches out his long legs, red boots resting in front of him, and he leans back. Lex can tell in the way he’s trembling slightly that he’s still exhausted. Somehow. 

Who would have thought all it took was a little firefighting to wipe out Superman? 

“You’re tired,” it slips out, unbidden. Lex wants to bite his own tongue off. 

Superman blinks at him. At some point, his handsome features had begun to feel mocking.  

“Yeah.” Superman blinks owlishly again. “I am.” 

A pause. 

“Do you actually believe me to be soulless?” It’s sudden and unexpected. It’s Lex’s turn to look at Superman, perplexed. 

“Yes, or rather, I believe you aren’t human. That’s the important part. It has less to do with you and your intentions and more to do with what you represent.” 

“And Conner?”

Lex swallows down the sudden lump in his throat. He clicks the keys on his laptop a little more aggressively. “What about him?”

Superman tilts his head. Then he stands and walks to Lex's side of the couch. Then sits, far, far too close. Lex freezes, their thighs a few inches apart. The radiating heat. The scent of power. It’s intoxicating. Overwhelming

"Conner is like me. He’s like you, too. But he looks like me, he’ll grow up with powers like me. Conner will be everything you hate. More than that, he already is.” 

Lex grips his laptop a little too hard. He grits his teeth and refuses to look at Superman. To witness whatever ridiculous expression is painted across his face. 

“Is it about ownership? Is he a thing to yo–” 

“No.” 

Resounding. 

“Then why? Why are you doing this? Never in a million years.” Superman cuts off, and Lex can hear him shift and shuffle, and take a deep breath. “This makes no sense. You made a child, effectively our child.” 

Lex gives in and sharply turns to meet Superman’s gaze. His brow is crinkled, but his jaw is set, and his eyes are determined.  

“I told you not to call him that,” Lex hisses.

Superman gives him a knowing look, but ignores the snide comment. “Why did you raise him here?” Superman lifts his arms and gestures around them. “You could have kept him in your lab. You could have done–” he pauses. “Whatever it is you planned to do. No one would have known.”

Lex licks his teeth and thinks. 

Silence falls. Lex doesn’t want to say anything. 

Shouldn't say anything. 

Unfortunately, his mouth had been disobedient recently. 

“When he was…born–” he cuts off and licks his lips nervously. “He was so scared. He broke my finger immediately.” Lex holds up his hand, crooked finger on full display. “He noticed it caused me pain, that he had harmed. When I held up my other hand, he was gentle. He learned. It was so–” 

“Human.” 

Lex makes a fist and let's his hand fall. “Yes.” Lex turns to Superman. “I stand by what I said. I think you are a threat to humanity.” 

He pauses and closes his laptop. He meets Superman’s steady gaze. “Everything I have ever done, any crime I have ever committed, I did for humanity.” 

“I believe you.” 

Lex almost laughs at that. “What? I pass your shitty polygraph test?” 

“With flying colors,” Superman says, voice strangely sad. His brow is wrinkled, mouth downturned in a perfect frown. 

Lex bristles. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?”

“What you do hurts people. A lot of people. Then you rationalize it. That’s not love.” 

Lex scoffs. His stomach roils. “Oh yeah? What would you call it,” Lex snaps.

Superman leans forward and scratches the back of his head absent-mindedly. “I don’t know. Resentment? You seem bitter.” 

Lex bites the inside of his cheek. “I-,” he cuts himself off and starts again. “I don’t blame myself. I don’t blame myself for coming to the conclusions I did. The people of Earth have tendencies. We worship those we deem great. Celebrity culture is a prime example.” He takes a breath. “Now, the person,” Lex gestures to Superman. “The man everyone aspires to isn’t a man at all. We will never find ourselves if we’re too distracted by all your glory.”

Superman leans forward, further, and rests his forearms on his thighs. “It sounds like you changed your mind.”

Lex huffs. “I will admit, my philosophy was lacking some… nuance. I have allowed it to change, however painstaking.” 

Superman looks at him, waiting. 

“You are a threat,” a pause. “ But you seem almost painfully aware of it.” 

Superman’s eyes widen, and he goes to open his mouth, but suddenly jerks his head to the window. 

Superman watches the window for a while, tilting his head ever so slightly. Then he turns back to Lex. “I have to go. Someone is screaming.” 

Lex blinks. 

Superman goes to stand, but he stumbles.

He stumbles.  

