Chapter Text
Clark’s childhood was filled with daily reminders from his parents.
Don’t run too fast.
Never show your full strength.
Be careful not to hover.
Ma would kiss him on the head before school and gently remind him of these things—her dulcet tones diligently letting him know that, for his safety, his secret needed to remain hidden.
Then at the very end, like always: Remember to never take off your shirt.
A little hard to do when you had daily gym class at Smallville High, but Clark would make do, always remembering to switch in and out of his gym clothes in one of the two stalls in the boy’s locker room. Luckily he never sweat. It would have been an even bigger hassle to find a way to shower without any of the boys seeing the mark.
His friends would make jokes about it. Tell him that he was so modest and laugh in the hallway about how Clark was too shy to get changed in front of the other boys.
It only made the gap—the overwhelming feeling that he would never fully belong—in his chest widen. Clark loved Smallville. He loved his Ma and Pa. He loved his best friends Chloe and Lana. He loved late nights spent out in the fields looking up at the stars, no light pollution to interrupt their clarity. Clark loved the Earth, and the people in it. It was beautiful.
It just hurt, somewhere deep in his chest, that he had to keep so much of himself hidden, in order to be loved back.
At night, when he was alone in his bedroom—little league trophies littering the shelves and The Mighty Crabjoys poster on his wall—he would run his fingers through the mark on his chest. The reason his parents would remind him daily to never take off his shirt in public.
Dark green symbols, no bigger than his index finger, written right above where his heart lay. They would warm to his touch, and he could swear sometimes they’d glow, just the slightest bit.
It was only at eighteen, when Clark discovered the Fortress of Solitude—and spent the day having the entirety of the Kryptonian language beamed into his head by an unapologetic blue robot (who Clark would later name Four)—that he realized what the symbols spelled.
Clark Kent had the name Alexander Joseph Luthor written over his heart.
During the year he spent in the Fortress of Solitude learning about his new culture, before Ma and Pa successfully convinced him to give university a try, Clark had asked Four about the symbols.
“They are the name of your bonded Kal-El,” Four explained patiently.
“Your parents spent the few months they had with you before the end of Krypton doing thorough research on where such a name might come from. They were shocked to discover that the name of your bonded—what humans might call a soulmate—was derived from a planet called Earth. Considering the similarities in population appearance, the yellow sun, and the compatible atmosphere, the high likelihood of your soulmate being on Earth only made the planet more favorable.”
Four zoomed through the Fortress, and placed the crystal into the holographic projector. Rather than the usual message from his parents, which told him how much they’d loved him, it was a still-image. His parents were younger. His mother in elaborate dazzling red robes which wrapped tightly around her waist, and his father in a bright blue cape.
“This is the only surviving image of their mating day—your parents were bonded. While they were saddened that they would not get to see the day that you met your intended, they were safe in the knowledge that one day you would have a love as deep as they shared. In Kryptonian culture, it is an immense rarity, and an immense gift.”
Even in Four’s stilted robotic tone, Clark felt that he could detect just a hint of the joy and love his parents had for him.
To say that Clark felt happy would be an understatement. A soulmate. A person he would not have to hide from—someone he could be himself with, and who would love him, for all his faults, his anxieties, his overwhelming weirdness.
Clark smiled, and for the first time in a long time, he felt whole.
If Ma and Pa asked, Clark had accepted a full-ride scholarship to Metropolis University because it had the best journalism program in the East Coast. If pressed further, maybe he would admit that it would be nice to make some new friends, meet new people.
He would never tell Ma and Pa (or for that matter Lana and Chloe) that his choice to go to MetU was principally due to the fact that one Alexander—“Lex” as the tabloids referred to him—Luthor lived in Metropolis.
The heir to the LuthorCorp fortune had been expelled from MetU—a scandal that the Daily Planet and other newspapers loved to recount, along with Lex’s high-profile partying and new girlfriend-of-the-week. Clark tried his hardest not to read those articles, the ones that spoke of designer drugs, rehab stints, and potential orgies.
It didn’t matter what his soulmate did before they met. Clark couldn’t be mad at Lex for living life to the fullest before he even knew Clark existed. Even Ma and Pa had dated people before they’d found each other.
So maybe Clark spent a large amount of time (when he wasn’t balancing a full-time degree, a newspaper internship, and a part-time job at a local cafe) looking up photos of Lex. It really wasn’t his fault that his soulmate was beautiful, and had the most piercing blue eyes and pale skin he had ever seen. Sure, the likelihood of them running into each other in a city as big as Metropolis was slim, but they were destined for one another—it would happen at its own pace.
