Oviparity

by Melisande

Summary:

"This is different."

All thanks to cathalin for betaing and laughing and generally existing.

---

This is different.

Of course, you knew Lex wouldn’t want to go to Smallville for Thanksgiving. He never does. Every year he grumbles, and makes up last minute corporate crises (last year it was something about clones and taxes), and then goes and does his best to be charming to your parents. After dinner you spend the night at the mansion having Smallville sex. Sometimes you play delivery boy and billionaire. You’d figured it’d be the same this year.

But now Lex has locked himself in the bathroom and refuses to come out to talk about it. Apparently he prefers to discuss it through the closed door.

“Your parents hate me!” he yells, increasingly hysterical with each repetition.

“Dad doesn’t hate you,” you respond feebly. Strangely, this is true. Dad and Lex have somehow reached an accommodation where they talk about cars and organic fertilizer and comic books. Mom, however, has never accepted Lex and there’s no use pretending otherwise.

“He no longer thinks I’m evil incarnate. Unlike your mother. It’s not a good enough reason.”

“C’mon, Lex,” you try, “Mom doesn’t think you’re evil, she just…. just thinks,” you’ve stolen her little boy and made him into a big homo, “she just worries about me. Lex, please come out.” You should be on patrol right now but you can’t leave Lex like this.

“No.” Lex had taken a box of Mystic Mints and the two latest Warrior Angels into the bathroom with him. Also a blanket. He’s never done anything like it before. “Go away. We have nothing to discuss.”

“Okay,” you agree reluctantly. Maybe it’s best to wait until Lex calms down. “See you in a few hours.”

Lex sniffs. You go to work.

The second time you wake the next morning it’s to the smell of frying sausages. The first time was to Lex’s mouth on your cock. He’d sucked you slowly and sweetly, then fucked you into oblivion, a very nice oblivion. You stretch luxuriantly, remembering, then superspeed through a shower and out to the kitchen. Lex is sitting at the table, a huge stack of maple syrup-soaked pancakes and sausages in front of him.

“Batter’s ready,” he says indistinctly through a mouthful of pancake.

“Great,” you say, pouring batter and studying Lex. He usually has just coffee for breakfast, even on Sundays, unless you convince him to try a piece of toast. He likes to make pancakes for dinner, but now he’s just hoovering them up. Well, it’s good that he’s eating. He doesn’t eat enough.

“About Thanksgiving, Clark,” he says as you sit down across from him. “I’ll go, of course.”

“Thank you,” you say, relieved. You’d sort of figured that last night’s argument was finished when Lex was all over you earlier, but it’s nice to have verbal confirmation. “Pete and Lana will be there, so it won’t be just us.”

“Um.” Lex continues shoveling in pancakes and sausage. Pete and Lana are not high on his (short) list of people to spend time with, but they’re higher than your parents. You’ll have to do something really nice for him to make up for Thanksgiving. Something involving leather, maybe.

“But I want to spend Christmas with Dad.”

Christmas in Brazil with Lionel. Lex has not expressed any interest in Lionel since forcing him to move there, except to keep tabs on his efforts to take over the country. And now he wants to spend Christmas there?

“Okay.” Your parents will sulk and make you feel guilty about not spending Christmas with them and you’ll have to take time off from the Planet, but what can you say? Lionel’s no longer a danger to you since Lex somehow convinced him that he should leave the country, permanently. You didn't ask how. Maybe Lex is finally ready to reconcile with Lionel. You try to think it’s a good thing. “That’ll be nice.”

Lex smirks at you over a forkful of pancake. He knows that you'd prefer it if Lionel were even farther away than Brazil. Alpha Centauri, maybe. It could be arranged. You push back from the table and stand behind Lex to massage his shoulders.

“Ummm,” he says, leaning into your hands. “How about if we skip the museum and just spend the day in bed?”

A bunch of terracotta warriors or warm, naked Lex? That’s an easy one.

When you’re back in bed, Lex snuggles into you and falls asleep immediately. This wasn’t what you had in mind, but it’s nice. You wrap yourself around him and listen to him breathe. After a while, as Lex keeps sleeping (and snoring, though he always denies it), you listen to his heart beating, then his digestive system gurgling. You think maybe there’s something different, and file the thought away for later as you drift off.

~ * ~

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask again, knowing it’ll annoy him but needing reassurance. Lex is never sick, yet he’s been throwing up every morning.

“Yes,” he says, looking over some files before throwing them into his overnight bag. “It’s just stress, Clark. I feel fine as soon as I’m done. Maybe Thanksgiving with your parents,” and he does that thing where he conveys rolling eyes without actually doing anything so juvenile, “will help me relax.”

Right. Because these little Kent/Luthor get-togethers are so pleasant. You’re worried about him. Maybe you should just forget Thanksgiving and spend the long weekend at home together. Not possible - you’d never hear the end of it. But you just want to take care of Lex right now. Nothing else seems important at all.

“We don’t have to stay long,” you offer as you check your bag. Toothbrush, socks, cape, leather thong; you’re ready. “We can go to the castle right after dinner.”

