Chapter Text
In the weeks leading up to his father’s trial, Lex is more grateful for Clark than ever, because the superpowered farm boy takes it upon himself to be the official bodyguard for Chloe. Lionel does not go down without a fight, and since Chloe’s testimony is the linchpin for the prosecution, he arranges two hits on her, even from behind bars. Lex manages to thwart the poisoning, but it’s Clark who saves Chloe from the explosion.
They can’t pin either attack on Lionel, but Lex knows the truth. In the final three days before the trial, he asks Chloe to stay at the Kent farm, the safest place he can imagine.
While she’s settling upstairs, Clark catches Lex at the door.
“You should stay here too,” he says, his brow creased in a worried frown.
Lex smiles to be worried over. “I’ll be fine, Clark. This time, he’s not after me.”
Besides, Lex wants to meet with the prosecution one last time. He’s definitely micromanaging things, but he can’t leave anything to chance, can’t take any risk that his father will find a way to ooze out of this.
“Well, I . . .” Clark looks down at the floor. “I was hoping to show you something.”
Eyebrows raised, Lex waits.
In the end, Clark holds up a palm-sized hexagon of metal. It’s familiar. They’ve been sort of fighting over it for months, although Clark has always insisted he doesn’t have it and doesn’t know what it does.
It’s great to have him telling the truth now, because he was always a terrible liar.
Clark looks up with a hesitant smile. “I want to show you what’s really in the caves.”
Lex squints at his best friend. The timing is very convenient for this big revelation. “Clark, are you baiting me with my own curiosity?”
Sheepishly, the boy shrugs. Terrible liar, even worse manipulator.
But, damn it, Lex is curious. He’s been dying to have these answers for months.
“There’s nothing else you can do about your dad,” Clark says, holding out the hexagonal key. “I’ve been watching you freak out for weeks, planning every detail. It’s planned. It’s going to be okay, Lex.”
Lex eyes the key like the shiny lure it is. “You’re probably right. I just . . .”
He can’t find the words, but Clark nods like he can hear them anyway.
“Actually, um, you’re not the only one freaking out.” Clark frowns again, the worry deeper this time. “There’s a message from my birth father down there, and he wants . . . I mean, I could really use your advice on . . . things.”
For a moment, Lex just stares. Then he closes his hand over the key. “I have so many questions.”
Clark laughs at that. It’s amazing how Lex has already received more information than he imagined—things like alien, x-ray vision, kryptonite—and yet there are still questions left to answer. Clark is hesitant to give those answers, always darting around topics like a nervous cat, but it’s a familiar fear, a familiar paranoia. Lex knows what’s it’s like to have difficulty trusting. And he’s come to realize that Clark is just barely discovering these answers as well, that sometimes, he knows as little about himself and his abilities as others do.
“I’ll help however I can,” Lex promises. It feels good to promise that, to be put in the position where he can.
To be trusted.
He extends that trust in return—he finally relaxes about the trial. Clark is right; he’s done everything he can. And even if Lionel somehow finds a way out of things, Lex isn’t alone. He’s got friends who stand with him, who can help him face whatever is to come. With the three of them protecting each other, even Lionel Luthor seems manageable.
The day of the trial finally arrives and passes. Lionel is found guilty of conspiracy and first-degree murder. Life in prison without parole.
It feels sadistic to take any joy in that, but Lex does. It’s a bittersweet joy, certainly, but it feels as if someone has handed him the keys to a new life—one he can direct completely by himself, without the looming influence of a tyrant.
For the first time, Lex gets to decide how he wants to live.
He inherits LuthorCorp, and it’s a PR nightmare trying to revive stock prices; turns out having the former CEO convicted as a felon undermines public trust in a drastic way. Lex’s new life becomes one solid meeting with the company board, trying to run damage control. Rather than visiting Chloe at her dorm, she’s visiting him at his office in Metropolis, dropping off lunches he doesn’t think to ask for, reviving him with a kiss and caffeine.
After a week of the madness, she makes a suggestion. She’s standing beside his office chair, looking over stock projections on his desk.
“I know you’re not gonna like this,” Chloe says, “but I think what you should do is give a news outlet an exclusive with LuthorCorp’s new CEO. Think about it—you’re barely twenty-three years old, thrust into this position of immense responsibility, and you’re a hot topic, pun intended.” She flashes a coy smile. “What better way to regain public trust than to show them the man now at the helm is worth trusting? Give them a peek behind the curtain.”
Lex tugs her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning back in his office chair. “There’s only one journalist I’d trust to write that feature.”
“Well, that journalist has a tiny problem of bias. She’s allowed to do things like this.” Chloe leans in, trailing kisses up the side of his neck, firing his senses. Lex is two minutes out from another board meeting, but all he wants is an hour with her. Preferably at his mansion, in his bed. But he’ll have to make do with what he’s got.
