Lex Luthor was drunk. Really drunk. Verrry drunk.

He wanted to be drunker.

Lex had forgone the shot glasses a while ago in favor of drinking straight from the bottle. The vodka caused his eyes to tear with every large gulp. The liquor burned its way down his esophagus; so far, it hadn’t melted the ball of sickness in his gut or caused him to forget that Clark Kent could be his brother.

It was wrong, so very wrong. Some woman was in Smallville, claiming that she was Clark’s biological mother and that Lionel Luthor was the father. God, was there anyone Lionel hadn’t had sex with on the planet? Did he purposely set out to fuck everyone with a connection to those Lex cared about?

Lex upended the warm liquor bottle, not spilling a drop as he guzzled the vodka – Luthors did not dribble. Clark would learn that lesson quickly, along with all the other social etiquettes necessary to survive in high society.


Clark couldn’t be a Luthor. Lex loved Clark. Truly, deeply, doe-a-dearly, and in a way that involved nakedness and lubricant, and that sort of love between brothers was only allowed in certain parts of the state.

"GodDAMNit, Dad!" Lex exclaimed, jumping to his feet and throwing the nearly empty bottle of vodka at the wall. It shattered with a crash, kind of like Lex’s heart and hopes and dreams. He sank to the uncarpeted floor of the War Room in front of the leather sofa, buried his face in his hands, and tried not to weep.

A large, warm, familiar hand rested on his back, and Lex lifted his head to see his love – his brother – peering anxiously at him. "Clark?"

"Are you okay?" Clark asked concernedly.

A hysterical laugh bubbled in Lex’s chest, but he fought it down. "I’m fine, Clark," he lied without slurring. A Luthor did not slur or stagger when shitfaced, nor did they pass out in public places, cry beer tears, or admit they were not in full control of their facilities. "What brings you here? Need some brotherly advice?"

"I’m not your brother," Clark said tightly.

"Preliminary evidence says otherwise, Clark."

Clark shook his head emphatically, strands of floppy hair flying wildly with the action. "I’m not your brother, Lionel Luthor is not my father, and that woman is not my mother."

"Clark, you don’t know that for sure, not until the DNA test—"

"I’m not human," Clark hissed, kneeling very close to Lex. His green-blue eyes were full of fear, anger, and desperation as he met Lex’s stunned gaze. "She can’t be my mother because I’m not human. Do you understand me, Lex?"

Understand? Lex couldn’t begin to fathom what Clark had just told him. "Not human?"

"I need your help." Clark looked around furtively and leaned even closer to Lex. His breath was hot on Lex’s face as he spoke in a rushed whisper. "I can’t take that ordered DNA blood test. Aside from the obvious reason, my skin can’t be punctured. My parents don’t know what to do and I have to take the blood test tomorrow. Lex, what should I do?"

"You’re not my brother?"

"Lex, no. God, are you even listening to me?" Clark said, panicking. "I need your help!"

Luthors weren’t openly emotional, but Clark was NOT a Luthor and so he wouldn’t mind if Lex grabbed his face and kissed him fully on the lips.

"Lnsh?" Clark questioned against Lex’s mouth.

Lex pulled back and smiled brilliantly at Clark. "You’re not my brother!"

"Uh, kind of not the important thing right now."

Lex patted Clark’s cheeks. "It most certainly is!" He hopped to his feet, smoothed his shirt, and headed for the door, calling over his shoulder, "Come on, Not-My-Brother-Clark."

Clark caught up to Lex in the hall, his face creased in a frown. "Lex, you’re acting really weird."

"I’m really intoxicated, really happy, and you’re really not my brother." Lex practically bounced as he walked, heading for the basement lab. His head buzzed nicely.

"You didn’t want me as a brother?"



Clark sounded extremely hurt. Lex stopped abruptly, grabbed Clark’s arm, and forced him around. Lex stared intently into Clark’s eyes. "You mean everything to me, Clark. Everything. Never doubt that."

"Then why don’t you want me as a brother?"

"Because incest is wrong," Lex answered bluntly. The blush indicated Clark got it, and Lex tugged him along by his arm. "Let’s go. It takes a while for me to do this normally. Longer because I’m smashed."

"Do what?"

Lex flipped on the overhead florescent light in the basement with a flourish. "Help you, of course."

The lab was a scientist’s wet dream. Gleaming with chrome and stainless steel, it was large, clean, and fully stocked. Metal cabinets with padlocks lined the walls. There were four lab tables with gas and electrical ports and filled drawers, stools, two deep sinks, a walk-in refrigerator, a microwave, a coffee maker, and a safety shower in the room.