“Stop fussing, Clark! I’m fine,” he grumps. “Let’s go.” He stalks out, Lionel-fashion.

~ * ~

“We’re here,” you say, after sitting in the car for a few minutes watching Lex sleep. He looks so peaceful, you hate to wake him up, especially to go into the farmhouse. He's not okay - you know this because he let you drive, which he never, ever does. You feel like taking him to the barn and watching him some more. Or something.

“Oh, huh,” Lex says groggily, rubbing his eyes like a little kid. “Did I fall asleep?”

“About five minutes out of the city. You’ve been working too hard.” As always, but you can hardly complain, seeing the hours you keep.

“Not really, but I was tired. Well, let’s go in. They’ll be wondering what we’re doing out here.” Lex gives you a look, the kind he used to give you back when you were in high school, before you knew what it meant. Now you know, and you consider the barn option for a fleeting moment. But no, your parents are on the porch, waiting.

They both hug you and Dad gives Lex a one-armed squeeze. Mom does that air kiss thing with Lex that she never does with anyone else. “Come on in,” she says, leading the way. “Pete and Lana have been here for ages.” A familiar blanket of guilt begins to settle on you as you enter.

The conversation over warm spiced apple cider is mostly about Smallville: the new menu at the Talon, Pete’s law business, the farm. You’d hoped that with Lana’s pregnancy your mom would finally stop looking from Lana to you and sighing, but no. Now she’s looking from Lana’s bulging stomach to you and sighing. It’s not an improvement. You ignore her and let the conversation flow around you. Then Mom’s voice jolts you to attention.

“But we’re boring Lex,” she says sweetly, turning to him. “Tell us, have you taken over any new companies lately?”

Lex had given no sign of boredom, had, in fact, been participating more than you were. You know this is Mom’s way of cutting him out of the herd and it makes you mad. You put your arm around him, feeling protective suddenly. He turns to look at you, startled. The two of you don’t touch each other here. It’s just easier that way. You tighten your arm, smiling, then look at Mom. “Lex is on vacation; he’d probably rather not talk about business.”

“Much rather,” Lex agrees. “Pete, I think Jonathan’s suggestion that you consider politics has merit. You’re a lawyer, you’re well liked, you have a spotless past, you’d be a shoo-in for City Council. And you seem to be more interested in politics than you are in law.”

“Politics!” Mom says as if it’s a dirty word. “Let’s not discuss that today.”

Probably a good idea, but Lex wasn’t discussing politics. You kiss his head. Mom looks away.

“Has anyone seen the new Pirates of the Caribbean?” Lana asks, and you feel Lex relax against you as he joins in the discussion. Mom goes into the kitchen, then pokes her head out to ask you to help her.

“What shall I do?” you ask as if you don’t know she’s pulled you in here for a Talk. She always does this - gets you alone and asks if you’re happy. No matter how many times you tell her you are, she keeps asking, apparently not believing you and hoping for a different answer.

“Get the turkey out of the oven and put it on the counter,” she directs. You do that, then stand waiting as she stirs something. “Clark….” Here it comes. “I’d prefer it if you,” she purses her lips, “restrained yourself while you’re here.”

A moment of blankness, then you realize what she’s talking about.

“I just put my arm around him!” You’ve regressed to thirteen, as is usual when you’re here.

“And kissed him.” Her lips are pursed as she gestures to you to pick up the turkey so that she can pour the pan juices into a pitcher.

“On the head! He’s my husband!”

“No, he’s not,” your mother says, skimming the fat from the juices. “Marriage is a sacred vow, a commitment between two people that….” blah blah blah. You’ve heard it all before, and let it pass for the sake of peace, but for some reason this time it’s infuriating you even more than usual.

“Yes, he IS!” And they probably heard that in the living room. You lower your voice. “Mom, I love Lex. He loves me. I get that you don’t like that. I get that you wish I was straight, and married to Lana, and living in Smallville. Lex gets it too, but he keeps showing up for these family dinners so you can belittle and ignore him. He does it because he loves me, and he wants me to be happy.” Why haven’t you said this before?

“All we want is your happiness, Clark,” she says, as if you’ve raised a cue card.

“Did you even hear me?”

She adds pepper to the pan and tastes. “I hear that you’re choosing him over your family.”

She didn’t hear you. She never has, when it comes to Lex. “Mom…..” You don’t want this to be happening. You never have, and that’s why you’ve always gone along. But tonight you feel a need to make a stand. “Lex is my family. So are you. You’re the one making it one or the other. Not me, not Lex, not Dad. You.”

“And you choose Lex,” she says.

“Yes,” you say, accepting the hot pan she gives you and placing it on the counter. “I do.”

~ * ~

“Have you picked out a name yet?” Mom asks, spooning more stuffing onto Lana’s plate.

“We’re thinking maybe Morgan,” Pete says. “Works either way.” He helps himself to more sweet potatoes. “These are fabulous, Mrs. K.”

“Morgan, that’s nice,” you mumble into your turkey. Mom is acting as if the kitchen discussion never happened, and you’re fine with that. Your whole desire is to keep a low profile, eat pie, and get the heck out of here.

