Title: Lex's Confidante, Lex's Business Partner
Couple: ChLex (woo)
Rating: PG, I guess
Spoilers for: Hug, I suppose
Disclaimer: Seriously, if I owned the show, it would be called ChLexville. For the record, I don't own the line, "I want so badly to rip your face off!" I borrowed that from a 'Sports Night' episode and paraphrased it. I take no credit for its brilliance. :-) I also don't own Fargo or the reference to that line of dialogue.
Author's Note: I don't know what this is. It starts fluffy, then it becomes angsty and AU and WEIRD. I know this basic thing has been done before, so I'm sorry if I ripped someone off. If it's really bad, it's my first fic since my 'sabbatical'. I need to get 'back in the groove'.
******
"You know where he is?" I asked Lex, referring to Kyle Tippet, the Persuasive Handshake Dude Who Lives in the Forest Just Like the Unibomber Did.
Lex simply gave me a look that may be the closest he'd ever come to a real smile.
We all know what happened next --Clark, myself, Crazy Kyle, the kiss, the demonstration...or so Clark says. I still don't believe it. Regardless, what happened AFTER all that is the important part. That was when I became...
CHLOE SULLIVAN, LEX LUTHOR'S CONFIDANTE AND BUSINESS PARTNER
Granted, the latter term was used loosely, the former term didn't come in until much later, and the whole title came from my sick, little mind. But it has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? Mwahahaha. Anyway. Here's how it all went down.
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It's days after the supposed-kiss debacle, and I'm hanging out in the Torch. As usual, my Intrepid Fellow Reporters ('reporters' being generous, seeing as I do the vast majority of their work, and give them credit because I'm such a martyr like that) are off ogling (not each other; the girls' swim team, which is holding an afterschool practice session), or whatever it is they do when I need them, and they decide to blow me off.
"If it helps, I imagine you look better in a bathing suit," comes a voice from the doorway.
He wanted to startle me, no doubt, but I heard his footsteps ages ago. "Those honkin' feet of yours gave you away yards ago, Luthor," I retort without turning from my computer. I'm not under deadline, but I don't want Lex to think anything he has to say is important enough that I'll dump my work to listen to his lips flap.
"You know what they say about men with big feet?" he asks, certainly smirking, as he drops backwards onto a spare chair and rolls it across the floor with said feet.
"They have really, really tiny brains?"
"I'm disappointed, Miss Sullivan, that wasn't up to par," Lex says, trying to peer over my shoulder.
I take a second to glance at him. He's amused. "So sorry --I meant to tell you. My razor-sharp wit is by the pool with Larry and Moe. You're welcome to go fetch it, if you'd like."
The Bald Billionaire chuckles (patronizingly), and says, "Trouble in reporter paradise?"
"I want so badly to rip your face off."
He pushes off the floor and glides backward a foot. (I wonder how often he goes sliding down the Manor's hallways on his own desk chair; his form's pretty good.) "I'm just here to say hello to my favorite blonde, ambitious, and steamy investigative journalist."
When I finally face him, his hands are up in defeat. "'Steamy'?" I ask, smirking.
"You're livid right now; any second, steam will come out your ears," he deadpans.
"That was weak," I tell him. I'm grinning now.
Lex cocks his head to the side, slides back over to the desk, and sighs once, for no reason. He begins: "Miss Sullivan, I was actually stopping by to see how the investigation went the other day. Find out anything?"
"About Kyle? Yeah, I did. I think I did, anyway. That's not why you came here, though." If he wanted to know what happened in the forest, he could have asked His Royal Highness, King Clark (okay, so I'm really pissed; he promised to help put the latest issue together).
Lex steeples his fingers, his elbows on the back of the seat, his ankles crossed. After a beat, he lifts my hands from the keyboard with one of his own hands and switches off the monitor with the other. Then he whirls my chair around and looks at me deeply. I stare right back, anything but unsettled.
"Very perceptive, Miss Sullivan," he whispers, eyes revealing that he's flirting.
"You're easy to read, Mister Luthor," I return.
"Tell me what I'm thinking, then," he orders in a low, sexy voice.
