Title: A Responsible Gift

Author: SC182

Category: Future fic

Rating: PG

Summary: Lionel Luthor kicked the bucket and left something special behind for his son.

Pet: Chinchilla—Wave 20

Disclaimer: All characters mentioned in this story, excluding the pet, are property of DC Comics and The CW Network.

Author’s Note: Thank you, Keikokin, for the beta!

It had been a good day; the type of day where Clark typed away at his desk and confirmed details with sources via the phone. Lois hunted down leads and Superman made a few rescues. It was mostly simple things like cats in trees and lifting buses out of mud.

All in all, it was a good day. With Lois away from her desk at the moment, he hoped he’d be able to go home and relax with his husband. Such a great idea until Lois sat at her desk and began to stare at him with sharp inquisitive eyes. Clark’s eyes gradually found hers and moved with hers to the AP scroll above them.

The day had finally come.

It was the day Lionel died, and Clark was at the Daily Planet, feeling extremely sobered and a bit guilty for being relieved.

“Hey Smallville, I just heard the news.” Lois plopped two cups of steaming, possibly way too strong coffee in front of him. “How’s SRH taking it?” Lois was notorious for coming up with acronyms for everything, Lex just happened to be SRH—super, rich husband.

“I was just heading out now, Lo--” She cut him off.

“It’s not everyday that the Former King of Metropolis kicks the bucket. Especially with the special circumstances what with him almost being your step-dad and father-in-law.” It never ceased to amaze Clark how Lois could say the most irritating things with such off-handed ease.

“He was not my step-dad…Talk about a little too close to the backwoods kind of loving. He and my mom were companions, that’s all.”

“Tomato, to-mah-toh.” Lois said around a mouthful of Nicarette gum. “It still doesn’t change that your step-dad is dead and your husband is,” she hesitated, “probably grieving.”

“He wasn’t my step-dad. He. Never. Married. My. Mother.” Clark punctuated deliberately as a dull ache spread across his temples. “And yes, I do need to go see Lex.”

With a roll of her eyes, she waved him off, and decided to withhold from telling him to get out of the office before the vultures really started circling, and by that, she meant Cat Grant.

One wake and a funeral, so austere and polished in its grand tackiness; it was obvious that Lionel had taken the time to plan it all down to the last detail, from the flowers to the sleeping arrangements. It reeked of Lionel Luthor.

Lex had taken it in stride; quietly, always answering all of Clark’s questions with a little more than ‘fine’ and tighter one-sided smiles.

Then, it happened. A simple phone call from Lex. “Come home. Now.” That was all Lex said before the dial tone filled Clark’s ear.

When Clark arrived at the penthouse, he found Mercy and Hope standing around casually, as casual as the two could manage, with looks that were much different from their standard icy expressions.

Clark stopped and stared, well - just a little, because the unflappable duo of femme fatales looked decisively perplexed.

“Mercy. Hope.” They gave him twin grunts and small nods. Clark decided then that nothing could be too bad, if Hope and Mercy were still managing to maintain their darling personalities.

He entered the office to a pacing Lex. Dressed in a sleek, black suit with a soft, lavender dress shirt, Lex prowled across his office. The coiled lines of Lex’s body along with the perfectly, fitted suit made a hot spark rise low in his belly. As if Lex could read his mind, he snuffed out the thought when those steely blue-grey eyes turned on him.

“Lex.” Clark said with the same ease used for tempering an agitated horse.

“He just couldn’t die in peace? Could he?” From the pacing, Clark should have known it was Lionel, barely cold in the ground and he still managed to rile Lex like no one else.

He approached Lex slowly, grasping his elbow with one large hand. Lex stopped pacing and removed a crisp white envelope from his pocket. “Read this, then you’ll understand.”

Clark took the letter and Lex stepped out of his touch, to round his desk. He removed the paper and began to read Lionel’s super crisp script.

Dearest Lex,

I know you are probably celebrating (in your own insolent way) at hearing the news of my timely demise. I must say that this life has been everything I wanted and more. In the spirit of such great accomplishments, this letter is to be sent to you before the reading of my will. You (and your Hephestian) will enjoy all that is left to you.

Yet before then, I must finally grant you the greatest responsibility you’ll face to date, even larger than our epic battles for Luthor Corp. What you will receive in the coming days will truly test your resolve and will to succeed as a Luthor should. Handle this matter with greatest care and ease and you shall succeed.

Your Father,

LL

He finished the letter and held it in his hands, flipping over and over, unsure of what to do with it. “What do you think it is?”

Lex perched himself on the corner of his glass desk. He rested his hands in his pocket. With a half shrug, he said, “Knowing my father, it’s probably something wholly strange and messy--”

It reminded the pair of the sudden appearance of exploding cauliflower all over Metropolis after one of Lex and Lionel’s nastier skirmishes before Lex had completely wrestled power from his father.

“Exploding cauliflower?” Clark asked.

“Hopefully not.” With Lionel still holding the cards, they could only hope.

