Spoilers: Events up through "Nocturne," then it goes slightly AU. Notes #1: For the CLFF challenge, level four - a 25,000 word story in 20 days. For your own sanity, we can't recommend you try it. Notes #2: Sentences surrounded by //these marks// indicate overheard conversation. Beta: Many flowers strewn at the feet of the always excellent moss; humble gratitude to Di at Preyland as well. Disclaimers: Well, our therapists tell us they're not ours, but.... Feedback: Please! If we don't hear from you, it'll destroy us. The very fabric of the space-time continuum is at risk here, people! Oh, heck, not really ... but we do thrive on your comments. CJ is at carolynandrei@yahoo.com, reet at daga8922@cox.net.

Martha measured the flour, four cups for this batch. The water, sugar and yeast were already foaming, so she started mixing the bread dough in her largest bowl. Making the bread for the week was one of the things she still insisted on doing for the family, even though her job as a LuthorCorp public relations consultant took up far more time than being Lionel's personal assistant ever had.

"Martha?" She heard Jonathan call from upstairs, "Have you seen my blue tie?"

She smiled and shook her head as she finished folding in the water and yeast mix. She called upstairs as she did every time Jonathan had to find a tie, "Have you checked the rack on the back of the closet door?"

Some things didn't change.

Martha's breath hitched for a second over the thought, wishing the same could be said for all the important things in her life. Their way of life.

Their son.

"Thanks, Hon!"

The dough was getting tacky and stretchy now. Martha turned it onto the lightly floured board and start kneading. Pounding her doubts and fears into the dough had always been a safe way of dealing with them, but this time the easy rhythm couldn't wipe out the words she'd read. Words she'd had no right to read.

Drugs: usage and arrests.

Beatings: given and received.

Bodies: used and abused, his own and others, bought and paid for.

Martha picked the dough up over her head and flung it down on the board hard enough to rattle the glass measuring cups.

"Honey, what are you doing?" Jonathan asked as he walked into the kitchen, carrying his suit on a hanger and two blue ties in his fist. "Our reservations are for 6:00. You're not going to have time to finish up the bread by then."

"I'll just set it to rise," she said, damning the tremor in her voice. "Or we could just not go."

"Martha." He laid his suit and the ties across the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

She rushed on before Jonathan could say anything more. "I got to thinking that we should probably have Clark call when he gets there. In case he forgets something or needs something. So we should really be home." She didn't look at Jonathan, just focused on punching the dough.

"Honey," Jonathan stood close behind her, wrapped his arms around hers and pulled her close against his chest. "We talked about this. Clark's only going for the weekend. It's just a visit to get to know the campus, see the dorms, figure out if he really wants to stay in Metropolis for college. He'll be back Sunday night, for goodness sakes."

Martha sucked in a shaky breath. "But he's never been on a trip like this on his own before."

"He won't be alone. Lex will be there if Clark needs anything."

The name neatly printed on the thick file, left conveniently on her boss's desk: a temptation, a test, a warning.

Lex Luthor: his life and times.

"I'm surprised you agreed to that," she muttered.

It was a life she never wanted touching her baby. She never wanted to see the innocence die in Clark's eyes.

"Martha?" Jonathan tugged her around to face him, frowning in concern. "You're usually the one jumping to defend Lex. Is there something wrong? Has he done something to upset you?"

She knew how little it would take. A few well-chosen words, just a brief rundown of the things she'd seen on the papers tucked inside that folder, and Clark wouldn't be going to Metropolis with Lex, wouldn't be going anywhere with him. Jonathan would make sure of that, if he knew the things she knew.

But he didn't.

There had been pictures. Not of everything, but a lot of things. Graphic, hateful, pornographic pictures of Lex and women, Lex and men. Sad, desolate pictures of Lex alone and bleeding.

"No. No, of course not." Martha assured him. During Lex's first year in Smallville the file had begun to thin out until there were only repetitive reports of occasional injuries, most of which Martha had known about. "It's just that Lex and Clark have gotten along fine as long as they've stayed in Clark's world, here in Smallville, but they're going to Metropolis now. That's Lex's world. It's not a world I want Clark to get to know."

