Title:  Working It Out

Author:  twinsarein

Beta:  The talented tallihensia!  Thank you so much for helping me pull this together in time.

Pairing:  Clark/Lex

Rating:  PG

Word count:  4,581

Spoilers:  Some vague ones around the first half of season 8.

Feedback:  Don’t keep it a secret; shout it to the world…or, at least type it into a comment.

Summary:  Clark enjoys working for Dr. Lex Luthor; he just wishes he didn’t have to hide his secret.

A/N:  Written for the 35^th CLFF Wave.  The category this time is AU professions.  The ones I chose were housekeeper and doctor. 

Working It Out

Clark pauses in his dusting as the sun comes out from behind some clouds.  He closes his eyes and tilts his head back a little, a slight smile on his face, enjoying the momentary rays.  The huge picture windows in the plant room are the reason this is the cleanest room in the house.  He’ll find any excuse to be working in here that he can find. 

Luckily, that isn’t hard to do.  The room has over two hundred plants that need to be watered and cared for.  There is also always dusting and sweeping to do as plants were surprisingly sloppy – always dropping dead flowers and leaves and attracting dust like a magnet attracts iron.

He never worked faster than regular speed in this room, if he could help it.  Not only because of the sunlight, but also because he doesn’t want to damage the plants.  The sunlight isn’t the only reason he loves this room.  All of the green, growing things make it seem so peaceful.  It’s also the favorite room of his employer.  Not that the man gets to enjoy it much.

He’s always busy with his patients, doing paperwork, or working on the next paper he wants to submit to the Journal of Pediatrics about the findings of his on-going study of childhood asthma.  The man’s a genius, and Clark’s glad he got the job as his housekeeper so he could make the doctor’s life a little easier.  If it wasn’t for the attraction he felt for the man, it would be the perfect job. 

He hasn’t felt like this about anyone, ever.  Not this level of intensity anyway.  The closest might be the childhood crush he’d had on Lana.  Although that had been special as his first love and had seemed like the be-all-and-end-all of his existence back then, it had faded pretty quickly when she’d left for Paris at the end of their junior year in high school.

This was more, deeper, and it grew every day he was in the man’s employ.  What makes it so hard, is that he has no intention of doing anything about it.  If he admits his feelings, then Clark would also want to tell the doctor his secrets.  Telling a person that he’s Superman places a burden on that person that they can’t ever get away from.  Clark’s seen what it’s done to the few people who do know, the pressure it puts them under.

There’s always the Kiss of Lethe, but Clark had learned his lesson about mucking about with people’s minds and memories when he’d had the AI in the Fortress remove Chloe’s memories of his secret a few years ago.  Once he’d developed the power to make people forget, he’d decided to never use it except as a last resort or to use it on someone he loves without their express permission.

Besides, Clark’s pretty sure the feelings he has for his boss aren’t mutual.  The man hardly ever even acknowledges his presence, except to give him any special instructions for the day or to make a particular request for supper.  Occasionally, he feels as if he’s being watched, but no matter how fast he whips around, he’s never caught the other man staring at him.  Even keeping his speed under control, Clark can still move fairly fast, so he figures the feeling of being watched is just wishful thinking on his part. 

A soft sound alerts him to the fact that he isn’t alone.  Opening his eyes and tilting his head back down, he sees the object of his most recent thoughts standing in the doorway looking much more disheveled than usual.  “Dr. Luthor, what can I do for you?

The man starts, and if Clark hadn’t just reminded himself that it was just wishful thinking, he’d say his employer had been staring at him.  “What?  Oh, right.  I need your help with a recalcitrant patient, Clark.  His family is new to the area and he needs this shot for a program he’s enrolling in, but is being most resistant.  His mother is with him, but she’s not strong enough to hold him still and my nurse couldn’t come in today.”  As an aside, but without much hope in his voice, the doctor adds, “And I’ve told you, it’s just Lex.”

In spite of his employer’s request, Clark can’t let himself think of the man by the more intimate first name.  Not with the feelings he has for him that he wants to keep hidden.  “I’ll be glad to help, Dr. Luthor.” 

Clark falls into step beside the slimmer man as they starts walking to the back end of the house where the pediatrician has his office and patient rooms.  Clark had helped once before, when a parent had turned green at the sight of the needle.  Then, he’d happened to be cleaning nearby and he’d come in to hold the little girl’s hand while tears rolled down her sweet face.

