Spoilers: Pre-Smallville. But uses information from all seasons through the Season 3 spring hiatus.
Description: What's he got that I ain't got?.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not mine.
Feedback: I fiend for it.
"No good-bye hug?" Lex yelled, mostly to himself. His father had just told him that he would be in Pinehurst, Idaho over the weekend. He had to be the only billionaire that regularly took business trips to the middle of nowhere. Lex never wanted to go, and his father didn't show any interest in bringing him. He wished that just once his father would want to sell fertilizer in Cancun.
His eyes panned the room. He was too keyed up to go back to bed. He was bored. He stank. He was ravenous. But he stank more. He walked towards his bathroom, after yanking a towel from the floor. As he passed the couch, he noticed an envelope with the purple and black LuthorCorp logo on it, and picked it up. In the envelope was a note, written in his father's handwriting.
"Lex," it began, "Kings in the making. Sincerely, Your father." Lex couldn't remember ever receiving a letter from his father with an affectionate closing...or opening for that matter. He wondered if he should stop hoping for one.
Folded in the note were two magazine clippings. The top one was about none other than Prince William. From Lex's brief scan, he had managed to surmise it was a glowing article of William's diligence at Eton, his ability at a variety of sports, and his bright prospects as a future monarch. It even mentioned the poise in which he handled his parents' recent separation and imminent divorce.
Lex had met the bloke. He seemed nice enough, but he didn't necessarily want to be like him. Apparently his father disagreed.
Lionel had been kind enough to include a clipping that featured Lex as well. It was considerably less glowing, however. In fact, it was barely an article at all, its key feature being a picture of Lex bussing some Welsh beauty in the back of a club. The caption read "This Yankee Doodle is Quite a Dandy." Lex abhorred triteness - especially when it was directed at him.
The photo was dated July 6, 1996, the previous week. But that had to be wrong. He remembered the night, and it was at least two months ago, back when he was still in school. Then again, when had tabloids ever cared about being accurate?
Lex took a long, hot shower. He had long ago killed the funk, and had stopped scrubbing, but he stood there, soaking in its sudsy warmth. It reminded him of the lecture his Biology teacher gave on water shortages in most of the developing world. It bothered him a little.
"What will I do today?" he asked himself out loud, while stepping out of the tub, and easing into a yawn and stretch. He hadn't done anything really dangerous in a while. No run-ins with the police. No irate servants. No brawls. He hadn't even gotten cursed out by a girl in a while. It almost felt good. He was still drinking and smoking, though. Maybe he should quit that too.
His mind drifted back to the articles. What made Prince William so good, and himself so bad? They were both rich; both privileged; both sheltered; both hounded (though William a lot more). They were about the same age (Lex was a couple years older). They both had reportedly distant fathers.
There were some differences. William was English. He went to a more elite school. He had a brother, and grandparents, and aunts, and uncles and cousins.
He also had a mother. A beautiful, smart, loving, famous mother. Lex had had one too, once.
Lex didn't know if that made such a difference or not. He didn't want to think about it anymore.
Besides, he didn't know if he wanted to be a king anyway.