"We can't keep him home with us forever, honey." Jonathan stroked her check gently. "He's going to have to face life and all its ugly realities sometime."

"I know."

"And he's only driving up with Lex." Jonathan reminded her of exactly the argument she had used on him over a month ago when the boys had made these plans. "Clark will be in the university's visitation program all day Saturday and rooming with one of the resident assistants tonight. It'll be fine."

That was what Martha had said, her very words, but that had been five weeks ago. She'd read Lex's file in Lionel's office just yesterday.

"You're right." She tried to smile, but was sure that she wasn't fooling her husband. "Clark is a good boy and I just have to trust him."

The growl of a high powered sports car coming up the drive made them both glance towards the front door. Lex would have picked up Clark from school as they had agreed, and now Clark was here to collect his things before heading off to Metropolis and the university.

Martha left the dough on the cutting board and brushed off her hands on her apron as she hurried to the front door. Jonathan caught up with her on the porch just as the doors on the sports car opened. Jonathan leaned forward and whispered, "Just don't think about parties and fireworks."

Martha shot him a dirty look, but Jonathan just shrugged and smiled.

When had they switched roles, Martha wondered. When had Jonathan become the one that teased about unauthorized parties with alcohol and fireworks? When had she become the one that would sneak a look at someone's past and use it to judge him?

When exactly had she realized that her little boy was getting ready to leave her protection behind?

"Hey, Dad! Mom!" Clark came bounding up the front porch steps with a huge smile; Lex followed behind more sedately, but so much happier than she ever saw him at the mansion.

"You get home pretty fast when you don't have chores, don't you, son. Hello, Lex." Jonathan grinned and then nodded.

"Mr. Kent." Lex nodded back and then smiled at Martha, "Mrs. Kent."

Clark looked his mother up and down, took in her floured hands and apron, and said over his shoulder, "Mom's been baking bread, Lex. Told you so."

Lex's smile stretched to a grin as he stopped at the foot of the porch steps and stuck his hands in his pockets and said, "Okay, okay, you win. "

"Win what? What do you win if I'm making bread, Clark?" She put on her best teasing- Mom voice and didn't look at the boy standing at the bottom of her steps, waiting to be invited up. Even after almost four years Lex didn't assume he'd be welcome in the Kent house.

Clark smiled at his mother. "I told him that, no matter how cool you were about it a few weeks ago, today you'd be so worried about me going to Metropolis on my own you'd be tearing your hair out. Or baking bread."

"I always bake our bread!"

"On Sundays, Mrs. Kent," Lex answered, looking up at her with such affection it made Martha blush. "On Sundays, it's regular bread. Any other day it's worry bread."

Jonathan chuckled and gave her a squeeze. "They've got you figured out, Martha."

"Oh! You're all impossible." But she smiled and blushed some more and thought about how four years in Smallville had more of a chance of changing a person than one weekend in Metropolis. "Go get your things, Clark. I know you've had your duffle bag packed since last week, but it won't help if you don't take it with you."

Clark gave a whoop and headed into the house and up the stairs to his room. The bang of the screen door and the pounding up the stairs were exactly what they had been when Clark was fourteen and had been given permission to go on his first sleepover at Pete's. Martha felt a stinging behind her eyes.

Lex and Jonathan were still grinning at her when she turned around.

"You," she shook a finger at her husband, "go finish getting ready."

"Already on my way, honey," Jonathan agreed. Martha decided to ignore the chuckling.

"And you," Martha turned on the still grinning Lex, who immediately held up his hands in surrender, "get in the kitchen. I have a thermos of coffee and some sandwiches for you to take on the drive."

"Yes, ma'am!"

Lex walked where Martha pointed, preceding her though the screen door into the house. She watched him walking through the living room and into the kitchen, saw him pick up an apple from the fruit bowl on the kitchen table and take a peek at the bread dough rising in a bowl on the counter. Now that he'd had an invitation, it was as if he were truly at home here.

