Summary: For the LJ Icon Challenge.

Warnings: Rated PG-13. m/m.

Notes: This is from a challenge that was floating around LJ. People picked one of my icons, and I wrote a short little story about it.

There had been strange noises coming from Mr. Gough's office all morning. His assistant Christine had gotten up from her desk a half dozen times to go check on him, but always ended up thinking better of it. The creative process could be strange, from what she'd seen, and she was a little afraid of what she might walk in on.

Finally, though, the sounds grew too plaintive to ignore, and she tiptoed into his office to see what was the matter.

He was sitting in front of his computer, reading something that had him nearly verklempt.

She cleared her throat to let him know she was there. "Is there anything I can do, Mr. Gough?"

He blew his nose. "It's not fair, Christine. Not fair!"

She approached his desk. "Bad news from the network?"

He shook his head. "It's-- Well, just look!" He pointed at his monitor.

Christine glanced over his shoulder. He had at least a dozen browser windows open, and when she leaned in closer to read the top one, she felt her face turn hot. Clark and Lex and a trapeze, and, honestly, wouldn't sexual antics like that test even Superman's flexibility?

"Oh, my," she said.

"I know! And it's all like that. Hell, each one is kinkier than the last."

She reached for the mouse, clicked on some of the other windows and found that, indeed, Mr. Gough was right. Space brothels and Kryptonite-powered spanking machines and some very interesting uses of Velcro.

"There, there, Mr. Gough." She patted him on the shoulder. "I know. It must be terrible for you."

"Damned right!" His chest heaved. "Who do these characters belong to, Christine? Who?"

"You, of course," she said soothingly, figuring any mention of DC Comics might just antagonize him further.

"And who had the brilliant idea of making them boyhood friends?"

"You did, naturally." She likewise assumed this wasn't the best time to bring up Mr. Millar.

"So why do these horrible scribbling women get to have more fun with them than I do? Why, Christine? Why?"

"Um…" she stammered, not at all sure what to say to that. Finally, she offered, "How about a venti half-caf latte? Would that help?"

He sniffled. "It might."

"Coming right up."

On her way out to the car, she began considering screen names for herself. ClarkLuvsLex. Clex4Eva. SuperLuvas. What Mr. Gough didn't know wouldn't hurt him, after all, and she had some ideas about Clark and Lex and Red Kryptonite sex toys she was just dying to share.