The Memoirs

Logan woke up the next morning, have fallen asleep on the couch, phone still sitting by the arm where he'd called Prof. Xavier about Lex.

More specifically, about Clark.

And the fact that Clark was most definitely not of Earthly ancestry. But, the Professor hadn't been available, and Logan was just waiting for the call back.

He got up and stretched, passing by the bed as he went to the bathroom, and even from walking by, he could feel the waft of cold air as Bobby turned over and shifted the blankets. Kid kept the bed freezing, and Logan bet he didn't even know it. He just tucked the blanket in tighter around Bobby's shoulders then closed the door to the bathroom.

Relieved himself quickly, scrubbed down in a quick, hot shower, and dried his hair quickly before it shaped itself back into it's usual contours. Once he was clean and mostly dressed in clean jeans and a ratty white shirt, he sat down on the edge of the bed, and shook Bobby's shoulder. "Hey. Kid. Wake up call."

"Nuh. Fi' more min'tes, mom," Bobby muttered sleepily, curling back under the covers more cozily as something shook him. He was having the best dream about Logan, and a tropical beach, and barely-there little swim trunks. it was deliriously arousing and wonderful and warm and the hand needed to *stop* shaking--

Oh.

He opened one eye, then the other, and gave a sleepy exhale that had his breath fogging in front of him. "Mmmm'lo," he muttered, voice rough from sleep.

"Not your mama, kid," Logan snorted, pulling his knee up on the side of the bed. "How's the hangover?"

Hangover? What--

OH.

Bobby's head was throbbing a counterpoint to Logan's words and he groaned loudly, covering his forehead with the palm of his hand. He stayed very still, willing his stomach to settle, but… oh, that didn't work.

He threw back the covers and scrambled up, wearing an odd assortment of socks and t-shirt, and stumbled into the bathroom before he threw open the toilet lid and threw up.

Logan just chuckled softly. "Don't forget to rinse!" he yelled into the bathroom and headed out to the kitchen. He picked up one of his cigars from the coffee table, using one of his claws to pop off the tip before lighting it with the gas stove's flame. "What you want for breakfast?"

At the mention of 'breakfast' there was more loud retching noises from the bathroom.

"Suit yourself!" Logan yelled again, and actually hummed under his breath as he picked up one of the thick t-bone steaks he'd bought at the butcher's shop yesterday and started searing it over the flame, barely toasting it on either side.

Bobby emerged five minutes later, a few shades paler than normal and now wearing boxers. His ass burned and he had a feeling he and Logan had gotten very frisky last night if the flickering memories and his ass were anything to go by. Regardless, he almost wretched again when he saw Logan toasting raw meat over a flame and kept a hand over his mouth until he'd calmed enough to whisper in that grated voice, "What...are you doing?"

"Making breakfast. Steak. Eggs. Tomato juice in the fridge, and chase it with Corona." He held the still-bloody slab of meat out to Bobby. "Want some?"

Bobby gagged and shook his head, hand held out as he went into the fridge. "Tomato juice for what?" he asked hoarsely.

"To pour over the steak."

He glared. "No famous hangover cure then?"

Logan shrugged. "Try it and find out."

He'd die before admitting that's exactly what it was.

Normally Bobby would have told him where to shove it, but he was desperate. He drank the tomato juice straight from the bottle, gagged, and then took an open bottle of flat Corona from the fridge from last night, chugging down some of it. He slumped in the kitchen chair across from Logan and buried his face in his arms as his stomach fought to climb up out of his throat.

Logan turned up the fire, made sure that Bobby's half of the steak was at least completely cooked on the outside, and slapped it down on a plate in front of him, blood squelching as he put it down. "Eat."

Bobby didn't even look up. "Get that cow away from me."

"Eat it and don't throw it back up." Logan sat on the other side of the table, his half of the steak still running red with blood, and a beer at the corner of the plate. "Oh, eggs. Raw or over easy?"

Bobby looked up, horrified. "Shut *up*," he hissed with a thick throat, and clapped a hand back over his mouth, muffling through it, "Sadistic fucker!"

Logan didn't answer, because his mouth was full. His sharp teeth were tearing into the rare steak and slurping the blood.

Bobby stumbled up, and made it to the bathroom just in time.

When he came back a few minutes later he was hobbling like an old man, and had wrapped himself up in the blanket from the bed before plopping back down in the kitchen chair, pale as a ghost and *glaring* furiously. "I'm never letting you let me drink again."