That doesn’t seem like that’s all that will be required of him this time.  He can hear the yells from twenty feet away and through two closed doors – without using his super hearing.  When they enter the room, the boy is yelling at his mother, looking faintly hysterical.  He’s obviously no longer in control of himself. 

Clark puts a little bit of Superman into his voice and lets it thunder through the room.  “Enough!”

The boy’s voice chokes off mid-yell and the mother takes a shuddering breath in the sudden silence.  “Young men do not speak to their mothers that way.  Now, hop up onto the table.”

Automatically, the boy does as he’s told, and then looks surprised once he’s up there.  “I’m not a young man.  I’m a boy.”

The protest is more a token than anything else, and Clark suppresses a smile.  “What’s your name?”

Craning his neck up at Clark, his answer comes with surprisingly little fuss.  “Toby.”

“Well, Toby, you might be a boy right now, but if you want to grow up to be a big strong man, then you need to do the things that keep you healthy.  Look.”  Searching around, Clark spies a container of several thin, flat tongue depressors made of metal.  Aluminum, he figures. 

Sending a quick apologetic look towards his boss, Clark grabs one.  He puts the pad of his thumb on one end and the pad of his middle finger on the other.  “I couldn’t do this is I wasn’t healthy, could I?”  Exerting a tiny bit more force than he thought would be necessary, Clark easily bends the depressor in half.

Handing it to Toby, Clark waits until he’s had a chance to try to straighten it out and fails.  Toby turns the bent metal over and over in his hands, looking at it with wonder.  “So, I’ll be able to bend this if I get the shot?”

Shaking his head, Clark reaches for the depressor and carefully straightens it back out.  “No.  That isn’t what I said, Toby.  You need to keep yourself healthy, so you can grow into a man strong enough to bend something like that.  One of the things you have to do to be that healthy and strong is get your shot today.  If you want, I’ll stay and hold your hand.”

Still looking apprehensive, Toby takes Clark’s outstretched hand and holds on tight.  Seconds later, the deed is done, and Toby is looking at the band-aid on his upper arm in surprise.  “Is that it?  That hardly hurt at all.”

Patting him on the back, Clark turns to go.  “Congratulations on being one step closer to being a strong, healthy man, Toby.  Dr. Luthor, if that’s all, I’ll return to my duties.”

Clark waits for the brief nod before leaving the room.  All the way back to the front of the house, he wonders about the strange glint that had been in the other man’s eyes.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Knowing he has some downtime due to the doctor’s heavy patient load for the day, Clark tunes in to the sounds of the world around him to see if his attentions are needed anywhere.  Central New York is a quiet place most of the time, but that’s one of the reasons he’d picked it.  He has very few large emergencies he needs to be present at.  There’s seldom something that the police department, fire department, or paramedics can’t handle.  These days, he rarely helps for anything that isn’t major - something that affects dozens, if not hundreds, of lives.

After leaving the farm for college, he’d done a year at MetU, but then decided to transfer.  Living in the dorms in the middle of the city, as he was required to do as a freshman, he was so busy with rescues that he almost flunked out of the first semester.  During the second semester he’d tuned his hearing way down, but the concentration it took to do so meant that he couldn’t focus on his class work that way he’d needed to.  He’d found himself almost failing again.

When Clark had been accepted at the new college, Ithaca had seemed like a perfect choice.  It kept him on the same continent as his parents so he could still get home to help them, he got a good distance from all the bad memories, and he was able to relax his vigilance some.  He’d gotten a job as a housekeeper during his sophomore year and it had also suited him. 

As a housekeeper, he wasn’t usually directly supervised, as long as the work got done, so he could come and go as he pleased.  The work didn’t require heavy thinking, so keeping his hearing tuned down didn’t affect him on a regular basis.  It was nice not to always be bumbling about or stammering because he hadn’t been paying attention.  He knows he had to have appeared awfully dim sometimes while he was listening to other things.

