Author: Lacey McBain
Website: http://www3.sk.sympatico.ca/mendc/fanfichome.htm Rating: R, Clex
Summary: Lex has always hated Mondays. Setting: Lex at work, stressed out; Clark has to remedy that. Include: A beach ball, post-it notes, spilled coffee, birds on a ledge, toast, and the line, "If that phone rings one more time, I'm reinstating the guillotine." Notes: Written for The Monday Morning Challenge (June 21, 2004) issued by muse_attack on Live Journal.

The knock at the door was slightly more timid this time. Lex sighed heavily and pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose in a gesture of resignation. God, he hated Mondays. Especially Monday mornings that arrived after too much Scotch, too little sex, and the realization that Clark disappearing from their bed in a primary-coloured whirlwind was now pretty much standard operating procedure for Messrs. Kent and Luthor. Unfortunately, Lex was learning that whispered endearments such as "a volcano's about to erupt" or "I felt the earth move" rarely had anything to do with their sex life these days, and why was it that natural disasters always seemed to strike on the weekends when they actually had time together?

"Come in, Mrs. Lowell. I promise not to bite," Lex said in as polite a tone as he could manage. She was only Mrs. Lowell when he was in a foul mood, which coincidentally seemed to happen a lot on Mondays. The woman was understandably cautious after being dressed down once this morning for a misplaced report and a spilled coffee that had not surprisingly--it was Monday, after all--ended up cascading down the front of Lex's favourite lavender shirt. Luckily he'd learned that it was wise to keep a change or two of clothes on hand for "accidents," such as when Clark accidentally ripped Lex's wool gabardine slacks in half while trying to get him naked. Such shoddy workmanship these days. It really was quite appalling.

And Lex had to admit that it wasn't his secretary's fault that the world, not to mention that annoyingly forward and openly flirtatious reporter that Clark had been partnered with, seemed to need rescuing on an increasingly regular basis; nor was it her fault that Clark was everyone's selfappointed savior. Lex would just have to learn to deal with it better. He pulled a purple post-it note from its pad and wrote a reminder to buy better Scotch. A case. Perhaps two. Or maybe he needed to research the investment potential of acquiring a small distillery somewhere. Yes, that was a much better idea. Mondays were unlikely to disappear from the calendar anytime in the foreseeable future. Better to be prepared. Damned if he wasn't a Boy Scout at heart. Take that, Clark Kent!

Mrs. Lowell entered as if nothing had happened earlier, and Lex had to give her credit for subscribing to the "never show fear" philosophy of dealing with Luthors. He'd found it surprisingly effective when dealing with his father. He noticed that the tall, middle-aged receptionist was holding a large box in front of her.

"You have a delivery, Mr. Luthor."

Lex eased himself out from behind his desk and went to relieve her of the package.

"I apologize for raising my voice earlier, Lorraine. The spilled coffee was an accident, and it was me who misplaced the file."

Lex's voice was smooth, although he still found it difficult to apologize. Lionel had trained him never to apologize to the help; Clark had taught him the value of exactly the opposite, but still it was difficult working against impulses that seemed almost innate. And could he really be expected to remember the vagaries of politeness on a Monday morning after very little sleep and at least two acts of God that again had absolutely nothing to do with his sex life? He really needed another coffee.

"Thank you, Mr. Luthor," Lorraine said graciously, knowing that Lex's father would never have apologized. She suspected that Lillian Luthor would be proud. Lorraine slipped unobtrusively out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.

Lex looked warily at the package despite knowing that it would never have been allowed near him if it contained anything suspicious. Of course, Lex wasn't convinced that the overgrown puppy dogs that passed for "bomb-sniffing experts" at LuthorCorp were in any way capable of distinguishing a bomb from a slice of pepperoni. He'd seen Clark playing with the animals. They rolled over for him with nothing more than a big grin and a rub behind the ears. Of course, most days he'd roll over for Clark with just the grin.

Sighing again--it was Monday, after all--he carefully slit open the top of the box and extracted a large purple beach ball emblazoned with two bikini clad surfers and an unusually phallic palm tree. "Hawaii" danced across the surface in shiny silver letters.

Lex pushed a button on his phone.

"Yes, Mr. Luthor?" Lorraine's voice was as clear as if she were in the room with him.

"Any unusual activity in Hawaii this morning?"