“You don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Lex asks, just as if he’s interested. He’s so good at this. You turn to look at him. He’s serving himself another helping of turkey . You squeeze his knee and he bumps it against you.

Mom is being coldly formal to Lex, as usual, and you know how it hurts him. Or used to hurt him before he gave up and sealed himself off. Lex giving up on anything is probably unique. Way to go, Mom. You glare at your plate and squeeze his knee again.

~ * ~

Finally you can go. Mom and Dad protest that it’s early, but Lana and Pete left an hour ago, the dishes are done, and you want to be alone with Lex.

“We didn’t have to rush off like that, Clark,” Lex says as he sinks down onto the leather sofa in the library.

“Yes, we did,” you say, sitting next to him and taking him in your arms. “I couldn’t stand to listen to Mom another minute. I’m sorry she’s like that to you, Lex.” You nuzzle his head, always so soft.

“She’s your mother, Clark. It’s natural for her to be concerned about you.”

“Yeah, but she’s the one who’s making me unhappy. It’s way past time for her to accept us. I’m going to talk to Dad in the morning.”

“I can take it, Clark,” Lex says, pulling back to look at you. “Don’t say anything you might regret.”

“I won’t.” Lex has slipped his hand under your sweater and you don’t want to talk about your parents anymore. You bend your head to kiss him and he meets you eagerly, as he always does, kissing back and pulling you closer. His hands are busy, stroking and squeezing, hitting all the spots that drive you crazy. You push him down onto the sofa, not breaking the kiss. You want to kiss him forever.

“Upstairs,” he suggests, pulling his mouth away from yours, which is just wrong.

“Here,” you say, giving into the necessity of separating enough to take off your sweater and his shirt. You look down at him, glowing in the soft light, and run your hands over his arms, his chest, his stomach. He’s so beautiful. “Here,” you repeat in a whisper, leaning over to lick his neck. “Like the first time.” You lick further down, savoring the taste, listening to him sigh.

“Yeah….” he exhales with a hitch as you reach his nipple, “except now you know what to do.”

“You didn’t complain,” you reply with a gentle bite. Then you spend some time proving that you do indeed know exactly what to do to make him pant and moan. He, of course, is not passive during your demonstration.

“I think I did this, our first time,” he gasps, getting a hand down your pants to grab your ass, kneading it. You can feel his hard cock pushing against your stomach, and you want it. “And this.” A finger teases and you push back into it with a grunt. “You liked it,” he says with a reminiscent smile, his finger still stoking between your cheeks.

“Still do,” you say, unnecessarily. “And I think I did this.” You manage to undo his pants and pull them down. He’s wearing underwear, probably in honor of dinner with your parents. There’s a wet spot on the plum silk. You sink back down onto him and rub against him mindlessly for a minute. It feels so good: warm, hard Lex, rubbing back. You rise up to kiss him, still humping but taking the time to lick the scar that you love so much, to kiss the corner of his mouth as it curls up, then plunge back in. His tongue meets yours in a familiar dance. Then he draws your attention backward with his finger. Your ass rises to meet it as you groan into his mouth. He slips the tip of the finger in and fucks your mouth with his tongue, telling you what he’s going to do without words. Sensations are blurring into each other, his hot tongue in your mouth, his silky skin against yours, his eyes, dark blue now, looking into yours, his teasing fingers. You need him.

“Can I fuck you, Clark?” he asks, his voice low and growly, like it was the first time he asked. Like it gets during sex.

“Yes,” you say, your own voice deeper than usual, “God, Lex.” You might come right now. “Hurry.”

He pushes a finger inside you and twists it, bracing himself as you arch against him and moan. “You’re sure?” he asks, fucking you with his fingers, pushing his cock into you and looking up with a little smile.

“Fuck…..” you groan as he moves his fingers again.

“Clark, God, so hot, always, so…. I want you. Now.”

You speed off the rest of your clothes and his, then kneel above him. He’s flushed, cheeks and head and chest, rosy and panting and all yours. You look at his cock, pink and leaking and so hard. You want it inside you, but you also want to look at it. You scoot back and bend over to kiss it, then, while you’re there, suck it a little. You start to get into it: the taste, the smell, the whimpers. He tugs on your hair, hard.

“Fuck you.” It’s a command or a plea. Both. His hips echo it. You position yourself over him. "Lube?" he asks, but he knows you don't want to bother. He takes himself in his hand and you sink as slowly as you can onto him. He tenses as you do, trying not to move. His eyes are open wide, his mouth soft, his cock hard and pulsing in you.

“Clark.”

You say something. Not really words. You move, rising up and easing down slowly, feeling him fill you, watching him as you do. He puts his hands on your hips, just resting, letting you set the pace, though he’s beginning to meet you with his thrusts.

“So good,” he pants, pushing harder. “So tight, God, so Clark, faster…” He wraps his hand around your cock and strokes the head with his thumb the way you like it.

