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Sometimes Conner feels more alien than he thinks Clark ever has, even though he’s half the alien Clark is.
It’s been better lately. He’s been doing… okay. The Titans help. It’s good to have friends.
But sometimes thoughts are too heavy to sit with Bart and Tim, eating pizza and talking about TV like their day of fighting robots has made everything okay in the world.
Conner didn’t even know where he was going until he found himself at Lex’s place. It’s late, he tells himself, maybe he should just go home.
Which was where, exactly? The anger rises again and in an effort to distract himself, Conner goes and presses the buzzer by the front gate. He’s scanned to ensure he is on the permitted visitors list.
“Hello Conner,” Lex’s voice comes through the speaker, as casual as if Conner’s visits are the norm. “Come on through.”
The gate opens and Conner walks through the perfectly landscaped garden, past a bronze statue of Lex looking insufferably proud of himself. He probably thought the expression on his face looked benevolent and heroic, but most people can see right through it.
Still, Conner isn’t looking for the opinions of ‘heroes’ tonight. He wants a different perspective. He wants to talk to someone who maybe, just maybe, understands how he’s feeling. Someone… rejected.
After the front door unlocks at his approach, Conner looks for Lex around the modern décor of the house. It’s a nice place, only one floor but spacious and far away from any of Lex’s science projects. Now that Conner thinks about it, that was probably a clause in his bail. He doesn’t know many of the details. Clark tends to handle that sort of thing.
“In the kitchen,” Lex calls.
Unsure what to expect, Conner wanders towards the back of the house where Lex is and finds him moving utensils about, with a bunch of ingredients on the counter.
“Apologies, I didn’t have dinner earlier,” says Lex as he moves about the kitchen with an unexpected ease wearing a sweater and slacks. Despite the chunky electronic tag on his ankle. He seems smaller than Conner remembers. Thinner. But then, Conner has been growing and bulking.
“Don’t you have a chef?” Conner asks as Lex begins to wash vegetables in the sink.
“Got rid of him,” Lex says cheerfully. “I realised I needed more mundane activity to stimulate the subconscious into working on ideas. Glaring at the drawing board wasn’t working. Besides, the man I had was… insipid.” For a second, the tone of voice makes Conner worry that Lex has killed the man and buried him out back. “So I fired him, and my maid, the latter of which has proved to be a mistake. The dishwasher works just fine, but I have scrubbed the shower once and I have no desire to do so ever again. I need to hire a replacement, but the security hoops to jump through just to get them through the door… I wonder if an application would be looked on more or less favourably if they were a meta. Able to overpower me but also a potential resource for me to exploit…”
This eagerness to chat doesn’t seem fake, but Conner has long since resigned himself to the fact that he can’t always tell when Lex is being dishonest.
“When did you fire them?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“Have you been alone here that whole time?”
That explains the willingness to talk and why he had let Conner in so easily. But Lex laughs slightly.
“That whole time? A mere two weeks? I’ve gone much longer without contact.”
Conner doesn’t say that explains a lot. It would be a bit hypocritical, given his own difficulty socialising. Maybe it’s genetic.
Lex puts a kettle on to boil. “It’s usually your other genetic donor who stops by once a month.” His back is to Conner, as if he has to watch the kettle work. “He offloaded the duty onto you, then.”
There it is. The rejection. The reason Conner’s feet brought him here.
“No, I just wanted to stop by.”
It draws the first show of scepticism from Lex this visit. His eyes narrow as he turns to look at Conner. He leans back against the counter, folding his arms. “Well, as open as I am to the notion of a paternal bond, I do find myself wondering why you’re seeking one at ten o’clock at night on a random Wednesday. Especially while I’m persona non grata in your usual circles.” He looks down to his ankle tag. “Moreso than usual.”
“Kind of needed some advice.”
“Oh?” At least Conner has his curiosity now. “None of your little hero friends up to the challenge of wisdom distribution?”
“I know what I’m supposed to say and do,” Conner says, ignoring the snark. “But it feels like lying and I don’t know how I can express my actual feelings without everyone acting like it means something terrible, that I’m becoming…”
You.