Once Clark had been in New York for a few months, he’d noticed other benefits as well.  It really helped to get away from Kansas and all the bad memories of what his arrival had done to the place he’d called home for so long.  Getting away from all the Kryptonite scattered around the state in its various colors was a bonus that he hadn’t taken lightly, either.  He hadn’t realized how much he was constantly being affected by the low-level radiation ever-present in Smallville, until he was away from it completely.  Living in Metropolis for the first year of college, Clark was still going home almost every day.  Once in Ithaca, he still went home, but not as often.  He soon noticed a difference in his response times during emergencies and his general level of well-being.

Once Clark had graduated, he’d returned to Metropolis.  Not out of any real desire, but because he felt he had to.  He’d gotten a job working at The Daily Planet while he found his feet as Superman.  It had been a good two years, but something had felt like it had been missing.  He hadn’t known what at that point, but the feeling had definitely been there. 

In addition, even though he was older and had more control, he still found it a little difficult to keep his hearing tuned down and do all that was required of him as a reporter.  He’d lost count of the number of things he’d tripped over obstacles, bumped into things, or the amount of times he’d been reduced to stammering.  Frankly, it had been a little embarrassing. 

He’d thought longingly of his time in Ithaca and finally decided to return.  Clark had thought of getting a job as a reporter at the local paper, with his credentials as a reporter at the country’s leading paper he could have done it easily, but decided against it.  He remembered the peace he’d felt cleaning someone’s house in college, and how easy it had been to sneak away when he had someone to help.  He’d looked at the want ads, and saw Dr. Lex Luthor’s request for help right away.

Coming out of his reminiscing, Clark realizes that he could only get so caught up in his own thoughts if there were no cries for help calling for his attention.  Apparently, the world is lucky today, and so is he.  There are no major emergencies or natural disasters to help with, so he spends a nice afternoon in the plant room, although he does tune the radio in to a news station, just in case.  After he spends as much time in the plant room as he dares, he speed cleans the rest of the house and starts supper.  He’s just finishing with bringing the food out when Dr. Luthor comes in.

Clark stares in shock.  The man is usually so lost in his work that Clark has to go get him in his office.  Even then he may or may not come out.  There have been many times in the past where Clark has gone back to get him a second time, the food barely palatable when he finally emerges.

“Dr. Luthor, what a surprise to have you here just as I’ve finished dishing up the food.”

“There’s a reason for it, Clark.  After dinner, I’d like a little of your time.  There’s something I need to discuss with you.”

Clark keeps his worry about what the topic of conversation may be to himself and nods his head.  “Of course, sir.  Just ring the bell when you’re done and I’ll clear the dishes and then return to make myself available to you.  Would that be acceptable?”

“Eminently.”

Clark takes his leave, and heads to the kitchen for his own supper.  He has no idea what the doctor needs to see him about, but it’s worrisome.  He hopes he isn’t about to be let go.  It’s only been about five months since he started working here, but it already feels more like home than any place he’s ever been other than his parent’s farmhouse.

He can’t think of why he might be fired; the economy isn’t the best, but it isn’t that bad and Dr. Luthor hasn’t been affected by any downturn.  His patient load certainly hasn’t been any less than usual.  If anything, he’s increased it by several patients this month.  Clark bites his bottom lip when he thinks about the plant room.  He does spend a lot of his time in there.  Maybe the doctor is upset with him about that.

Luckily for his peace of mind, Clark isn’t given any more time to speculate.  The tiny bell that connects to the dining room rings, and Clark abandons his mostly untouched meal to go clear the table.  He goes in keeping a close eye on his employer, but gets no clues from the expressionless face.

Quickly and efficiently, he clears the table and then returns to stand near the door, hands clasped patiently and trying not to betray his nervousness.  Looking right at Clark, the doctor makes a subtle signal that makes Clark’s eyes widen.  He goes to the sideboard and gets out a piece of handheld equipment that his employer keeps in many rooms.  Turning it on, Clark sweeps the room for bugs. 

He does this once a week as part of his duties, but rarely at other times.  However, when he’d been hired, the doctor had been sure to let him know what signal to watch for if he wanted it done at a time that hadn’t been prearranged.  As he always does, he supplements the machine’s efforts with his own x-ray vision.  He usually finds at least one that the device misses.

Clark is thankful that he’s never met the man whose parenting engenders this level of caution.  Most of the time, Dr. Luthor lets the bugs stay where they’ve been planted, he just wants to know where they are and if his father is stepping up his surveillance for some reason.  Today, though, the signal given had included his desire for Clark to collect and destroy them.

