To the Batmobile!

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: None.

Disclaimer: If they were mine, I'd only get the Kryptofreaks.

Notes: Thanks to Aelora for audiencing and to CJ for audiencing and everything else, as without her, this story would still be a blinking cursor on a blank, white page. Feedback is better than Lex's toys.

Summary: A conk on the head leaves Lex confused and Clark amused.

"Le--" Clark was interrupted by the plink of a plastic grappling hook pinging him in the chest. It landed with a clink on the floor, the 10 feet of rope connected to it hanging limply from the gun in Lex's... black gloved hand, the glove extending up his forearm and beyond his elbow.

"Er, Lex?" Clark asked, stepping forward slowly as one would approach a spooked animal. His eyes roved over Lex's... outfit. It was the Batman costume Clark had worn last year to Metropolis Children's Charity ball. Consequently, it was sagging a little around Lex's knees, and the fingertips of the gloves, on closer inspection, were folded back a bit away from the gun. The cowl kept slipping down, and every few moments, Lex had to readjust it so that he might see through the eyeholes.

"HALT, PENGUIN!!!" Lex, shouted, pulling what Clark referred to as the "BatFrisbee" from his utility belt. Which Lex appeared to have poked a couple more holes into so that he could fasten it snugly around his waist.

Then Clark realized what Lex had said. "Penguin??!" he asked, wrinkling his nose in offense. "Look, Lex, you want to roleplay, that's fine, but I won't be Penguin."

"I've had enough of your insolence, Penguin. This time, you will stay in Arkham, where I put you!" Lex flipped the Frisbee at him. Clark, too confused to dodge, watched as the Frisbee thumped him in the chest and then fell uselessly to the floor.

"Dammit!" Lex shouted. "How are you resisting my ingenious weapons?"

Clark raised an eyebrow. "They're plastic, Lex. And would you stop calling me `Penguin'? I'm not short or fat, and I have a very nice nose, thank you. And five fingers on each hand." He wiggled them at Lex as proof.

"Cut it out, Penguin, or I shall be forced to remove them. And while you're at it, stop calling me `Lex'. I am BATMAN, DARK KNIGHT OF GOTHAM!!!" He thumped his chest importantly.

Clark decided it would be best to not remind Lex that they were in his Penthouse on Spring Street in Metropolis. "Okay, Batman," Clark said calmly, "I am going to sit down on that sofa. The one right there." He pointed in the direction of the lounge. "I promise I will not budge from that spot. I only wish to speak to you."

"We have nothing to talk about. You are a criminal mastermind. I am a vigilante for justice and must put you away for your crimes against humanity."

"I've changed, I swear," Clark said, trying not to roll his eyes. "I just want to sit on the couch, Le--er. Batman."

"Fine, but you will sit in the chair across from the sofa. I get the couch." Lex followed closely behind Clark, and as Clark turned and sat, he noticed the cape was dragging along the floor behind Lex like a train. He decided not to point this out, opting instead to cough delicately to ward of the giggle fit he felt coming on.

Lex sat on the big leather sofa, holding the cowl in place and peering at Clark as one would a wild animal whose tranquilizers were about to wear off.

Clark cleared his throat and began his interrogation. "Have you hit your head today?"

"Pffft," Lex answered. Apparently Batman wasn't much for eloquence.

"Are you sure?" Clark asked.

Lex rolled his eyes.

"Seriously, ...Batman. You're sure you didn't hit your head?" Lois would be so proud of Clark's relentless questioning and ability to strike to the heart of the matter. His art of wheedling out the difficult answers from the interviewee, without the interviewee even realizing it was more than Pulitzer-worthy. He deserved a Nobel Prize for his skills. Lois would be turning over in her grave right now. ...If she were dead.

"Enough of this idiocy," Lex stated, rising from the chair. He pulled a roll of duct tape from his belt and began taping Clark to the chair. "When the police come, they can arrest you. ALFRED!" he called out, "Call the police!"

"Um, Batman?" Clark began quietly, "There's no one here but you and me. The staff leaves at 6, and it's 7:30 right now."