One thing Ma had always told him was to value himself, and never rush into a relationship. It was alright that Lex was out there enjoying his life. Clark felt safe and secure in the knowledge that when they did meet, there would be that spark of mutual recognition, and his soulmate—his gorgeous, smart, cultured soulmate—would look at him with all the love and acceptance that Ma always told him he deserved.
Clark would briefly look at the more scandalous news articles—the ones where Lex always looked stoic, cold, and unreachable—and smile, because the world was beautiful, and he had a soulmate. Clark’s parents had taught him that patience was a virtue. He could wait.
It was three years into his journalism major when they finally met.
“Clark man, thank you,” Charlie said as he handed Clark a black apron to wrap around his waist.
While Clark had been lucky to get a fully funded scholarship to attend MetU, the soaring Metropolis rent prices meant that he had had to look for a part-time job.
Normally, Clark worked a few shifts at a local campus cafe after class, along with his afternoon internship at the Daily Planet. When he’d get home late into the night, he’d see Charlie fretting over his engineering assignments.
Charlie had been his roommate during his first year of university. When it came time to leave the first year dorms, it had been natural that he and Clark got an apartment together. Charlie had been born and raised in the suburbs of Metropolis—his mom and dad were lovely, and often invited Clark over for Sunday roast.
When he wasn’t panicking about failing out of the chemical engineering program, Charlie worked as a cater-waiter.
Clark had been out of his mind with anxiety for the last week. As an intern in the Daily Planet he’d been given the exclusive opportunity to attend a LuthorCorp press conference. Lionel Luthor was definitely going to be there, but more importantly, Clark had heard hushed conversations (thank gosh for super hearing) that Lex Luthor might be attending as well.
Maybe that was how Clark had forgotten that he had promised Charlie two weeks ago that he’d work this catering gig. He showed up at home, exhausted from a long day, and Charlie was already in his white button-up and starched black pants, black server apron around his waist.
Thankfully, the old-school suit and tie get-up Clark always wore to the Daily Planet was enough to make Charlie think Clark had simply been running late.
So Clark smiled at Charlie, took off his suit jacket, wrapped the apron around his waist, and got into his roommate’s car.
“Thank god you’re coming with me dude,” Charlie smiled as he started the car. “These company events can be such a snooze, but the tips are great.”
Clark laughed in response. “I’m sure it won’t be that bad Charlie,” he leaned his head against the window and watched the cars go by, “What’s the event for anyway?”
“Big LuthorCorp event—apparently Lex Luthor is going to be there.”
Clark turned his head and smiled politely at Charlie.
Inside he was dying.
Clark was acting normal. He was so normal. He was the most normal six foot four cater-waiter in the entirety of the Metropolis city area.
He was very smoothly carrying a large tray of shrimp canapés through the wide crowd of well-dressed people. He was not constantly listening for the voice of one Lex Luthor—a voice that he had most definitely not memorized by repeatedly watching the three public interviews the Luthor heir had done in recent years.
Clark had done two turns about the ballroom (very Jane Austen of him) but still no sign of his soulmate.
Was it rude to already refer to him as his soulmate? Is that the kind of thing you only bring up after the third date?
Clark hoped that once they met Lex would at least find him attractive. Clark knew he was big and hulking and occasionally—outside of interview scenarios, he hoped—socially awkward. Sue him, he’d spent eighteen years in Smallville, Kansas too scared to get romantically involved with anyone lest they discover his secret. Then when he was eighteen he’d discovered that he had a soulmate.
Sure, a few people in MetU had seemed interested in him. He could tell when girls would look at him and their pupils would dilate and their heart rates would go up slightly. But what was the point in flirting? What was the point in leading any of these girls on, when Clark already knew Lex Luthor was meant to be the love of his life.
As he stood in the ballroom, well-dressed ladies reaching over to grab the little shrimps on his tray, Clark realized that he had never considered what Lex would feel when he met Clark. Would it be love at first sight? Would he be confused? Would he even be attracted to Clark?
Clark closed his eyes firmly and willed the anxiety to go away. He remembered what Four had told him, as he showed Clark the holographs of his parents' mating day—their wedding really, in human terms. He remembered the looks of joy both his parents had, their hands clasped tightly together as they looked at one another with pure adoration.
