Love and the Beauty of Destruction [Clex, Preslash, PG]

[chibifukurou]

I totally blame the prompters over at comment_fic for this, particularly scripps .

This is unbetad so if you see anything wrong please leave a comment and let me know what you find. Be assured that I will thank you profusely.

Title: Love and the Beauty of Destruction
Fandom: Smallville/Dexter Fusion
Rating: PG
Summary: Lex wasn't like most of the people that lived in Miami or even that came to AA. He didn't care about propriety or the typical definition of art. Meeting Clark at a AA meeting had been a godsend.

Lex wasn't like most of the people that lived in Miami or even that came to AA. He didn't care about propriety or the typical definition of art. When he'd given up the riches his father had offered in order to follow his calling as an artist he'd thought he would be alone forever. Few people outside the upper social circles understood the beauty that came with pain and destruction.

Meeting Clark at a AA meeting had been a godsend. In Clark he'd seen an leashed darkness and understanding of destructive beauty that he hadn't seen since he and Bruce had broken up. Oh, he knew that Clark's confession was faked but he could practically taste the blood that he hid behind his lies. It was glorious and Lex could barely contain his joy when he was picked to sponsor Clark.

They went out to coffee on Clark's dime and Lex played the concerned sponsor before verbally ripping Clark to shreds. Clark had reacted predictably, though a bit more violently than Lex had expected. Still Lex had made progress in his self-assigned task of bringing the real Clark out form his courteous shell and Clark had accepted Lex as his sponsor.

That acceptance didn’t help when Lex arrived to pick Clark up from work the next day. Clark had been incensed even enraged that Lex would interrupt his well-ordered life. Seeing him like this made Lex happy and extremely horny. This angry barely controlled creature was the true Clark, the one he was obsessed with. The creature of darkness and destruction that he'd seen behind the thin veneer of a recovering addict

He practically laughed at Clark's shock at his larceny. A man that was drowning in blood was shocked at the idea of theft who would have thought. Despite his obvious dislike of theft, he was still courteous no doubt hoping Lex would stop digging if Clark acted like a properly chastised addict. He obviously didn't know who he was dealing with.

...

It had taken a while but he had finally convinced Clark that he was okay to meet the Mrs. Clark had been convinced that Lana would hate him but she actually seemed pleased to see him.

Clark was flummoxed but Lex knew what was going on. He'd been spending a lot of time with Clark and Lana had gotten worried that Clark had found a new woman. For her meeting Clark’s very male sponsor was a relief. Lex would have laughed at her naiveté if he'd had the chance but for now at least his time with Clark depended on her good graces. He had to act like the perfect heterosexual male.

The acting wasn’t that difficult as He had always been a good at playing the part of an average socially acceptable artist. He soon became almost as much a fixture around the Lang household as Clark. He ate dinner with them a few nights a week and took care of the kids when Clark and Lana needed some alone time. It was actually a lot of fun. He loved the kids and that made up for the fact that the guy he had an eye on was fucking his girlfriend in the other room.

…

Finally Clark's mask broke. He called Lex sobbing in the middle of the night and Lex had said he'd take care of things. He just failed to mention how he was going to handle it.

He packed his bags and went over to Lana's house using the key he'd been given and woken Lana up. Sending her over to Clark's house was a stroke of genius. She'd come back white as a sheet obviously shocked and sickened by what she'd heard and trying to hide it. Lex wasn't going to stand for that, if Lana could convince herself that whatever she heard wasn't real than she'd go back to treating Clark like he was her lapdog instead of the preator he was.

It only took a little false consoling to get her to open up, not that Lex was truly surprised by that fact. Lana was a self centered woman, which he supposed was what made her such a great match for someone like Clark who didn't what anyone to take notice of the fact that he wore a mask.

She told him a story of Clark being found by Jonathan Kent as a three year old in a shipping container full of blood and his mother’s dismembered body. She was obviously shocked and displeased and just as obvious, at least to Lex, was the fact that she was displeased because Clark had a more traumatic childhood than she did. Which meant he had no reason to give her the leeway she felt she deserved thanks to her parents’ death.

Once she had calmed back down he left her to her realizations and went to Clark’s apartment. Clark would need him after having Lana shun him for his past. Everything was going according to plan.

…

Lex was holding Clark and sitting on a bed, the only thing that would make this moment better less clothing and less tears. Clark had let his rage out at his mother’s killer tonight and he was feeling guilty for some reason. That kind of regret was something that was beyond Lex’s reasoning, though he hadn’t killed his father yet so perhaps it wasn’t. Either way this wasn’t how he’d expected this trip down memory lane to go. He’d expected Clark to react in rage, to let the caged animal that lived inside him out to take what Clark wanted.

He should have know better. Whoever had trained Clark to be the man he was had done a good job. They’d been careful to make Clark think that the conditioning was for his own good and that everything Clark was depended on it. Honestly that kind of control sickened Lex reminding him far too much of his stent in the Insane Asylum. His own father’s last stitch effort to turn him away from his “sick and twisted ways”. He’d beat that control though and he was going to make sure that Clark beat it as well.

…

Clark had shown him the most glorious artwork today. Artwork that answered all Lex’s nagging questions about the blood that coated Clark’s hand. The answers to Clark’s secrets were all there written on his face by the pride and shame in which he regarded the corpses.

Lex should have known Clark’s secret wouldn’t disappoint him. Clark was an artist above all artists his art form corpses and his skills honed to a scientific precision by the man who had trained him. Now that Lex truly understood where Clark was coming from he could break him out of his conditioning, help him take his art to the next level, and most importantly get him to leave the trappings of propriety behind.

Now all he had to do was get in touch with his old contacts and take care of everything that Clark was too good to take care of.

…

It had only taken Lex a month to take care of all the matters that troubled Clark. He’d never seen Clark so happy. The darkness that Clark had been so afraid of was now there for all to see but so too was the devotion he had to those he loved. Clark might have been thought that his lack of normal feelings was wrong but in time Lex would help him understand that he had feelings all the same.

For know he would have to be the supportive best friend. Clark’s shoulder to cry on as they buried Lana Lang. The poor unfortunate Lana had been found murdered by her druggy ex-husband who had subsequently died of an overdose. Everyone agreed it was a true tragity. Even Clark was upset though from the way he clutched the kids Lex thought that might have more to do with a fear of losing the children than losing the woman who had never been able to forgive or accept the event that made him what he was. Clark needn’t have worried. Lex had taken care of that eventuality and made sure that a realistic looking fake will would be found that would put the kids in Clark’s custody.

He’d also taken care of any chance that Clark would be found out as the “Bay Harbor Butcher”. He had framed the loathsome and dirty Detective Roger Nixon and he expected the man to be caught within the next few days. Once that happened, information that would unquestionably implicate Nixon in the murders would be found bit by bit. After all he didn’t want to give the feds enough information to make the bust look fake, just give Nixon enough rope to hang himself.

Everything that stood in the way of his life with Clark was gone. Now, all he had to do was wait for Clark to realize that he knew and accept his help. Together they would clean Miami of its scum and raise a family that they could be proud of.