Whew... no, I really am close now.


It seemed like a bad joke when the first reaction was Clark’s father clutching a hand to his chest. “Jonathan!” cried his mother, and Lex shot an accusatory glance Clark’s way, as though he should have somehow guarded against this possibility.

“No, I’m fine,” Jonathan protested, and indeed, his expression was trapped between a grimace and a smile. “Just – Martha, the pills in my coat.”

As Martha scurried off, Clark rushed to put an arm around his father’s neck. “I’m sorry, Dad, I know this must be a hell of a surprise.”

“Surprise,” Jonathan laughed breathlessly. “Here we thought we’d never – thanks, sweetheart” – as he accepted the pills -- “never have a grandchild, and we always wanted a little girl in the family.”

“That’s what you’re surprised about?” Clark asked, blinking. “Not the part where your *son* is pregnant?”

Jonathan’s face was still a little ashen, and Lex reached out to smack the back of Clark’s head in response to his statement. “Son, this is by far one of the least shocking things your body can do,” Jonathan said, smiling at Lex. “At least this time, it’s something other people do.”

“Other *women*,” Clark clarified carefully. Perhaps Jonathan wasn’t getting enough oxygen to his brain?

Jonathan waved a hand in the air, dismissing this technicality, then shook his head. “A little girl. Who’d have dreamed it?”

“We can make up the sewing room,” Martha said, her voice too bright, containing more of the panic Clark had expected from his father. “In pink. Isn’t it nice to know already that it’s a girl?”

“Mom, I’m not moving home,” Clark informed her, still absently patting his father’s back.

“Well, you’re certainly not doing this alone,” Martha said, more sharply. “And you can’t stay in Metropolis.”

“Why can’t he?” Lex asked, entering the conversation for the first time. “And he won’t be alone.”

“I didn’t mean to imply,” Martha amended hastily, “except I had the impression that you two weren’t –”

“We aren’t,” Lex said, abruptly. “But I intend to be there for Clark.”

“She can come for summer vacations, and on weekends,” Jonathan murmured happily, taking another pill and rubbing his rib cage.

Martha broke eye contact with Lex and settled down on the couch next to her husband. “We should still make up a room for her, you never know when you might like us to watch her.”

“Have you thought of names?” asked Jonathan suddenly. “Ethel was my mother’s name.”

“Ethel!” repeated Lex, looking as though he might need a heart pill himself.

“Dad, that’s a little premature,” Clark interjected.

“Jonathan, you can’t call a tiny baby ‘Ethel’,” said Martha censoriously. “Besides, it’s our family tradition to use a maiden name. Maybe we could use your mother’s maiden name.”

When Lex shot a quizzical glance Clark’s way, Clark supplied the answer. “Mackenzie.”

“No,” Lex said, emphatically.

“I don’t see what’s wrong with Ethel,” Jonathan sighed.

“Everyone stop,” Clark ordered, suddenly feeling a bit dizzy. Lex’s hand descended on Clark’s neck like a cool cloth, and he breathed out in relief as silence reigned. “We are going to have dinner,” he said, softly, leaning back into Lex’s touch. “We are going to eat and no one is to talk about the baby.”

***

Of course, Clark’s order barely lasted through the salad course. It wasn’t long before Martha and Jonathan began asking the important, non-panic-related questions, the big ones that Clark and Lex hadn’t begun to answer. With careful deflection and heavy-handed reminders that he and Clark were both adults, Lex took the brunt of the speculation away from Clark. By the time the Kents were putting on their coats at the penthouse door, they seemed resigned to the fact that their nursery decoration and name arguments would have to wait until a later dinner.

As soon as the door closed, Clark collapsed against it and groaned.

“I’m sorry for that,” Lex said, not sounding very sorry.

Clark only groaned again in response.

“But they took it pretty well,” Lex said, more cheerily.

Clark sank down the length of the door, ending up on his ass with his knees drawn up close to his chest, feeling the hard bump of baby squeezed in the middle. “Lex, I don’t know how I’m getting around Perry, or the public, or if I can even do this,” he sighed, closing his eyes. “And I don’t know what a bobby pin is.”

Lex didn’t respond, except to sit down beside Clark, close enough that Clark felt the length of his leg brushing against Lex’s.

“And I’m tired and fat and – it’s only getting worse from here,” Clark concluded, letting his head drop sideways onto Lex’s waiting shoulder.

Which tensed almost immediately.

Clark lifted his head again, opening his eyes. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Lex said, too calmly. “It’s fine. I just think that for her sake, we have to be pretty clear on what we’re not. And it’s stretching things a bit, as it is, to say that we’re friends. I think we can’t push it farther than that, not now.”

“Yeah, that makes perfect sense,” Clark agreed, nodding like an idiot, scrambling to his feet.

Lex stood up more smoothly, averting his gaze.

“So, I’ll just – go home.” Clark held his breath, waiting for Lex to object, but Lex just stepped aside to allow Clark access to the front hall closet.

“We’re going to have to meet again,” Lex said, as Clark slipped into his jacket. “To discuss custody, and your plans.”

“Yeah,” Clark agreed stupidly, looking past Lex’s head. “Yeah, we’ll do that.”

“Well,” Lex said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Clark agreed, and banged his elbow on the doorknob. “Good night,” he repeated, backing out the door.

His last glimpse of Lex showed him a bare scalp bowed in something like contemplation.

***

“What the hell happened here?” shrieked Lois the second Clark stepped off the elevator on Monday morning.

Clark glanced in the direction Lois was pointing and saw her pristine, freshly Luthorized desk. “He helped save your life,” Clark said, immediately.

“He *touched* my *stuff*!” Lois hissed, stomping in her Jimmy Choos over to the scene of the crime.

“He was being helpful,” Clark tried, pushing up his glasses as he shrugged out of his coat, then moved Lois’s coat over to the coatrack.

“He *touched* my *stuff*!” Lois repeated, yet more darkly.

“He sorted your pencils by size,” Clark added.

Lois opened her mouth, but no sound came out, which struck Clark as a Very Bad Sign Indeed.

“Think of it as a clean slate,” Clark offered, edging his way over to his chair. “You know, in two days, you’ll have it back the way it was, even better.”

Lois seemed unable to sit, herself. She was circling her desk relentlessly, as though she didn’t recognize her desk chair without its twenty layers of shed business jackets.

“Did you have coffee yet?” Clark asked. “Because I was going to get some.”

Lois was actually bending over to *sniff* at her deskpad.

“Oh, he might have, you know, spritzed it with his cologne,” Clark explained hastily.

Lois backed up, eyes flaring wide, glowering at Clark. “With his cologne!” she shouted. “*Spritzed*?”

“So, cherry danish,” Clark announced, rising and leaping for his coat. “And a double-shot latte, non-fat.”

“I don’t *care* if he’s your new boyfriend, Lex Luthor is going down!” Lois exploded, just as the elevator doors closed again.

Lex was right. Lois was *so* never babysitting.


***

[Poll #599534]