His Kryptonian parents had looked at each other the same way Ma and Pa looked at each other every day. That was what Clark wanted—understanding, companionship, love.
Clark could feel the burn of the Kryptonian glyphs above his heart. Lex Luthor was here. He had to be.
Clark pushed his emotions down, willed all the voices in the room to go down except for the one he was looking for.
Then he heard a rough moan coming from one of the backrooms.
Clark tried to be polite as he excused himself through the throng of guests.
“Excuse me—excuse me m’am—excuse me,” He mumbled as he passed through guest after guest. The moan had come from the hallway.
Clark left the brightly decorated ballroom and went into the darkened hallway. Through it there were multiple doors—likely to different offices.
Clark gently put his tray of shrimp down and listened again for the voice. He knew that voice, he couldn’t have been mistaken.
A louder moan followed, coming from the second door to the right. Panic surged within Clark.
Was Lex alright? Was he hurt?
Clark immediately ran to the door and opened it.
Inside stood his soulmate, Lex Luthor, looking artfully disheveled with his cravat undone at the neck and designer trousers pulled down to his knees. His hands were wrapped around the hair of a beautiful blonde while he choked her with his—
Clark diverted his eyes elsewhere immediately.
On the floor there were bottles of wine and liquor, a few of them broken on the ground—the shards of glass scattered throughout.
Another loud moan came from Lex, and Clark couldn't help but shift his eyes back to his soulmate.
“Take it—take it you slut,” he said as he forced the blonde’s mouth down once more.
Clark felt shame. He should not be here, he should not be in the middle of whatever this was—
Lex Luthor opened his eyes. They were the most beautiful blue Clark had ever seen.
His soulmate looked straight at him.
Clark felt the glyphs on his chest burn.
“Get the fuck out!” Lex yelled, his voice brutal in its anger as he continued—without hesitation—to fuck the mouth of the pretty blonde.
All Clark could do, as the blush crept up his cheeks, was turn around and immediately run out of the room.
Charlie could tell he was upset. His friend had tried to bring it up while he drove them back to their apartment. But all Clark could do was stare forlornly out the window, and try his absolute hardest to not remember the scene he had walked into.
As Clark lay in bed, he tried to tell himself that everything would be alright. He could not judge Lex for having kissed—had sexual relations—with someone before he had ever met Clark. Clark knew that despite his Kryptonian biology, he was a Kansas boy at heart. Ma had told him to wait for true love—and he would wait.
Lex had grown up in Metropolis, jet-setting around the world.
They did things differently in the big city.
Clark just felt so ashamed that he had accidentally intruded on such an intimate moment. He had really been worried that Lex had been hurt.
And more importantly, he hoped that he hadn’t made Lex’s girlfriend uncomfortable.
By the time the LuthorCorp meeting came around, Clark had almost gotten over his shame of accidentally walking in on his future soulmate receiving oral sex.
The two interns chosen to tag along with Perry White—whose articles on corporate espionage for the Daily planet had been amazing, Clark was sure he was a shoe-in for the Editor-in-Chief job—were Clark and Lois Lane.
Lois was lovely, if a little intimidating. She was in her final year of the MetU journalism program, and had already gotten a job offer to work at the Daily Planet once she graduated.
“You ready for the show, Smallville?” Lois smiled as she and Clark followed Perry to the elevator, where they would be taken to the conference room for the LuthorCorp press event.
In the elevator Perry turned to each of them, waved a finger, and said, “Now don’t either of you embarrass me.” Lois, already gnawing at the tip of her pen, responded with a crisp “Sure, Chief.” Clark nodded and hoped this event wouldn’t be another embarrassment.
They were led by welcoming staff into a gigantic press-room in which an empty podium stood. As journalists finished entering, the lights dimmed, and the imposing figure of Lionel Luthor approached the podium.
Clark could see some similarities between Lionel and Lex. They were both tall and pale. But while Lionel’s eyes were a murky grey, Lex’s eyes were the most wonderful shade of blue. Lionel also had a full head of hair, while Lex’s creamy skin was fully on display due to his baldness.
Newspapers disagreed as to why the Luthor heir had no hair on his head. Clark had never dug into it too much—he figured his soulmate would tell him eventually. Despite the events of last week, Clark firmly believed that people were entitled to privacy.
Lois poked Clark. Hard. If he didn’t have super-skin he was sure he would’ve bruised. “Smallville, pay attention,” Lois whispered against his ear. Then she gave him another hard poke with her pen for good measure.
