A Little S Ink
Apr. 10th, 2020 06:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
queenkatyastarTitle: A Little S Ink
Author: Katya Starling
Fandom: Smallville
Characters/Pairing: CLex (Clark/Lex)
Rating: PG/K+
Challenge/Prompt: Slash Ficlets 10: Ink
Word Count: 1,057
Date Written: 7 April 2020
Warnings: Future Fic
Summary: Lex goes for a tattoo.
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
"You want what?!" the artist asked in disbelief, his voice almost shouting even as the buzz of his tool momentarily dimmed in his shock. He started to lower the razor as he stared at the back of the bald head in front of him.
"I am quite certain I did not stammer. I also have another Benjamin, as your people would call it, to ascertain my privacy both while I am here at this establishment and the image which I am procuring. And I will procure it," he added matter-of-factly, "rather you or another artist render the shape I am seeking onto my flesh. I can just as easily take my money elsewhere."
"Dude, you're good! Really, you're good!" The tool started buzzing again, and Lex settled down against the table, ready to feel the telltale pain that would mean his orders were being followed. "It's just . . . an unusual request, is all. We get the Superman S tattoo all the time, but it's usually on the shoulders. I did once have this girl who wanted it on her breast."
Lex sniffed disdainfully. "I am certain Cl-Superman would not approve."
"Look, dude, just because you're gay doesn't mean he is!"
Lex's blue eyes twinkled. "Ah, if only you knew."
"What're you telling me?" the artist asked, tentatively touching his blade to Lex's tender skin. "You know something I don't?"
"I know a great deal you do not."
"I mean, about Superman? I've collected every comic book he's ever been in, watched every interview -- You're not telling me he's gay!"
The corners of Lex's mouth curved upwards. "I'm not telling you he's not." He paused, waited as he felt the emblem begin to take shape. "However, whereas you may have collected every single thing in which he's ever been depicted or interviewed, I knew him as a boy, and still do."
"Well, I know you've, like, tried to take over the world, what, a thousand times? And he always stops you. No offense."
Lex laughed, but there was little humor in the hollow sound. The tattoo artist paused in cutting long enough to make certain that he was not about to meet the wrath of the great Lex Luthor before beginning the top curve of the capital S. "He does always stop me, but it's easier than your simple minds may think. It . . . remains difficult for me to this day to turn him down."
"So you know each other out of the whole hero and villain roles?"
"Quite. Again, I knew him as a boy, and I do have a few years on him."
"You knew Superman when he was a kid?"
"Yes."
"So he actually was a kid?"
"Yes. One could almost say that we grew up together. We did grow older and harder together." He smiled impishly, realizing, after he'd said it, the other possible implications of such a phrase.
His artist leaned closer. "Do you ever see each other?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the buzzing razor.
"Often." Lex's smile returned to normal, not impish at all, just quietly pleased like a Cheshire Cat. He settled his chin onto his hands. "Although, admittedly, not as much as I would like. He does stay busy chasing other villains and saving the world, after all. Why, there have been times when I have hatched diabolical plans," he admitted conspiratorially, "just to gain his attention."
The tattooist barked laughter. "You're kidding!"
"I, sir, very rarely kid, and where Superman is concerned, I never do so."
"Huh . . . Yes, sir, Mister Luthor, sir." He went back to his work, but Lex remained in the mood to reminisce.
"So as you can see," he commented, "I know him quite well, far better than any mere fan or reporter. I . . . miss the boy with whom I grew up."
"Maybe if you stopped trying to take over the world, you could be friends again."
"Friends would never be enough," Lex murmured.
"You have it bad for him, don't you?" The artist wondered briefly why it was that tattoo artists seemed to be expected to also be bartenders, but he had to admit that he had very interesting customers drift through his doors. Why, not too long ago, he'd had a blonde reminiscing over the crazed Joker, and now here he was the great, influential, and super wealthy Lex Luthor pining after Superman. He wondered if the blonde might have been a hero in her civilian identity, about the dark-haired boy who'd had a Batarang tattooed on his shoulder, and both of their stories.
Lex shifted subtly on the cold, hard table. It wasn't enough of a movement to disturb his artist, but it was enough to admit that he was a little uncomfortable, even if only because it was so obvious to a complete stranger how much he cared for Clark. "Consider the location I've requested."
"Hmph. Yeah. I've had all kinds of tats asked for in the past, but never the Superman symbol on somebody's ass."
Lex smiled again, his blue eyes shining once more. "As surprised as you are, I am certain he will be even more surprised the next time we meet."
"So you have done gay stuff with him!"
"I'd marry him," Lex said with a sigh, "if he'd only be willing to settle down."
"I take it he's not?"
"No." He sighed again. "He always ends up flying away again to go save the world once more, says he's too busy for a husband or even much of a personal life." He shook his head and sighed yet again, his true fatigue beginning to slip into his voice as the artist finished his job. "Here I am running multiple corporations and still with enough time to create things to both help the world and make reasonable attempts to conquer it, and he's the one with superspeed who doesn't have time for me."
"It's a shame," the artist said, leaning back, admiring his work, and shaking his head. "I got a feeling you could make him real happy."
Lex stood and pulled his pants carefully back up. "You'll never know how incredibly happy I could make him." How happy we once made each other and could again. He tossed several hundreds at the startled artist and walked away.