She couldn't see anything of the sad, jaded boy she'd read about in that file.

When she handed him the thermos and the bag with the sandwiches, Lex took them and looked at her straight in the eye and said, "I'll take good care of him, Mrs. Kent. Really."

"Thank you, Lex. I know it seems silly, it's not like he hasn't been to Metropolis before, but..."

"But this time he's really getting ready to leave. I understand." He smiled again. "I'll bring him back just like I found him. Promise."

At that moment Clark and his father came downstairs. With a flurry of good byes the boys were gone and the house was empty with only her and Jonathan left.

Martha strained her hearing to catch all of their bits of conversation as they walked towards the car. Clark was enthusiastically gesturing, waving around one of his new CDs, and Lex shook his head in reply, saying something about "don't expect me to listen to that all the way..."

Their voices trailed off as the car doors slammed shut. Blinking hard, Martha turned to her husband and buried her face in his chest.

Clark barely suppressed a snicker as Lex pulled out of the driveway at a speed hardly better than a crawl; the snicker escalated into a full-blown laugh when Lex quite properly flicked on his turn signal before easing the car out on to Hickory Lane.

It took a good half-mile of travel at all of 34 miles per hour before Clark was able to completely stop his laughter.

Lex looked over at Clark, wearing his very best Serious Professional Businessman expression. "Mr. Kent," he intoned mildly, "you are in my care for the weekend. I fail to see the amusement about my concern for your well being."

Clark cracked up again. "My amusement is coming from the fact that you're driving like somebody's grandmother, and I'm really enjoying picturing you in blue hair and a flowered housedress."

"Well," Lex said, seemingly struggling to remember, "it has been a while since I wore a dress, but I'm almost positive I don't have anything in a floral print."

As predicted, Clark's jaw nearly hit the floor. Lex let him struggle for a response for a minute before turning to him with a raised eyebrow and saying "Gotcha," which earned him a not-quite-too-hard shove in the arm.

"Asshole," Clark laughed, as he reached for the stereo. "You know, with all the stories of your misspent youth that are allegedly out there, I'd think you wouldn't want to encourage ideas like that."

"Like what?" Lex countered. "Me in drag? There are worse things to be caught wearing," he began, followed by a pointed nod at Clark's ever-present flannel shirt.

Clark rolled his eyes and threw his head back, exasperated. "Not this conversation again," he muttered. "I happen to like flannel. It's warm and it's comfortable, and - "

"And you look like a refugee from Green Acres in it, and don't even tell me you've never heard of that show, Clark. I'm willing to put money on the fact that your father has made you sit through more than one episode."

Clark shot him a suspicious look. "How'd you know that?"

Now it was Lex's turn to roll his eyes. "Let's just say that I'm a perceptive student of human nature." He reached behind him and grabbed a shirt box from off of the back seat, tossing it on to Clark's lap. "This is for you."

"Oh, how nice," Clark bratted. "First," he began as he pulled the box top off, "you insult my fashion sense, and then," he paused as he pulled out a long-sleeved shirt, "you... insult my fashion sense. What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Terrible, Clark. You're seventeen years old, and you don't know what to do with a shirt?" Lex looked at him in mock horror. "You are housebroken, aren't you?"

Clark let his middle finger reply for him.

"Great answer, Kent. I'm sure you'll impress the faculty with your witty repartee. And to answer your previous stupid question, you're supposed to put the shirt on."

Clark looked at him dubiously. "Can't I just change when we get there?"

Lex just glared his way. "Clark, I thought you were my friend. How is it going to look if I let you leave my car wearing flannel?" He paused. "Besides, I know people in Metropolis."

Lex waited for it.

"Asshole."

Lex grinned.

"The truth will set you free. And I still want you to change the shirt now."

Clark held the shirt up in front of him, examining it like he was afraid it might reach out and bite him. "This isn't silk, is it?"