By the time those two minutes are up, they’ve made the best of them. Chloe has to straighten her blouse, and Lex has to straighten his tie. She steals one last kiss in the doorway.
In a sudden moment of decision, he says, “You choose.”
She blinks.
“Choose the outlet, choose the journalist. Whoever you trust not to put a spin on things. I’ll do the interview.”
With a squeal, she throws her arms around him, and he smiles. Within a day, she comes back to him with the information for a woman at Forbes Magazine, one of the many publications who’ve been pounding on Lex’s door since the moment he took position as CEO. As promised, Lex does the interview.
It’s the first time he’s pleased to see his name in print. Headlined on the front page of a magazine read by millions.
And he can’t help teasing Chloe a little. “The Savior of LuthorCorp—now that’s a headline.”
She, of course, shoots right back, “I suggested ‘Lex Luthor: 23 and Living Free,’ but Forbes clearly doesn’t know genius when they hear it.”
The next time he visits her dorm, she’s got that front page hung prominently on her wall, alongside her favorite articles in history.
The Forbes feature—aided by new employee benefits—has the desired effect; public approval rises. Even though it’s a slow climb, LuthorCorp stabilizes, and Lex turns his attention toward improving the company as a whole. He weeds out some of his father’s favorite board members, promotes a few of his own. There’s corruption that has to be delicately unwoven while keeping the company’s functions intact.
Although it’s a difficult decision, Lex declines running a State Senate campaign in favor of keeping his attention on the company. He’ll run in a future term, after he’s proven what he can do in the business world, after he has a firm base for his candidacy.
Chloe is on the same slow climb in her own career. She finishes her first year at Met U, and she turns in enough reliable stories at the Planet that she’s finally promoted from intern to real staff member. Junior staff, but staff just the same.
To celebrate, Lex takes her to a Lifehouse concert. VIP backstage passes, a chance for her to talk to the band and babble about how inspiring all their lyrics are. It turns out she likes concerts almost as much as journalistic conventions.
And at the end of the night, he gives her the keys to her own yellow Porsche, parked in the mansion’s garage.
“Lex!” she protests, flushing a charming pink. “I don’t need a car! We’ve talked about—”
“Hang on, let me make my case.” He wraps his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder as they both face the car. “Your storied little VW deserved a proper funeral months ago, and if you’re going to be commuting to Metropolis and back every day, you need something reliable. Something that will make the trips smooth and relaxing. You always pick my Porsche when we go places.”
“I pick your Porsche,” she mumbles, “because it was the first car you gave me a ride in.”
With her, there’s always a story, a meaning and a history. He smiles, kissing her neck and enjoying her little shiver.
“Lex, what do you mean by a daily commute to Metropolis?”
Her voice is breathless, and he has a feeling she already knows.
“I’d offer you a key, but you already have one.” His nerves should not be this high for a question he’s reasonably certain he knows the answer to, but his voice still catches as he says, “Chloe, I want you to move in with me.”
She turns in his arms. Her smile is brighter than the Porsche behind her, and she curls her fingers around the keys, holding them close. Lex feels a wash of relief at her obvious acceptance.
“Well, the car is one thing,” she says, more seriously than he expected, considering the smile, “but there’s something far more crucial you’ll need to provide if you expect me to live here full-time.”
A blow dryer is his first thought, but he can’t make that quip, because he’s kept hair products in his bathroom for months, ever since she started consistently staying over on the weekends. He racks his brain.
With her free hand, she plays with a button on his shirt, clearly enjoying dragging out the suspense until she finally says, “A French press, obviously. If I’m going to be driving to Metropolis each morning, then I want real coffee for the trip.”
Lex rolls his eyes. “I should have guessed. I suppose you’ll want me to import the beans as well?”
Chloe’s fingers snag on his collar, pulling him with her as she backs up to the hood of the car. “That depends on how good of a mood you want your girlfriend in.”
He hooks her under the knees, lifting her onto the Porsche’s hood. She wraps her arms around him for balance, and he leans into it, keeping her hanging as he steals the first kiss. She’s clearly trying not to laugh.
As seriously as he can manage, he says, “Well, there’s only one clear answer, then.”
“Imported beans from Costa Rica?”
“Imported beans from twelve countries. Three French presses. Two drip-makers, for the days you’re in a hurry. A capsule backup, obviously. An espresso machine? It’s best to be safe. I’ll buy five.”
She’s biting her lip, laughter spilling through more with each word. Lex allows himself a grin, leaning in to kiss the hollow at the base of her throat. She relaxes her head back, and he lowers her to the hood, bracing himself above her.
“For your happiness,” he says softly, “I’d do anything in the world.”