Clark blinked and looked up. Darn it, he had missed a good chunk of what Lionel had been saying. Now was not the time for day-dreaming, he was here to represent the Daily Planet—
“—And with that, I present my son, Alexander Luthor, as the newest Vice-President of LuthorCorp.”
Clark blinked.
Lex Luthor came up on stage wearing a crisp black three-piece suit and shining black oxfords. Clark was certain the suit must have cost a fortune, and been from someplace Italian and expensive like Armani—was Armani even Italian? Clark blinked again and willed himself to focus on his—frankly gorgeous—soulmate, who was standing on the podium and shaking his father’s hand and speaking.
Oh gosh, he’s speaking.
Clark blinked again and willed himself to pay attention to his soulmate’s important life event. That’s what partners did. Pay attention to things.
“—And with that I am very excited to continue bringing new technological innovation and growth to LuthorCorp’s shareholders, and thankful for my new position as Vice-President.” Polite claps echoed all through the room.
Well, that was alright. Clark was sure Lois would have the speech recorded. If he was extra nice, and offered to buy her a dozen donuts and an extra sugary cappuccino, he was sure she would let him listen to it.
Perry was off in the corner of the room, appearing to haggle with a prim brunette with a clipboard in her hand and a matte black headset. She was nodding her head as Perry animatedly gesticulated to the door where Lex and his father had just exited through.
Finally, the lady sighed, and Perry—seemingly happy to have won whatever argument Clark had politely decided not to listen to—smugly made his way back to Lois and Clark. He clapped both of them on the shoulder and went, “Listen up kiddos. It’s showtime. I’ve just scored us an impromptu interview with LuthorCorp’s new Vice-President.”
Lois smiled sharply as she bit into her pen, always ready for the journalistic kill. Clark closed his eyes, and prayed that he would be able to make it through this social interaction without making a fool of himself. Deep inside his chest though, there was a happy flutter. He would get to see Lex Luthor again—he would get to hear his voice, and interact with him, with his clothes on.
Maybe fate was finally giving Clark his chance to properly interact with his soulmate.
Maybe—finally—Lex Luthor would stare straight into the eyes of Clark Kent and realize that they were meant for one another.
Perry, Lois, and Clark were led into a stark office—no family photos or little knick-knacks to be seen, pity since Clark would have loved to learn more about Lex—with absolutely gigantic full-length windows showcasing a glorious view of Metropolis. It was the type of view Clark knew he’d never be able to afford.
There, sitting on a plush leather seat, in all his elegant dignified glory, was Lex Luthor. The handler who had led the three of them into the office stood off in the corner as they introduced themselves. Lex stiffly nodded at each of their names and extended a hand to shake each of their hands.
Clark was last.
He stared into his soulmate's eyes and mumbled, “Hello, Mr. Luthor. I’m Clark Kent.”
As his olive-toned hand touched Lex’s far paler one, Clark felt the burn of the glyphs on his chest once more. Lex’s eyes were beautiful, a transfixing blue that Clark could get lost in. His hand was so soft—Clark felt momentarily ashamed of how rough his hand must be, from doing constant labor on the farm. For the first time, Clark felt how delicate his soulmate was. The smooth skin, the beautiful eyes, the delicate blue veins running down his wrist. Everything about Lex was human and breakable.
In that moment, Clark had never loved a single human being more than he loved Lex Luthor—and he was certain he would treasure him for all of his life.
Lex had quickly taken his hand back and held it to his chest, as if his hand had been burned. For a moment, Clark thought he could see panic in his eyes. Then, without a hitch, the cool detached Lex Luthor resumed his position in the office, and the interview began.
Perry and Lois immediately started grilling him about LuthorCorp’s recent corporate takeovers of military companies in China and Boravia. Heaven help the world of corporate espionage once Lois started as a full-time reporter at the Daily Planet. Perry White may have been one of the best, but Lois Lane was better. Despite Lex’s calm, emotionally detached replies, Lois was like a dog with a bone—gnawing at the bit to figure out the story.
“I’m just surprised,” Lois said, pivoting away from Boravian politics, “That your father would promote you so quickly to Vice-President of a major publicly traded company, considering your past.” She let the insinuation of those words hang in the air.
Clark once again had visions of tabloids reporting on drugs and sex scandals and rehab stints. He could see Lex’s blue eyes as he abused the mouth of the blonde in a wine bottle-littered conference room—
Clark stopped himself.