"Of course not," Lex frowned. "You're going on a college visit, not clubbing.... not today, anyway. You want to look studious and attentive. It's a forest green button down oxford, all cotton, goes fine with jeans. Be glad I'm not making you change into khakis."

Clark's eyebrows went up so far they nearly met his hairline. "In the Ferrari? I'd need a yoga instructor to get unbent from that."

Lex shrugged. "Whatever it takes. Just change out of the damn flannel, and I'll even let you listen to that shit you call music."

Not one to pass up a good opportunity - Lex rarely ceded control of the stereo- Clark practically yelled "sold!" as he began unbuttoning the flannel.

Lex found that he was hardly even surprised at how easy it was to keep his gaze fixed on the road ahead of them. Pleased, really, at how little effort he had to expend to make sure his eyes didn't drift Clark-wards, lingering over the now-bare chest, noticing the play of muscles underneath the tanned skin as his friend leaned into the dash and pulled the offensive flannel free of his left arm.

Effortlessly merging onto the freeway, Lex silently congratulated himself on how very thoroughly he'd shelved his attraction to Clark. Just to prove it, to make the point that he was no longer fixated on Clark's body, he allowed himself a deliberate look at the writhing, half-naked man in the passenger seat.

He watched as Clark peeled the shirt off his right arm, completely exposing his upper body to the air (and was the climate control working correctly? Hans would have to double-check it once he returned to the mansion) and twisting to position the green button-down correctly over his chest.

Since traffic was light on the freeway this early in the afternoon, Lex didn't have to turn his complete attention back to the road quite yet. Which was good, since he was suddenly fascinated by the detailed shadow over the curve of Clark's left bicep. The green sleeve slid up and up and over that smooth, muscled area, hiding it from view, and Lex felt a flash of irrational anger at the shirt for doing so.

Which is when Lex suddenly and definitively realized that there was, in fact, nothing wrong with the Ferrari's heating element.

Well, then. Enough with making points for today, don't you think? he mused sardonically, and turned his full attention back to the road, leaving Clark to finish dressing unmonitored.

Clark fidgeted with the shirt for a few more minutes and then he started rummaging in the bag at his feet.

"I forgot I was traveling with a five year old." Minus the striptease of course, Lex thought to himself. "Don't you ever sit still, Kent?"

"I'm hungry. Mom said she packed sandwiches," Clark replied. He sat up, a sandwich in each hand, and held one out to Lex. "Want one?"

"Like we're going to starve on the three hour trip to Metropolis?" he said incredulously.

Clark just grinned and waved the sandwich. "Mom's chicken salad."

"Hand it over."

Lex pretended to ignore Clark's laughing at him as he enjoyed Martha Kent's chicken salad and listened to some really crap music.

It was a great day for driving, and the next couple of hours passed by quickly.

Just before they reached Metropolis Lex noticed the time and reached for the radio. Clark moved to intercept his hand again, but Lex shot him an apologetic look. "Have to be serious for a while - 'Asian Business Week in Review' is on and LexCorp is expanding its Hong Kong operations." He turned up the volume a notch, and then checked on Clark, who looked ready to argue the point. Lex reached over and slapped Clark on his bicep. "Don't whine about it, loser. We can turn your strummy alt-rock crap back on as soon as this is over."

Clark opened his eyes and grinned, producing a flash of startling green and brilliant white that still made Lex's chest tighten up. Out of the hundreds of little reactions that Clark provoked in him, that was one he hadn't yet managed to completely extinguish.

"I'll survive, Lex," he chuckled. "And I'm not whining. But I might if you drag me to some snooty restaurant tonight." He sighed and added, "I still don't see why we can't just go someplace where I can eat with my fingers."

Fortunately Lex had tuned him out by that point. LexCorp's expansion wouldn't have been able to hold his concentration had it been in competition with the thought of Clark licking his fingers.

Satisfied that Lex would be occupied with his business radio for a while, Clark shut his eyes again and wiggled lower in the seat. There were lots of advantages to making this trip with Lex instead of with his folks, not the least of which was riding in the Ferrari. Clark fully intended to enjoy every minute of this particular experience.