"The pineapple crop is expected to be better than average, tourism is booming, and Superman helped rescue passengers from a grounded cruise ship."

"Thanks, Lorraine," Lex said, and clicked the button again. He was about to toss the box aside when a scrap of paper caught his eye. A remarkably familiar purple post-it note was affixed to the bottom. "I always have a ball with you," it read. Lex sank back into his leather desk chair, grinning in spite of himself, and stuck the note to the top of his desk. He gave the ball a few experimental tosses and shook his head. It occurred to him that he should be concerned Clark's humour hadn't matured along with the rest of him, but right now he didn't care. Clark's efforts were always interesting and usually ended with hot naked sex on the couch in Lex's office. The day was starting to look up.

Lex was on the phone the second time his secretary knocked. He waved her in impatiently and rolled his eyes as he struggled to get a word in. He raised an eyebrow as he caught sight of a plate of toast and a steaming mug of coffee.

"Dad ... Dad, just ... yes, I'm aware of that ... yes ... no, I certainly didn't tell ... fine, fine! 3:00 tomorrow." Lex snapped the phone shut and tossed it on the desk.

"Did I ask for breakfast?" Lex said a little uncertainly. He knew that talking to his father often left him feeling disoriented, but he was fairly sure he would have remembered requesting a pile of bread to be sacrificed for his pleasure. "And is that Italian espresso? God, there's this little place right outside of Venice that makes ..." Lex trailed off dreamily and realized that he should be shutting up now.

He took the plate and the mug from Lorraine and smiled. "Thanks."

Lorraine simply nodded as she left. Lex snagged the edge of a purple note sticking out from under the stack of toast that had been lightly browned and buttered. "Even bread gets hot for you," the note said in Clark's familiar handwriting. A small purple post-it note clung to the side of the mug. "I can't wait to espresso my feelings in person," it read.

Lex groaned at the bad joke as he took a sip of steaming coffee. They'd spent a week in Venice and Lex remembered lazy mornings of flawless blue skies, crisp white sheets tangling around their bodies, and the taste of coffee on Clark's warm tongue. The thought of it made him close his eyes in pleasure. He mouthed a piece of toast and wheeled his chair around to face the window. A number of pigeons were gathered on the ledge, eyeing his toast hungrily.

"You forgot the apricot preserves, Clark," Lex was chiding softly when the door opened. Lex turned stunned eyes towards the doorway.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Luthor. I didn't realize I'd left something behind," Lorraine said apologetically, striding forward to set a small jar and a tiny spoon on the desk. Stuck to the bottom of the jar was a purple note that read: "See? I didn't forget."

Lex inhaled the scent of spice and apricots and his smile grew wider.

Lex's day was full of stock reports, harried phone calls, and a lengthy attempt at trying to break Clark's high score on Tetris. There were two more deliveries. A meal of angel hair pasta, sweet basil, and Roma tomatoes appeared sometime around lunch with a note that teased: "My angel doesn't have hair." Lex turned the same colour as the tomatoes when he read the note, and decided that an immediate and substantial raise was in order for Lorraine for maintaining her discretion in the face of Clark's post-it note parade. When a pair of Clark-sized Italian leather pants arrived at 2:00 with the message "Care to take a ride on an Italian stallion?," Lex cancelled the rest of his appointments for the day.

"Lorraine, anything going on in Italy that I should know about?"

"The Pope was meeting with various heads of state, there's an international conference of olive oil producers, and Superman helped to stabilize the Leaning Tower of Pisa."

"When did he have time to go shopping for pants?" Lex muttered to himself before he realized that the intercom was still on.

"Mr. Luthor?"

"Never mind, Lorraine. It's Monday, you know."

"Yes, sir, I know." The intercom clicked off, and Lorraine walked through the door a few moments later carrying what appeared to be an unusually large stuffed animal with prominent horns.

"Is that a ..."

"Yes, it's a bull," Lorraine said politely, handing the animal to Lex. She didn't bat an eyelash when Lex saw the note tied to its neck: "I love you, Lex, and that's no bull."

"Um, is there..."

"Spain is experiencing unusually high temperatures, and Superman participated in the running of the bulls in Pamplona."

"He what?" Lex said, leaning back against the front of his desk and feeling all the colour drain from his face. He was going to kill Clark. He was going to take a sizable chunk of green meteorite rock and pound some sense into that invulnerable alien brain. He was going to make him put on those leather pants and fuck him senseless first, but then he was going to kill him.

