Fic: Spark, G, Smallville/Iron Man

[azrielle-jones.livejournal.com]

Title: Spark
Author: Azrielle
Fandoms: Smallville, Iron Man (DC/Marvel)
Rating: G
Spoilers: None for SV/DCU, general for Iron Man
Characters: Clark Kent, Lex Luthor, Tony Stark, Lois Lane
Pairings: Clark/Lex friendship with pre-slash undertones
Word Count: 1,555
Summary: Ideas and conversations
Notes: Sequel to Weld.


spark:
1. noun the light produced by a sudden discontinuous discharge of electricity through air
2. noun anything that activates or stimulates; inspiration or catalyst


It's the Monday after a writer's convention in Los Angeles, but it feels like the first day of school after that summer you went to Disneyland.

Every little thing has been an arduous task today. Getting coffee from the break room felt like a death march through quick sand, your co-worker's voices droning like an ill-tuned brass section. The coffee poured like molasses into your seemingly bottomless cup. By the time you limped back to your desk, you expected it to be nearly lunchtime. A slow, burning dread crept up your spine when you realized it had only been five minutes.

You try to proof read one of Lois's articles. It's a job so endlessly boring that you unplug the monitor from your computer and pretend the whole thing crashed.

Lois comes back from a smoke break and gives you a heinous glare. You play innocent, shrugging and motioning vaguely with your hands, like it really was the computer's decision to quit early.

You actually believe you're in the clear until she tosses a hard copy onto your desk. The whoosh it makes is a whoosh of doom. And the article's even more boring on actual paper than it was on the screen.

By lunch, you've successfully doodled an epic battle between a dinosaur and a robot into the margins. The piece is still incoherent and riddled with spelling errors, but you've definitely improved it.

Lois glances over, her face melting into incredulous horror, before pinching into an expression of unholy rage.

"Smallville! What the f-"

Your phone rings. The two of you look back and forth between it and each other for two more rings before she darts at it like a cobra. You manage to grab the receiver first, swatting at her with your free hand.

"Daily Planet," You say professionally, as Lois gives up and slithers back to her own desk. You stick your tongue out at her for good measure before swiveling your chair around to face the wall. "Clark Kent speaking."

"Clark Kent." A strangely familiar voice chuckles over the line. "I was… surprised to find your card."

"Um…" Your eyes bug with the physical effort of thinking who this could be.

"You know, it's actually refreshing to be unrecognized, even if it is over the phone, though I can't say it's not just as awkward-"

"Mr. Stark!" You blurt loudly, as if electrocuted. You have to swivel your chair around stealthily, click by click and peek to see if anyone overheard. Most the of bullpen's gone for lunch and Lois has her headphones on (iPod blasting) and is chewing gum like cud.

"I thought we covered this, Kent? It's-"

"Tony. Right. Sorry." The force of your grin makes you rock back in the chair and you swing your feet up onto a lopsided file cabinet.

"Pretty sneaky of you to hide a business card in with my smokes…" Stark needles good-naturedly.

"It wasn't- I didn't-" Breathe. "I just… figured if you needed a cigarette you… maybe needed a friend more."

In all honesty, you couldn't be more of a dork, but sometimes it feels possible.

Your face reddens when you hear loud laughter on the other end. If a pit of Hell wasn't kind enough to swallow you earlier today, it really should make up for it now.

"Oh, Kent," There's another short laugh, but it's softer. "That's- that's exactly the reason I called you." Tony's voice warms at the end, then: "That sounded pretty gay didn't it?"

Which startles a laugh from your chest and you rock back farther in your chair.

"Only a little." Apparently you can banter, and it surprises you.

"Oh good, I'd hate to come on too strong. I mean, we've only met once and you know how these long distance things go-"

You laugh so hard this time you actually manage to tip your chair over backwards. You dent the desk with your head on the way down, but you can bend it back later. Now, you quickly right the chair, pick up the phone and listen to Lois cackle like a murder of crows.

"So… this is a personal call and not a professional one, Mr. Stark?" You tease, pretending like nothing happened, though he had to have heard the crash.

"Oh yes. I've found it's easy to find good press but difficult to find good people. People I trust."  The light tone of the conversation fades a little.

"I know the feeling," You murmur, and you don't know if he's heard or not because he continues:

"I've got this idea…"



When you get back to the penthouse, Lex is in the kitchen. His suit jacket's off, the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled to the elbow. The purple ("It's violet, Clark.") tie has withered loosely around his neck.