While Bobby was gone, Logan snorted to himself, and poured a glass of orange juice and set in front of Bobby's plate, and moved the steak out of sight. By the time he got back, both slabs of meat were gone--Logan's devoured, and Bobby's in the fridge, and Logan was washing his hands. "Don't police you, kid. Old enough to do what you want."

"You're my lover," he rasped. "You're supposed to tell me to stop before I get shit faced. Did we fuck?"

"Yes, we did. On the couch, in the bed, on the couch again, over the counter, and then you collapsed in bed while I called Xavier."

"Four times?" No wonder his ass was a mass of burning and ache. Pleasant, but... well, not pleasant for sitting today. He squirmed in the chair just at the thought and whimpered as he drank the orange juice in one gulp. "Did you talk to the Professor?"

"Four times." Logan drained the rest of his beer, and went to the fridge, coming back with the plastic orange juice carton and refilling Bobby's glass. "And no. He wasn't back from wherever he was going. I'm waiting for his call back."

Bobby drank half the glass Logan refilled and looked up at him under his shock of bed head hair. "What'd we find out about Kent and Luthor?"

"Luthor's a stuck up son of a bitch and Kent's an alien," he said matter-of-factly, dragging on his cigar.

"He's spoiled rotten," Bobby agreed, drinking more of his juice thoughtfully before doing something he hadn't dared do before now--he climbed up from his chair, walked over to Logan's, and plopped on his lap. He rarely sought comfort in the older man, but dammit, he was hung over and he wanted pets. He tilted his head, expecting them with a glare. "An alien?"

Logan was astonished at first, but didn't argue as he put his arms around Bobby and rubbed his back. "Yeah. Alien. You know, not of this world. Humans have a scent about 'em. So do mutants. So do aliens. Longshot had this smell about him. So'd Dazzler when she came back and so's Clark. Luthor's as mutated as you can get, and the kid's not even from this planet."

"I knew he was way too sexy to be human," Bobby said, and leaned into the arms comfortably. it felt...a bit odd, tell the truth, but it was a *good* type of odd. Besides, after all they'd said yesterday, Bobby figured he was entitled to it. "Did you recognize the scent at all? Was it like Longshot?"

"No, I didn't. I just know what it is and what it ain't, and what it ain't is human." Logan nuzzled his gruff stubble against Bobby's cheek.

Bobby leaned into the nuzzle and his eyes drifted shut on their own accord as he offered his neck to Logan's gentle strokes. it made him feel warm all over, and it, paired with his high metabolism and the gross tomato juice, seemed to start kicking his hangover out. "You know, it might not be a bad thing that Clark's an alien."

"Yeah? In what world? In case you haven't noticed? The aliens that we come in contact with usually aren't here for burgers and cocktails," he said gruffly, keeping Bobby snuggled close.

"Well, no. But he seems like an innocent enough kid--and its very likely Lex already knows. Meaning he's already got an open mind, and when we lay on the fact that, oh, we're X-Men and want to take him to see Professor X, he may not flip out."

"Like we're gonna give him a choice?" Logan growled it. "Professor wants to see this kid, he's gonna see him."

"No, no choice, but at least he won't freak out," Bobby reminded, and turned his head to catch Logan's earlobe and tug it into his mouth, sucking softly at it.

Logan's growl seemed kind of like a purr. "Might not wanna start somethin' your ass isn't up to finishin'," Logan warned, sliding his hands a little further down Bobby's back.

Bobby let go of the earlobe enough to look up, grinning now as he met Logan's face. "But teasing you is half the fun."

"Don't wanna tease a wolverine," he grunted, leaning forward and kissing Bobby roughly, and deeply. "Teasin' wild animals is likely to get you bit."

"If its in the right place I don't mind," Bobby said, eyes dancing before he was pulled into the vicious kiss. In the back of his mind he was glad he'd brushed his teeth. He pulled away enough to drag Logan's mouth down towards his neck. "I like it here." And then took Logan's hand and brushed it over his chest, "And here," down over his butt, "and here," and then finally, down his inner thighs. "and *here*."

Logan gave a deep growl as his nostrils flared, and bit sharply on Bobby's neck, finding the bruise from last night and purpling it even brighter as he sucked.

