Author: Kat Lee
Character/Pairing: Lorne, [Spoiler (click to open)]Lex/Clark, Charles/Erik
Challenge/Prompt: 1_million_words Say What Friday: "Evil has an ordinary face. It laughs, it cries, it deflects, it rationalizes, it makes great pasta."; beattheblackdog Amnesty: 112: Mind; and nekid_spike's Mini Nekid Guest: (one of my all time favorites!) Lorne
Word Count: 1,570
Date Written: 7 July 2018
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
He never thought he would reach this point, but he loves the way his life has become. His days are spent in leisure, sleeping until he wants to rise, occasionally having his nails done, wining and dining with friends, and just basically doing whatever he wants to do with the closest he comes to violence being the rare catfights over hunks. Of course that doesn’t include the brawls that come close to breaking out in his bar during the nights, but the spell he’s weaved over his dear Caritas keeps any real fighting from happening. He could also always call upon certain individuals in the crowd if it ever came to that to put a stop to any fighting, and they could do so easily, but he loves the peace and sharing his peace too much to have to resort to that.
Some of his regulars see almost as little peace as he once did in his life before he came to this world. Some of them never see a fight and would run from battle like a girl shrieking at a mouse, but for others, Caritas offers the only peace they tend to receive in their daily lives. He’s no fool; he knows some of them fly or teleport in from a long way just to have the rare, calm nights his club offers them. Take two of his favorites for instance, two baldies, each beautiful in their own way, sitting side by side right now at his bar. They don’t know each other, but they have so much in common it would be frightening to a lesser man.
Lorne approaches them from behind, clapping his perfectly manicured hands together as the show ends. “I’m glad you could join us, boys,” he says in casual greeting. As the older man wipes a tear from his eyes, the younger struggles to keep the moisture in his gaze from being seen. He looks down at his drink, at the counter, at his tight hands, at anything other than Lorne.
“Some writers have quite the imagination,” he mutters, tossing the finest champagne Lorne’s able to offer down the back of his throat.
“Some hit too close to home too, sugar,” he answers, sliding in between them one curve at a time. “What did you think of the opera, blue eyes?”
“Exactly what you said,” the other man answers, gazing with open curiosity into Lorne’s red eyes. Lorne winks at him, and the man’s piercing blue eyes widen with surprise. He knows Lorne is aware of his history. He doesn’t know how, but he knows he knows -- and for the world’s most powerful telepath to know someone knows something about them while knowing very little about them in return, such a notion is very disconcerting.
Lorne smiles, flutters his dark eyelashes innocently, and is about to speak again when the younger man’s voice raises once more. He can’t tell if he’s speaking more with disapproval or disbelief as he questions, “What would you know about evil, stranger?”
Blue Eyes looks over Lorne’s shoulder and straight into the dark, imploring gaze of the younger man. “More than I like,” he answers, his deep voice hinting of years of pain.
Lorne reaches out and places a hand on the glass of sweet, red wine the man is consuming a bit more quickly tonight than most of the nights on which Lorne has watched him. “I could help you with that,” he offers gently, “if you like.”
“There are things,” the man on his left says, “with which none can help.”
“Oh, there’s always someone who can help, Moneybags.” The man lifts his own blue eyes to Lorne, the glance striking. The Demon smiles peacefully, almost flirtatiously. He can have almost anyone in this bar, anyone but these two, both of whose hearts belong to another and against whom they fight continuously. He knows the multi billionaire tycoon hates his nickname for him, but he also knows that he’s the only one alive who can get away with calling him that to his face, which is part of the reason why he always does so.
The man on his right studies the man on his left. “Evil has a way of piercing every heart,”he says quietly, carefully lifting his hand and letting Lorne’s soft, green hand slide off of it. He sips his wine while watching the stranger’s gaze.
“What?” Moneybags demands, growing irritated.