"Mr. Luthor," Lorraine said gently, reaching out to extricate the stuffed bull from his vise-like grip. Lex let go when he realized he'd had a stranglehold on the toy. He set it on the desk with a suspicious look at its surprisingly realistically-pointy horns.

"That's dangerous."

"He's Superman."

"It's reckless and foolish and ..." Lex suddenly wondered why he was having this conversation with his secretary. His father would be horrified. Lex shook his head.

"I believe that he was mainly there to keep people safe," Lorraine said catching his eye.

"Mainly."

"He's still very young, Lex," Lorraine said, and Lex looked up. "He's got a lot of ... talent and energy ... and an overwhelming amount of responsibility. He's also in love with one of the richest and most powerful men in the world, not to mention one of the most complicated. He's still trying to figure out where he fits."

Lex sighed. He knew there was a reason he liked Lorraine so much, a reason he trusted her with not only his business, but with the more important job of running interference with Superman and/or Clark. She reminded him of his mother.

"But did it have to be bulls?" Lex said with some exasperation, looking down at the stuffed animal on his desk. "I used to manage the crap factory in Smallville, for God's sake. Bulls are all ... pointy and not very nice."

Lex scowled. He thought he'd repressed that particularly painful memory of being on the wrong side of the fence with one of the Kents' bulls that had apparently been intimately briefed by Jonathan on the proper way to scare the shit out of a Luthor. Contrary to popular belief, it didn't necessarily involve a shotgun. A thousand pounds of angry bull was equally convincing.

"Clark knows you were upset with him this morning and he knows you hate Mondays. We all know you hate Mondays, Lex," Lorraine said with some emphasis. Lex glared, but could see that his usual never-fails-to-intimidate icy stare was having absolutely no effect. Fine. He fought the urge to roll his eyes and pout. He was not ten years old. Besides, everyone knew he couldn't pout as well as Clark anyway.

"But you do realize he's dropped by with gifts and notes several times today, don't you? He didn't drop in himself because--apart from having to go off and save the world--he wanted you to have some fun, some romance. He figured you deserve it. And you do," she said emphatically.

"Ah, now I remember why I hired you. In spite of the fact that you occasionally treat me like a ten year old in the middle of a tantrum--"

Lorraine opened her mouth to reply, but Lex just raised a hand and fixed her with a look that told her he knew exactly what she was going to say, so she needn't bother.

"--I appreciate having someone who is honest with me and who understands things--the important things--in a way that I like to think my mother would have."

Lorraine smiled affectionately, and Lex was convinced that if he'd had hair to ruffle, it would've been ruffled right then. Self-consciously he picked up the stuffed bull again. Apparently his corporate executive image had decided to completely abandon him to the whims of an overly maternal secretary and a pun-happy super-hero with a fetish for all things leather, including the animals from which it came.

"And here I thought it was only because I have the initials L.L.," Lorraine teased.

"Well, that certainly didn't hurt, Mrs. Lowell," Lex said, trying without success to shift the tone of the conversation back towards a more business-like relationship.

A small tap at the glass made Lex turn. Superman was floating just outside the window with a broad grin. Lex immediately dropped the bull on the desk and kicked the beach ball to the far corner of the office. Superman's grin continued to spread. He waved casually to Lorraine. She waved back and started to leave.

"I cancelled all your appointments for the next three days, Mr. Luthor, including your 3:00 with your father for tomorrow. I told him an absolutely irresistible opportunity just came up and you had to take advantage of it."

Lex felt himself smirking in spite of himself. Lionel must have loved trying to figure out that one. Lex gestured for Clark to come in and saw him entering a code on the hidden keypad on the outside of the building.

"Thank you. For everything."

"See you in three days. I'll lock the door on the way out. Hi, Clark," she said as Superman stepped from the ledge through the now open window. It automatically sealed behind him.

"Hey, Lorraine," Clark said as he swirled out of his cape and into jeans and a shirt.

"Clark, my dear, you really must show me how you do that in slow motion sometime," she said with a scandalous twinkle that caused Clark's face to flush a deep red. Lex could hear her laughing as she closed the door behind her. The lock clicked with a satisfying ring.

