Title: Mold Me, Make Me Author: DebC E-mail: debchilson@yahoo.com Archiving: L3, WC, TT, FF.net and elsewhere if I gave you previous permission. All others please ask Rating: G Keywords: Chlex, shortfic, futurefic, fluff Characters: Lex, Chloe Pairing: Lex/Chloe Series: in the same fic-verse as my "Kiss It Better" but not a sequel. Should you read KiB first? No, but you could read it anyway. I always love new feedback on older fics. ;-) KiB can be found here: Spoilers: none Disclaimers: Lex, Chloe and Smallville in general are not mine. They belong to the WB, DC Comics and lots of people with more money than I could ever think of. Lucia, however, is my very own. Those rich people can't have her. Summary: Lex's family has shaped his life... Author's Notes: I felt like fluff, so sue me. Fluff can be fun in small doses, and healthy for you when you work mainly in the angst and the dark stuff. It keeps you balanced. Oh, and Lucia is mine. She's the kid born in the end of Kiss It Better. The title is lifted from a line in a Christian worship song I learned in college ages ago. While this fic doesn't really have a Christian theme, I thought the line fit. The words, although irrelevant to the fic, are at the end. If you are non-religious, or simply not Christian, please feel free to disregard them and take the fic for what it is: non-denominational fluff.

"Mold Me, Make Me"

Giggles rang out from a door at the end of the hallway, and Lex made his way towards it, a smile starting to form on his pale face. His eyes were sunk in and ringed in purple from lack of sleep, and his body was so weary that it threatened to give out on him at any moment. Yet, somehow the happy sounds floating down the hallway to reach his ears seemed to lift the heavy load from him.

The door swung open noiselessly as he pushed I on it, not alerting the occupants to his presence. Leaning into the doorframe, Lex paused to watch the two most important people in his life making an incredible mess.

Chloe Sullivan Luthor, one of the Midwest's most infamous freelance journalists, was on her knees in old sweat pants next to their three-year- old daughter. They sat on old newspaper spread out on the floor, rolling colored balls clay with their bare hands. The newspaper did nothing, really, to save the carpet. The housekeeper would complain later, Lex thought with a low chuckle.

"Daddy!" his daughter squealed as soon as the sound escaped his throat. Dropping the ball of purple clay she had been smooshing between her little fingers, she jumped up and threw herself in to his arms. "Daddy, you home!" She slipped down, and taking his hand in hers, pulled him towards the center of the room. All the while, she jabbered away about things he couldn't quite make out except for bits and pieces. She talked so fast; it was almost impossible to keep up with.

"You let her drink your coffee again, didn't you?" he accused his wife, kneeling beside her so she didn't have to abandon the flower she was making out of red, yellow and green clay.

Chloe shrugged. "Only a sip or two. She likes it."

"It makes her hyper."

"No it doesn't, Lex. Dr. Edwards says--" Dr. Edwards had told Chloe that a little coffee every now and again wouldn't harm Lucia any, and that caffeine--in small doses--was good for her asthma. His words were Chloe's favorite excuse for letting their daughter drink from her coffee cup as often as she liked. Lex held up a hand to ward off the rest of this old argument.

"Dr. Edwards doesn't have to live with the two of you, love," he added as a final word, leaning close to kiss her cheek. "What's all this?" he asked, turning his attention to their daughter.

"Dokey Doh," Lucia--Lucy, as Chloe and Gabe had dubbed her shortly after her birth--explained seriously. "I making a dinah-sar."

It looked more like a misshapen stack of pancakes to Lex, but he smiled and nodded. "It's a very nice dinosaur," he told her and she beamed. "Dokey Doh?" he mouthed to Chloe.

"It's her own term for it. I don't ask."

"Ah." Lex started to stand when his daughter shoved a blue lump into his hand.

"Play with me, Daddy," she prompted. "Make Grandpa Lu-tor."

"Yes, Lex," Chloe chimed in, sarcasm thick in her voice. "Show us how to make Grandpa Luthor."

Make Grandpa Luthor, Lex thought cryptically. How hard could it be to make a snake? This brought an evil smile to his face, and he slowly began to roll the clay around in his hands until he felt it behind to warm. The motion was surprisingly pleasant, and soon Lex was squishing the smelly, pliable substance between his fingers.

"You're not makin' him!" Lucia pouted.

"Why don't you show me how," suggested Lex, handing her a lump of orange Play Doh.

"Okay!" she chirped, shoving the purple in her mother's direction. "Mommy, make Daddy!"

Chloe complied, rolling the clay effortlessly as she began shaping it into a human form. Her hands moved carefully--thoughtfully--and every few seconds, she looked up at Lex, as if trying to sculpt him perfectly, rather than just make a crude rendition of a man.

Lex was fascinated by the way the clay yielded to her movements, transforming into whatever shape she chose for it. Being molded by her, as Lex himself had been shaped by her warm and gentle touch. He wasn't the same man he'd been before he fell in love with Chloe Sullivan, and she-- with a lot of help from the red-headed imp now grinning as she made yet another stack of ragged pancakes with her clay--continued to make changes in him.

"Look! Look! It's Grandpa Lu-tor!" Lucia pronounced proudly, holding her orange pancakes up for them to see. Then she set it down and, picking up a plastic cup, squashed the lump flat.

It had been a rather enjoyable transformation--Lex admitted with no small amount of amazement--involving more love and happiness than his old ways had ever afforded him. Without those changes--lovingly made over years together--he knew he would have missed out on the most precious moments in life.

Like this one.

(end)

*Change My Heart, O God*

Change my heart, O God, Make it ever true. Change my heart, O God, May I be like You.

You are the potter, I am the clay, Mold me and make me, This is what I pray.