Click. The kettle boils and Lex lifts it. Then has to put it down. Rubs his arm. It doesn’t look that heavy? But he clearly strains as he lifts it again and tips boiling water into a saucepan.
He doesn’t know if Lex has heard the news. Would anyone tell him? He’s mostly cut off from the outside world here in his gilded cage.
As Lex sets the kettle back and starts cutting open a pack of potato gnocchi, Conner says it before he can talk himself out of it.
“Clark’s having a baby with Lois.”
The snip snip of the scissors stops. Conner wishes they were facing one another. He wants to see Lex’s face. But all he can witness is the sudden tension in the man’s shoulders.
“Is he now?”
It’s probably supposed to sound flippant. But even those three little words sound like they’ve been wrenched from his chest.
Even now, Conner feels a little relief that makes his stomach turn. It’s unheroic, to hope for someone to suffer with you. It’s unheroic to be selfish.
“I’m guessing that’s why he’s not stopped in to see you,” Conner says as Lex puts down the scissors and forms a tightly clenched fist against the counter. “He’s been doing the rounds, announcing the pregnancy.”
“She must be reasonably far along, for him to be so confident.”
“Yeah, five months, apparently.”
Lex nods. “Then the birth will be soon. Kryptonians have a shorter gestation period. She seems healthy?”
Conner nods. Lois had been glowing, like she was giving birth to another Pulitzer. Everyone was so, so happy. Ma and Pa hugged them both, there was talk about decorating the nursery… Conner pasted a smile on his face and shook Clark’s hand like an adult.
Like an acquaintance.
He was so good. He congratulated himself on not screaming in everyone’s faces and not fleeing the room to go sit amongst the corn. He handled it well and isn’t that supposed to have some sort of pay off? After Clark and Lois left, Conner half expected Ma to bring apple pie to his room to reward him for handling it so well.
But there was nothing. Just Conner sitting on the roof staring out at the uncaring stars, while his insides boiled with resentment.
And that made him afraid. Because he knows the King of Resentment and who’s to say that isn’t genetic? Conner doesn’t want to be a fucking supervillain, but who knows where this path leads? What if wanting to punch Clark in the face is step one?
“Have you eaten?” Lex asks.
“No?”
“Alright.” Lex pours the entire pack of gnocchi into the pan of boiled water and turns up the heat.
For a while, the cooking creates the only sounds in the kitchen. Lex starts heating a pan and melts butter in it.
“This is the source of your difficult feelings,” Lex ascertains.
“Nobody was happy when I was born,” Conner says, knowing he sounds like a child.
“I was,” Lex says quietly, chopping broccoli.
Conner really wishes he could be better at figuring out when Lex is lying.
“You mean in a ‘mad scientist admiring their project’ way though, right? Not like a…”
“A mother?” Lex shrugs and drops the broccoli into the pot with the gnocchi. “I’ve never given birth, so it’s impossible to know for sure. I don’t think you should belittle the feelings of a scientist towards their work, though. It’s the passion of my life. I guarantee you that the effort I put into your conception is far superior to the effort Ms Lane put into her superbaby.”
“Oh god, don’t say that. I don’t want to think about that.”
Lex laughs, a noise Conner has barely ever heard from him. “Who gave you the talk, anyway? Ma and Pa Kent?”
“Pa,” Conner says, blushing. His life has been fantastical and unimaginably harrowing so far, but having Pa Kent tell him how babies are normally made still ranks with the worst moments.
“My condolences.”
He’s chopping green beans now. A healthy vegetarian meal. Conner had always assumed it was expensive steak and wine or nothing for Lex Luthor. The idea that he might have been making assumptions about Lex sits ill with him. What if the assumptions didn’t end at food?
“I don’t understand why he’s suddenly happy to be a father,” Conner blurts.
Lex drops the green beans in the pot and finally turns to face him. His face doesn’t betray anything about what he’s feeling. “It might be nothing to do with you.”