"So, anything interesting happen today?" Clark said nonchalantly, walking around the desk to stand in front of Lex. It never ceased to amaze Lex how Clark could instantly go from looking like everyone's favourite imposing super-hero to a slightly older version of the adorable teen that he'd fallen in love with in Smallville.

Lex reached out and settled his arms comfortably around Clark's waist. "Let's see, I played with a surprisingly non-phallic beach ball; sacrificed bread, apricots, and coffee beans to the hunger gods; contemplated the existence of angels over pasta; had a conversation with the devil--"

Clark's brows narrowed at the mention of Lionel. As if to give credence to the expression "speak of the devil," Lex's cell phone began to ring impatiently. Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries" chirped in synthesized tones and Clark rolled his eyes. No doubt Lionel was phoning to find out where the hell Lex planned to be for the next three days and what was so important.

"It's just business. And he is my father." Lex smoothed Clark's frown lines with kisses and felt his face relax.

"Yeah, well, he shouldn't call on Mondays." Lex smiled as he kissed the scowl on Clark's beautiful face.

"He must've missed the memo," Lex murmured, lips lingering against Clark's. The phone asserted itself again.

"Clark, I promise, if that phone rings one more time, I'm reinstating the guillotine," Lex said as Wagner continued to play in an octave for which it was never intended. Lex ignored it.

"I know you think you sound like an evil French tyrant when you say stuff like that, but really, you sound a whole lot more like the Queen of Hearts."

"Off with your head, knave."

"That's what I mean. Really not that intimidating." Clark reached around Lex and turned off the phone without answering it. Lex wondered again how he'd gotten so lucky as to have Clark in his life. Oh yeah, insane driving, years of sucking on water bottles and fondling pool cues, and the unbelievable luck that Clark was as gay as a Gilbert and Sullivan musical.

"We've got to work on this Monday thing, Lex. I worry about you."

"I know. I'm trying. It's just ... always been hard."

"I know." And the truth was that Clark truly did know. The sky had fallen in Kansas on a Monday. Lillian Luthor had died on a Monday. So many terrible things had happened on Mondays, but Clark seemed determined to change Mondays for the rest of Lex's life. It had always been his job to save the day, but now he'd made it his job to save Monday specifically. Lex wasn't convinced that Monday was worth saving, but he was willing to let Clark try for him and everyone around him who had also grown to hate Mondays with a passion rivaled only by Clark's hatred of peas.

"There were birds on the ledge this morning." Clark raised an eyebrow at Lex's complete non sequitur, another frightening Monday tradition that tended to strike fear into the hearts of his employees.

"Evil green-glowing meteorite birds or just regular birds?"

"Regular ones. Pigeons, although there was one that looked like something out of a Hitchcock film. I think it wanted my toast."

"I see."

"I really had a lot of toast, and I would've been perfectly willing to share, but ..."

"But?"

"Why does the window only open from the outside?" Lex said quietly. He already knew the answer, even though they'd never talked about it when Clark had installed the keypad entry on the office window. It was only meant to be a way in. Never a way out.

Clark's arms held Lex more tightly and he kissed him softly, sweetly, thoroughly. "You know why, Lex."

"Mondays?"

"Yeah, Mondays. But today was Monday and it was a good Monday, wasn't it?" Clark's voice sounded uncertain. He held Lex a little tighter, and Lex pulled himself together. Dammit. Clark was here and Clark loved him and Lorraine had basically told them to get the hell out of Dodge and have some fun. Who was he to argue even on a Monday? Maybe especially on a Monday.

Lex smiled and he let Clark see that the smile reached all the way to his eyes. "It was a great Monday." He paused. "Although--"

"What, Lex?" Lex leaned in and licked Clark's full upper lips. Clark's eyes fluttered closed and a small groan escaped.

"--I was exceedingly disappointed to learn that the Italian leather pants were NOT my size--"

"Uh, I can--" Lex kissed Clark hard.

"--but I was exceedingly pleased to speculate that they will be slightly too tight for a particularly well-built farm boy I know; I was also forced to re-live uncommonly sharp memories--emphasis on sharp, Clark--regarding bulls and the Kent family farm."

Clark laughed and it was the best sound in the world to Lex's ears. Apparently, Clark had forgotten all about that particular incident.

"I'm sorry, Lex, I--"

"Forgot, apparently. Well, it wasn't your invulnerable ass that was being speared by long pointy horns, and did you just get hard, Clark?" Lex asked in amazement as Clark flushed a deep crimson. Lex gripped his hips and pulled him even closer. Definitely hard.