He was raised better than that.
He had no room to judge the other man. If anything, he should be irritated that Lois was questioning his soulmate so aggressively.
Lex smiled a forced sharp smile and calmly stated, “I believe that’s all the time we have for questions.” He stood up, and the three members of the Daily Planet were quickly ushered out by Lex’s handler.
The brunette handler whisper-shouted at Perry, “You said you only had a few questions. You said you would be nice.” Perry turned to face her and grinned. “I said I would be nice. I never made any promises about Lois.”
The handler, who Clark suddenly realized was likely one of Lex’s secretaries, huffed and closed the office door in their faces.
Clark felt guilty. He had met Lex—his soulmate—for a second time, and been so shy and anxious that he had only gotten six words out. Then, his boss and Lois had promptly started aggressively questioning Lex about his career—even making insinuations about his character.
As Ma constantly reminded Clark, a person’s character was their greatest treasure—he couldn’t believe Lois would have the gall to make such insinuations about Clark’s soulmate.
Clark felt like he might actually be upset at Lois. Even though he knew it was illogical, and knew that his friend was only doing her job.
But, as the three of them slowly walked the long corridor to the elevator, Clark’s internal monologue was interrupted by a voice—
No, no, he shouldn’t listen. Using his powers to listen in on people’s conversations was rude, Ma had always said—
“How dare you bring those fucking useless mongrels into my office—”
“Mr. Luthor you had said—” The secretary's voice cowered.
“That dark-haired bitch thinks she can make allegations about my career.”
“Sir, the Daily Planet is well-respecte—”
“And that stupid faggot with his hick accent, just sitting there and staring at me. All through the interview. Staring like some dim cow waiting to be shot.”
Clark heard the crash of glass against the wall.
“You didn’t bring in journalists, you brought a cunt and—”
Clark stopped listening. Next to him Perry was pressing the button for the elevator while he and Lois discussed the interview in hushed whispers. Neither of them had super hearing. Neither of them heard the crash of glass or the yelling at the poor secretary who had just been doing Perry a favor.
As the elevator door closed, Lois turned to Clark and went, “Wow, Lex Luthor is a dick.”
And Clark—despite years of yearning, years of longing—had to agree.
Lex Luthor was not the love of his life.
Lex Luthor was a jerk.
Present Day
Surrendering yourself to your self-proclaimed worst enemy was not normally the most strategically sound move.
Clark, however, was out of ideas and out of patience.
Eight years had passed since he had met Lex Luthor twice in one week—and decided promptly that nope, the soulmate stuff was not for him.
Sure, Clark still kept up-to-date on Luthor’s career and his interchangeable parade of beautiful women (always women). Clark was (emotionally) human, and Lex Luthor was still extremely attractive in a three piece Valentino suit.
Clark was a journalist. Despite his best attempts at avoiding LuthorCorp press conferences, Perry and Lois still managed to occasionally guilt him into attendance. Although, when they did, he remained in the back, far away from the presence of Lex Luthor.
But after that fateful interview, Clark came to a firm and unwavering conclusion—Mr Luthor could take his dirty mouth and his bad character elsewhere, thank you very much.
And Luthor had, in fact, taken it elsewhere. He’d taken himself up all the way to the position of LuthorCorp CEO, ousting his dad in a corporate takeover that had the newspapers reeling.
From there, his career had only become more ignominious. Secretive government contracts, military arms dealing, a technological super-cult of followers who thought Luthor was their messiah.
If Clark had any heart left to break, the knowledge that Luthor had purposely put the people of Jarhanpur in danger would have been the final thing to break it. But Clark had lost his hope of a soulmate, of a human being that would love and understand him above all else, a long time ago—in a high-rise building hallway while he heard the supposed love of his life call him a faggot and call his (now) best friend a cunt.
Then Luthor had dedicated himself to trying to kill him—kill Superman—and Clark had truly, one hundred percent, without a doubt, given up on the idea of ever having a soulmate.
Even if sometimes, in the middle of the night, he still ran his fingers down the Kryptonian glyphs that spelled Alexander Joseph Luthor and felt himself become overwhelmed with a void of absolute and complete emptiness.
At least he had Lois, Jimmy, and Cat. He had Perry, who was always kind enough to run his articles in the Daily Planet even if his lack of adverbs left something to be desired. He had Ma and Pa, and the entirety of the Justice Gang—even if Guy was still hesitant about letting him join the group. Clark—Superman, he corrected himself—had the love of most of the world, and millions of people to protect and care for every day.