Lex reaches out a hand automatically, then snatches it back as soon as he realizes what he’s done. 

Superman doesn’t notice. He’s too busy catching his balance. He’s looking down at the ground, a singular curl hanging down across his forehead. 

“Man, I need to photosynthesize.” 

Lex grimaces at the terrible joke. “Never say that again.” 

Superman looks up at him and smiles, just a bit. 

Then he’s gone, a strong gust of wind in his wake. The only evidence he was ever there is the now open window, curtains fluttering in the breeze. 

Lex gulps down all the bubbling emotion. Refusing to name any of it. Lex gazes at the open window, wondering if he has miscalculated.

Perhaps, Superman is no god. 

Lex thinks of the way he collapsed into Lex’s penthouse window. 

The way he accepted Conner, despite himself. Forced his way into a responsibility no one gave him. 

The way Superman comes when called. At every whim. 

Whenever he’s needed. 

A behavior more typically seen in a devoted servant than in an all-powerful god.

A servant to humanity. 

Interesting. 

Lex grips the steering wheel tightly. So tight that his knuckles whiten. 

Superman showed up in his living room, late and windswept. He said something about clear skies and perfect weather before excitedly walking over and scooping Conner from in front of the TV. 

“Wanna fly?”

Conner squealed. 

Lex turns right, taking care to drive slowly over the rough gravel road. 

He's grateful that he knows the anatomy of Metropolis like the back of his hand. The field would have been difficult to find otherwise. Lex pulls into the empty parking lot. It’s less of a parking lot and more of a patch of dirt far enough from the road. 

The field is popular for stargazing. 

Lex would venture to guess that’s why Superman chose this spot. To stargaze with Conner.

So sweet it’s saccharine. Sickening. 

Lex steps out of his car and slams the door shut a little too loudly. 

Gravel crunches under his polished shoes as he walks towards the wide open field. Lex can’t see a foot in front of him. It’s completely dark. He feels like he’s walking through a void. Neverending. 

 Zero light pollution.

That’s the whole point.

 Lex can’t help but look up.  

The stars are almost excruciatingly bright. Twinkling gently. Inviting. 

Lex immediately spots Venus, overly bright and obvious in the way planets are. Lex watches the stars and waits for that familiar bitterness to burn the back of his throat. That resentment he has felt ever since he learned that yes, aliens are real. And they’re better.

The bitterness never comes. 

Lex waits.

Nothing. 

The bitterness has left an ache in its wake. 

Gaping. 

In a way, it’s almost worse. 

Lex tears his eyes away from the sky. Ignoring the way the ache in his chest deepens to a sharp pain. 

Instead, he marches in the direction of the wide and open field. It’s mostly wheat, but some parts are blanketed with a soft covering of green grass. 

Lex looks around, expecting Conner and Superman to have already arrived. They flew. It’s considered a very efficient mode of transportation. 

Lex walks forward until he’s standing in the middle of a green patch. He sits down and grimaces as the impact makes the inconveniently bulky burner phone push uncomfortably against the flesh of his leg. He goes into his pocket. He intended to pull it out and put it on the ground beside him.

Then something hits the ground. Hard. Everything shakes. 

A strong gust of wind blows past Lex’s face, making him shiver unpleasantly. Vibrations travel up and down Lex’s body from the sheer force of the impact. 

It takes Lex a moment before he realizes his eyes are squeezed shut. 

Lex blinks. 

Conner and Superman are standing right in front of him. Towering. 

Conner is being held in Superman’s arms, his cheeks are bright red, and his eyes are wide. Hair windswept.

Lex’s heart aches. 

He looks so happy. 

Conner clings to Superman’s collar. Little fingers digging into his neck, but Superman doesn’t seem to mind. He’s beaming, his perfect white teeth seem to glow. 

It’s a little off-putting.

“Sorry. We took a detour,” Superman says. A boyish smile still gleaming. "Sightseeing."

Lex swallows the lump in his throat. He can’t say anything, so he doesn’t. Lex just nods. No matter how many times he shows up or how often they’re in close proximity, Superman’s size is imposing. Striking. 

Conner yanks on the collar of the Superman suit a little too harshly. “Put me down,” he whines. Already wiggling in Superman’s grasp. Lex almost laughs at how surprised Superman seems at the complaint. 

“Jeez, okay. Careful, you could rip it.” Superman sets Conner onto the soft grass. Conner squints his eyes at Lex before immediately scrambling towards him. 

