Title: Routine
Author: Toeh
Email: papersamuri@hotmail.com       
Rating: PG-13
Challenge: Evenings At Home
Notes: Kon-El/Conner Kent is/will be Superboy.  For those who don’t know, he was “cloned” in the comics using DNA from both Superman and Lex Luthor.  (That was done by Lex – see there’s repressed cannon love there.)
Summary: Lex, Clark, and their little boy spend a quiet, routine evening together…well…mostly quiet.

Wet up to his elbows, Lex Luthor found himself grinning at a mini-half-kryptonian.  Conner Jonathan Kon-El Kent had put the Luthor-Kent household into a steady routine of playtimes, nap times, snack times, dinner, bath and bed.  What marriage hadn't settled down in Lex, having a son did.  Only the little noises of Conner playing with his bath toys filled the air during this quiet evening at home.   

A sharp clatter in the kitchen had two sets of blue eyes glancing at the wall before exchanging a chuckle and a giggle.  Clark had learned how to cook from Martha so dinner was almost always spectacular, but unfortunately, during clean up, he was still a bit of a klutz.   

"Papa dropped a pot!"  Conner called happily, slinging his makeshift toys in the draining tub water. 

"Yes, he did."  Lex smiled down at his little dark-haired boy.  "Time to get out." 

Dutifully standing, Conner clutched a cup and a hand towel to his chest.  Now at the tender age of two and a half, Conner was accepting the idea that there were things that were HIS and things that were not.  They'd been so proud when the little guy first realized it - after an hour of resolutely clinging to Lex's cellphone because he liked the ring; he'd finally given in and held it out, "Yours?" His little face lit up when Lex took it and hugged him in thanks.  At the moment however, that little face had screwed up with the same stubborn determination that had been there then. The poor child was double-damned with Luthor resolution and Kent determination. 

"Conner, we have to get you dried up and ready for bed. Now put those on the tub so they can dry too and-" Lex gently pried a small finger off the plastic cup Conner had christened his boat.   

The little face was turning redder by the second, and droplets of water splattered him and the wall as his boy shook his head vehemently. "Mine! No, MINE! NO!"   

Lex sighed. It seemed a truly universal trait that when a child learned 'no' it fell in love.  

"Honey," he tried again. "These are bath toys. They stay in the bathroom."  He clutched the 'boat' tighter and scuttled to the corner to pin the soggy hand-towel between himself, the vanity, and the wall. Lex winced, thinking of what it would do to the wood of the cabinet.   

The other, less vital toys - a little squeaky whale and squirting submarine - were bobbing in the draining bathwater - forgotten and forsaken, but not the toys Conner had discovered on his own.  The cup was his boat and the towel was his 'sa-lat'.  

It was a Kryptonian word, one of many that didn't have an English translation.  Lex had been learning the language by proxy through their son as Clark taught their boy about his heritage.  Watching him play, Lex gathered that it was some kind of predator that hissed before attacking, or at least, Conner had hissed at his boat and then cried. 'Oh no!' before giggling maniacally and sinking the cup with his soggy towel.   

"Conner." He tilted his chin to his chest, giving him what Clark teasingly called 'the mommy look.' "Put them on the tub." 

His heart broke a little as the tiny face crumpled and little tears began.  "No." he whispered, his voice pleading as his little body tried not to stomp his foot.  He'd accepted that stomping would only get him in trouble, thankfully. 

Pushing up a rolled sleeve, Lex held firm, raising an eyebrow when he didn't move. "Now, Conner." 

His whole face puckered up. It was cute and heart-rending and made him feel miserable, but Conner dutifully trudged to the tub and set the cup on it gently.  Big blue eyes appealed to him as the tiny hands wrung the now cold, wet cloth to his chest and clutched it so tight that it would probably have a few holes.  "Sa-lat?" He pleaded with eyes big and watery.  His tiny lip quivered and he lifted it to rub against his cheek like a kitten.  "Sa-lat," A light seemed to spark in his eyes and he added enthusiastically. "Please?" 

He said 'please.' Part of Lex melted, his little baby said please, but he was the Daddy here and could not bend.  "Tomorrow for your next bath - okay?" Maybe a little bending. 

"SA-LAT, MINE!" Conner yelled and bounced up and down, his whole body trying to clutch the towel. 