“You two have so much in common,” he admits, “more so than you’d ever dream, and so much with my little play.” Indeed he’d made certain that the invitations had reached these two in particular out of all his customers. “Evil does have a way of reaching every heart, but the perception of evil is also different to each heart. Evil has an ordinary face, you know,” he says, looking at Moneybags. He sips his own drink, moving the umbrella straw out of his way with his tongue. “It laughs. It cries.” His knowing gaze flicks to Blue Eyes. “It deflects. It rationalizes.” His red orbs move back to Moneybags before dropping to his drink and grinning at his own joke. “It makes great pasta.”
Both men stiffen beside him. “I’m afraid I must make an early night of it,” Blue Eyes comments. “I have a class to teach in the morning.”
“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” Lorne reminds him pointedly. That fact is exactly the reason why he planned the opera and their visitations for tonight.
The man sighs, and the weary sound betrays his years which are far more than most would think to judge by his handsome face. There are years of knowledge behind those blue eyes, the bluest Lorne has ever known, and years of sorrow, which he hates. He would love to bring these two at least a piece of joy.
“I also have work in the morning.” Moneybags downs the remainder of his champagne.
“Lex,” Lorne protests with a tinkling laugh, “you own half this nation! You only have to work when you choose.”
“And I choose,” Lex Luthor responds dryly, “to do so in the morning.” He sets his champagne glass down a little heavily and turns to leave.
“Fine,” Lorne relents, growing serious, “but before you go, I have one piece of wisdom to depart to you.”
“And what would that be?” Luthor returns with the superior air of someone demanding to know what of Earth anyone with such little importance a green-skinned, music-loving, Empath Demon could possibly have to interest him.
Lorne’s red eyes meet his blue orbs cooly. “Red, Blue, and White feels the same way you do. Go to him,” he instructs, hoping the stubborn man might actually listen to someone with his best interest at heart for a change, “and offer a compromise. You’ll be surprised how ready he will be to meet you -- and do more.” Lex starts to scoff. “Don’t play the fool you, sweetheart. It’s not all fantasy. Learn from it. Offer a compromise before it’s too late, and you might just get that love you’ve been seeking your whole life.”
Lex’s mouth opens, then shuts. His jaw tightens; his eyes flare. His hands ball into fists at his side. “I am going to learn your secrets, Demon -- “ he starts.
Lorne faces him with a bright smile. “Honey, I’m an open book.” Before Luthor can further respond to or threaten him, he turns from him and faces Blue Eyes. “As for you, Charles, dear, before you retire for the evening, you may want to speak with him.” He turns and points out a tall, handsome man with finely cropped, white hair moving quickly through the crowd to him. He makes a silent reminder in his mind to thank his people in the crowd for choosing the very correct time to send Erik their way. “I believe you’ll find you have a lot to talk about.” He winks.
Behind him, Lex sounds so angry that Lorne realizes the spells are probably the only thing keeping Luthor’s violent tendencies under control, that and the fact that he does not want to be found hanging out with Demons in what he undoubtedly deems a questionable establishment at which to be found. “Don’t you ever mind your own business?”
Lorne laughs and turns back to him, swirling his cocktail drink in his hand as he does so. “Never.” He flashes him a bright, wide smile accompanied by another wink. “Especially not when I can help to make my friend’s lives right.” He sashays away, his secret bodyguards moving together in the crowd to block Luthor’s path should the man decide he wants to follow him. Over his shoulder, Lorne calls back, “Don’t forget to meet up with Blue, Red, and White, sugar! I know he’d love to hear from you -- if you’re honest with him for once in your lives!”
He laughs, but the laughter suddenly dies in his throat as he spies the Vampire who’s just strode into his establishment. He sighs. Angelcakes looks like a whipped puppy again, and nothing good ever comes from that look. Shaking his head, he squares his shoulders and sashays to meet him. Nothing good ever came from running away either, and the thing, out of all he experiences in life, that brings him the most pleasure is helping his friends. Angel is a friend in need, and that’s exactly where Lorne will be.