"Oh yeah," Bobby whispered, but he moved away the smallest bit from Logan's insistent mouth. "But I won't tease you, Logan. I don't think my ass can stand it, not until tonight." He was a bit upset at the fact, but a slight squeeze in his backside informed him he was in *no* shape for sex right now.

Logan gave little growl and reluctantly let Bobby pull away, even as he kept his arms around Bobby's waist. "You up to goin' to talk to Luthor again?"

"If I absolutely have to," Bobby said, but he was already sliding off of Logan's lap. He leaned down for a light kiss before he stalked off towards the bedroom for a shower.

Logan caught him around the waist before he could completely slide off, but then let him go as he stalked to the bathroom. "Might want to make sure you turn it hot before you turn it on!" Logan yelled, just as he heard cold water hit skin.

Yes, ten seconds too late, as Bobby gave an unholy scream.

Logan just chuckled softly to himself. "Tried to warn you!" he yelled. "Took a cold shower this mornin' to get the grime off!"

Upstairs, it was a different story. Clark was midway through his own shower when he heard the scream echo through the apartment downstairs, muffled through the floor. Of course, the two men had been very, very frisky last night, but that sounded like a scream of something like pain. Clark rinsed his hair quickly and utilizing all of his super powers, toweled off at the speed of light, dressed, and ran down the steps, hair still damp and hanging over his collar as he knocked on the door.

Logan growled at the door knock as he scowled at the clock. Just barely past daybreak, and already someone was knocking.

The closer he got to the door, the more his hair stood on end, because all he could smell was alien.

Stalking to the door, he threw it open. "What do you want, Clark?"

"Sorry...Logan, I heard a scream. Are you guys okay?" he asked, eyebrows furrowed tightly with concern.

"... a scream?" Logan rolled his eyes. "That's Bobby in the shower. Forgot to tell him I turned off the hot water this mornin' and he had to warm it up before he dragged his hung-over ass into it."

"Oh. Oh, right." Clark blushed and grinned sheepishly. "Sorry about that. Uh… sorry to bother you," he said, totally embarrassed now.

"Come on in. We just finished breakfast, but we still got juice. Uh, orange and tomato."

"No… I mean, no, that's okay," Clark said, still flushed pink. "I've got to...well, Lex and I are running to Smallville for the rest of our things here in about ten minutes."

Logan snorted. "I don't bite. Come on in; Bobby'll be out in a minute and you can see for yourself I haven't killed him."

"Kay," Clark said, still blushing as he stepped in and closed the door behind him. "Thanks for last night again. It was great. When we come back into town we're bringing some good friends of ours--you'll love Whitney. He's got a bigger obsession with football than either you or me."

"S'not too hard; don't care about football," Logan grunted, leading the way into the kitchen and stubbing out his cigar out of courtesy to Clark. He swung the fridge open and held up both bottles. "Tomato or orange?"

"Oh… wow. I would have pegged you for a football guy." Clark blinked. "Orange please."

"Yeah, and you'd've been wrong," Logan grunted, shoving the tomato juice bottle back into the fridge and pouring the orange juice into a plastic cup, then yelled over the shower. "BOBBY! WE GOT COMP'NY SO DON'T COME OUT IN YOUR BARE ASS!"

"TELL THEM TO FUCK OFF!"

Clark grinned into the cup of juice but wisely said nothing.

"CLARK HEARD YOUR SISSY-ASS SCREAMING AND WANTS TO MAKE SURE I AIN'T KILLED YA, BUB!" Logan bellowed back.

"FUCK OFF, CLARK! I'M ALIVE!"

Clark grinned and rolled his eyes good naturedly. "Just had to make sure!" he said loudly down the hall, and shook his head. "Thanks for the juice, Logan."

Logan guffawed at Bobby's grouchy response, and nodded at Clark. "No problem, kid."

- = - = -

It wasn't until a couple hours later, after Bobby had gotten out of the shower, been rolled immediately back into the bed and then into the shower *again* that Logan noticed that there was a tan jacket sitting on the counter. A quick sniff told him that the jacket belonged to the Kent kid, and he'd probably left it there this morning.

He waited for Bobby to get out of the shower again, and after a quicker than he'd have liked kiss, Logan had gone on his way, leaving Bobby and his hangover downstairs to sleep off the last dregs of headache.

He climbed the stairs two at a time, cigar in the corner of his mouth and Clark's jacket in hand, and shoved the landing door open as he emerged into Clark's hallway.