"No." Lex tensed.  It was Clark's influence that a shout made him that upset. He had learned that early in their marriage that Kents don't like yelling in the house, and Conner, THEIR SON, knew better. "Time to dry off, put the towel on the tub, Conner." 

He sniffled.  Lex almost wanted to cry too.  Being a Daddy was a shitty job sometimes.  He watched him careful lay the towel on the tub's rim and spread it out almost reverently, smoothing any wrinkles with his little hands. Wrapping him in the mostly warm, dryer-fresh towel, Lex hugged him as he dried his little boy.  "Tomorrow night, you can play with them in your bath again." 

The little dark head bowed, and Conner didn't talk, just whimpered and nodded. He let himself be helped into his pajamas and obediently brushed his teeth before running out of the bathroom.   

"Conner!" he called, frightened at the burst of speed. Clark came out of the kitchen, startled by his cry, and together, they found Conner in his room.  He'd curled up around his bedpost, half-under his bed. Each wrenching sob shook the bed as much as his little body.   

"Mine!" he choked, gripping the little metal post so tight it dented.  Clark knelt and tried to pull Conner off it, but only managed to lift both his son and the bed.  "My bed, Papa! My Bed!" 

Lex and Clark shared a look.  Less than a month ago, one of Lex's competitors killed Conner's nanny during the kidnapping that had given their little boy such a fierce complex about losing what was his.  In his young mind, someone had stolen his parents for almost three days, and they took his nanny and wouldn't give her back.  He didn't understand death - not yet - hopefully he wouldn't for a long time to come.  Clark knelt next to the little body - both of them remembering Conner's first fit after he was home, Lex's arm was still dark with the bruise a small flailing hand had delivered. 

"Kon-El," Clark leaned down and smoothed the thick dark hair. "I know it's your bed, now come here and tell us what's wrong." 

Clark grunted as a ninja-turtle pajama cannonball struck his chest and nearly knocked him over.  Conner curled up against his Papa and began whispering to him. It was how Conner now responded when upset.  He'd curl against one of them and whisper what was wrong. A wide hand rubbed the little quivering back. 

"He put the Slat away?" Clark asked in conciliatory despair - having trouble understanding the words whispered against his shoulder. Conner's little head shook.  

"Sa-lat, Papa." Conner corrected fiercely, as if not knowing the word meant Clark was stupid, as he remained hidden against Clark's shoulder.  Lex's heart broke a little.  Sometimes being the Daddy meant being the bad guy - he hated that in a way he didn't think possible. 

"Oh, the sa-lat." Clark nodded now, winking at Lex.  "I think it's past a sa-lat's bed time-" 

Conner shook his little damp head. "Sa-lats eat in the dark." Hurt blue eyes turned to Lex again. Those aching, accusing eyes did him in. He could be the Daddy and set rules, but no one could make him break Conner's little heart again - no one.  

"Well that one's full,” he hurried to the linen closet gave Conner another hand towel.  "You can keep this one, but he has to stay dry." 

The little face screwed up in confusion, but he took the towel.  "Sa-lats need water."  He looked up at him again, panic on his young face. "But this one's okay." 

After he was fairly certain neither of his fathers would take his Sa-Lat away, Conner held out a hand to him.  "My story!" he crowed, beaming again, hand-towel held up in the air.   

Over the little head, Lex gave Clark a warm look and they both sat on opposite sides of the little bed and Clark held up a storybook.   

Storytime ends with a plea for more, but it's a sleepy plea with tiny fists digging into eyes and little eyelids barely open.  Conner's out before Lex fully stands up.  Clark put aside the book and smoothed the blanket moving to turn on the nightlight.  Lex leaned in to kiss the smooth temple, flicking a damp curl off his forehead.  "Night baby." He whispered, feeling something well up in this chest. 

Clark put his arm around him and kissed his cheek.  "Come on."   

Lex nodded and let himself be led out of the room.  He sniffed and then shook his head on a little laugh.  "He's getting so big." 

"Yeah."  Clark pulled the door almost shut, leaving a little crack before making their way to the living room.   

Lex sat heavily on the couch, smiling with his eyes closed as Clark settled in beside him.  "Do you ever think about giving him a little sister?"   

Clark stilled beside him, pressing his lips to the side of Lex's face.  "You do." 