She smiles up at him, her fingers gently tracing the side of his neck. “All you have to do is be you. The answer’s yes, Lex.”
“Oh, good, because there’s no easy process for returning a brand-new Porsche.”
She dissolves into giggles again, and he smiles widely, unrestrained. Every time he’s with her, the world takes on a new light. It’s easier to live in. Boundless, filled with more possibilities than he’s ever imagined.
As the days pass, one possibility fills his mind. One hope above the others. One question.
Until, finally, he has to ask.
After some planning and research, he flies Chloe to Belgium for a weekend. They tour a music festival and historic sites, walking arm-in-arm down the street, feeding each other crispy frites and ducking into any shop that catches Chloe’s attention. They sample every truffle at a chocolate shop, and he buys her a diamond necklace.
It will go well with the ring, but he hasn’t shown her that yet.
Their final stop is the Plantin-Moretus Museum, a long building of red brick and arched entryways. It’s home to the two oldest printing presses in the world, and Chloe nearly melts upon seeing them, like a Belgium chocolate herself, exposed to the heat of history that set her entire career in motion. She gasps over every printing plate, whispers reverently over the sixteenth-century manuscripts, and has to be reminded twice by a patient guide not to step over the ropes. She asks a million questions while Lex walks silently beside her, basking in her glow, holding her hand and rubbing his thumb fondly along hers.
When they finish their tour, she kisses him in a way that makes him think every future weekend should be spent in Belgium—although he’s still hoping to make this one an experience that can’t be repeated.
Before they leave the museum grounds, he kneels on a garden path, between a stone fountain and a row of yellow flowers, and he finally shows her the ring.
It’s only a single carat, with a strong, square cut and smaller bookend diamonds. It cost him barely a few thousand dollars, which feels embarrassingly cheap for something he wants to last forever, but for the first time, he wasn’t trying to impress a girl with the price tag of the jewelry. He was just trying to find something that felt like her, something she could wear at work, something she might love.
And Chloe does seem to love it:
“YES!” She screams, scaring a pair of birds right out of a nearby tree. Lex laughs.
He’s proposed before, but it didn’t feel anything like this. He slides the ring on her finger, satisfied that it’s a perfect fit. She’s a perfect fit.
The future he wants is one where he’s never alone, one where he gets to wake up every morning next to her sunny smile.
He stands, catching her in his arms, but before he can kiss her, her lips are already occupied, babbling about wedding plans and a future together and something about being First Lady. Lex could listen to plans like that all day.
“Kids!” Chloe bursts out, eyes wide. “We’ve never talked about kids! Do you . . . I mean, how do you feel about—do you want . . . ?”
“Chloe, we don’t have to hash out every detail right this second.”
“No, I know. You’re right. It’s just—that’s a big detail, Lex!”
He laughs. “Yes? Honestly, I don’t know what I want.” His voice softens. “I worry about being a father in the tradition of my own.”
She cradles his face in her hands, brushing her thumb over his cheek. “Don’t worry about that for a second.”
She always sees the best in him, even when other people don’t bother looking. With tenderness, Lex kisses her palm.
“Here’s what I know,” he says. “I’d try anything with you.”
Her smile returns, radiant and captivating. “Well, then, Mr. Luthor, start writing your vows. Because the next headline is ‘Lex Luthor: Husband Extraordinaire.’”
He gives a good-natured groan to her triumphant laugh.
Husband. All his life, Lex has been defined by connections—primarily, his connection to his father. Son of Lionel Luthor. Heir to LuthorCorp. Considering that, “husband” might be a restricting word, another way for him to be defined by someone other than himself. But imagining himself as Chloe Sullivan’s husband doesn’t carry any bitterness at all, only an excitement for the things they might achieve together. Maybe the White House, maybe not. But certainly something spectacular.
He can’t wait to build this legacy.
+++
Chloe turns slowly, catching herself from all angles in the full-length mirrors. They’ve been set up temporarily in a room of the mansion, and the dressmaker is just outside, in case there are any concerns.
Her cousin Lois stands off to the side, hands clasped at her chest and beaming with pride—probably more at the wedding gown than at Chloe, because she’s the one who insisted Chloe accept Lex’s offer of commissioning a handcrafted gown rather than buying one from a wedding shop.
“Admit it.” Lois grins, flipping her hair with signature self-confidence. “You’re glad I bullied you into a custom dress. It’s so you!”
Chloe laughs. Lois is a little haughty at times, but she’s usually right. In this case, definitely right. The dress is a fitted mermaid style with cap sleeves and a plunging, scalloped neckline. Although predominantly beige and ivory, there’s a decorative line of black along the edges, like artfully splattered ink. Her short blonde hair has been curled and tucked around a golden band set with black and white pearls.