“That’s the problem! Nothing ever has anything to do with me! I’m so fucking irrelevant to everyone’s lives! I’m not a core member of anyone’s hero team, the family I have is basically a foster family that I get solely because I’m carrying Clark’s DNA, he sees me as a hero coworker at best, though he tries to pretend I’m a brother…”
Lex wrinkles his nose. “Does he really?”
“Oh, like you’re any better? We barely speak! What do you actually see when you look at me, Lex? Be honest with me, please, for once, no matter how harsh it is. I want the truth. What am I to you?”
For a long time, Lex stares at him. It’s impossible to tell if he’s crafting a lie or girding himself for honesty.
“Honesty. Alright. That’s no small ask, but… Conner Kent-Luthor, you’re a glimpse into a life I could have had. And for what little it’s worth… I am sorry that we didn’t have it. Who knows, maybe out there in the multiverse there exists a happy little family unit where you come home from school with some normie little girlfriend to me and Clark arguing over my recent plans for Justice League defence systems.” Lex gestures to the hobs of the oven. “And I make us all dinner.” He laughs. “And we say grace or whatever the fuck it is normal families do.” His smile turns to a sneer. “And Lois Lane is dead in a gutter after asking too many questions and Clark doesn’t even know her name.”
Conner can’t even voice his objections to the last part while he’s reeling from the first. He had expected Lex to feel some kind of way about the news. That’s why he came here. But he hadn’t expected to learn of a yearning so similar to the one he has.
“You’re trying to manipulate me.” It’s the only explanation.
“With honesty? It’s possible. But what would be the purpose?”
“Making me feel bad for you, so I’ll be more willing to defend you when you’re up to no good.”
Lex rolls his eyes and grabs a knife. Conner flinches, but Lex grabs a garlic bulb, prying out a few cloves and beginning to chop. “I have no plans in the foreseeable future to be up to no good. And I certainly don’t want your pity. You came to me, Conner. You asked for my opinion and my honesty. I gave it freely.”
“Why?”
“Because what I said is true. I see you as a son. I do want to help you. Though I’m unsure as to what you want me to say about… Clark.”
“I don’t know what to do with the shitty feelings.”
Lex drains the gnocchi and broccoli then adds it to the butter and green beans and garlic. Splashes some lemon in. Conner waits for a response. The man opens one of the upper cupboards and reaches for dishes, then winces and leans heavily on the counter.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just lightheaded. Could you pass me two dishes?”
Conner grabs two grey dishes and watches as Lex tips the vegetable gnocchi into both dishes, then sprinkles some cheese over them with a grind of black pepper. He hands a serving and cutlery to Conner, then leads the way to the dining table.
Dinner is actually surprisingly tasty.
“I’m perhaps not the person to speak to about emotional regulation,” Lex says eventually as they eat. “So I’m not sure why you brought this to me.”
“Because, as someone who’s bad at it, you won’t judge me for being bad at it too.”
“Ah. Well if you’re that worried about their judgment, you’re probably fine. I’ve never given a damn what anyone thought of my behaviour.”
Conner’s not sure that’s true. Most people are of the belief that everything Lex has done in his adult life has centred around drawing Superman’s attention.
“So. I suppose don’t kidnap Ms Lane.”
“What!?” Food falls from Conner’s mouth.
“Don’t kidnap Ms Lane. Don’t threaten her or the foetus. Don’t create world-risking catastrophe to distract Clark from his paternal duties. Don’t drink or do drugs. Support him and… I don’t know,” Lex wrinkles his nose, “try and be the best uncle you can be to the new wunderkind?”
All in all, it’s probably the best Conner could have hoped for, advice-wise. The dinner is a pleasant bonus.
“Unless you’re looking for me to deal with it, in which case, I have to say that direct infanticide isn’t generally my style…”
“No! Jeez, Lex.”
“Didn’t think so. You’re a good kid. Despite my influence. And I think that means something. Virtue untested is not real virtue, or something to that effect.”
Lex checks his expensive watch then pulls a pill container out of his pocket. Conner watches him swallow two pills with a glass of water.
“What’s that for?”
“A condition. Nothing to concern yourself over.”
Conner sighs. Of course. Nobody needs to tell Conner anything about anything. He doesn’t need to know shit.