He’s going to come in a second, you know the signs. So are you. You bend in a possibly super way to kiss him, then sit up and drive yourself down on him, clenching your muscles as you do, moving faster and faster. He stills, looking up at you, then arches and comes with a sharp cry just as your own climax begins. You feel his warmth flooding you as you spurt all over his hand and you don't know which feels better.

You ease off of him to lie half on top, your head on his chest, your legs tangled with his. You listen as his breathing and heart slow and you press closer. This is home, not the yellow farmhouse. This is where you’re at peace. You look up at him, wanting to tell him how happy he makes you.

He’s sound asleep, drooling a little. He must really be exhausted. You carry him upstairs and put him to bed, finish undressing both of you, and join him. He turns to you, still asleep, and throws an arm over you, pulling you closer. You snuggle in and fall asleep to his soft snores.

~ * ~

Lex can be so stubborn sometimes. There he was this morning, a week after Thanksgiving, throwing up again, and five minutes later he’s at the table insisting he’s fine and asking if you’ll make waffles. You consider withholding waffles, but give in because you like to feed him. Besides, he obviously needs the calories. Although he has been filling out a bit lately from all the food he’s been putting away. You wonder what kind of illness causes both nausea and ravenous appetite.

“You’re not fine,” you repeat, serving waffles. “Either you see your doctor or I take you to the Fortress and you let Al look at you.”

He frowns at the syrup, about to refuse.

“Please, Lex, I’m worried about you. I can’t sleep at night, I can’t think during the day….” Okay, it’s manipulative to use his love for you to get him to take care of himself, but whatever works.

“Okay,” he gives in, “we’ll go see Al. We haven’t been up there in a while, anyway.”

“Thank you,” you sigh, relieved. Al will know what’s wrong. “Can we go tonight?”

“Yes, I’ll just clear up a few things at the office today. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” you grin. “You know I love whisking you away to my secret alien love nest.”

He smiles at you, the curly one, then applies himself to his waffle.

~ * ~

“Hello, Clark, hello, Lex,” Al welcomes you. “Would you like a snack? A drink?”

“Hi, Al,” you say, “we’ll just get settled and then we need to talk, okay?”

“Hello, Al,” Lex adds. “Yes, let’s have a snack. Surprise us.”

You had called the artificial intelligence that runs - or is - the Fortress “Computer” while it was teaching you about your heritage. When you’d brought Lex up, he’d started calling it “Al” sometime during his nightly sessions with it. He’d been more interested in Kryptonian history than you were, and absolutely fascinated by Al’s knowledge of both earth and alien chemistry. He and Al run experiments together. Lex has tried to explain them, but you were a Journalism major. You can see that Lex is happy with his test tubes and occasional explosions and that’s all you need to know. Al and Lex also play endless rounds of a world domination game that they invented.

You’re pretty sure it’s a game.

When you’ve changed out of the uniform and messed up the bed a little - you can’t keep your hands off of Lex lately, not that it was ever easy - the two of you return to the big room. A platter of cheese and fruit is waiting in the food replicator. You put it on the table and sit on the sofa. Lex sits beside you and begins to demolish the food.

You tell Al about Lex’s symptoms while Lex munches. His attitude is that it’s your problem, not his. He expresses this by remaining silent and not rolling his eyes. Al asks a few questions, then falls silent. Thinking? It’s hard to tell with an artificial intelligence.

“I have a hypothesis, but I will need to examine you, Lex, to confirm it,” it says at length. “As soon as possible.” Does it sound excited? It doesn’t sound worried, anyway.

“Might as well get it over with,” Lex sighs. “The lab?”

“No, I have created a room for this situation,” Al replies. What situation? You trail along behind Lex to a small room with an examination table and mysterious machines that look vaguely medical. Lex undresses and hops up onto the table. He submits to an exam by machine as you watch anxiously. When Al says he’s done, Lex pulls on his clothes and you return to the main room. Lex heads for the food again.

“Well?” you ask, pacing.

“Ah….” the computer says. “Lex, you asked me earlier to surprise you. I believe my information regarding your condition will fulfill that request.”

“What?” you ask. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing is wrong with me!” Lex insists. Of course.

“Lex is correct, Clark,” Al says. “As he so often is.”

Lex smirks into his apple. You want to shake both of them. “Just tell us!”

“Very well.” The computer pauses. “Perhaps I should give you some history first.”

“NO!” you yell. Lex and Al and their damn history. You plunk yourself down next to Lex and put an arm around him. “Tell us.”

“You’re going to have a child.”

Lex slowly puts his apple down. You stare at each other for a long moment. His face is utterly blank. Your brain is likewise. Did Al just say…..?

“Congratulations! I did not know if this was possible, though I had hoped. Kal-El, you are not the last son of Krypton after all!” Al sounds positively bubbly. Emotions flit across Lex’s face so fast you can barely keep up: outrage, horror, fear.

“I’m pregnant?” he asks, his voice going up an octave. He looks down at his stomach, which isn’t its usual perfectly flat self, then back at you. You know you look as if you’d been embalmed with a particularly stupid expression on your face. “Pregnant?”

“Yes, Lex, pregnant.” The replicator chimes and opens to reveal a bottle of Macallan and two glasses. “Alcohol will not harm the child,” Al says.