The End
Author: Katya Starling
Fandom: Smallville
Characters/Pairing: CLex (Clark/Lex)
Rating: PG/K+
Challenge/Prompt: Slash Ficlets 10: Ink
Word Count: 1,057
Date Written: 7 April 2020
Warnings: Future Fic
Summary: Lex goes for a tattoo.
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
"You want what?!" the artist asked in disbelief, his voice almost shouting even as the buzz of his tool momentarily dimmed in his shock. He started to lower the razor as he stared at the back of the bald head in front of him.
"I am quite certain I did not stammer. I also have another Benjamin, as your people would call it, to ascertain my privacy both while I am here at this establishment and the image which I am procuring. And I will procure it," he added matter-of-factly, "rather you or another artist render the shape I am seeking onto my flesh. I can just as easily take my money elsewhere."
"Dude, you're good! Really, you're good!" The tool started buzzing again, and Lex settled down against the table, ready to feel the telltale pain that would mean his orders were being followed. "It's just . . . an unusual request, is all. We get the Superman S tattoo all the time, but it's usually on the shoulders. I did once have this girl who wanted it on her breast."
Lex sniffed disdainfully. "I am certain Cl-Superman would not approve."
"Look, dude, just because you're gay doesn't mean he is!"
Lex's blue eyes twinkled. "Ah, if only you knew."
"What're you telling me?" the artist asked, tentatively touching his blade to Lex's tender skin. "You know something I don't?"
"I know a great deal you do not."
"I mean, about Superman? I've collected every comic book he's ever been in, watched every interview -- You're not telling me he's gay!"
The corners of Lex's mouth curved upwards. "I'm not telling you he's not." He paused, waited as he felt the emblem begin to take shape. "However, whereas you may have collected every single thing in which he's ever been depicted or interviewed, I knew him as a boy, and still do."
"Well, I know you've, like, tried to take over the world, what, a thousand times? And he always stops you. No offense."
Lex laughed, but there was little humor in the hollow sound. The tattoo artist paused in cutting long enough to make certain that he was not about to meet the wrath of the great Lex Luthor before beginning the top curve of the capital S. "He does always stop me, but it's easier than your simple minds may think. It . . . remains difficult for me to this day to turn him down."
"So you know each other out of the whole hero and villain roles?"
"Quite. Again, I knew him as a boy, and I do have a few years on him."
"You knew Superman when he was a kid?"
"Yes."
"So he actually was a kid?"
"Yes. One could almost say that we grew up together. We did grow older and harder together." He smiled impishly, realizing, after he'd said it, the other possible implications of such a phrase.
His artist leaned closer. "Do you ever see each other?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the buzzing razor.
"Often." Lex's smile returned to normal, not impish at all, just quietly pleased like a Cheshire Cat. He settled his chin onto his hands. "Although, admittedly, not as much as I would like. He does stay busy chasing other villains and saving the world, after all. Why, there have been times when I have hatched diabolical plans," he admitted conspiratorially, "just to gain his attention."
The tattooist barked laughter. "You're kidding!"
"I, sir, very rarely kid, and where Superman is concerned, I never do so."
"Huh . . . Yes, sir, Mister Luthor, sir." He went back to his work, but Lex remained in the mood to reminisce.
"So as you can see," he commented, "I know him quite well, far better than any mere fan or reporter. I . . . miss the boy with whom I grew up."
"Maybe if you stopped trying to take over the world, you could be friends again."
"Friends would never be enough," Lex murmured.
"You have it bad for him, don't you?" The artist wondered briefly why it was that tattoo artists seemed to be expected to also be bartenders, but he had to admit that he had very interesting customers drift through his doors. Why, not too long ago, he'd had a blonde reminiscing over the crazed Joker, and now here he was the great, influential, and super wealthy Lex Luthor pining after Superman. He wondered if the blonde might have been a hero in her civilian identity, about the dark-haired boy who'd had a Batarang tattooed on his shoulder, and both of their stories.
Lex shifted subtly on the cold, hard table. It wasn't enough of a movement to disturb his artist, but it was enough to admit that he was a little uncomfortable, even if only because it was so obvious to a complete stranger how much he cared for Clark. "Consider the location I've requested."
"Hmph. Yeah. I've had all kinds of tats asked for in the past, but never the Superman symbol on somebody's ass."
Lex smiled again, his blue eyes shining once more. "As surprised as you are, I am certain he will be even more surprised the next time we meet."
"So you have done gay stuff with him!"
"I'd marry him," Lex said with a sigh, "if he'd only be willing to settle down."
"I take it he's not?"
"No." He sighed again. "He always ends up flying away again to go save the world once more, says he's too busy for a husband or even much of a personal life." He shook his head and sighed yet again, his true fatigue beginning to slip into his voice as the artist finished his job. "Here I am running multiple corporations and still with enough time to create things to both help the world and make reasonable attempts to conquer it, and he's the one with superspeed who doesn't have time for me."
"It's a shame," the artist said, leaning back, admiring his work, and shaking his head. "I got a feeling you could make him real happy."
Lex stood and pulled his pants carefully back up. "You'll never know how incredibly happy I could make him." How happy we once made each other and could again. He tossed several hundreds at the startled artist and walked away.
The End