Clark stiffened and stopped at the bottom of the steps, and Lex released his arm. Lex crossed directly to one of the metal cabinets. "I haven’t done this in years, you know. Not since you made me want to be a better man."

"What’s ‘this’?" Clark said warily, looking ready to bolt.

Lex shot Clark a wicked grin over his shoulder. "Mess with the system." He removed two black plastic toolboxes from the cabinet and set them on one of the lab tables. "Come over here, take off your shirts, and have a seat."

When Clark didn’t immediately move, Lex’s expression grew sincere. "Clark, I’m not going to hurt you, I promise."

Clark nodded slightly and further entered the lab like a skittish colt. He pulled out one of the stools at the lab table and sat.

"Shirts," Lex ordered, slapping a pair of surgical gloves onto the table, having taken them from the drawer. He rolled up his own shirtsleeves as he headed for the walk-in refrigerator. With the alcoholic buzz he had, Lex was reminded of the good old days. He used to be able to do this while being so wasted on homemade meth that he didn’t know his own name. "What time is your blood test scheduled for?"

"First thing in the morning, before school," Clark said.

"Plenty of time." Lex opened the fridge and was greeted by a gust of cold air. It did nothing to clear his head. He flipped on the inner light and went inside to the stores of packaged blood. "I think this occasion calls for a Chateaux d’Senatori."

A single bag was all Lex needed. He turned off the light, exited the fridge, and paused, drinking in the sight of Clark’s bare back, the curve of his shoulders, the bumps of his spine, the taper of his waist, and the dark shadow where his jeans gaped in the rear. Lex closed the fridge and quickly rejoined Clark at the table, to feast on the naked flesh of Clark’s chest. Lex’s dick stirred in his jockeys as his eyes roved over the slope of Clark’s collarbones, the hollow of his throat, the defined cut of his pecs and abs, the dark coin-sized nipples, and the bulge of his biceps and forearms. Lex was so very glad Clark wasn’t his brother.

"What are you going to do?" Clark’s expression was a mixture of curiosity and wariness. He should have been more fearful of a scientist in a lab with a non-human entity, but he was such a trusting soul. Lex should’ve realized Clark wasn’t a Luthor by that alone.

"Initiate you into a part of my life that had ended when you returned the truck to me." Lex gave Clark a self-deprecating half-smile as he pulled on the surgical gloves. He opened one of the black toolboxes, which was filled with certain medical supplies, and removed a six-inch thin metal ruler. "Veins out."


Lex wrapped his fingers around one of Clark’s wrists, feeling both hurt and relieved when Clark flinched and tensed. Clark wasn’t totally trusting, but that didn’t stop him from allowing Lex to manhandle him. Lex maneuvered Clark’s arm so that his elbow and forearm rested on the tabletop, exposing his inner arm. Lex stroked his thumb several times over the blue vein at the inner elbow, trying to bring it to the surface. He frowned when it didn’t work, but began making measurements of Clark’s arm anyway.

"What I’m going to do is, create a false vein on both of your arms," Lex explained. From the second black toolbox, which was full of stage makeup and supplies, he removed two empty latex blood packets in the correct measured size, a tube of spirit gum, and clear fabric tape.

"You’ve done this before?" Clark said in slight shock.

"Many times." Lex used rubbing alcohol and a swab from the medical toolbox to clean Clark’s arm. With his foot, Lex opened the lined trashcan that was part of the lab table and dropped the used swab inside. "It was a service I provided for a small fee back in the day, for passing drug tests or invalidating paternity. I also did urine packets. It was a profitable business, especially since my customers had gotten the drugs in their systems from me to begin with."

Clark appeared scandalized. "You were a drug dealer?"

"Uh-huh." Lex applied spirit gum to the back of the latex blood packet and glued it carefully into place on Clark’s arm. "Homemade meth was my specialty, but I also dabbled in other substances. Why do you think I have a lab in my basement?"

He shouldn’t be telling Clark all this, but Clark was putting his life in Lex’s hands and Lex was using his past in order to save Clark. The least he could do was tell Clark about his sordid history.

Lex removed a syringe pump and plastic wrapped needle from the medical toolbox. He assembled the syringe, filled it with Dominic Senatori’s "donated" blood, poked the needle carefully into the unsealed opening of the latex blood packet near Clark’s elbow, and depressed the stopper. It took nearly three syringes pumps full of blood to fill the latex blood packet. He sealed the latex blood packet, checked for leaks, and ordered, "Other arm, veins out."

