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The Magical Bar Trick	By : Faline Category: Smallville > General Views: 2507 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Title: The magical bar trick

Author: Faline

Disclaimer: I don�t own Lex, or anything related to the Superman/Smallville universe. It�s all a tasty, delicious creation that I didn�t help make but love with my whole heart.
Summary: My take on the Cinderella Fairy Tale, Luthor style.

�You owe me some money little lady. I expect to be paid in full, right now.�

Roll of the eyes. Clich�s are so old now; I get them every day and every day they nudge me that much closer to taking the final step and going on a shooting binge. I smile apologetically at the nice man who was about to give me his order and turn to look at George. Clich� master.

Sizing him up, I see he�s got Shithead and Shitbird with him tonight. All three look a little incapacitated. Holding one finger, I reach under the bar and pull out two full glasses and two shot glasses.

The full glasses both get filled to the brim with the lovely taste, scent, and drink known as Killian�s while I pour two shots of tequila. George watches all of this, less than amused. He wants his money and he wants it now. I�m a week late on the payment, but ya know what? It�s not like the slimy bastard couldn�t go without two thousand crispy hundred dollar bills.

Those two thousand crispy hundred dollar bills that I owe him get laid on the counter next to the drinks. He moves to take them, but I hold up another finger. �Since you�re the betting type George, I�d like to play a game with you. It�s a drinking game, one that�s quite famous in the bartender crowd.�

He leans forward, two hands on the bar and his face stinking up mine. �I don�t like games.�

�You�ll like this one, I promise you. If you win, you can take my $2000 and I�ll let you know where to meet me tonight when I get off work.� Never underestimate the power of copious amounts of cleavage and a really great push-up bra.

�And if you win?�

�My debt is settled and you never come into my bar again, ever.�

He looks me over again, the short skirt and skimpy top hide nothing he hasn�t seen before. His eyes squint and he almost looks like he�s about to punch me when he grins. �Sure, deal, what�s the rules?�

�These two are mine,� I point to the glasses of beer. �Those two are yours.� I point again, at the shots, and he snorts. �I bet you that I can drink both of the beers before you can drink both of your shots. To avoid any complications and knocking over of alcohol, I can�t touch your glasses and you can�t touch mine. Sound fair?�

�Yeah, sure, whatever you say sweet cheeks.� He grins his filthy grin and nudges the man sitting on the bar stool next to him. The gentleman, remember the poor guy whose order was interrupted? He merely frowns at George, ice cold, yet waiting and wondering what this bet will lead to.

George puts a hand on one of his shots and I pause, almost as if I�m contemplating for a second. �You know what, this is kinda crazy. Why don�t you let me drink one of mine before you take your shots. In the interest of chivalry and kindness, eh George?� Another snort, but he nods grudgingly.

I pick up the first beer and drain it carefully. Despite my best intentions of being completely efficient and methodical, yet taking my time, a small trickle appears at the corner of my mouth and runs down my cheek. I slam the empty glass on the counter.

�Are you ready?� George nods and slams his first shot down. I don�t pick up my next beer. Instead, I calmly turn the empty glass over, efficiently covering his still full, second shot. With a grin, I drain the full glass of beer and set it down with a satisfied clink.

�Hey, what is this?� George moves to grab my glass, but a strong, and surprisingly pale, hand appears on his wrist.

�The lady won fair and square. You can�t touch her glass, she can�t touch yours.� It�s Mr. Gentlemanly, looking all fine and pompous as George is turned into the blustering idiot that he�s always shown himself to be. The man growls, actually growls, and stalks out of the bar and hopefully out of my life at work. I watch him go, it seems like there�s actually one little eroded piece of me returning to normal as his fat ass squeezes out the exit. I couldn�t be happier, quite honestly.

�That�s an impressive trick you just pulled. I�ll have to remember it.�

I snap my eyes from the door, and the worst thing that ever happened to me, over to Mr. Gentleman, who�s looking at me like he could be the best. Rich is written all over him. Hell, even his buttons look rich and that�s saying a lot. Dark purple dress shirt, slate gray tie, an expensive looking thigh length suit and a snazzy . . . buckle. Metropolis. Old money. And bald.

