The Glitter Jungle:
Fiction:
Lunarium
I see the moon and the moon sees me. Lex/Superman
-=-=-=-
The moon is big and yellow and dark and bright in my eyes.
I try to reach it but my hands are too little. Or maybe they're very big but the moon keeps trying to get away. I look at it between my fingers. Peek-a-boo. Moon. No moon. Moon.
No moon. Someone is blocking my view.
"Lex Luthor."
I raise my hand. That's me. Always have been. Always will be. Who else can I be?
He crouches next to me, we're the same eye level and I can lean my head back and watch the moon again since he's no longer obstructing the sky.
He takes my hand. I can see it causes him pain. With a grimace he takes off my ring and with one movement throws it off the roof and into the ocean.
He sighs with relief.
I look at the railing where I last saw the sparkling green of my favourite jewel disappear. I really liked it. I know the doctors said it was dangerous, but then again, wasn't everything?
"You just let me throw it out?" He says, disbelieving, suspicious. I'm used to that tone of voice. And not just from him. Like I care.
He gets closer, leaning to look at my face, and should I be afraid? He hates me. All the same, since I hate him, but now he's really close. And me without my ring. No one in the house. No weapon. No cards to play.
"You're in the way." Says I.
"Of what?" Asks he.
"The moon."
-=-=-=-
We sat there for hours. He didn't try to kill me. I didn't even leave my chair. When the moon started setting I walked inside and he followed me.
I washed my face. He was there, looking at me in the mirror behind my shoulder.
I brushed my teeth and went to my bedroom. He followed. I went under the covers and he stood there, in the doorway.
"Good night, Superman." I said, turning to face away from him. I didn't bother to look back and see if he's still there.
-=-=-=-
I wake up in the morning and he's still there, sitting on my doorstep, head bowed down in sleep, red cape wrapped around him. I step over him carefully on my way to the bathroom.
When I get out he's awake. He walks with me to my kitchen. I'm used to having a staff around, and I sent them all away, so I try to make breakfast on my own without looking too clueless. When it's getting clear I won't find anything without the help of some x-ray vision, he assists me silently. We make breakfast together.
I don't leave the house; one of the perks of being filthy rich. I have an office at home. It's not as easy without a secretary, but this isn't a normal day. I run my business from there and at the end of the day when I wander back to the living quarters he's still there. Still in the same outfit. Still quiet.
I go out to the roof and he's with me. We watch the stars in silence.
Then I go to sleep.
-=-=-=-
Two days later, the staff returns. I alert them of his presence and issue strict orders not to touch him unless he tries to harm me or any of my employees. Mercy and Hope don't like it. They go by my room ten times a night to make sure he doesn't kill me in my sleep. When I get tired of these patrols, I close the door in their shocked faces. With him inside the room. Then I go back to sleep, and I don't care what he does.
He sleeps on the sofa. When Mercy and Hope barge in the next morning in the pretence of checking up on me, they seem relieved.
That day he seems grumpy, as much as one can look grumpy without any communication. I know he's invulnerable but I think the sofa may have hurt his neck. The concept strikes me as funny.
The next night when I close the door he walks straight into my bed and lies in it. He says nothing, but each of his movements is deliberate and even aggressive. As if to say he won't let me kick him out of bed.
Not that I meant to. I silently change and I lie on my side of the bed. We don't touch each other all night.
But Mercy and Hope will have a nasty surprise when they walk in here tomorrow morning.
-=-=-=-
"I haven't lost my mind." I say very patiently.
"First you send everyone away for a whole weekend." Two voices rant and grumble. "Then we come back to find Superman. Then this?"
I really shouldn't enjoy it this much.
"This, what? The sleeping arrangements?"
Two sets of accusing eyes. Lucky I don't hire people who use the word 'Duh'.
I smirk. Then behind me I hear a familiar voice, "You really *are* evil."
I turn, startled. Mercy and Hope stare. He hadn't said a word to them since he's been here. Not that many words to me, either.
"You're teasing them," he says easily, naturally. Like this is our every day banter. He glares at Mercy and Hope in a way that few have survived. "We didn't do anything."
Long moments pass in silent.
Then my trusty bodyguards blurt together, "Why?"
-=-=-=-
We didn't talk about this. The phone rang and saved me from answering Mercy and Hope, and later on I just avoided.
That night when he crawls into my bed after midnight - he went out and I was reminded he had a job of his own - he touches me. Holds me close and I shiver and rest my head on his chest.
We wake up spooned, the sun casting its golden haze on his face and mine.
Mercy smirks and Hope says she has to go and turns on her heel, quickly stalking out of the room. I hear her laughing in the hallway.
-=-=-=-
I watch the moon again. A month has passed and it's full again, big and bright. But everything has changed.
A dark head is resting on my shoulder, a strong arm around me. My muscles are pleasantly sore; not the tired, depressed ache but the healthy, satisfied ache that comes from over-working yourself doing something you like.
I look up at the moon and I thank it.
-=-=-=-