"So that's how it is," Lex said knowingly. Clark was still red and smiling and trying not to laugh and really, really trying not to just push Lex down on the desk and kiss him all over. Lex could read him like a Latin primer.

Lex leaned close and nipped Clark's ear. His voice was low and deep. "I heard about your little stunt in Pamplona. Lorraine makes sure I get updates on all sorts of world events. Cruise ships in Hawaii, teetering architectural treasures in Italy, rampaging bovines in Spain."

Clark just nodded breathlessly against Lex's neck as Lex continued to kiss and lick and whisper in and around his ear.

"Clark. Next time you want someone to chase you through the streets where there is an overwhelming chance that your super-hero ass will be impaled on a long, sharp, pointy piece of male animal--"

Clark whimpered. Lex ground his cock against Clark's erection just to make sure he was getting the message.

"--you know where I am."

Lex captured Clark's mouth with his own and felt Clark's groan push through his lips even as Lex's tongue slid into the open, wet space. God, Lex had missed this. Not that Clark wasn't in his bed every night, but this--this hot, wet, passion that surged between them like electrical currents--had been decidedly lacking of late. Lex's fingers dug into Clark's shoulders as hard muscles and slick tongues pushed against each other, struggling not for dominance, but for coexistence. Lex barely noticed when Clark pushed his suit jacket off his shoulders, uncoiled his tie, and sent a rain of buttons scattering across the desktop. Lex was doing his part to get Clark as naked as possible as quickly as possible, and Clark wasn't arguing although he kept getting distracted by things like nipples and lips and skin, and a perennial inability to undo a pair of expertly-tailored dress pants. Lex rolled his eyes as another pair of expensive wool slacks was brutally sacrificed on the altar of love, but as he and Clark rolled onto the sun-warmed leather couch, he gave himself up to the wonder that was Clark.

They lay on the couch wrapped around each other, warm and satisfied in the late afternoon sunlight. Lex reached out lazily to brush a hand through Clark's soft dark hair.

"I think I'm beginning to like Mondays."

Clark smiled and kissed the top of Lex's head. "They can be even better than this."

Lex snuggled closer and pressed a small kiss to Clark's chest. He trailed a hand along the carpet and hit ... something soft and furry. He lifted it up and came face-to-face with the horns of a bull.

"What are you going to call him, Lex?"

"Cretan."

"You're calling him stupid?"

"That's cretin, Clark. Cretan. As in the Isle of Crete. Hercules defeated the fire-breathing bull of Crete as one of his twelve labours."

"Fire-breathing bull, huh? Sounds a lot like Smallville. Was there a meteor shower on Crete too?"

"Very funny. Do you pay any attention when I try to teach you things?"

"Depends what you're trying to teach me," Clark said huskily and stretched his hands down to grip Lex's bare ass. "I think I've been a remarkable student." He bent his head and carefully licked the top of Lex's exposed ear, felt a tiny shiver travel down Lex's spine, and harden into a clear indication of interest.

"You do realize you failed Dress Pant Removal 101. Again. My tailor's starting to wonder."

"Well, maybe he should make your pants slightly more accessible than Fort Knox."

"So you want it to be easier for people to get into my pants?"

"Not people, Lex! Just me. Got it?" Before Lex could reply, Clark had flipped them over with a satisfying slap of flesh against leather. Clark leaned in close and kissed Lex fast and hard, tongue probing the farthest reaches of his mouth.

"I got it, Clark," Lex said, thrusting helplessly upwards, Clark rocking against him with an easy rhythm. Familiar and impatient and unbelievably loving.

"Let's go to Italy, Lex. Venice."

"Yes." The word spilled from Lex's lips like a prayer. He clutched Clark tighter, hips pushing solidly against Clark's weight.

"I know a great place where you can get some new pants," Clark whispered, as Lex's laughter turned breathless and wild.

"Yes. Anything, Clark. Pants. Anything." Lex's eyes closed and he clung to Clark as a wave of pleasure swept through him again. He let himself be cradled in Clark's embrace, let himself be kissed and caressed and loved.

"Clark?"

"Yes, Lex?"

Lex reached up and touched Clark's face gently. He smiled into the bright green eyes and kissed Clark's lips softly.

"I think I could love Mondays."

THE END