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Sometimes it was slow, like an inkling that had taken him weeks to figure out. More often, though, it was abrupt, a punch to the gut that took his breath away. He liked those times more.
He liked having his breath stolen. Lin was, after all, breathtaking. It fit, like an equation.
But, who would have guessed the two of them would work out evenly?
In public, they were brothers: close but separate and individuals above everything else. With family, Lian, Lucas, Bruce, Dick, Alfred, they were more. Still apart, though, for the most part. It wasn't the same for both of them, but neither wanted to rub it in anyone's face.
Alone, they were together; together, they were together. It made sense in Lex's head, and Lin said he never thought about it.
He said they "just are," and "everything else is the illusion."
Lex would try sometimes to see them from someone else's perspective. Did they touch too often? Stand too close? Look each other in the eye more than brothers did, as frequently and longingly as lovers?
Who had guessed? Who would even consider the two of them together like that as a possibility? Lex's PA? Lin's art dealer? Board members? Housekeepers? "Friends, Romans, countrymen"?
In the end, though, he couldn't care. He made a good show of it because he thought that's who he was. He was the one who worried, who planned. Lian was the optimist, but Lex was the one with the plan. Lin got frustrated and angry, and Lucas always just 'knew' things would work out, but it was Lex who got busy with the details of making it happen.
He didn't have a plan for this. If he and Lin were ever found out. . . Lex had. . .
Nothing up his sleeve. There was no back-up in place for that because every time he sat down to try and cook one up. . . Lin distracted him.
Thoughts of Lin, at first, and then like he'd been conjured. . . Lin himself would show up.
Lex would think, We'll play it off as the media dredging up dark times from his past. We'll make them the bad guys for forcing Lin to talk about 'that time' again. It will be them overreacting and being insensitive, and our response to that, as a family, will distract everyone from the original accusation. We'll turn it around on Aerson, who'll no doubt be the first one to publicize it, and--
That would quickly devolve somehow into a replay of the night before -- or afternoon or morning or five minutes ago -- and then Lex would once again marvel at his luck in being able to not only love such a being, but also in being loved in return, and then--
Lin would turn in his arms, and distract him with his kiss. Lin would walk into the lounge, and take the drink from Lex's hand. Lin would meet his eyes from across the room, and Lex would again wonder if somehow he were telepathic, too, because the images suddenly playing out in his head were awfully graphic.
Lin would be there, and when Lin was there. . . all higher level thought was impossible on Lex's part. When Lin looked at him, he forgot to care about. . . almost everything else. And that was just from a look. When Lin touched him, when he kissed Lex, when they made love or fucked like there was no tomorrow and the past didn't exist. . .
How could anything ever come close to the importance of such a thing? All else was secondary to loving Lin, being in love with him, being loved by him.
It scared Lex sometimes. He couldn't deny that. When he thought of all the things he lost sight of when lost in Lin's arms, Lex would feel terror again for the first time. . . in a long time. He forgot about Lian, which was simultaneously a blessing and a concern. He didn't just forget about Lian's disapproval or the context of loving Lin, his one-time brother, now partner.
No. When Lex and Lin. . . when they were together, Lex forgot about Julian. Forgot his existence. Forgot about him completely. He forgot family.
He forgot about Lucas. Forgot to worry about him. Forgot that dread he felt creeping up now, every time he looked at the kid.
Lex forgot about Bruce, and the guilt that went hand in hand with every second the man occupied his thoughts.
He forgot to think of the company, worry about business, wonder who was possibly embezzling and who was sleeping with his secretary and jeopardizing everything for the sake of his johnson. Lex forgot everything he'd built and transformed in the wake of their father's death.
He forgot about rules, laws, cultural taboos. He forgot about origins and history, and the sometimes glaringly obvious fact that Lin was not human. Public opinion?
Out the window as soon as Lin winked at him, or even innocently licked his lips -- although Lex had his suspicions that Lin licking those lips of his and 'innocence' were somehow mutually exclusive.
There was the old favorite of theirs, involving a board meeting, a certain text message, and Lex's abrupt return home. It also included an interesting use of Lin's art supplies and had resulted in one of his most famous abstract paintings.
To this day, Lex couldn't look at blue paint without getting hard. It made going to any of Lin's exhibitions a very interesting experience. He never knew what was in store, as Lin refused to show him the work ahead of its being available to the public, and someday. . . someday, Lin was going to paint in blue again, and one of Lex's greatest fears was that he'd go to see that blue painting for the first time in a heavily populated gallery, and one of his brothers -- or, God forbid, Bruce -- would be standing right next to him.
Awkward.
Lin would just laugh and giggle, and then deny that he'd giggled, and claim Lex was being overly sensitive. Whatever the hell that meant.