He tried to focus on that when he heard the news of Lex Luthor being released after only ten months due to good behavior. He tried to smile at Lois when she placed a firm hand against his shoulder and asked him if he was alright.
Clark smiled and tried his hardest to act like everything was normal. He was normal.
He was a normal six foot four farm boy turned journalist, who was completely over the fact that the man who was supposed to be his soulmate had dedicated three years of his life to launching an elaborate plan to murder him.
Clark sighed.
He tried to reassure himself that things would be alright.
At least Luthor had lost.
It only took two days after his release for Luthor to recommence his campaign to kill Superman.
For eight days straight Lex Luthor—armed with a legion of lawyers—went on every late night talk and news show that would have him and lampooned Superman’s existence.
For eight nights straight, Superman found himself dealing with Kaijus, defusing nuclear bombs (with Mister Terrific’s very generous help), and at one point stopping the actual International Space Station from crash-landing on Earth.
Clark was exhausted. The Justice Gang was running on fumes.
Lois though—she was pissed.
“It’s been ten days since he was released—how is this slime-ball even getting the funding to pull all this shit?”
Clark put both his hands up and leaned into the back of the couch, “Gosh, Lois, I don’t know—he’s a shady tech billionaire who used his money as a get out of jail free card. For all we know he’s replaced his board with robots, or bribed the United Nations to look the other way.”
Clark sighed. Deeply.
“I mean, he kidnapped my cousin’s dog and shot the guy who gave me free falafel—the man is a grade A jerk-face.”
Lois matched his sigh and looked up at the ceiling, as if it would provide her with some answers, “The justice department won’t take my calls. And I can’t even ask my source who leaked the Boravian military expenditure files for more details because Luthor changed banks. And it’s not like Luthor has a new girlfriend who can leak us the details—”
Lois stopped. Blinked. “I mean, why did the guy even have a girlfriend when he was so obviously obsessed with Superman.” Lois turned and looked at Clark, pointed at him, “I mean—obsessed with you.”
She sat down on the sofa seat opposite him, and gave Clark that incredibly intense (and scary) look she sometimes got when she was about to propose a (highly dangerous) story.
“Lex Luthor wants Superman.”
Clark looked at Lois, nodded.
“Lex Luthor is doing all of this to get Superman.”
Clark, still stumped by Lois’ logic, nodded again.
“Lex Luthor, who has invested a large portion of his billionaire fortune into pursuing an attractive dark-haired male alien, only dates leggy European blonde models who he rarely seems to interact with, much less actually like.”
Clark was not following at all.
“And upon his release—after ten months of being in a high-security prison where he was most definitely not getting laid—he has chosen to pursue said alien, rather than immediately acquiring a new leggy blonde girlfriend. ”
Lois stood up.
“Clark. I think Superman needs to surrender himself.”
Clark looked up at her. Was Lois serious?
“Um, Lois, I tried that, remember? It led to me being imprisoned in a pocket universe while Luthor tortured me.”
“Yes, but have you considered that he only did that because he was unable to comprehend what other ways he might want to,” she paused, bent down to look at him directly in the eyes, “Torture you.”
Clark blinked.
“Lois, are you trying to suggest that Lex Luthor may have the hots for Superman?”
“Yes, I fucking am.”
Lois seated herself back down onto the couch.
“Clark, I didn’t want to bring this up,” She paused. Took a deep breath.
“When we were interns together at the Daily Planet, please tell me you knew how obvious your crush on Lex Luthor was? You had over twenty-one tabs opened on articles about him. You kept rewatching his same three interviews over and over again. The one time you met him you stared at him like he hung the moon.”
Clark stared back at Lois.
“Lois, he kidnapped my cousin’s dog. He murdered Malik Ali because he once gave me free falafel. He caused an international military crisis in order to have an excuse to kill me.”
“Yes, he did all of that to get you. Now it’s been ten days since his release, and there’s a new threat every single day.” Lois put up her hands. “You look exhausted at work Clark. You’re barely getting any sleep. The Justice Gang is dealing with multiple international incidents a day thanks to Luthor. The man is obsessed with you. Maybe it’s time you considered giving him what he wants.”
Clark swallowed.
"What does Lex Luthor want?”
Lois Lane smiled.
“To fuck Superman.”