Canuck Clex New Part!

Rating: I'd be shocked if it got racier than R.
Characters: Canadian!Clark and assorted Canadian cast.
Notes: This is my official disclaimer that I will shamelessly use and abuse horrible stereotypes about Canada in this fic. That doesn't mean that they're true. It just means that I'm crazy.

Part 1
Part 2



The assembly after lunch hour was being held in honour of some big corporate sponsor who'd bought some athletic equipment for the school's phys ed department. Clark should have expected it, but he was still surprised to see a banner with the LuthorCorp logo hanging across the auditorium stage when he filed into the room with the rest of his classmates.

The thing was, it wasn't *just* the LuthorCorp logo. It was that logo plus about a dozen others, all consisting of acronyms including the letters 'S' or 'C' and often incorporating some sort of maple leaf. The Canadian LuthorCorp apparently had a lot of government sponsorship.

Lex was sitting in a folding chair, talking to the principal. Chloe, who was several people up the line from Clark, shot a pointed glare in Clark's direction, then nodded towards Lex meaningfully. Clark wasn't sure, but he thought he was supposed to apologize to Lex in order to appease Chloe, so he tried to catch Lex's eye.

But Lex wasn't looking out into the assemblage of students at all, so Clark just found a seat and settled in. He'd only been sitting for less then a minute before Principal Reynolds -- who had suddenly become aboriginal -- came out and announced that they would begin by singing the national anthem.

This was greeted by a loud groan. Clark joined in because he honestly hadn't the slightest idea of how the Canadian national anthem sounded, let alone its words. But as the piano started up and everyone ambled to their feet, Clark realized he wasn't alone. Most people droned along wordlessly or not at all, with the exception of Lana in the front row, who was singing the French version loudly and out of tune, and the new Quebecois hockey coach, Jean-Michel Teague, who was grinning at Lana and doing the same.

There was something funny between those two.

The national anthem was followed by a couple of boring speeches from the administration, punctuated by curse-ridden orders for silence from the gym teachers. Clark was one of the few who listened attentively, because it was news to him that LuthorCorp (in cooperation about seventeen civic and provincial heritage foundations) was the official sponsor of the Moose Jaw Moose, not to mention that Lex's dad apparently owned the Saskatoon Blades (with a hefty advertising contract from Coca Cola).

The Canadian Luthors certainly *sounded* like big-shots, but Clark couldn't help noticing that Lex's attire was a little ... odd. He was wearing khakis, but not linen khakis with ruler-straight creases and flattering curves hugging his rear. Instead, they had -- oh, *weird*! -- they had *pleats* in front! His shirt was a button-up, but it wasn't purple. It was a pale green, like sage, and Lex's tie -- it was a conservative cross-hatch of darker green. Not only that, but Lex -- had a gold band on his left hand ring finger. Canadian Lex wasn't crazy enough to have stayed married to Helen, or -- god forbid -- Desiree, was he?

Lex got up to speak, finally, and the students clapped listlessly when the coaches unveiled twenty new sets of cross country skies. Chloe yawned widely, saying, "Oh, great, one more reason to force us out into the arctic weather during gym class." Then she seemed to recall that she was angry with Clark, and she turned away, muttering, "Hoser."

They were supposed to head straight for the last class of the day, but Clark wove through the crowd until he was beside the auditorium stage. "Lex!" he called. "Hey, Lex!"

Lex turned his head, searching for the source of Clark's voice. When he finally laid eyes on Clark, he smiled, a little uncertainly. "Oh, hey," he said, walking to the edge of the stage and hopping down. It was a strangely un-Lexish maneuver.

It also brought Lex's feet into Clark's visual range.

Lex was wearing Birkenstocks and grey wool socks.

Clark blinked the sight away desperately and unleashed a brilliant smile on Lex. "Cold out today, huh?" he said, desperate for an opener that wouldn't reveal his curiosity about the ring, the pleats, and the Birks.

Lex frowned and nodded. "My boogers froze as soon as I stepped out of the Explorer."

Lex just said 'boogers'.

Lex just said *Explorer*.

Clark gaped.

"Think you'll try out for the cross-country skiing team?" Lex asked, walking towards the door, apparently oblivious to Clark's dumbstruck state. "Ben and I made this New Year's resolution to get more exercise, but every Saturday morning we can't be bothered to drag our sorry asses out of bed and onto those skis. We were going to just donate the two pairs, but then Ben thought we could up the ante a little, and so --"

"Ben," Clark managed in a strangled tone.

Lex turned around, looking concerned. "You okay, Clark?"

"Ben?" Clark tried again, this time struggling for an interrogative tone.

"Ben," Lex repeated with a nod. "My husband? What about him?"

"Husband?"

Oh, god. This was *so* not good. This was *worlds* of not good. Apparently Canadian Lex had taken full advantage of the loosened laws up here in the Free North. Lex had married, and this time his spouse of choice didn't seem to be homicidal. In fact, judging from what little Lex had said, and from Lex's generally relaxed appearance, this Ben was actually *good* for Lex.

"Clark?" Lex said again, mildly. Lex was being mild. Lex wasn't violently curious about Clark's strange behaviour and he wasn't prowling into Clark's personal space in an attempt to disconcert him. "Hey, are you still coming over tonight? We're making organic food for Bob and Doug."

Oh, God, did Canadian Lex have little Birkenstock-wearing Canadian kids? Clark must have looked a little scary, because Lex was grasping his arm. "Bob and Doug?"

"The cats?" Lex prompted. "Clark, dude, are you all right?"

Dude. No, Lex had *not* just said dude. Because there was waking up a different nationality and then there was waking up a hallinogenic drug addict ... "Lex, can I just -- If I ask you a few questions, can you answer them without freaking out?"

Lex backed up. "Shoot," he offered. His 'oo' vowel was strangely rounded, like those characters in Fargo.

"Lex. LuthorCorp, it's an agribusiness corporation, right?"

"Of course it is, Clark. It's a government-subsidized semi-public corporation founded to support and develop sustainable agriculture practices."

"It's not -- it's not *non-profit*, is it?" Clark asked, weakly.

Lex laughed, which was an unspeakable relief. "Oh, there's no way my dad would be in a non-profit business."

"So, you're -- you and your dad, I mean -- you're still loaded, right?"

"Well --" Lex said, looking embarrassed. "We're ... comfortable. But, Clark, you know how I feel about all that. It's just ... material goods, man."

Whoa.

*Whoa.*

"And Ben? You and him -- have cats?"

Now Lex suddenly looked peeved. "Look, Clark, I know no one in this town is the biggest fan of Ben's dad, but I thought you were over all that. He's not responsible for the sins of the father, and blaming Ben for the 7% GST ... I mean, *christ*, he was just a kid when that happened!"

"You're married to ... Ben Mulroney?" Clark's Canadianized brain provided the details: son of Canada's least popular past prime minister ... obnoxious host of Canadian Idol.

There was no question about it.

Being Canadian had made Lex evil.