The point was, when it came to Lin, everything else was second fiddle. That couldn't be healthy, for anyone.
But close on the heels of that worry was always the thought, Well, if anyone deserves to be put first in life, it's Lin. And Lex couldn't really bring himself to regret any of his actions. Business should always come second to. . . to love. Family is family, but somehow Lin was just more.
Lex loved Julian. He loved that kid more than a little brother. Over the years, he'd come to realize who Julian was. . . and what he represented. Lian was Lex's chance to get it right. He was his hope and second chance and the embodiment of possibility. Lian was the best of all of them. He was Lex's little brother. He was Lex's protégé. He was. . . he was like the son Lex would never have.
Because Lex knew, more certainly incontrovertible than anything else in his entire life, that he would never have children. Never. He wouldn't have them. He would not father a child into this. . . this godforsaken line of theirs. The abused too often became the abuser. Lex refused to find out if that'd be the case. He'd done okay, for the most part, with Lian.
Lian was much, much more than 'enough.' Lex didn't need children. He didn't want them.
He didn't.
Lucas, on the other hand, was clear on the other end of the spectrum from Lian. He was the 'what might have happened' if Lionel had looked at Lex differently. If his father had truly known what Lex's body was capable of. . . well, he had no illusions regarding what would have happened. He'd have been the new guinea pig. Lionel took Lucas, who, from what they could tell, had started out as just another average, regular, human kid, and made him, forced him, to become something else. Something not exactly human, or not just human, anyway.
Lucas was Lex's polar opposite. That's how he thought of the kid. He felt guilty for having it as good as he'd had it. . . which, looking back, was pretty fucking good. Sometimes, though. . .
Well, Lex had had it better than most people for most of his life. Couldn't get everything, after all. Some parts. . . some parts had sucked, yeah, but that was life. He was rich, had always had lots of money. He'd always been exceedingly well fed and clothed. That right there was more than a lot of people, most people, the world over ever got in life.
Everything else was just gravy, right?
Lian, Lucas, they were family, but Bruce? Bruce was more and less than that. Before Lin, Lex had always thought of Bruce as his soul mate. Now, though. . . was it possible to have two soul mates? That seemed excessive, greedy, selfish, but it was how he felt. "Emotions aren't wrong or right," Daniel was fond of saying. "They are what they are. You just feel them, Lex. You moderate them, but you can't control them, not completely."
But what if Bruce were someone else's soul mate? The man deserved one of his own, someone who lived for him just as much as Lex lived for. . . Lin.
Perhaps it'd be more accurate to just call Bruce Lex's best friend. In reality, he was his only friend, but--
They were more than friends, had been, once upon a time, lovers and partners. Now they were just business partners and sometimes-allies. Truthfully, Bruce and Lin were more equals today than he and Lex ever would be. Bruce was a hero. Lex was just shacking up with one.
Julian, Lucas, Bruce, they each figured into every day of Lex's life, but it would always be Lin who came first.
His soulmate, his happy ending, his before and after. His partner. His Brother/Lover.
Once, when he'd thought Lin asleep, Lex had kissed his hair and given in. He'd whispered, "My alien," and pulled back, only to find Lin's eyes open. He hadn't said anything, just stared until Lex finally looked away. It was there, the truth. Somehow it was there, and not, always. They both knew it, both refused to look at it head-on, and yet somehow, for Lex anyway, it made this thing between them. . . it made it deeper. The truth made what they had more.
Lin was not human, had never been human. For as long as he lived -- don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it -- he would be alien. That was the truth, the bare bones of it, the nitty-gritty. They were two different species, he and Lin. Lin had. . . traveled billions and billions of miles, only to wind up here, of all places. He was here. Of all the planets in this or any other galaxy, of all the places in all the world, of all the people, he was here with Lex.
He loved Lex. He chose Lex, over everyone else. It was Destiny. It had to be. Things like this didn't 'just happen.'
Lin, Lex would think sometimes, out of the blue astounded anew by what his life had blessed him with. The most brilliant and most intelligent, most powerful, kindest being on the planet, and he called Lex "amazing." He said "I love you" to Lex.
It was all the air in the world being saved up for just him. It was like having the sun shine because he wanted it to, or hearing the perfect piece of music, or seeing the most beautiful sight that would ever be in the history of forever and knowing he'd been the only one who had.
It was all that and more. It was LIN. It was loving him, and. . . and being loved by him. It was Lin wanting no one, no one ever, ever, ever, but him.
No one else in the world knew just what Lin really looked like. No one else knew how it felt to touch skin so fine, hair so soft, to look into eyes that had seen so much, to be inside, have inside, a being so. . . there weren't words for what Lin was.
Lin was everything, and so nothing else could exist, but Lin.
It scared Lex; it scared him.
But love was supposed to be overwhelming, wasn't it?