“I’ll get it,” you say, doing so. You can do this, at least - pour a drink for your pregnant husband. You do it again after he gulps the first one, then settle next to him with your own glass. He’s thinking now, you can almost hear him. Neither of you has said that it’s impossible because you’ve learned to trust Al. If it says Lex is pregnant, he is.

“Where does it come out?” Lex asks, unerringly finding a key question.

“The logical place,” Al responds.

“A baby is going to come out of my ass?" He looks as horrified as you feel.

“Kryptonians are oviparous,” Al says, not really answering the question, you notice. It might be a Kryptonian thing. Lex notices too, having experience with the phenomenon.

“I’m going to lay an egg? Out of my ass?” Now he’s looking at you as if this is all your fault. Which, come to think of it, it is. You put your arm back around him tentatively.

“I didn’t know,” you whisper.

He looks at you searchingly, then nods. “Fuck,” he whispers, leaning into you.

You put your hand on his stomach. “We’re going to have a baby,” you realize in wonder.

“We’re going to have an egg,” he corrects you, pissy. “I’m going to.”

“But when it - hatches - we’ll have a baby. Right, Al?”

“Yes, Clark." Al sounds positively ecstatic, for a computer. "And, Lex, I can make the birth comfortable for you.”

Lex looks relieved. “How long before it’s out? The egg. And then how long…look, Al, just tell us everything.” He pours more scotch. You worry. Al said alcohol was okay, though, and Lex certainly deserves anything he wants.

Al goes into more detail than you're really interested in. You and Lex are having a baby, and that's about all you're capable of taking in at the moment. Lex is listening to it all, of course, eyes bright with interest except when he remembers he's going to have an egg. You can tell by the way his head twitches that he's weirded out, and then he goes back to taking notes, until you remember to ask Al to provide hard copies.

You don't listen, being too occupied with freaking out and watching Lex. What the hell are you and Lex going to do with a kid? It'll be cute, though. Maybe it'll have Lex's eyes. Oh, crap, what if it has your abilities? You resume freaking out, silently, so as not to interrupt. Oh, but maybe it'll have Lex's hair! Ex-hair. A little red-headed kid ...

"What?" Lex is frowning ominously, like he does when an unfortunate soon-to-be-former subordinate has displeased him or when an experiment refuses to confirm his hypothesis. You tune back in.

"You are familiar with the concept, Lex." Al sounds like a teacher now, which always kind of annoys you. "Hormones affect the emotions, pregnancy hormones will affect your emotions and behavior. Your child will be paramount in your concerns for the foreseeable future."

"Hmph." Lex's frown isn't quite as scary now, but he's not happy. You remember all the reasons he has for not being happy about being controlled and shudder. This might suck.

"You as well, Kal-El. Your concern for your child will override any other of your concerns. In addition, both of you will feel an increased desire to bond your relationship."

What does that even mean? You're about to ask when your Justice League alarm goes off. Damn. You check in. It’s a hurricane in North Carolina. Definitely a job for you. You change, give Lex a quick kiss, tell him not to stay up too late, and go.

You’re away for two days. When you get back to the Fortress, Lex is waiting for you, wearing a business suit. Two big, full garbage bags sit next to him along with his overnight bag and a briefcase overflowing with papers. He greets you with a hug.

“I’m sorry to ask you to fly any more, Clark, but I have to get back to the office,” he says.

“It’s fine,” you say. You feel bad about stranding him here. And you’ve missed him. He doesn’t look any more pregnant than he did when you left. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Clark.”

You take a high-speed shower, grab a new uniform from the rack, your bag, and you’re ready to go. You both say good-bye to Al, and you take off.

~ * ~

When you get home from work the next day the penthouse is full of strangers and noise and dust. Lex, in command mode, is directing the activity, whatever it is. You stand in the doorway looking around.

He pulls you into the foyer and into his arms. You’d planned on asking him what Al had said about the baby the minute you saw him, but his tongue is in your mouth, his hands are gripping your ass, and it’s been, what, a few days. You can’t count while Lex is rubbing against you like that, like he wants to climb inside you.

“Bedroom,” you gasp into his mouth, hoping you’ll make it there before you tear his clothes off in front of all these strangers filling your home. It’s a near thing, and his shirt is a little torn, but you get to the bedroom and slam the door shut. The frame splinters a bit. And then he’s on you, pulling your pants off and taking your cock in his mouth. You arch up into it, hearing your pants rip around your ankles. It happens. Luckily, you have a rich husband. A rich horny husband. He’s swallowing you down as if he’s been on a fast and you’re a buffet. His soft, velvety throat works around your cock as he hums happily. You need to see him so you raise up on one elbow. He feels it and lifts his eyes, black with blue rims, to look at you. Then, still looking, still humming, he pushes a finger into you and you’re gone, shooting down his throat and yelling.

Damn, that was good. Just what you needed. You’re collapsed into the bed, full of love and empty of come when he straddles you, cock in hand. His face as he looks down at you is almost fierce, his brow furrowed, his lips stretched thin over his teeth. You reach out an eager hand to his, helping him stroke. His mouth opens in a silent cry as hot, white streams hit your chest. He uses both hands to smear his come all over you, then falls on you, breathing hard.