Stopped in the middle of the hallway.

A drop-dead beautiful woman was going into 3B, cradling a baby against her shoulder and brushing her shoulder against Clark's ribs as she squeezed by the two hulking idiots locked in a liplock blocking the door.

He took another step down the hallway, clearing his throat loudly, and his jaw nearly hit the floor when the kissing couple broke apart, to reveal a mussed looking blond kid that couldn't have been over nineteen and Clark.

The last time Logan had checked? Luthor wasn't a young blond linebacker.

Clark was... well, he was beaming. He couldn't help it. Ever since he and Whitney had made up, everything had felt new and sweet between them, and well... it felt good. it felt really good.

So of course, the moment they'd all gotten back to Metropolis, Clark had christened his doorway.

Whitney's mouth, always so sweet and pliant, tasted delicious right where he stood, and, his hand buried in all that golden hair, he'd kissed the living hell out of his ashimel with all the lust and fervor he felt.

And realized too late that probably wasn't the best thing to do.

He looked up at Logan--blinked--then glanced across at Whitney and said the first words that came to mind.

"Well, shit."

Logan held out Clark's jacket. "You left it downstairs this mornin'. Thought you might want it back." He just eyed Whitney warily, sniffing once, and determining he was human settled his hackles quite a bit.

Whitney took several moments longer to realize that they'd been seen, and caught, and he licked his lips. "Whitney Fordman," he said, holding his hand out to the stranger. "You're one of Clark's neighbors?"

"That's right," Logan said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall.

Clark noticed, and rolled his eyes so hard in his head they might as well have fallen out. He took the jacket, tossed it into the chair by the door, and said no-nonsense. "Lex and I are swingers, Logan. Whitney and Chloe are the other couple."

"Your deal, bub, not mine," Logan shrugged.

Whitney turned around and raised an eyebrow at Clark.

Clark grinned at Whitney. "Whitney, this is Logan. I told you about him and his lover, remember?"

Whitney face relaxed slightly. "Yeah, you told me, I remember. Young guy that lives with you, right? Teaching assistant?" Whitney shoved his hands into his pockets nervously.

"Yeah," is all Logan answered. "His name's Bobby."

"He's a good guy," Clark said, and then… well, he felt awkward. Really. Badly. He swallowed and squeezed Whitney's hip, motioning him into the apartment. "Let me talk to Logan a sec, kay Whit?"

Whitney bristled just a little bit. "You sure he's okay?" he asked softly, rubbing his hand on Clark's hip and up his side.

"Yep," Clark said, and gave him a more insistent push inside. As soon as he'd seen Whitney inside he closed the door and leaned against it. "Sorry you saw that, Logan."

Logan gave another habitual sniff to the air. "Hey, what you do with your dick? Your business, kid."

He shrugged a shoulder, but strangely enough, didn't blush. He did, however, rub his neck. "I'd appreciate if you didn't... um... tell anyone. No one... no one knows, not the press, not my own parents." Now, now he blushed. "Sorry. If I was dating anyone but Lex Luthor, it wouldn't matter."

Logan cocked his head to the side and his neck popped. "Like I said, kid. Your dick, your business. Bobby's the only one I'll tell, but it won't go farther than him."

Clark nodded and gave him a smile. "Whit and I are hitting the Irish pub down the street for a beer tonight. Want to come?"

Spend the evening with the alien and his blond boy toy.

Spend the evening at home with Bobby, waiting for the Professor to call.

Spend the evening with the alien and his blond boy-toy with Bobby.

"Lemme check and make sure we don't have plans tonight, but yeah, count us in." He made it perfectly clear in his answer that Bobby would be coming along.

Clark grinned, nose wrinkled as he did so, and nodded. "Cool. See you then!" he said, and opened his door, slipping in after waving at the older man. He slumped back against the door and saw Whitney and Chloe both looking at him, before he shook his head and stepped up from the door to take Whitney's hand in his own. He waited until he heard Logan go back downstairs before saying, "Downstairs neighbor. Nice guy--kind of creepy."

Whitney lifted Clark's hand up and kissed it softly. "Kind of creepy? Understatement of the year, Clark."

Lex snorted from the kitchen. "I think mildly eccentric is more appropriate."

"There you go," Clark said, and grinned over Whitney's shoulder at Lex. "Weird. Crazy."