“Don’t sulk. You’d only tell me I was being manipulative if I complained about any of my maladies, so I’ll keep quiet and we can enjoy a civilised dinner.”
“It is a nice dinner,” Conner says, feeling a little bad about his earlier accusation.
“Thank you. At first cooking was singularly frustrating, but I’m growing to rather enjoy it.” Lex continues to eat.
“I’ll have to try cooking.”
“You should. It’s an important life skill. Your friends would appreciate it I’m sure. You should talk to them about this, how you’re feeling.”
“They’re heroes,” Conner says, that surely being explanation enough.
“Please. One of them is Batman’s kid. I’m sure he can handle a bad mood.”
Conner chuckles. Lex isn’t wrong. “Maybe I could talk to Robin. Yeah.”
“I seem to recall Robin unheroically threw a batarang at my head the last time I tried to chat with you. They’re your friends primarily. This maudlin ‘nobody will understand the darkness inside my head’ nonsense will only hurt you in the long run.” Lex takes a bite of his gnocchi. “And that, I promise you, is the biggest truth I can give you.”
It’s a lovely house to be alone in. If you had to be alone. But Conner imagines living in this house with his friends, sitting on that expensive couch with pizza and a console and it’s such a warming mental image that its contrast to reality makes him feel bad for Lex, intentionally or not.
“Thanks.”
Lex shrugs. “Better to cook for two. So they say.”
“Not just for the food. It’s been good to talk to someone who gets it. Could I maybe call round again sometime?”
Lex’s eyes widen with surprise. “Of course. You’ve always been on the permitted guest list.”
“I assumed that was just a government list of approved heroes.”
“No, it’s something Clark arranged. He put himself and Batman on there, but I asked for you to be added. Just in case.” Lex isn’t meeting his eyes now, pushing food around his plate.
“He said that was okay?”
“When he hesitated I said ‘he’s our son, Clark’ and he got flustered, snapped ‘fine’ and did it.” Lex smirks.
A bit disappointing, to realise Conner is still useful to him as a way to spite Clark. Still, the visit has gone better than he could have expected. Not even any kryptonite sprinkled over his dinner. Maybe Lex is being truthful. It’ll take some getting used to if so. And it probably won’t last.
But Conner is a hero, and that means he doesn’t give up on people.
“I’ll try and drop by again next week.”
“That would be nice.”
Conner loads the dishes into the dishwasher like a good house guest before he leaves.
He’s not even a street away when Clark lands before him in full costume.
“Visiting Lex?”
“Yeah.”
He keeps walking and Clark falls into step beside him.
“How was it?”
“Fine.”
“Just fine?”
Oh, so now he can act like a dad. When it gives him the chance to be nosy about Lex-related matters.
Maybe Conner isn’t controlling his expression here as much as he managed at the baby announcement, because Clark continues, “you can talk to me, you know.”
“I don’t know that. I’ve been made to feel like I’m not a part of your life for so long, or worse, that I’m a part of it you really don’t want. Lex is an asshole, but at least he’s not annoyed to have me around. Except when I’m stopping his evil schemes. Obviously.”
“There won’t be many of those now, I wager,” Clark says with a slight sigh as he looks back in the direction of Lex’s house.
“I’m going to keep visiting him.”
“Of course,” Clark says amicably. “I think that’d be good for you both.”
Yeah, so, Conner is definitely going to have to talk to his friends about how annoying it is when Clark is being so nice. Talking to Lex about that would definitely be a gateway to evil camaraderie.
“So why didn’t you suggest it before? You’ve always said it would be a bad idea.”
“Well, circumstances have changed now, haven’t they?”
“Seriously?” Conner stops walking to glare up at him. And honestly, does Clark have to be taller than him? Couldn’t Conner have inherited that height? “You’re really just going to retreat into your cosy little family life and forget everyone from before that?” He has to clench his teeth together to avoid saying ‘Lex was right about you’, which is bouncing around his head, but is probably an impulsive thing he’d regret saying.
“What? No. I’m not talking about—” Clark holds up his hands. “Okay, hold up. What did you go to talk to Lex about?”