Lois is both her maid of honor and her only bridesmaid. Chloe doesn’t mind that. Besides, Clark is Lex’s best man and only groomsman, so the wedding parties match. And Lois is stunning enough in her teal halter-top gown to make up for an entire collection of bridesmaids.
“Wait, flowers! I got this.” Lois grabs the silky skirt of her own gown, holding it out of the way as she rushes to a side table and grabs the bridal bouquet along with her own smaller bridesmaid bouquet.
“Milady.” Lois delivers the bouquet with a sweeping, exaggerated bow. It’s a waterfall arrangement of teal and white calla lilies with black accents.
Chloe hugs her. “I can’t believe this is really happening.”
“Save those teary eyes for your groom, ma’am. Boys love it when a girl gets all weepy so they can swoop in and be a hero. Or so I assume. You’ve definitely beaten me to this whole stable, healthy relationship thing.” Lois gives her a big squeeze before releasing. She grips Chloe’s arms with a mischievous smile. “I don’t suppose Lex’s best man is also a handsome billionaire, is he? An Oliver Queen type, maybe?”
“Uh, close, he’s a farm boy?” Chloe bursts into laughter at the look on Lois’s face.
“Ugh. A farm boy? As in, poor as dirt? Thinks cowboy boots are high fashion?”
“I’ve never seen him wear cowboy boots, just a lot of plaid.” Chloe composes herself, though she can’t restrain her smile. “Lois, you’ll love Clark, trust me. Just give him a chance.”
“Well, I’ll dance with him for the sake of wedding tradition, but I’m not taking him home, that’s for sure.”
There’s a gentle knock at the door, and the dressmaker checks in. Chloe assures her everything is perfect. As the woman leaves, Chloe grips her flowers.
“I guess that means it’s time,” she whispers breathlessly.
Lois holds out her arm like the fanciest of escorts. She’s grinning. “Come on. Let’s get you to your party.”
They decided to hold the wedding at the mansion. Lex gave Chloe her pick of destinations, and the one she chose was the place they met—nowhere else could possibly have as much meaning. Besides, she enjoys a dramatic story, and what’s more dramatic than marrying Lex in the very spot she once stopped him from marrying another woman? That’s front-page gold.
The sky is bright and hopeful overhead, the sun filtering through gilded clouds. Lex stands beneath a grand white arch strung with flowers and fairy lights. Wooden chairs line the grass in two columns, and between them, there’s an aisle for Chloe, made of scattered teal rose petals.
Her father walks her down the aisle, and he keeps wiping his eyes. She kisses his cheek before he turns to sit, and then she steps onto the low wooden platform, next to Lex.
As the priest begins speaking, Lex takes her hands. She thinks back to that convention forever ago, where she first held his hand. She never imagined that path led here.
It’s a dream. The best Chloe has ever had.
When it comes time for the vows, Chloe suddenly feels like everything she prepared is too flowery and cheesy. She’s babbling, as usual. Except the ending. She speaks her ending with full confidence and full heart: “Lex, as long as I live, I swear you’ll never be alone again.”
He smiles, looking down at their joined hands. For a moment, there’s silence, and she would be worried, except it’s Lex. He employs his silences as precisely as his words, and this one feels full of meaning. It’s the edge of something, like the moment before a total eclipse transforms the sky.
When he looks up, there’s a sheen of tears in his eyes, but they don’t fall. His voice is strong.
“All other things,” he says slowly, “to their destruction draw. Only our love hath no decay. This no tomorrow hath, nor yesterday. Running, it never runs from us away, but truly keeps its first, last, everlasting day.”
She doesn’t know if he wrote it or if he’s reciting, and it doesn’t matter; his voice is poetry itself. Smooth as silk. The promise of an eternity where they’ll be together even when everything else fades.
“Here upon earth we’re kings.” Lex squeezes her hands. “And none but we can be such kings, nor of such subjects be. Who is so safe as we?”
He lets the poem linger a moment, then concludes, “Chloe, I have never loved until I loved you. I would give you the world. I would stand with you through the end of it. If you’ll only stay with me, I’ll never need anything else.”
She’s crying. Her heart is soaring. Lex slides a new ring on her finger, a simple band that slots perfectly around her engagement ring, and she looks at those two rings together. A perfect pair. Meant to be.
The priest declares it, husband and wife, and while everyone cheers—Lois and Clark louder than the whole crowd—Chloe catches hold of Lex’s teal-blue tie, pulling his lips down to hers, winding her other arm around his neck and holding him captive. If he wants to be hers, if he dares to be hers, she’ll hold tight forever. In sickness and in health. In meteor freaks and in madness. A billionaire playboy and a newspaper nobody, rewriting their destinies. Together.
Forever.