Conner nearly crashes into Lex’s side, and he has to hold back a wince. 

Thankfully, Conner doesn’t notice. 

Superman does.

He raises his eyebrows in question, and Lex dismisses him with a wave of his hand.

Conner collapses next to Lex and immediately reaches for Lex’s arm. He holds it to his cheek, pressing his little face into the fabric. Lex is overwhelmed. With what, he doesn't know. But it’s strong and wells in his chest and his throat. 

Lex reaches an arm out and pulls Conner in close to his chest. As expected, Conner rubs his face into Lex’s clean shirt. Lex can’t find it in himself to care. Lex brings a hand to rest atop his head, windswept hair still sticking every which way. “Did you have fun?” 

Conner grins up at him, hair wild. “Yes! We went really fast.” 

“Good.” 

Lex looks up at Superman. “How’d you find me?” 

Superman hasn’t moved. He is standing where he first landed, looking only marginally uncomfortable. He moves back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

Lex clicks his tongue. “What? Did you not hear me?” 

Superman sighs and deflates a bit. He marches over towards Lex, something strangely defeated in his body language. Superman collapses on Lex’s other side. He sits too close, their thighs nearly touching. Lex welcomes the familiar body heat, that intoxicating scent of electricity. 

Superman stretches out his long legs and yawns. 

Lex swallows, mouth strangely dry. 

“You’re just going to call me creepy again if I tell you.” 

“What?” he says rhetorically. “You listened for my heartbeat?” 

“Yeah.” 

Lex gives him a look and ignores the way his heart skips a beat. Superman gives him that same knowing glance. A bit of mirth in his eyes. His infuriatingly handsome face closes in. Far, far too close. Lex turns his head away, but he can feel Superman’s breath against his ear. 

“How else was I supposed to find you?” 

Lex can smell him. He wants to smell more. Wants to stick his face in Superman’s neck and press his nose against his bare skin. 

It’s summertime, and too hot, but all he wants is Superman’s body heat. Radiating. It pulls at Lex’s chest like a magnet drawing closer. 

Literal magnetism. Gravitational. 

All that power. 

Lex doesn’t respond. Instead, he pulls Conner onto his lap and pointedly shifts away from Superman.  Conner just presses his face into his shirt and sighs deeply. 

Clingy.

“Are you tired?” Lex asks Conner. He’s acting tired; maybe this was a bad idea.

“No,” a muffled voice answers.

Lex shakes his head. Unbelievable. 

“Don’t you want to look at the stars?” Lex wants to look at the stars; he wants to never stop looking. 

Conner pulls his head up from Lex's chest. He blinks at Lex’s face. Then he looks up. Lex watches as eyes widen and mouth drops open. “They’re so bright,” he whispers. As Conner watches the sky, Lex watches Conner. The comfortable warmth lit up the inside of his chest. 

Then, Conner’s expression transforms into something different. Lex tilts his head. It’s a mix of something too difficult to know. Maybe longing, maybe joy.

Lex’s heart twists painfully. 

It’s incongruous, seeing such a look on someone so young. 

“I want to fly there,” Conner points a little finger towards the sky. 

Superman chuckles. “Oh yeah?” 

Lex is immediately reminded of both his presence and proximity. Lex feels Superman shift a little closer, warming Lex’s side with his body heat. “Where do you want to go?” 

Conner brings his hand down and hums. “I don’t know,” he turns his head to look at Superman. It’s too dark to see his face, but Lex can hear the grin in his voice. “The sun!” 

Superman laughs, and Lex swears he can feel the vibration of traveling up and down his spine. “That’s a good idea! You can’t land on it, but it feels good to be near it.” 

“I love the sun.” 

“Me too.”

Lex pulls Conner closer, wraps his arms around the boy just a bit tighter. Despite how little he is, he runs warm. Lex’s hands are becoming sticky with sweat. 

There's silence, but there’s no tension. No secrets waiting in the dark corners of their history. It feels strange. Lex feels queasy, but it’s different. It’s not roiling.  

Conner wiggles a little bit in Lex’s grasp. Lex reluctantly lets him go, and Conner rolls off Lex’s lap and falls onto the sliver of grass between himself and Superman. Lex watches as Conner leans into Superman’s space. 

Lex recognizes his body language. Conner wants to hold on, to be held.