Didn’t he just say? Conner huffs and folds his arms. “You playing dad to a kid you actually want. Forgetting I exist. And you know what, Lex was actually really nice about it and I don’t think he was even trying to manipulate me. So there.”
Clark looks hurt. Good.
“I guess he probably wasn’t. I’m sorry, Conner, that I’ve hurt you. It was never my intention. People tend to believe because I’m Superman that I know what I’m doing all of the time, but I don’t always know best. I didn’t know what to do about your existence, but I should have hidden that confusion better. Tried harder. But, you know, the years have flown by, and I don’t know that either of us could work towards a father-son relationship now.”
“Not when you have the family you actually wanted to get back to,” Conner says, his throat tight and his eyes hot. “Maybe Lex’ll take me in.”
“You’re not happy with Ma and Pa?”
A dick move, to bring them up. Clark knows they’re incapable of doing anything wrong.
“They’re great. But they’re not my parents. And you put me on the visitors list for Lex, so it’s okay for me to be there.”
“I did that because…” Clark doesn’t finish the sentence. He beckons Conner to follow and goes to sit on a nearby low wall.
Conner finishes the sentence for him as he sits down. “Lex taunted you into it. He told me.”
Clark looks up at the night sky as if weighing up a choice. Then he sighs. “Did he tell you he’s dying?”
“What?”
The pills. The light-headedness. The weakness in his arms.
“That’s why you’re an approved visitor. It’s why I stop by. At first I suspected deceit, but as the weeks have gone by… not only is he visibly declining in physical health, but emotionally…”
“Honesty,” Conner whispers.
“I guess that’s the problem with wishes,” Clark says. “You want something long enough, it’s granted with a catch.”
He’d thought he’d found a silver lining, but it turned out to be some new kind of fucking kryptonite. Conner digs his fingers into his jeans. “There’s no cure? No… nothing?”
“It’s Lex,” Clark says with a sad smile. “He’s been working on it. But his research hasn’t uncovered anything yet and… he’s running out of time. I wish you hadn’t told him about the baby.”
When Conner looks aside to him, Clark’s profile is a sharp contrast against the joy of earlier. He looks like a man who is already grieving.
“Did you think he wouldn’t find out?”
“I’d hoped he wouldn’t. It seemed cruel to make him aware of it.”
“Guess I’m just an asshole then,” Conner mutters. Talk about kicking him while he’s down. Maybe he really is Lex’s son, if he inflicts cruelty without even planning it.
“You’re not,” Clark says. Easily. With certainty. “You’re a great kid growing into a good man. And I know my behaviour and Lex’s has given you a lot of doubts about who you are, where you belong, all of that. And I don’t know what Lex would have told you tonight. But there is a secret I’d like to share with you, in the hopes it’ll help.”
He looks at Conner as if asking for permission. Conner nods.
“You were made for love. An obsessive love, one I couldn’t return… but love nonetheless. Do you understand?”
He almost wishes he didn’t, on the back of everything Lex has said. Conner looks away from the stars as they start to blur in his vision. When he nods, a tear speckles his jeans.
Clark puts an arm around his shoulder in a hug.
“I think Lex would like to have you in his life, Kon.”
What’s left of it.
“And I very much want you in my son’s life. I couldn’t find a better role model for him as he navigates this world.”
“For real? Sometimes I barely feel like I fit in this world.”
Clark smiles. “That’ll be the kryptonian in you. I used to feel that way a lot, and I expect Jon will too.”
“Jon?”
“Oh, you can’t tell anyone yet. Only me and Lois know. That’s what we’re going to call him. After Pa. Jon.” Clark’s smile grows wider. “Jon and Con.”
“I like it,” Conner says, throat still tight.
“Fly you home?”
Conner nods and they go back to the Kent farm together, where Ma and Pa had apparently been worried sick. The house smells of apple pie; Ma had been baking.
“Figured the news earlier might’ve been a shock,” she says, squeezing his hand after Clark has left. “And you were so good about it all.”
He sits with her and Pa by the TV to eat it and when he asks if he can take a slice to Lex, she wraps one up for him.