Putting them on the floor, so his employer can witness the destruction, Clark crushes the four bugs he found under the heel of his shoe.  After it’s done, Dr. Luthor directs him to a chair.

After getting rid of the bugs, Clark is even more worried about being fired.  It would be like his boss to spare him from other people hearing his dressing-down.  The doctor opens his mouth to speak, but Clark forestalls him.  “Sir, if this is about how much time I spend in the plant room during the day, then I’ll do my best to…”

Clark trails off when his employer shakes his head.  “No, Clark.  I know how much you enjoy that room.  The rest of your duties get done, so I have no quarrel about where you spend your time.  No, there is something else that I need to discuss with you.”

Reaching into his pocket, he brings out the tongue depressor Clark had bent earlier that day.  Looking at it more closely, Clark can tell that he didn’t get it straightened out quite right.

“I apologize, Dr. Luthor.  I didn’t want to ruin your equipment, but it was the only thing I could think of to quiet Toby down and get him to accept the shot.  I’ll replace it, of course.  If you’ll just let me know where I can order one…”

Tapping the depressor against his knuckles, the doctor continues to stare at Clark.  “I dare say you could replace it, Clark, although my guess is, it’s much more expensive than you’d imagine.  You’re probably aware that I’m independently wealthy, and don’t really need to work for a living.  However, I enjoy it and take immense pride in what I do.  One of the ways I show that is to buy the best equipment available.  To get it custom-made, if necessary.”

Nodding his head to show he’s listening, Clark doesn’t know where the doctor is going with this topic of conversation.  He also isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say in response, but since the doctor’s stopped talking he figures the man is waiting for him to say something.  “That makes sense, sir.  I think you’re smart to want to have equipment that lasts as long as possible.”

Sighing, Dr. Luthor puts the metal depressor down on the table between them.  Clark’s starting to feel a little nervous about what the slimmer man hasn’t said yet.  “Clark…”  The doctor pauses and runs a hand over the bald dome of his head, before he captures Clark’s gaze with his and continues.  “All the metal equipment I have is custom-made out of titanium.  There is no way you should have been able to bend that depressor at all, let alone so easily.  Luckily, as I said earlier, the family is new to the area, so they don’t know about my equipment.  A family that I’ve been seeing for a while, however, would.  Basically my point is, is that if you want your secret identity to remain secret, then you need to protect it better.”

Clark’s mouth opens and closes without a sound and then his whole body goes still.  The only thing still active is his mind.  It’s racing through all the implications and trying to find a meaning besides the obvious for what the doctor had said.  The doctor can’t know.  Can he?  But…, maybe he doesn’t know as much as it sounds like.  Perhaps he can deflect…  “Look, Dr. Luthor, I don’t know what you think you—”

“Clark!”  Clark stops at the adamant tone.  “Don’t bother lying to me.  I’m not a stupid man, and it’s been obvious almost from the beginning that you’re Superman.  I suspected in the first week, and my suspicions were confirmed when you were gone for the same period of time that Superman was seen helping with mudslides in California.”

Clasping his hands in front of him, Dr. Luthor leans toward Clark a little, and Clark can see there’s no doubt on his features at what he’s saying.  “I haven’t said anything before now, because it has been fairly easy to cover for you.  My father goes only for auditory bugs and I live a very solitary life.  The fact that you can clean an entire room in seconds is something that only I have a chance to observe or that I can come into the kitchen ten minutes before supper to find nothing being cooked, only to have you come to my office, on time, to announce the meal.”  Dr. Luthor abruptly stops talking and sits back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the table and staring at Clark.

No one has ever figured it out before.  Clark isn’t sure what to do with the knowledge that Dr. Luthor has.  Yes, they’ve been living in the same house, but their paths seldom cross and the doctor hardly ever seemed aware of his presence, let alone to the extent it would take to notice the things he had.  “Doctor, I don’t know what to say…”

Reaching out, Dr. Luthor puts a hand on Clark’s arm.  Even as distressed as he is, Clark feels a shiver go through him at the touch.  Almost unconsciously it seems, the other man starts petting his forearm.  “There isn’t anything to say, except that you’ll be more careful.  You’ve worked for me for five months and I’ve known almost that long.  I have no intention of using that information to hurt you, to find your family, or to get something from you.  It’s one of the reasons that I didn’t tell you I knew; I didn’t want you thinking I’d use the information to some sort of benefit to myself.  If I’m tempted, I just have to remind myself that it’s something my father would do, and then I’m not tempted anymore.”