Superman notices, too, and leans in. Conner takes the invitation. He grabs Superman’s arm and pulls it to his chest, pressing his little cheek against his bicep. 

Superman laughs a little. “You’re getting good at being extra gentle.” 

Conner rubs his face against Superman’s arm, and Lex cringes. 

Still gross. 

“I know! Everything is alive. I pretend it breathes,” Conner states. 

“That’s good,” Superman says, voice gentle. Lex flits his eyes over to see Superman grin a little mischievously. He leans a little against Conner, “Squeeze my arm as hard as you can.” 

Conner freezes. Lex can’t see his face–he’s facing Superman–but he can imagine the shock and uncertainty. 

A pause. 

“Really?” 

“Yep,” Superman says. “You can’t hurt me.” 

Conner shifts a bit, nervous. Then he lifts himself slightly off the ground and tightens his arms around Superman’s arm, and squeezes. Hard. 

Superman starts laughing, shoulders bouncing obnoxiously, when Conner breaths out an exhausted exhale and falls backwards. Collapsing on the soft grass. 

“Your arm is really hard,” Conner says, a little breathlessly. 

“It is." Superman nods solemnly. “so if you ever get tired of being so careful all the time, you can take it out on me.”

Conner tilts his head in Superman’s direction and grins. Bright and a little crooked. “Okay!”

There’s a lull. The peaceful silence returns. Conner remains lying on the grass. Gazing up at the sky. Superman shifts. Lex looks over to him. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. He looks at Lex before turning back to look down at Conner.

Superman inhales a little sharply, suddenly. “Conner, what do you know about Krypton?” 

Conner is rolling on his back. “Hmm. It was a planet. Now it’s dead.” 

Superman’s face is hidden in a decent amount of shadow. It’s difficult to see every contour, every tug of his lips. But the energy changes. Silence is no longer peaceful; instead. It’s loaded with a different sort of weight. 

One Lex isn’t very familiar with. Lex squints at Superman, trying to identify the particular crease in his brow, the thinning of his lips. 

Superman turns away and turns his head up to the sky. “Yeah. It is dead.” 

Conner looks at him and tilts his head. “Are you sad?” 

Superman hums. “Yes. I think so. But it’s a weird sort of sadness.” He looks down at Conner, “I grew up on Earth. Like you. I never knew Krypton.” 

“Then why are you sad?” 

Superman blinks a few times.

Then, Superman scoops Conner up from in between them and places him on his lap. It’s a little startling. 

Superman holds Conner close to his chest, arms tight. Large shoulders tense.“Because it is sad. All the life, all the history, the plants, animals, they’re gone. Dead. I will never know it. ” Superman tilts his head down at Conner. “You will never know it.” 

Lex notes the way his hands tremble. It’s hard to see in the low light, but it’s there. He seems to tremble a lot. 

Conner frowns deeply. “That’s really sad. I want to visit." 

“Me too.” 

Lex watches as Conner blinks at the night sky, eyes a little watery. 

“You’re scaring him,” Lex hears himself saying. Lex knows there are emotions he should be feeling. A reaction, maybe empathy. An ache. Lex knows it's there. Hates the way it throbs up and down his spine.

He swallows and ignores the way the lump in his throat seems to grow a little thicker. 

Conner snaps his head around, looking peeved. His eyes are still a little wet. “No! I’m not scared. I’m sad.” 

Superman nods at Lex. “You’re right,”  he says softly, singular curl bobbing. Then he turns back to Conner. “It’s okay if it’s too scary or too sad.” 

Conner twists around to look up at Superman’s face. “No. I want to know more.” 

Superman visibly swallows and tightens his grasp around Conner. “I–”  he cuts off. Lex watches his profile, the way he licks his lips nervously. 

Superman gives him a questioning stare. 

Lex just stares at him, not knowing what he wants. Feeling lost. 

Then Superman blinks and turns back to Conner. Seemingly have made a decision. 

“Conner,” Superman starts. “You know that one of your parents is Kryptonian." 

Conner looks at him like he’s stupid. “Uh, yes.” 

Superman looks over to Lex again. Eyes searching. Something clicks into place. Lex is filled with an immediate sense of discomfort. 

“Do you–” he cuts off, and shuffles in place nervously. “Do you know who your Kryptonian parent is?” 

It never occurred to him that Conner may not know. Lex never told him who the Kryptonian donor is. He never told Conner that his other “parent” is Superman.