"Interesting. And sexy," Chloe chimed in, eyes dancing. John was squirming in her arms, demanding attention and food. She plunked down on the couch, the only thing that was not in a box at the moment, and undid her shirt to let the baby eat. She guided her nipple to his mouth then crossed her legs comfortably to keep him propped up comfortably.

Clark shot her a disgusted look. "He's at least sixty, Chloe."

"Thirty in each powerful thigh?"

"He is not sixty," Lex said, exasperated. "His teaching certificate and records both place his age at 35."

Whitney nudged Clark's shoulder with his own. "Come on, Clark. Even I can see the guy's fucking hot."

Lex put away the last of the dishes from breakfast--only because Clark had threatened to cut him off from sex if he didn't at least dry the dishes and put them away instead of leaving them for the housekeeper--and sat down on the couch beside Chloe and John, stroking the back of his head before leaning over and taking a suck out of the other bared breast.

Chloe smacked the back of Lex's head and glared as she turned her breast from his anxious mouth. "Not for you, naughty boy."

Clark hid his grin in Whitney's shoulder as he hugged him gently, just because he could. it felt *so* good to do it again, and if truth were told, it pleased him that they could. "Thirty five my ass."

Lex stoically absorbed the smack to his head and chased Chloe's breast for another kiss, and then straightened, letting his arm slide around her shoulders instead, fingers playing with her hair.

Whitney's arms tightened around Clark and he snuggled into Clark's shoulder. "I could buy he's thirty five."

Clark rolled his eyes but didn't say anything--instead he lay his cheek against Whitney's and said, "Now how cool are our new apartments?"

Chloe grinned and glanced around. "I have to say, they are really magnificent. I can't believe you guys bought... what was it, three? Four? Lex, what do you need with four apartments?"

Lex just reclined smugly back in the chair. "Four. One for Clark and I, one for my collection--which is large enough for the entire studio across the hall, by the way, and no you cannot see it until the window treatments are finished, and the climate control center is set up--one for you and Whitney, and one for our favorite little strawberry skittle."

Chloe rolled her eyes up--then stopped, eyes flying wide, and looked across at her bald ashimel. "Wait. Back up. One for whosits? Whitney and I? When did that happen?"

Lex held up his hands. "Don't worry, Chloe. You're still going to be paying the rent. I just bought the lease out so he couldn't rent it out until you guys were ready to move in. Once you guys move in, the lease goes into your names, and you guys are responsible for it."

"No... go back. To the part where we're moving here." She glared at him. "Whoever said we were moving here?"

Lex was calm as she glared at him. "You didn't think we'd leave you stranded in that one-horse town, did you?"

"Well... no, but that's our home!" Chloe said, her lower lip firm as she looked at Whitney. "Did you know about this?"

Whitney coughed.

Blushed.

And then hid behind Clark.

"Clark may have mentioned them going, yeah, but I didn't know they were packing us too!"

Oh. oh, Chloe was mad. She hissed at him like a snake because she couldn't get up and pummel him with an infant in her arms. "Excuse me. You knew they were buying an apartment here and didn't say anything to me?"

"I thought Lex had told you!" he cried from behind Clark's shoulder.

"Why would Lex tell me something my OWN FIANCE SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME?!" Chloe shrieked, a few decibels below a pitch that John would cry over. As it was, all he did was whine against her breast.

"Because he tells you EVERYTHING!" Whitney yelled back, peeping around Clark. "He tells you shit before he tells *me* anything! *I* usually hear things from *you!*"

Chloe glared ferociously.

Clark caught the whole blast of it, and winced. "Okay. So Lex and I are going over into the kitchen. You both hiss and snarl here while we're gone."

"How was I supposed to know you didn't know! Between Lex and Shayla, how the hell *didn't* you know?"

"Because I've been trying to get YOUR son to sleep through the night!" Chloe bellowed right back, "And I'm exhausted and can't tell my ass end from up!"

"I've been up too!" Whitney yelled back. "And he's not just my son! There were two of us in the house that day, Chloe Sullivan, and John is *our* son!"

Clark was listening with half an ear, wincing at each yell, and glared at Lex through the one eye still open.

Lex marched into the living room. Didn't say anything to either screaming parent, just reached between Chloe's arm, picked up John, and carried him back out to the kitchen, laying his godson quietly on his shoulder.