Holding his gaze for a full minute, at least, Clark finally nods his head, satisfied.  “I’ll gather my things and leave immediately, sir.”

“What?!”  The caressing hand that hadn’t ever been lifted turns into a fierce grip.  “No!  I don’t want you to leave.  You can trust me not to use the information against you.”

Clark gently lifts the hand off his arm, so the doctor wouldn’t hurt himself on Clark’s invulnerable skin.  He holds the hand in both of his and caresses the knuckles with a thumb.  “I do trust you, but the information is dangerous.  You or your family could get hurt if anyone suspects you know who I am.  I couldn’t bear that.  Just the knowledge itself is a burden that you shouldn’t have to carry.  There is a method…I do have a way of erasing the information from your memory.  If you want, I can…”

“No!  No, I don’t want that at all.”  Clark blinks, taken aback by the ferocious intensity on the doctor’s face.  He blinks again when the fierceness on Dr. Luthor’s face changes to an odd combination of hopeful determination.  “I can help you, Clark.  I can cover for you when necessary. I’ve already done it a few times, and with my money I can make sure you have what you need to help as many people as you want.  If you don’t want my help, that’s fine too, but I’d like you to keep using my home as yours.”

Clark starts to feel his heart beating faster at the conviction in the doctor’s words.  It beats even harder with the realization that’s just starting to sink in - that this man has known for months and it hasn’t changed how he’s acted and he’s never given any hint that he even knew, let alone that the information has been putting a strain on him.  “Why would you do that?  Why would you put yourself in danger to help me?”  Clark hopes he knows the answer, but isn’t sure.  It’ll be too good to be true if the other man shares his feelings.

For the first time, Dr. Luthor looks away from his eyes.  “It doesn’t matter, Clark.  I don’t think there’s much danger anyway.  You parents lived with your secret for a couple of decades and no one discovered it.  I think my chances are excellent for avoiding detection as well.  Also, my father is my only family, and he’s more than capable of looking after himself.”

Fiercely, Clark reaches out and grasps the other man’s chin, guiding his face back.  “It does matter.  Tell me, please.  Do you…care for me?”

Dr. Luthor purses his lips together before responding.  “Clark, I’m your employer.  Anything I say could be seen as coercion or manipulation.  I won’t do that.”

“If that’s your reason for keeping quiet, then you’re giving me another reason to not work for you anymore.” 

Eyes’ flashing angrily, Dr. Luthor reaches up and removes Clark’s hand from his chin.  However, he doesn’t let Clark’s hand go.  “Clark, you won’t even call me by first name, in spite of my frequent invitations to do so, and now you’re asking me to tell you I care for you while giving me no hint of your own feelings.  I—”

Leaning forward, Clark cuts the doctor off with a soft kiss, and then sits back and takes advantage of the other man’s stunned silence to explain himself.  “I’ve cared for you from the first moment we met and the feeling has only grown as I’ve gotten to know you better.  It’s because I feel so strongly about you, that I refused all your invitations to use your first name.  It was the only way I could think of to keep some distance between us so I wouldn’t forget myself and confess everything to you.  I couldn’t let myself do that.  No one who knows has ever been able to handle it, except my parents.  I couldn’t put that stress on you just because I want to share my life with you.  I wasn’t going to allow myself to be that selfish.”

Lex nods his head, a look of grudging acceptance on his face – as if he doesn’t like Clark’s reasoning, but understands it nonetheless.  “To answer your question, yes, I do care for you.  I didn’t act on it because you’re my employee and it would have been against the moral code I’ve been trying to live by since I broke away from my father when I was in my early twenties.  However, since you’re making the first move, I feel that that restriction is lifted.”

Bringing their still clasped hands up, Clark presses a kiss on their linked fingers.  “So, where do we go from here?”

Laying a kiss on the same spot, the doctor looks at Clark with a small smile.  “First things first – you need to start calling me Lex.  After that, we’ll work it out as we go.  Alright?”

Gently squeezing the slightly smaller hand in his, Clark smiles back.  “”Yes, Lex.”