“Whoa,” you say eventually.

“Mmmf,” he replies, rolling off, sticking a little.

“Shower?”

“Yeah.”

After the shower, Lex gets rid of the workpeople, thanking them for a job well done. You look at the job. It seems to be a really big window seat, jutting into the living room. There’s a rectangular recessed area surrounded by about two feet of flat surface all around with a large drawer under it. It’s made of the same bleached oak as the floor. The garbage bags from the Fortress are sitting on the ledge.

“It’s for the nest,” Lex says.

The nest. “Tell me everything,” you invite, sitting on the sofa and patting the space next to you.

“Let me just get the files,” Lex says, walking down the hall to his office and returning with several folders. He sits next to you. “First of all, Clark, I’m fine, the egg is fine. It should be out sometime in mid-January. I probably won’t gain more than ten pounds or so. And aside from an increased appetite and need for sleep and possibly some slight moodiness, there won’t be any complications for me. Or you.” He smiles, open. You’re amazed at him, as always. He’s just taking this whole being pregnant with an egg thing in his stride. Of course, he’s been with you for over ten years; he’s used to rolling with the alien punches.

“Do you need check-ups? Any special food, or anything?”

“I need to see Al weekly. I thought Sundays.” He opens a folder. “I’ve printed a tentative schedule. Tell me if it works for you.” You look at the schedule. Every hour of every day from January on is colored blue or purple. Eight hours a night are striped.

“Sundays are fine, but what’s the rest of it?”

“One of us has to be with it at all times,” Lex explains. “A mattress will be delivered tonight, and we’ll sleep here.” He gestures at the new addition. “I’ve been arranging things at the office so I can work from home, but I’ll have to go to meetings and so forth occasionally. You’ll have to be here then.”

“Okay,” you agree. This is so weird. But Lex has it under control. “Can we have sex?”

Lex smirks at you, moving closer. “Priorities in order, I like that,” he says in the velvet voice that drives you wild. “That’s what the drawer is for. We can put the egg there.”

Well, whew. No real downside, then. Lex is okay, the baby is okay, sex with Lex is okay. But what if you have to chase a story? What if the world needs you? Whatever, the story can wait, the world can deal. Stick to the important stuff. “When will it, um, hatch?”

“In March, the middle. It’ll be tiny, by human standards, but fully formed. It’ll eat pureed food. My compliments to your people, Clark, on not being mammalian.” It takes you a second to get that, then you grin. Lex is going to lay an egg, yet he can be thankful that he won’t have to breast feed. He’s still talking. “We need to talk about a nanny. I’d prefer not to have one but I think we’ll have to. I’ve started looking into agencies. We’ll interview the candidates together.” He hands you a list. “We won’t know the gender until it hatches, so I’ve taken a page from Pete and Lana.” He hands you another list, this one unisex baby names. You skim it and find the right one.

“This,” you say, pointing.

“Clark. We don’t have to.”

“I like it. Logan Kent Luthor.”

“Clark.” He kisses your cheek and rifles through the papers, looking down at them. He's a little pink, pleased, but not wanting to make a big deal out of it. “Okay, then we can fill out these applications to preschool now.”

“Lex, wait….” he’s way ahead of you, as usual. “You’re going to…the egg is coming out in January. We need to be with it. And that’s what this,” you gesture to the new structure, “is for?”

“Yes, the nest. We need the mattress.” He pulls out his cell phone and punches in a number. You listen to him arrange for an immediate delivery. “They’ll be here within a half hour,” he says, looking satisfied. “Let’s get the sheets.”

“Nest?” you ask as you pull new sheets out of the dryer - and Lex did laundry? - and hand them to Lex. He rubs his face into them, inhaling.

“Good, these will be fine,” he says, going back to the living room and putting the sheets into the recessed area. He fluffs them up, then opens one of the garbage bags. Fluffy red stuff spills out. You look a question at him.

“Al made it. It’s an approximation of what Kryptonians use in their nests.” You take two handfuls of the soft fluff and rub your face in it. It feels good. It almost feels familiar. You start to empty the bag. Lex helps, then looks at his watch, annoyed.

“Where’s that mattress?” He plucks at the sheets and moves red stuff around.

“It’ll be here,” you say soothingly, wondering if you’re observing a mood swing. It’s going to be really hard to tell the difference between normal Lex and moody pregnant Lex. “Can we use our old mattress?” You feel impatient, too. You want to get settled.

“No, it’s a special size.” He’s piling the fluff up on the ledge and organizing it. “But we need pillows!” He’s up and walking to the bedroom, returning with both arms full. You pull him down to sit between your legs and wrap both arms around him.

“Lex,” you begin, “are you - do you want this?” You’ve never even talked about adopting, and now you’re having a baby. You want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything except Lex, but you have no idea how he feels about it. You put a hand on his warm stomach. “A baby?”

He leans back into you. “Logan,” he says firmly, his hand on yours. “Yes, Clark, I do." He twists to look at you. “Do you?"