He's at the counter, blending something in wet, crunching pulses. He started out drinking regular protein shakes, but the scientist in him is always finding ways to "improve" them.

During a pause in the noise, you say:

"I brought Chinese."

Lex turns, looks at you, then at the large, greasy bag of food, then at the blender and says:

"Thank God." He removes the pitcher from the base and places the entire thing in the sink, and takes the bag so you can get comfortable.

You speed through a shower and change into a Met-U tee and flannel bottoms.

When you return to the kitchen, Lex has arranged your cheap, last-minute take-out into what looks like the most expensive thing on Metropolis's most exclusive menu. He even found sake, and although you both know it's Japanese, it's still your tradition. He moves the plates to the breakfast bar and pours the drinks.

You climb into the high, dark wood chair and dig in when Lex hands you chopsticks.

"How was work?"

You moan pitifully around a delicious mouthful of noodles. You groan:

"The worst." Your brain boils a little just thinking about The Day The Planet Stood Still, when you remember that little light of respite. "Except- You'll never guess who called me."

With his tiny sake cup, Lex motions a "go on".

"Tony Stark."

"Clark Kent: the boy who collects billionaires like baseball cards. Who's next? Bruce Wayne? Bill Gates?"

You kick him (gently) in the shin and he laughs Chinese food back onto his plate ungracefully. He wipes his mouth with a purple ("It's plum, Clark.") napkin and apologizes, shit-eating-grin on his face and soy sauce on his lips.

"What did he say?" Lex asks, more than a little interested and maybe a little jealous.

"He told me about some new ideas. Not-for-the-military ideas."

"Does he want you to do a piece on these ideas?" Lex sips his drink coolly, elbows on the bar.

"No… he just-" You flounder a bit because it's weird, but since weird is relative to you, a billionaire calling on your lunch break to talk about armored suits that fly is barely a blip on the radar. "He needs a friend, I think."

Lex is quiet for a moment. He sets his cup down and wipes a hand across his bottom lip, thoughtfully.

"Can't say I haven't had the same problem. Seems he's even thought of the same solution." Lex looks pointedly at you, and you roll your eyes.

"He doesn't want to build weapons anymore." You look at Lex, a little helpless, like that statement plus you equals 'makes sense'.

"I heard about that. The stock dropped fifty-six-and-a-half points. Glad I didn't have any."

"Lex, I-" He's pushing your buttons, and you can't tell if it's intentional or not which only pushes more. "He wants to change, and he has these ideas, and for some reason thinks I can help. Wants me to help, and-"

"Clark." Lex puts a warm, solid hand on your leg, its pressure calming. "He wants your help because you're compassionate and brilliant and-" He looks down briefly, then meets your eyes. "You don't need my permission." He says the last word carefully, like it's only what he means if it's what you mean.

Turning your head, you go hot. "I didn't- that wasn't-" He removes his hand and the movement pulls your eyes with it. You meet his gaze again and a smile tickles at your mouth. "Thanks." Because whether or not you asked for it, or intended to, you have his permission.

You both finish the meal talking about Lex breaking in his new assistant. He says he likes to snatch them right out of college to stop them from forming bad habits. But you know he's a fantastic boss and it's practically an act of charity.

Your days may ooze by like clotting blood, but your evenings are over much too fast, like adrenaline. Cleaning up dinner, watching TV and playing a little X-Box –all with Lex at your side- seems to have rushed by on fast-forward.

It gets late, and you leave Lex in front of the Discovery Channel with only a small file from work, and head to your room.

Tuesdays are only slightly better than Mondays. But the sooner you go to work, the sooner you can come home.

 

Comments

[adafrog.livejournal.com]

Cool.

[luxluthor.livejournal.com]

Way cool:)

[wordwitch.livejournal.com]

Oh, I do like this pair of stories. I like the way you have set up our people.

Pray, do continue!

[alesca-munroe.livejournal.com]

So much love for your writing. Lex is great ("It's plum, Clark." Priceless) and that bit where he's trying to improve a protein shake was good. Clark unplugging his monitor was a good move(must try that sometime!)

Can't wait to read more.

[azrielle-jones.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much (again)! I'm glad you liked this part, too.

It's very helpful to know what people like (or dislike) about a fic! That's my fave kind of feedback :)

[azrielle-jones.livejournal.com]

Thank you for the feedback :)

[azrielle-jones.livejournal.com]

Thanks.

[azrielle-jones.livejournal.com]

Way thanks :)