Clark watched silently as Lex repeated the procedure on his other arm. Lex hummed a mixture of cartoon theme songs and opera under his breath as he worked, his thoughts otherwise fuzzy from the vodka.

As Lex was disposing of the syringe, Dominic’s blood, and his surgical gloves, Clark spoke again. "You haven’t asked."

"About?" Lex withdrew a new pair of surgical gloves from the drawer, put them on, took a pair of scissors from the makeup toolbox, and started cutting strips of clear fabric tape.

"What I told you," Clark said, his voice lowering to a nervous whisper. "About my not being human."

"It could be because I’m highly intoxicated, but it’s kind of anticlimactic," Lex said. He taped the clear strips precisely over the latex blood packet and a portion of Clark’s right inner arm. "I’ve thought about you being something other than merely human."


"Yes. I’ve hypothesized that you were a meteor mutant, like Desiree or Earl Jenkins, or that ‘Superboy’ kid Chloe wrote about in the school paper, or that you were created by the government to protect Smallvillians from the mutants. I’ve wondered if you were a guardian angel, minus the halo and wings. I’ve even pondered if you were a sidekick to Warrior Angel, having escaped from the comic book pages." Lex’s mouth quirked at the last one.

"Wow," Clark said. "You’ve given me a lot of thought."

Lex’s grin turned devilish. "Did I mention you were usually naked in all these scenarios?"

Clark blushed predictably, and Lex had the enjoyment of watching the pink flush spread down Clark’s bare chest. He wondered if the blush would travel all the way to Clark’s toes. He’d have to work on finding out.

Clark cleared his throat and peered at Lex from beneath his lashes. "You, um, think about me na-naked?"

"I am very, very happy that you are not my brother," was Lex’s response.

Pale, flesh-colored putty was smoothed over the fabric tape on Clark’s arm. Abruptly, Clark blurted, "Me, too!" and blushed even more.

Lex smiled hugely, but said nothing.

After testing colors against Clark’s skin tone, Lex used an airbrush to paint over the putty. The air compressor was loud, preventing further conversation while Lex worked to blend the stage makeup with Clark’s skin. He left the compressor running as he used brushes and various pots of color to add veins and flaws to the false layer of skin, spraying over it with a thin layer of skin tone color from the airbrush. When he finished, he looked critically at his work and, satisfied, shut off the air compressor temporarily. He got an aerosol can from the makeup toolbox and shook it.

"This spray will set the makeup and it won’t be able to be removed without a special solvent," Lex said, spraying over the slightly raised area on Clark’s arm. "The alcohol used to swab your arm tomorrow won’t smudge it, nor will your clothes."

"But won’t the nurse be able to tell the skin is fake?" Clark asked.

Lex shook his head. "The nurse will be wearing gloves and will probably be in a hurry, so she won’t notice. Trust me, I’ve done this before and haven’t had a complaint." He rubbed his thumb over Clark’s doctored arm and was pleased to see nothing smear. "You’ll be able to give two vials of blood per arm, although the nurse should not be taking more than two, total."

"So, if she goes for a third on one arm, I should panic or something and make her use my other arm?" Clark said.

"Exactly." Lex patted Clark’s finished forearm, then moved on to the left one.

It took forty-five minutes for Lex to satisfactorily complete the second arm. By the time he was done, his alcoholic buzz had relatively faded and with it, his easy acceptance of current events.

"We will talk," Lex warned Clark. "After your blood test and school, I expect answers to what I haven’t asked."

Clark nodded in agreement as he pulled his shirt on. However, Lex wasn’t through speaking. "That includes things of a non-brotherly nature, Clark."

Clark ducked his head, once again blushing, and nodded a second time.

"Okay. Go ahead home. I’ll see you tomorrow," Lex said. He began to clean up.

"Okay." Clark picked up his outer shirt and headed for the stairs. His tennis shoes squeaked on the tile floor as he stopped and turned back to Lex. "Thanks, Lex."

Lex was serious when he met Clark’s gaze. "Always and anything, Clark."

Clark smiled shyly, sort-of waved, and jogged up the stairs.

Lex sighed and looked down at his distorted reflection on the lab table. "You’re such a fool."

There was a sudden burst of air, and Clark was abruptly standing directly in front of him. Before Lex could blink, Clark kissed him fully on the lips, laughed in panicked shrillness, and was gone.

Lex sank onto Clark’s abandoned stool, slowly raised his hand, and touched his lips. Oh, thank God they weren’t brothers. If that were the case, Lex would seriously have to seek therapy for his sexual perversions.

Then again, they do say incest is best…



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