Must be the infamous Lex Luthor slumming it in my bar. �I learned it in high school. A great trick when you�re short on cash and need to eat.� His intense blue eyes look me over and I feel a little weird all of a sudden. Like I actually care what he thinks about how I look. To divert my attention, I pour us both a glass of beer.

He picks up the glass handed to him and takes a sip. �Must have been one hell of a High School. Who was that guy anyway? Jilted lover?�

I snort, sounding a whole hell of a lot like dearly departed George. �Hardly. That was my father.�

It�s his turn to snort, spraying a rather large amount of beer all over the counter, and unfortunately, myself in the process. I give him a half smile as he looks like he�s about to cry. Well, maybe not cry, but apologize profusely at least, which is no good. In my world, apologies mean shit and the only compensations I deal with are cold, hard . . . crispy dollar bills.

�I am so-�

�Sorry. Yeah, I know. Don�t sweat it. I get covered in beer all the fucking time. Nothing new. At least I can tell all my girlfriends that Alexander Joseph Luthor did it.� There�s my trademark twinkle in my eye.

�So you know who I am?�

I nod as I reach under the bar and pull out a rag. The shirt is drenched, but thankfully, I have more. �I�ll be right back. I need a fresh shirt.�

I don�t even bother to wait for his reply. I turn, and make my way to the back of the bar, and my own personal stash of extra clothes. It doesn�t fully hit me that I have Lex Luthor sitting at my bar until I�m pulling the tight t-shirt with I *heart* NY over my chest. He�s one of the richest men in the world. Devastatingly handsome. Well dressed, mannered, and endowed, or so the rumors say.

I�ve had the fantasy that a man like him would walk through my doors and just sweep me away for so long that now that he�s actually here, I�m at a loss as to what exactly I should do. How does one deal with a man who was a multimillionaire before he drew his first breath?

There�s a crash from out in the bar and I groan, horribly afraid that I�m going to find George back and ready for more. As I step through the door back into the bar, I�m plainly shocked at what I find.

There�s a large man with a gun to the back of Lex Luthor�s head. There�s no time for thought now as I reach behind me and grab the shot gun leaning against the door. It�s at my shoulder and aimed at the gunman before he even realizes what�s happening. �Drop the fucking gun, right now.�

He glances up at me. His eyes are so cold and lifeless. He�s got to be a paid assassin, but who in the hell would try to murder someone in my bar, in front of countless witnesses? �Drop it bitch. You don�t know what you�re getting into here.�

�No, you don�t know. I�m a perfect shot with this gun. You�ll be on the floor, twitching from the pellets buried deep inside of your nervous system before you can even think of pulling that trigger. Now, I suggest you put your gun down, turn around, and walk away. Because if you don�t, you�ll never be making it home.�

He looks from the back of that beautifully bald head to my face and I get the idea that he realizes that I�m utterly serious. The gun wavers fractionally on Lex. I pull mine tighter against my skin. Lex, who�s been buried face down into my bar until now, looks up at me through shielded eyes and I know that no matter what, even if I have to kill a man, if I allow Lex to die, I may very well be letting my destiny die with him.

My bouncer Fred, and overpaid stooge of George�s, decides to join us, zipping up his fly as he lumbers over. He takes a couple of looks at the three of us before pulling out his gun and screams, �PUT IT DOWN!� Our silly gunman knows that he�s cornered now.

He moves uncharacteristically fast as he manages to knock Lex out with a sharp blow to the back of the dome and plants a bullet in the bouncer�s knee. I fire, once. The pellets hit thin air and the assassin is gone, leaving my patrons scattered against the wall and panicky, my bouncer crying on the floor, and Lex unconscious not too far away.

�Well, fuck.�

Thirty minutes later and the police are gone. So are my patrons and Fred. Lex is revived, thankfully, and nursing a headache with my best scotch. As I drop the rest of the glass that was broken in the first crash I heard, I turn and sigh. Lex gazes up at me and cracks an almost crazed half smile. I grin back and I have to admit, it all seems so funny to me right now. A maniac shooter, a multi billionaire, and Fred the bouncer. And me, in the middle of it.