"It would do him good to have someone close to his own age - now and when he's older.  Someone he can play with on his level." Lex didn't breathe, waiting for Clark's reaction.  It was playing a little dirty to prey on Clark's childhood loneliness, but he could justify it - Conner was growing up as much Lex's son as Clark's.  He'd need someone other than his parents that he could trust no matter what - Lex would see to it that their children grew up with that kind of trust.  "Someone he can trust." 

Clark drew him into his arms, pulling Lex half into his lap.  "Hey," he tucked Lex under his chin and kissed the top of his head.  "We can-" 

Lex looked up as Clark did, watching his lover stare off into the city through the wall.  "What is it?"

"Explosion - at the Coliseum." Clark was on his feet, vanishing to their room to change. 

"There's a game tonight." Lex pointed out, barely at the balcony doors as Clark returned, pausing to kiss him quickly.  "Be careful." 

With a nod, Superman vanished into the night - barely keeping his speed below the sonic barrier.   

Lex turned the television on, muted with closed captions to let Conner sleep should there be any secondary explosions. He watched Clark blur through the smoke and rubble, caring people to safety and putting out the flames all at once.  The reporter quoted local officials, saying they weren't releasing any information at this time, and that Joiner Street was closed to traffic as it was the quickest route to Metropolis's Mercy General.

Switching off the television, Lex moved to the kitchen.  He'd put on a kettle for tea and make a batch of cookies from tubes of dough that Clark liked so much.  They'd be cold when Clark got home, but Lex learned in their first few months together that it was the little gestures, and the thought that counted.   

He supposed he should be more upset.  Every time they started to have a talk about something important, an emergency would crop up.  They wouldn't have made it past dating if he had foolishly blamed Clark for the constant disappearing and interruptions.  It was Clark's nature to help.  If something bad was happening, he felt a need to stop it.  They could always finish things later, when Clark got home.   

Not long after finishing his own cup of warm tea and piling the cookies on a plate, Lex started getting ready for bed.  Clark would wake him when he got in.  

Awareness crept up on Lex in his sleep. Warm hands were peeling his pajamas open, hot lips were pressed lightly against his, then up to his temple.  He could smell soap and shampoo and felt little droplets dripping onto his scalp.   

Clark was home. Tilting his head back, Lex smiled at the brief instant of hesitation before Clark began to devour his throat.  Clark was a neck guy.  He kissed and licked down that smooth throat now, but wasn't above sneaking nibbles in the elevator or drawing Lex into his lap for a snuggle and suckle in the back of the limousine from time to time.  What his husband's fetish lacked in kink was more than compensated by his enthusiasm.  Teeth worried the skin beneath Lex's ear while those clever hands pulled his shirt down, pinning Lex's wrists at his sides with the rolled sleeves.   

Clark sighed against his neck, hands cupping Lex's ass as he settled fully on top of the leaner man.  "You made me cookies," he murmured, petting the smooth scalp and nuzzling him.  "Mmm, thought you'd have the munchies." Lex purred, rocking up into the warm body above him. 

"Fifty people died," Clark whispered, still holding on - though now more for comfort than lust.   

"How many after the blast?" Lex asked softly, his hands wriggling free from his sleeves to pet the thick dark hair.   

"Twelve." 

Lex closed his eyes at the little shiver that wracked his husband's body.  He took a deep breath.  "Baby, you saved so many.  There are always some that no one can help."  He smoothed the damp hair and felt Clark relaxing a little over him.  "Just get some sleep okay?   Conner'll be up early." 

"We're going to the park." Clark murmured, sleep already thick in his voice.  For all his strength, man made horrors exhausted him.  It was like something in Clark was broken by the idea that someone was trying to hurt others, something only sleep and comfort could heal.   

"Yeah - we promised he could see the puppet show they're having for the library." Lex whispered, smiling as Clark rolled onto his back.  He was pulled half over Clark, and they settled into their usual cuddling position for sleep.  "I love you, Clark." 

"Love you, Lex."  

Lex listened to the slowing heartbeat at his ear, waiting for the rhythm to pull him under too.  He heard a little sleepy sigh from Clark and smiled against the bare chest.  Just before drifting off, he felt the stillness of the penthouse around them and closed his eyes taking in that perfect moment of a quiet evening at home.

END