"Yes, I ..." You pull him closer, unable to find words. He places his hand over yours. Sometimes words aren’t necessary.

~ * ~

“Merry Christmas!” you say heartily, hugging Mom, then Dad. “Come on in!” Lex greets them and hangs up their coats as you put the presents they’ve brought under the tree. “Sit down! Cider?” You pour from the pitcher without waiting for an answer and hand them the glasses.

“Lovely tree,” Mom says, sipping. Yeah, it is. You and Lex have been collecting ornaments for ten years. Some are from places you’ve visited together, some you’ve made yourself with heatvision, and some Lex made in the lab. You like those the best, even though they look weird. You all talk about the ornaments for a while. It’s going okay so far. Your parents hadn’t been pleased when you told them that Lionel was coming for Christmas and that therefore you and Lex wouldn’t be in Smallville. There’d been no question of inviting them for Christmas Day - that was one thing everyone could agree on. Lionel, Mom, and Dad together? No.

“Doing some remodeling?” Dad asks, looking at the nest with interest. He rises and runs a hand over the smooth wood. “Nice work.”

“Yes, it had to be,” Lex says, raising an eyebrow at you. And you’d love to encourage some woodworking talk right now. Walnut, oak, dovetails. Whatever. Or maybe you need to check on the roast beef? But no, that eyebrow is still raised. You obey it.

“Mom, Dad,” you begin as dad sits down. “Lex and I have something to tell you.”

Mom’s face squinches as if she’s tasted the gravy and it’s too salty. Dad leans back, waiting. You look at Lex. He looks back, also waiting. This is your show. You hate that. You feel like flying away. One of the nice things about being with Lex is that he commands the spotlight and you can hide in the shadows. It works. But not tonight.

“Yes, son?” Dad asks, putting his arm around Mom and pulling her in. “Spit it out.”

“We’re going to have a baby.” It’s the first time you’ve told anyone, of course. It feels good, never mind your parents’ dumbfounded expressions. You put an arm around Lex and say it again.

“You’re adopting?” Dad asks. “That’s wonderful! When do you get it? Her? Him? Martha, we’re going to be grandparents!” He engulfs Mom in a hug.

You want to leave it there, but that’s not possible, especially with Lex poking his sharp shoulder into you. “I know, I will, I am,” you whisper into his ear. He pokes you again.

“Not adopting. Our baby.” Your chest swells up, making Lex adjust his shoulder. “Ours.” You realize that you’re feeling some sort of primitive pride in having impregnated your mate, but that doesn’t stop the puffing. You can barely stop yourself from crowing.

“Yes, ours,” Lex says, realizing that you’re hopeless. The two of you have been switching off on that lately. Just yesterday you’d found him ordering yet more tiny shoes from some Italian website he’s discovered.

“You mean….” Dad trails off, looking at Lex’s middle, then yours. Lex is wearing a loose, untucked cotton shirt and you’re wearing a red silk sweater. “Lex, you’re….” Dad stops again. “Pregnant?” he finally manages.

“Yes,” Lex says proudly, putting a hand on his stomach. “It’s due next month.”

“It is?” Dad looks confused, as well he might. Mom looks even more confused. You just don’t want to deal with her, so you ignore her. Lex and Dad seem to feel the same way. Lex gives an executive summary of the situation: alien plus meteor mutant, egg, baby! Then he and Dad get up to inspect the nest again, leaving you with Mom.

“We don’t know yet if it’s a boy or a girl, so we’ve decided on Logan,” you offer.

"Logan," she says, blankly. "A baby? You and Lex?" She's pale, a few freckles standing out on her white face.

"Yeah, me and Lex. A baby." You don't know how this is going to go, and you don't care as much as you probably should. She can do what she wants. Across the room, Lex is pontificating about the benefits of a nest to Dad, who's staring at Lex's stomach like it's a new tractor.

"Clark," Mom says, "maybe I was wrong."

You think? You don't say it. She's the grandmother of your child. If she wants to act like it, then good.

"Yeah," you say, and leave it at that.

~ * ~

"Son!"

And oh jeez, Lionel hasn't changed a bit. The hair, the dramatic pose in the doorway, the fake hugging of Lex, though there aren't any cameras here. Lex checks daily.

"Dad." And now you notice something different. Lex. He's not - he's hugging back. He's happy to see Lionel, and what the heck? Except, he invited Lionel here, and, yes, it's got to be the hormones. Right now, the hormones seem to dictate that you hover around them, waiting to kill Lionel if necessary, and you kind of hope it will be.

You don't have to kill him, though. He's so delighted by the news that he's going to be a grandfather that it's almost cute, if that word could ever be applied to the jerk. Less cute are his plans for the next Luthor (like you aren't even involved) to run LexCorp, which, LexCorp. Hello.

"It's way too early to be thinking about that, Dad," Lex says. And maybe Lionel has changed, because he responds to that familiar tone in Lex's voice that says "this conversation is over". Not that you ever agree. You wonder again what, exactly, Lex did to make Lionel leave the country for good, but you don't dwell on it. Lionel shutting up is new and refreshing. You could get used to it.