Conner just stares up at Superman. Clearly lost. 

“Yes. I know.” Conner just blinks up at him. Eyes wide. 

Superman blinks back. “You do?” 

“You.” 

Lex's heart stops. It catches in his chest, but Lex doesn’t know with what. 

Superman looks over at Lex, eyes wide, maybe a little panicked. “You told him?” 

Lex holds his arms up in surrender, heart thudding. He’s sure Superman is listening to it, jackrabbiting away. “No! I didn’t tell him anything.” He swallows, throat a little dry, and lets his hands drop. “But it’s not like you were being discreet.” 

Conner looks between them, brows furrowed, confused. “You didn’t tell me. I heard you.” 

Lex looks at Conner. “What?” 

Conner nods, seemingly proud of himself. “My ears are really strong. I hear a lot.” 

Of course. 

Superman starts laughing. He laughs so hard it jostles Conner on his lap, irritating him.

 Lex ignores it. 

“How do you feel about that?” Lex asks Conner, not knowing what he wants Conner to say. Has no idea what he’s going to say. 

“I don’t know. Happy. I’m your baby,” Conner says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. He rests his head back against Superman’s chest. 

Lex’s mind wanders back to the conversation they had all those months ago. 

Do you want to be my son?

I don’t know.

“You made a choice then? You want to be my son?” 

Superman looks between them, eyes squinted. Clearly lost. 

Conner’s brow is also furrowed, also looking perplexed. “No. I just am.” 

Lex lets out a deep sigh, and with it tension he didn’t even know he was carrying. That all too familiar warm weightlessness spreads in his ribcage. Lex has come to terms that it has become a permanent resident in his life. In his body. 

Superman continues. “Anyway, the reason I asked you about your Kryptonian parent, and if you knew, is because I wanted to give you something.” 

Conner immediately lights up. “What,” he asks, far too excited.

Superman chuckles. “Nothing too exciting. A name.” 

Lex tenses. He doesn’t know how he feels about that. Strange. Uncomfortable. 

Surprisingly amenable. 

Conner deflates and huffs out a breath of air. “I already have a name.”

Yes. Yes, he does. The one Lex gave him. Or more accurately, the one Evie gave him. 

Doesn’t matter. Same thing. 

“No, a Kryptonian name. You can have more than one name. I have two, or I guess three, technically.” 

Conner gapes. “What’s the other?” 

“I’ll tell you my Kryptonian name. It’s Kal-el.” 

“Kal-el,” Conner repeats, face scrunching up. 

Amusing. Lex bites his tongue. 

“Yep.” 

Conner kicks his legs a bit. “What’s mine?” 

“I thought a lot about it. I wanted to be similar to your first name, so that it’s easy to get used to.” 

“Tell me, tell me, tell me,” Conner hits Superman’s thigh on each demand. Lex can’t help the laugh as Superman winces.

“Kon-el.” 

Conner leans back into Superman’s chest. He pauses for a moment. Going completely still, before looking up at the night sky. 

“I like it. It’s like yours.” 

Superman nods. “It is. You’re part of the house of El, so I would call you Kon.” 

Conner nods in approval. “Yes.” 

Lex watches them for a moment. Chest lighter than it’s felt in months. He understands now. Lex gazes at them. Superman staring up into the night sky, the light of the stars illuminating both of their faces.

That longing. That sadness. That joy. 

It’s grief.

Superman is no god.

Old logic cracks under the weight of realization. 

Emotion unfurling. Lex has to grit his teeth to keep it from leaking all over the place. Resignation sits in his chest. With it comes relief and a resounding sense of determination.

“We should get home. It’s late. He needs to sleep.”

Conner flops out of Superman’s lap onto the soft grass in front of them. “No! I want to stay with Superman.” 

Lex goes to pull him up off the ground, but he’s using gravity to his advantage. Lex finds it impossible. Not with Conner pulling away. It’s like trying to move a full-grown elephant. Lex sighs. Exasperated. 

Lex glances behind him at  Superman. Superman, who’s watching with a certain amount of unnecessary amusement, smiles widely, eyes crinkling. That stupid curl.

Lex jerks his head in the direction of the ridiculous child.

Superman raises his brows good-naturedly, clearly teasing, before standing up. He makes a dramatic performance of stretching. Then leans down and snatches Conner right off the ground, with no effort whatsoever. 

