Mrs. Luthor

20

*There's a song shared above, I'd listen to it when Lex goes over to the radio*

"What's a matter darling?" Lex asked me, sitting on a small couch beside me. The television in front of us. "You don't like the place? You wanted something smaller than my place in Metropolis."
"No, I know, that's--It's just weird being away from home."
"You're worried about what's happening in Metropolis?"
"A little, aren't you?"
"I'd be more so if you were there without me." He kissed my cheek and wrapped his arms around me. "How's your wrist, is the brace bothering you yet?"
"Lex, it's bothered me since I put it on." I shook my head. We chuckled.
"When was the last time we were together, just the two of us?"
"It's been a while."
"It's nice. I think at some point, among all the madness I endured and potentially, technically speaking, caused...I forgot what it felt like to unwind."
"That so? Seems like you are anything but relaxed."
"Mmm, really?" His body fell in to mine, he kissed my neck gently.
"Really, you and this meta-human study of yours."
"I've never taken a break in my life, I think I'm overdue for one. Wouldn't you?" His lips trailed to my jawline, then my lips. I giggled as I felt his smile spread on his own lips. "I have some bourbon, and your favorite bottle of wine."
"You've been hiding it!?" I pushed him away teasingly.
"No no, I've been saving it." His pointer finger wiggled in front of me. He jumped up, spinning on his heel. "Hold tight."

     I took the opportunity to put some music on. I wasn't sure what to put on. Does he even listen to music? It was like being hit was a thousand bricks, I had no idea what type of music this man listened to. I switched on the radio and left it alone. It was soft rock, I believe. Lex walked in a few minutes later, dressed more casual than I was used to. The lab coat was replaced with some comfy looking jeans and a pair of socks. The dress shirt was replaced by a graphic t-shirt. One of a monkey detonating some TNT. I smiled to myself as he sat. His hair fell to his eyes as he looked down at each of the glasses.

"I assumed you'd want a wine glass."
"If it needs to be the middle man between the bottle..." I joked. His eyes shot up, and a grin formed.
"You little minx." He winked and handed me the bottle. It was a semi-dry bottle of honey wine vinted with ripe Ranier cherries.
"You brought in everything but the bottle opener." I shot him a short lived glance before I got up to find it. I heard him laughing to himself.
"Sweetheart, you can bring these back in there." He handed me the two glasses he brought in.

     I searched the kitchen for the opener. I hadn't the slightest idea where he had put it. He's so particular about everything, yet none of it seems to be the particular that made sense. Eventually, I found it handing on the inside of the cabinet door as I put the glasses back. I mean, I guess it made sense to have it there, but who would have thought. Grinning to myself, I suddenly felt just the slightest of restless. My insides were doing somersaults; partially because I was excited to spend the evening with Lex, partially because I was spending the evening with Lex.

"I found it." I told him as I entered the room. He wrapped one arm around my waist; the other had the bottle of wine in his hand.
"Did you choose the radio station?"
"I kind of just turned it on. Why? Not to your liking?" I asked as I began to walk over to the radio.
"Get back here." He sneered, pulling my wrist towards him. "It's fine." I heard the pop of the bottle. He handed it to me. "Ladies first." He prompted. I swigged from the bottle and stared at him.
"You don't like it? There's Mash on the table if—" He began walking over to the coffee table. I tugged on his hand as he spun back.
"It's delicious." I winked.
He took a sip as well. "Huh, it isn't it?"
"Does that mean you're going to neglect your Mash?"
"What? Neglect my—oh no no." He scoffed, opening the Kentucky Mash as well.

     For a while we spent the time discussing the marvelous things that intrigued us in the world around us. My feet were propped up on his knees as he told me of all the odd things he endeavored as a child. I shared some stories in which I went on adventures with my brother through parks that, to the imagination, were like jungles. I found out his favorite color, and that he's not much of a dog person. He told me about his first, groundbreaking, invention, and how ashamed his mother was to see him becoming almost like his father. He cringed and swigged another sip at the thought. I assured him, he was far from his father. Which, I would think would be debatable to his mother. With little thought, I noted that maybe, in some respect, that's why I never heard a thing about his mother. As more of the intoxicating liquid burned its way down, the conversations jumped from serious to goofy.