The following days were tense. So tense that blowjob after super-blowjob weren’t having the super-effect Clark had hoped for.

It seemed that everything that could go wrong after that day did go wrong. As Clark laid on the sofa nursing a special cup of Hope and Mercy’s tea and replying to Lois’s more colorful text messages explaining how much he sucked and not in the good way that Lex liked either, he became convinced that Lionel had pulled every string, called in every favor and probably cheated the devil by reselling the soul that he’d already sold long ago to construct the messes of the past few days.

First, a mini-coup, and Clark didn’t use the term ‘mini’ lightly. An incident with a shrink ray and mutated coffee beans led to some Lex Corp employees trying to stage a mini uprising. Then, Metallo had escaped and proceeded to try and tear up Metropolis with the Joker’s help, of course. Now, he was tired, sore, and his stomach felt like it was doing the tango every other second.

The tea was good. Life was good…then there was a knock on the door.

Clark groaned at the sound. The spot on the sofa was way too comfortable and the door seemed impossibly far away. For once, he let the staff Lex hired do their job and answer the door. Seconds later, the penthouse was being filed with employee after employee of Lionel’s flooding into the room carrying boxes, duffle bags and trays of squeaky toys.

Clark leapt off the couch. “Lex!” He yelled as a final former flunky filled the doorway with arms laden with something heavy. Clark felt Lex stop beside him and sit on the arm of the sofa. The sharply dressed employee looked around, a bit nervously, for a place to set down his cargo.

Lex approached the tank, sauntering just so, that Clark’s attention was taken from the curious tank. Lex silently looked inside, before pulling back. “What is that?” Those blue eyes turned to Clark radiating cold fire and indicated that Lex was absolutely pissed about the tank’s contents.

The now nervous employee jostled the heavy tank and pillow lightly. After years of seeing it happen, Clark barely managed to stifle a laugh. It always thrilled him when Lex went from sexy to aggressive.

The employee held the tank a little closer to Lex and Clark. “As per the late Mr. Luthor’s request, I present you with his charge, Princess Livia.” He placed the lushly, filled tank and pillow on the coffee table.

Like something out of Arabian Nights, the pillow looked soft and plump, coral and covered with tan tassels. Along the edge of the front side in impeccably stitched embroidery, it said ‘Princess Livia’.

A brown ball of fluff hopped towards the glass. “My father gave us a rat.”

“It’s not a rat.” The employee said nervously. “This is your father’s beloved pet Chinchilla.”

Chinchilla? And all Clark could think was Lionel having too much in common with Cruella De Ville. Lex watched the small rodent. “It has beady eyes, Clark. No wonder he liked it.”

“She has beady eyes, Lex.” Lex gave him a look that said he wasn’t in the least bit amused.

He sat beside Clark on the couch. In a position that seemed to give him the most space from the Chinchilla as possible. “I feel so vindicated…”

“Because we have more than enough proof of Lionel’s insanity?” Clark watched the small animal hop from level to level of its vegetation and wood chip kingdom. It was cute.

Lex crossed his arms over his chest and pretended to not have a growing interest in the acrobatics of Princess Livia. “Yes, and now, we can probably deduce that those god awful schemes over the past couple of years came at the advice of a long-footed and strangely eared rat.”

Clark tsked. “Princess Livia is not a rat, Lex. She’s a Chinchilla…What surprised me is that Lionel didn’t use her to make a coat.”

“I wouldn’t have put it past him. He probably tried and Princess Livia outwitted him with her cuteness. ” Lex moved closer and gazed down at the tiny hazel brown rodent in the tank. Princess Livia stared back at him avidly, with small dark eyes; surprisingly intelligent eyes.

It didn’t get past Clark that the ‘rat’ was now being addressed by her official name and title and had been deemed cute.

“Maybe, we should keep her.” Clark suggested. Lex had never had a pet, not that he knew of, so the idea seemed to be a good one.

Lex considered the idea with a transitioning scowl to smirk. Then, he said. “That seems most appropriate. We can never be too sure that Lionel didn’t create some sort of super- meteor-enhanced rodent, no matter how cute she may be.”

And that’s how Lex became sold on Princess Livia.

In the next coming weeks, Princess Livia came to live up to her name in the penthouse. She had a room just down the hall, full of variously complex and bedding filled tanks. Stairs, beds and running wheels in all the spaces she’d want to tread.

Clark had been right about Lex having a pet. As Clark checked his e-mail again, Lex had sent him another e-mail proclaiming that Princess Livia was possibly the most intelligent pet in existence.

He took it all in stride, because Lex was enjoying the experience. As long as candid pet pictures didn’t immigrate into his e-mail, Clark too was content with Lex’s interest in Princess Livia.

Plus, it never failed to make Clark smile when Princess Livia was followed by her security entourage. It was possible for Clark to forgive Lionel, just this once. Because the sight of Hope and Mercy chasing after a hopping rodent, that brought out Lex’s cuddly side, if there was such a thing, then Lionel had been redeemed if only for a minute in Clark’s eyes.

She wasn’t Shelby by any means, but she’d do.