“That trick is so not gonna work with me around, little man.” 

Lex just shakes his head. He doesn’t need to look at Conner’s face to know he’s sticking his tongue out.

Lex feels his pocket vibrating, and he knows it’s the burner.

It shouldn’t be ringing. Irritation flares. 

“Can you take him home?” Lex digs in his pocket and pulls out the flip phone. “I have to answer this.” 

“Yessir,” Superman responds playfully. He smiles and looks down to meet Conner’s eyes, "Wanna fly some more?” 

Lex doesn’t hear Conner’s response. He flips around and steps away a good five feet. Then he opens the phone and presses the receiver to his ear. 

“What is it?” he snaps. 

“We’ve got her,” the gruff voice of the Raptor answers. “She was a nightmare to find.” 

Lex, for a moment, is speechless. He didn’t expect this. He didn’t think they’d find her.

“Evie’s competent. That's why I hired her.” 

“What should we do, sir?” 

Lex thinks. He licks his teeth, dragging the soft skin across the edge of each tooth. He’s known her for a long time. Too long. She was one of the first researchers on his team to believe him about Superman. To understand why he was a threat. 

Evie is devoted. Evie is relentless. Evie will never stop. 

The nausea makes a return. Lex swallows down the remorse, and it finds its way to his chest. Lex knows it will live for a long time. 

A pause.

“Dispose of her. Make it look like a suicide.” 

“Yes, sir.”

Lex is about to hang up when a thought occurs to him. 

Cadmus Labs. More specifically, the people of Cadmus. 

 A problem. 

Cadmus Labs is full of people who have dedicated their hearts and souls to eradicating Superman off the face of the planet. 

In other words, people who have been infected with the… miscalculated philosophy. The misstep.

A problem. Now a threat. 

“Reeves.” 

“Yes, sir?”

“Ask my assistant to send bonuses to all Cadmus employees. We’re going to host an event next Tuesday. A reckoning. Be clear that it’s mandatory.”

It’s unfortunate, but necessary. Lex will mourn the interns. 

For the greater good. 

“I can do that.” 

“I’ll be in touch.” 

Lex snaps the phone closed. 

Lex takes a deep breath and looks out into the field in front of him. It’s dark. Too dark. There’s not much to see, so Lex looks up.

The stars are so bright. Illustrious. Numerous. Sprawling across the sky in patterns unforeseen. Strangely, it reminds Lex of the glow-in-the-dark stickers behind Conner’s bed. As if those are the real stars, and the sky a pale mimicry. 

The bitterness remains evasive.

Lex understands. Finally, he understands. 

Superman is intolerable as a god, but perhaps Lex can negotiate the existence of a servant.

An acolyte.

One that falls to his knees at the feet of humanity.

Lex turns away from the sky and back down to the ground. He squishes his shoes into the soft, green grass and watches the way it folds to the ground under his weight. 

Lex looks up.

His breath catches. 

There on the hill, just before the parking lot, is Superman.

He’s gripping a sleeping Conner in his arms, a stuffed rabbit that wasn’t there before tucked between their chests.

Lex puts the pieces together. 

Conner had forgotten his stuffed rabbit in the car, and Superman got it for him.

Superman heard everything. 

Lex takes a breath. Chest tight, jaw set, and bracing himself for the look on Superman’s face. 

What he finds there is unexpected.

Lex expected revulsion. Distaste. Disapproval.

Instead, it’s something far more interesting.

It’s clear in the way his jaw is tight, locked in place, brows drawn tight. 

Disappointment. 

It’s visceral. Stricken. 

That’s good. Superman is warm. Lex doesn’t feel anything but a resounding sense of self-assuredness. 

Lex understands. Superman serves humanity. Out of love, out of obligation, and out of a twisted sense of grief. A tool at the absolute least.

Lex won’t deny it. He enjoys Superman’s presence. 

His heat. His laugh. His strength. His heart. 

His soul. 

Lex wants to keep it close to him. Hold it. Own it.

The breeze picks up and gently tousles both Conner’s and Superman’s hair. The sky glimmers above them.

No one could deny they came from the stars. 

Beautiful. 

That weightlessness returns. Blissful and content. 

It’s the right thing. Lex is sure. His logic is sound.

Humanity benefits from Superman’s devotion. Asking to be commanded. Grateful for its gifts. 

Lex smiles up at Superman.

For the greater good.