And Clark did something he hadn't ever done--he willingly, and very gently, stroked John's little back as the baby began to sob, tickling his chubby cheek softly and smiling down at him. "Such a handsome boy. I don't know where you get it from, your parents are ugly," Clark whispered to him, and leaned over Lex's shoulder to brush his lips across a damp little cheek.

"Speak for your ashimel," Lex said softly. "I have it on personal authority, John, that your mother is one of the most gorgeous creatures I've ever met," he said, with a grin up at Clark. "After your uncle Clark, that is."

"Recessive Kryptonian genes in you," Clark whispered, and brushed his lips against the crying baby's cheek again. "Shh... hey, Lex? think maybe he--" he heard a thundering crash from the living room and the bellows increased in volume. Clark carefully took Lex's free hand, the diaper bag, and led Lex back into the back room of the apartment, one of the three walled rooms in the apartment. He closed the door behind him and smiled at Lex as he walked over to their mattress, lying on the floor and waiting for its box frame and headboard and footboard, still lying in pieces on the wall. He walked over to the mattress, covered in blankets and sheets, and patted it gently.

There was a knock at the other door in the bedroom, because while all three of the walled rooms were bedrooms, the one in the middle had a door to both of the other two, as well as out into the room.

At the sound of the bellowing and crashing, Jor-El had risen, and after making sure that nothing of any great deadly significance had happened, passed through the empty bedroom and knocked on the door of the one he knew that his son and Lex had taken for their own.

Clark knew who it was almost immediately and rose, wincing at the screams from the living room, and smiled at his father. "I had wondered if you were awake, father. I didn't want to disturb you," Clark murmured, and bowed his head respectfully to his father as he opened the door wider.

Jor-El slipped in easily through the open door. "I don't sleep that often, Kal-El," he said softly, returning his son's smile and offering his arms for a hug. "I do meditate, and Kenep was kind enough to let me take possession of his gravity boots, for I find the suspension therapy quite relaxing. However, when I heard your sha'nauch arguing, I felt compelled to make sure there were no death threats involved."

Lex chuckled softly. "There are always death threats, Jor. There are also threats of castration and withholding sex. They're rarely serious, though."

Clark's face broke out into a grin, and about as eager as a puppy, he curled up in his fathers big arms and hugged him tightly, the warm flesh against his comforting and wonderful and he nestled in closely. He felt all of five every time his father offered his arms like that, even when they'd just seen one another five minutes ago. Truth told, Clark was still a little shy around him--all right, very shy, but... well, he loved these hugs *so* much. There was nothing like it.

He snuggled close and beamed at him. "No death threats. Just money problems. They'll sort it out, probably after Chloe gives Whitney a black eye." He grinned. "They'll be fine."

Jor-El wrapped his arms tightly around his son and held him close as he hugged him, and let his arms stay around Kal-El's shoulders as he snuggled close. "Your ashimel is a very patient man, Kal. I do not believe I have seen such patience since your mother, who was on many occasions ready to... give me a black eye, as you say." Another teasing squeeze.

Lex made a choking noise as he held John to his shoulders, trying to soothe the cries. "Believe me, Jor. Whitney isn't patient all the time. Just when he's dealing with Chloe. When he's dealing with anyone else? He makes my temper look *good.* I've actually had to fight him once to make him listen."

If Clark could have crawled into his father like a second skin, he would have. He just...well, he *beamed*. He hadn't felt this warm and good in some time, and he chuckled. "Our ashimel is very proud, father, but has a soft spot for Chloe. She will have her way in the end, it's just getting there that's making the baby cry." He looked up. "Have you seen John since his birth, father?"

"Of course she will have her way, Kal. She is his aushna', and in the end, he will always yield to her, just as Kenep will yield to you, because you and she are the bringers of life to your relationships, and as such, you are honored." He smiled down at his son, and then looked at the baby lying crankily on Kenep's shoulder. "No, I have not."

Clark felt a warm flush go through him--be it embarrassment or pleasure, he didn't know, and looked up shyly under his lashes at his father. He carefully let go of his fathers waist and went to Lex, running his fingers over his lovers cheekbone ever so gently. "May I have John?"

Lex nodded. "Of course. But if he likes you better than me, I am going to be highly offended," he said, handing the infant carefully to his lover.