Lex ignored him. "Alfred?"

"No one's here, Lex," Clark said, getting annoyed.

"What have you done with Alfred?" Lex accused.

Suddenly, Clark shot up from the chair, duct tape tearing the leather. "Your fender bender on your way home from work..." Clark said, realization dawning.

Lex jumped right in Clark's face and shouted, "Where's ALFRED??!" little bits of spittle hitting Clark in the chin.

"Alfred's in Gotham with Bruce Wayne," Clark said impatiently. "You are not Batman. You are Lex Luthor. My boyfriend. And I am not Penguin, and I'm really insulted that you keep calling me that. I'm attractive. He's a man who resembles a small, flightless fowl."

Lex crossed his arms over his chest and eyed Clark curiously. "RIDDLER!" he shouted. "Only you would play these vicious mind games."

"Jesus Christ, Lex! You're not Batman! Give it a rest! You must've hit your head on the steering wheel of your car."

Lex glared. Then he turned and ran back into the foyer, nearly tripping over himself in the size 14 Batboots, picked up the grappling hook, reloaded it, and pointed it at Clark. He advanced slowly. "I don't know how you've escaped my brilliant traps--"

Clark huffed.

"--but I will get you, Riddler. And I'll send you back to Arkham with Penguin."

Out of nowhere, Clark got an idea. "You know," he said smugly, "Lex Luthor would know how to tie me down." He dropped his voice a half an octave. "And keep me there." He dropped it the other half. "And make me not want to leave."

Lex looked nervously at the bookcase as he held the grappling gun to a more strategic place on his person.

Clark rushed him, and had Lex back to the wall within a second, pressing against him. "You're much hotter without the Batsuit," Clark murmured lowly in Lex's ear.

"How- how would you know?" Lex squeaked, still holding the grappling gun in front of his groin. "And how'd you move so fast?"

"I'm Superman," Clark shrugged.

"Superman lives in Metropolis," Lex stated.

"Yes, he does," Clark agreed. "He lives with his boyfriend, Lex Luthor, who seems at the moment to think he's Batman, and is pelting Superman with shoddily crafted Battoys. Odd that he should choose the Fisher Price brand grappling hook when the LexCorp grappling hook is of much higher quality, as it is, of course, an actual grappling hook."

"Are you mocking my toys, Superman?" Lex glared. "I'll have you know Batman has the best toys in the world, including the Batmobile, the Batcopter, and the Batboat. Not to mention the Batcave."

"Meh," Clark said, backing away from Lex. "Lex's toys are much better, as among them is the LexCorp brand Lexeros, the world's best designed prostate stimulator with a delicate handle that makes it easy to carry in case of unforeseen circumstances when the need for prostate stimulation should... er. Arise."

"Batman fights crime."

Clark snickered. "I supposed the Lexeros would be an appropriate weapon. If a mugger came along, I'd believe Lex could orgasm him to death. Lex is a wonder in the sack, you know." Clark plopped down on the sofa. "I'd say that if there were a contest between Batman and Lex in bed, Lex would win, hands down. He's made sex an art form. And that, I think, is much cooler than toys."

"Clark," Lex said.

Clark looked up. "Lex?"

"Lex Luthor is much cooler than Batman."

Clark nodded.

"I bet Batman doesn't have his own prostate stimulator. And if he did, he'd probably call it the Batplug, or something equally tasteless."

"True," Clark concurred, "Lex does have a talent for naming his inventions."

"Clark," Lex said again.

"Yes?" Clark asked innocently.

"I don't think I'm Batman anymore. Let's go play with some of my toys." Lex came over to Clark, tripping once more in the boots, and took Clark's hand. Then he led him back to the bedroom.

Somewhere in Gotham

"Alfred," Bruce said as he scanned the Gotham Gazette business section, "I've got something I want to add to the utility belts. Robin and I will be field testing a new stimulator." He whipped out a black piece of plastic that was shaped like a warped bat. "The Batplug!"

"Very good, Sir," Alfred answered calmly. "I'll include a change of thongs in the utility belts as well, Sir. After all, Master Dick is a little... excitable."