Especially after a Christmas dinner spent talking about the kid's future education, debates over Mandarin or Japanese as a first second language, and arguments over tutors versus school. You and Lex have decided on all that, so you know Lex is just indulging Lionel. You serve goose - Luthors have goose for Christmas - and fruit stuffing and try not to hover too obviously. Lionel doesn't do anything too awful, though, just over-enunciates as usual and makes plans for Logan to spend summer vacations in Rio. That won't be happening, so you dish up plum pudding and think about summer vacations in Smallville. Logan will like the loft, and running through the fields, and who knows, maybe even Pete and Lana's kid.

After dinner, Lex falls asleep in the middle of a conversation about Brazilian politics, which is so boring you're almost snoring yourself. Lionel tiptoes off to his room. The next morning, after croissants and coffee, he's gone, leaving behind only a sense of relief and a clogged sink.

You ask Lex, in a casual, offhand manner, if he's changed his mind about Lionel. Then you prepare to duck, because Lex has been downright violent on the subject in the past, with complete justification, in your educated opinion.

"Not really," Lex says, making up plates of leftovers for a second, more substantial, breakfast. "It's the hormones." He shrugs.

"Yeah," you say, cautiously. Lex has been all over the map about being influenced by alien forces, as he calls them when he's being angry about it. "Me, too." That means nothing, but you want to express solidarity in the face of Lionel and alien forces, even though you're the alien in question. And it is weird, some of it, like the way you totally blew off an interview with the mayor last week because Lex was having cramps. You flew him to the Fortress, where Al told you for the hundredth time that it was normal and to be expected. Then Al and Lex played World Domination for hours while you fiddled with the Fortress nest and read a few chapters of What to Expect When Your Child is a Genius and brooded again about there not being a What to Expect When Your Genius Husband is Laying an Egg.

"Dad isn't going to change," Lex states the obvious that it took him so long to realize. "I'm not going to change the terms of our agreement," and, okay, maybe you should ask about that sometime. Not now, though. "But he's Logan's grandfather, and I'd like Logan to know him. Under very controlled circumstances. If it's okay with you. Is it, Clark?"

You could cut Lionel out of Logan's life right now with one word, and you're tempted. Lionel is such a bastard. He messed Lex up in ways that Lex will never get over. You resolve, again, to tell Logan that he or she (and how annoying is it that Kryptonian technology, so far beyond Earth's in other ways, can't tell the sex of a baby before hatching? It's basic! You need to know whether to buy pink or blue booties! And forget Lex's argument that pink plus blue equals lavender, and therefore everything should be in shades of purple).

Wait, what was the question? Oh, right, Lionel. It's not like there's any question, really.

"It's okay. As long as you're sure it's, you know, it's safe." Because you can imagine all kinds of horrible scenarios: Lionel kidnapping Logan, Lionel telling the world that you're an alien, Lionel visiting again. Lionel smiling. Gah.

"It's safe. Dad is under control." Lex is very sure about it. Scarily so, if it were about anything else.

Okay, then. Also, he's in Brazil, so there won't be too many of these cheery family scenes.

"Let's take this to the nest." You pick up your plates and lead the way. Lex falls asleep against you before he's finished his cold goose, and you hold him and think about family.

~ * ~

"Breathe, Kal-El," Al says again, and you're trying to, but Lex was so pale when he woke you up this morning, his face the mask you saw too often back in Smallville, the one you know is hiding pain, and, and ... "Breathe. Lex is well, the egg is well."

"They're okay?" you ask. "It's over?" You'd meant to be there for Lex and Logan, but Al had whisked you out of the operating room while you were passed out.

"All is well," Al says. "Come, see."

~ * ~

You're in the office, editing a story on childcare centers and ignoring Lois, when Lex calls.

"Now. It's happening." Lex hangs up. You throw the phone down, leave the office so fast you might have been using superspeed, and are home in a few seconds. Lex is sitting in the nest, cross-legged, the egg in his lap. He looks up and smiles as you fling yourself down next to him. There are a few cracks in the egg, and it's rocking back and forth.

"Oh my god," you hear yourself say. You can hardly breathe. "We're having a baby." It's like you didn't really get it until now.

"Yes, Clark." Lex smirks at you, faintly, then his attention returns to the egg. "Oh, hm .... " he says as it rocks violently and splits into big pieces. He looks down, his head blocking your view. He draws in a big, loud breath, and is there something wrong with Logan? You prepare to fly to the Fortress, but then Lex speaks in his I'm-calm, not-freaking-out-in-the-least voice. "No, we're not having a baby. We're having two."

Everything goes shimmery and then black. When you regain consciousness, Lex hands you a small, blanket wrapped bundle, then another one. Both bundles are making a lot of noise. You peer at them. They're beautiful. They look like Lex. You lean into each other, staring down, touching tiny fingers, unwrapping to count toes. All there. After a while, you remember that maybe you should call your parents. Lionel. Everyone. You start to say so, but Lex already has his phone out and is hitting speed dial 1.

"Al?" he says. "Good news."