And rolled his eyes as John quieted almost instantly, snuggling up to Clark's shoulder with only the occasional sob. "That's it. I'm cutting the kid's inheritance."

Jor-El grinned indulgently at Kenep. "Of course the child will respond to Kal," he said softly. "Even an infant recognizes one who gives life."

Another flush of pleasure went through Clark, and he sat down on the edge of the mattress, long legs sticking out in front of him, and carefully cradled the baby to his chest, looking down at him carefully, before up at his father. "Come meet John, father."

Jor-El crossed the bedroom in only a few long strides, and knelt down on the mattress beside Clark. "Welcome to the world, John Fordman," he said softly, solemnly shaking one waving fist.

Clark grinned down at the baby, then looked up at his father, a quiet blush steeling his cheeks. "Father? May I ask you something?" he asked softly, even as he held up a hand for Lex to take, to join them.

"You may ask me anything, Kal-El, for that is why I am here, after all."

Lex did as he was asked immediately, lacing his fingers tightly through Clark's and lowering himself down on the mattress and box springs.

"Were there... customs, on our world, to greet infants and their ashi into the family? I feel... that there should be. That... that I've missed something. Aside from physically greeting our new ashi, that is. Is there… a custom, a... a spirituality I have to...to evoke, in myself?" He said it with another quiet blush. "Which sounds stupid when I say it."

Jor-El gave his son a knowing smile. "If I am not mistaken, you have already welcomed your ashikeeneh' into your hearts and your bond," he said. "But yes, for your ashi, there is the Mendel'ehk. Mendel'ehk is a short, but meaningful song that is sung to young children of our kind, to welcome them into the world and to give them some sense of security, love, and the knowledge that even as young as they are, they are loved and will always have a place."

He gazed at his father quietly, ignoring the heat he felt on his face for the time being, and looked down at the little sleepy baby. "I can't sing, father." He grinned. "I sing quite badly, actually. Lex will tell you so."

"You have never sung in your native tongue before," Jor-El guessed, and held out his arms. "Let me hold the child, and I will teach you the song."

Clark nodded, and after shifting the baby, carefully handed him over, big hand cradling the tiny head gently.

Jor-El took the child, cradling him carefully in large arms, and smiled down at him. He cleared his throat once, and stroked the child's face with the fingertip of his index finger, drawing a small circle on his forehead, and then kissing him in the center of it before he sang. His voice was a deep baritone, flowing smoothly as he sang a song never before heard on this planet.

"ameelol y'amadol, jurnaie se.

Me` sha`klaktefena.

Me 'i'stemlinaq.

ne-ne y'we'ghana,

ty'slishj sa'lumkan'amen.

yeshCxremn'ol, galo'de'shanauch.

Tuklana agashte t'yhounfg s'line."

(By mother and father, family too

You are our angel

You are loved.

Always, until eternity,

you are my beloved child

you are worth all, son of my sha'nauch

Fortune be with you like the yhounfg's song.)

"Oh," Clark whispered, and he closed his eyes as the voice called out to something very, very deep and very, very primal inside of him. He listened as his father sang, quiet and deep and strange, clicking and humming and like... it was like water over rocks, down a little stream during a quiet and peaceful day. After only a bar or two Clark's voice joined his, and if he'd been aware of anything around him, he would have realized the yelling voices had stopped.

The song was simple, the first two verses repeated three times, each in a different pitch, and he smiled at Kal-El as his son joined in the song with him, and turned the child so that he could see Kal as well, and know that he was being welcomed by the young man who was calling to him, to be a part of their family now.

As Whitney and Chloe had heard the singing, they'd slowly stopped the fighting, trying to hear and then mesmerized by the sounds, and they stood in the doorway, watching and listening as Clark and his father joined their voices together in song.

Lex was filled with a very deep sense of melancholy as he listened to the beautiful words. He understood them easily, and he wondered if Jor-El had sang this song to Clark before they'd been forced to give him up, wondered if he and Lara had sang it to each other as they'd tucked their only child away to be sent into the far reaches of space, knowing they themselves were doomed.

Wondered if Mar could hear their song and know that it was for him as well.

The song ended and Clark blinked back tears as he smiled down at the baby. John had watched them, silent, all through the song, and finally his tiny eyes closed. Clark gently stroked tiny cheeks and reached down to kiss them before he set his cheek on his fathers shoulder and closed his eyes.

 

-fin-

go on to the next part