"You're thinking that it would be so easy to lock the door and then torture me until I give you information, aren't you?" I decide, without batting an eyelash.
That causes him to break into a genuine smile. "She's either developed ESP, or she hacked into my laptop."
Hahaha. "Nice line, Mister Luthor." His hands are still holding mine, and it's kinda nice.
"Work with me."
I can't help it --I snort. "Yeah, when cows turn green and colonize Mars."
His head tilts toward The Wall. "Cows have already done stranger things," he says.
"How illegal are we talking?"
"You're so sure it will be illegal?"
"When have you done something legal in your lifetime?" Pause, he smirks in agreement. "Besides, it's not fun if there isn't some amount of danger in it," I add, meaning it.
"Says the reporter," he says dryly. "Notice I said 'with me', not 'for me'."
I slip my hands out of his and use one to push his chair away --much as I like the physical contact, don't want him to get too comfortable. "Is this the part where I tell myself how lucky I am that you don't want to hire me to be just another one of your peons?" My eyes roll, and I wait for his reaction.
"This is the part where I confess that I want to do something very, very illegal right this second," Lex says softly.
My eyebrows wiggle. "I'm sixteen, Lex; legal by Kansas law."
"Who said I was talking about you?"
"I'm perceptive, remember?"
"Ouch. You haven't asked me why, Miss Sullivan."
"Why you want to do almost-illegal things with and/or to me? I know I'm every straight, smart guy's dream girl --I don't need to ask why." I wink and blow him a kiss --I love flirting, especially with him. Lex watches me expectantly, so I tell him, "I won't give in that easily."
"And I won't tell you until you ask."
"Make yourself comfortable, then. Vending machine's in the Teacher's Lounge. Students aren't really allowed in there after school, but you can figure out how to pick the lock --I did. And anything I can do..." I go back to my computer and wait for the telltale sounds of him leaving.
I should have known he wouldn't. The only sound for the next twenty minutes is that of my fingers tapping against the keys. A line from the movie 'Fargo' pops in my head and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from uttering it out loud: something about how two people can sit in total silence; yup, total f-ing silence...
After half an hour, I forget he's sitting there.
He breaks first. "You intrigue me, Miss Sullivan."
Badda bing, badda bang, badda boom. "Wow, Mister Luthor, I'm breathless from delight," I retort.
"To my knowledge, that's the highest sincere compliment I've ever paid someone."
"Shame you had to waste it on my disinterested self." Maybe I'm taking it too far, but you don't stop me when I'm on a roll.
"I'll beg."
At first it takes me by surprise. Then I decide he's trying to shock me into turning around. "I won't stop you," I assure him absently.
He's on his knees in front of my seat, hands clasped. "Please come work with me, Chloe. I need someone who knows Clark as well as you do. I know you've been looking into his adoption --so have I. I may know something you don't."
It's hard to tell if he's bluffing --he may just be saying that so I reveal what little I know. "One condition, Mister Luthor."
"Name it." He's either a fantastic actor, or he's truly desperate.
"Clark doesn't get hurt."
I make sure he knows I mean it --yes, I'm determined to crack the mystery that isn't Clark Kent (to quote myself), but I've known the kid since he was an even bigger dork than he is now. "You've got a deal," Lex says, before he even has time to logically dwell on what I said.
And two years pass. I graduate, I blow off college, I move in with Lex. I go from being his confidante to being his girlfriend, his lover, his wife, and the mother of his daughter. He's a wonderful, loving husband and father --and an even better investigator (which, I might add, is saying something).
Clark has ended up getting hurt --but, so far, not because of our digging. When he found out Lex and I had been seeing each other, he was crushed (evidently, finally getting Lana wasn't enough for the poor boy). When he tried to stop our wedding, that was the day I grew to hate him --his actions (when he had no reason to believe Lex wouldn't be good to me) combined with everything Lex and I were discovering, and I lost all respect for the Kents. That they could keep that from me.... That was the day the 'Clark doesn't get hurt' condition was tossed aside as quickly as --well, I was going for a bit of innuendo, but I won't.
Lex and I (and Kayla, our daughter; who's the coolest person in the world) aren't sure how far we're going to go with this investigation, but we know this: Clark's not getting away with this deception.
******