�You know, I�m amazed that I wasn�t arrested for the shot gun trick. The last time something like that happened I was thrown into jail for a week before George decided to bail me out.�

He extends the glass for a refill, that I happily oblige him, and says, �It�s amazing what happens when you know every cop on the force and know exactly what to say to make situations like that disappear.�

�I take it that you have guns pointed at your head on a daily basis?�

�You could say that.� He rubs the back of his neck absently, grimacing as he passes over the tender skin that was hit. I round the bar as he�s still wincing, and move his hand. His flesh is cool, yet somehow warm, under my touch.

�That looks really nasty. Are you sure you don�t want to go to the hospital?� There�s a deep bluish purple bruise forming, expanded to about the size of a tennis ball. He shakes my head, still leaning forward. My fingers ghost over the discoloration, sending a shiver down his spine. His flesh goose bumps.

Stepping back when I realize I�m probably acting a little creepy, I round the bar once more and decide that I might as well close early. I never thought I�d see the day when my bar closed before nine p.m., but there�s a first for everything I suppose.

�Thanks for sticking up for me, by the way.�

�I don�t take too kindly to people threatening my patrons with firearms. Believe it or not, you�re hardly the first person I�ve had to pull the shot gun out for. However, you�re probably the hottest, or maybe the richest. I haven�t decided yet.�

Another half grin. I�m tempted to believe that this man can�t give a full smile if his life depended on it. Ever. It�s sad really, he looks like he�s got one of those great smiles that makes bones melt and thoughts just drift away.

We�re staring at each other, I realize suddenly. I blush, deep crimson. But, I don�t stop looking. He doesn�t either. And then I feel it, deep in the pit of my stomach. That strange pull of a bad feeling. I frown. He frowns. His phone rings.

I�m so wound up that I swear I jump a foot before I stumble away, giving him privacy. I make my way to the back, picking up the beer soaked clothes and throwing them in a bag. I should head home. There�s no reason to stick around here when I have things to do.

�I�m afraid we must part company.� I jump again at the smooth voice in my ear. Stifling a scream and turning, I find an apologetic Lex giving me another almost smile. �I have some matters that I need to attend to.� He looks really good giving me excuses. Strange that he�d feel the need, but it is adorable.

He steps closer and puts a hand on my upper arm. �Thank you. You saved my life tonight.�

�It�s nothing. I�d be shut down if the heir to Luthorcorp was shot in my bar. Besides, you�re much too beautiful to be shot in the head. Imagine, a closed casket for a face like yours. It�d be a tragedy.�

He chuckles and leans down, brushing his lips over my cheek. I freeze at the contact, completely rooted to the spot. As he leans back, he pauses, his face still inches from mine. In a moment of total insanity I imagine turning my head fractionally, kissing him. It�d be soft at first, just a thank you lip. His soft lips would move over mine; they�d tremble slightly. Then, it would deepen, hands roaming and mouths groaning against each other. It would be wonderful. I sigh.

�Are you all right?� I snapped out of my day dream as Lex waves a hand in front of my face. I can�t help but frown. It was such a nice thought.

I turn to the side, desperately seeking something to cover my embarrassment. �Yeah, I�m fine. Just thinking about what I have to do tonight. I have a lot to do before I can lock up for the night.� I gave him a sideways glance, hoping he�d get the hint.

He just stands there, giving me a strange look. His phone rings again, and I jump a little for the second time. I chuckle nervously as he gives me an amused smile and answers his phone. He clicks the phone shut. �I�m really sorry. I have to go.�

�Of course. You�re a busy man.� He waits another second, looking for all the world like he doesn�t really want to go. He sighs finally, and drops his phone back in his pocket carelessly and places a warm/cold hand on my cheek. �Thank you, again. For everything.�

I don�t have time to give him a good response before he�s just gone, leaving the lingering scent of man and desire and power in his wake. All I can think of is that if we had kissed, if it hadn�t just been a fancy, I would have never recovered from this male.

I suddenly realize that I didn�t even give him my name.
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The Magical Bar Trick