Clark exhaled deeply, letting the vibrations of the engine flow through his body. Sometimes he'd sit in the barn and imagine this feeling: A V-12 powered hum stretching from his shins to his scalp, he thought, and the image made him smile again. Humming in the barn. There were other things that went on in the barn that caused certain...feelings, too. Wouldn't really hurt to think about that for a minute, would it? Clark was fully aware that Lex was right next to him; but it wasn't like Clark was going to do anything. He was just...thinking.

He let his hearing drift in to catch what part of the business report was playing. The commentator was still droning about corporate mergers that had broken on Tuesday; not even halfway through the week. Lex, it seemed, was going to be caught up in his role as businessman for some time yet. So Clark allowed himself to go -

Back, back to when his dad first built him the loft. "Your 'Fortress of Solitude'," he'd said, jokingly, but Clark had seized on that word. Solitude. A condition he'd begun to crave at that point in his life; lots to think about, lots to figure out.

Especially once he started to notice girls - who definitely hadn't started to notice him - it was cool to have a place to go and be alone, so he could. Hm. Be alone. Yeah. Private time, and stuff.

It hadn't taken long for his mom to start buying extra boxes of tissues, and for several of those extra boxes to migrate into the loft. He often thanked her, profusely and silently, both for her thoughtfulness and her complete avoidance of the topic.

At first he'd been pretty nervous. What if someone heard him, or - even worse - saw him? As time passed, and as he got used to the loft, he realized it would be tough for anyone to sneak into the barn without him noticing.

So he'd relaxed into his thoughts. Fantasies, really, although in the beginning he'd thought the word silly. But that was exactly what they were - fantasies. Fantasies about Lana at first; although there had been one that had centered vividly on Chloe after her first day at Smallville Junior High.

Once he'd gotten to know Lana - once he'd had that horrible talk with his dad, the one that had changed everything - there wasn't any fantasy he could concoct that would stifle all the trauma associated with her. Not that he'd entirely abandoned trying, of course - Tina Greer had fueled things for a bit, and that had been. Nice. Or, maybe not nice, but...interesting.

But then the Nicodemus thing had happened, and that had really killed the Lana fantasies for him.

Because Lana had just circled him. She'd teased and flirted and suggested so hard that a guy would've had to be clinically dead not to get what she was hinting at - but she hadn't touched him. She'd moved around him, like a vulture waiting for something to go ahead and die. And then, after her circling had nearly made him hyperventilate with nerves and confusion and a general sense of helplessness - she'd launched herself at him. Sprang, flew at him, attached herself to his face and started rubbing her mostly bare flesh nearly everywhere at once.

Which was a little good, but mostly reminded him of the way a bad cover band sounds. The song is familiar, it might even be good, but the singer is jarring and off in a way that words alone can't describe. Part of his brain had been screaming "touch me, if you'd just touch me, put your hands on me, anywhere, and this would be better," but of course, once Lana's head had cleared, Clark had been grateful she hadn't.

And there had been one nice side effect. Later on that night was the first time he'd had the fantasy that had grown to become his favorite.

The hands.

Faceless hands, an imaginary lover who was nobody and anybody, touching, rubbing, stroking, caressing him. The hands could start out soft and gentle, or they could be firm and deliberate.

The hands were ideal. He'd never completely gotten the hang of keeping reality from intruding on fantasy - too often he'd thought of Lana, only to have Whitney barge into his mind. Or fantasy-Chloe would start talking, and he just couldn't focus amidst her chatter about peas and meteor rocks and truth and promises.

For a short while - too short - he'd thought of Kyla. She had been real and solid; Clark had held her and touched her and kissed her. Even that first time, when she'd cut open his shirt and put her hands on him, the tension between them had thrummed. It vibrated all through him and he had almost asked her if she'd felt it too, but he'd never worked up the nerve.

There had been a few nights when he thought of her (alone in the loft didn't want to push her wouldn't take it too fast she was a nice girl) it was better than it had ever been. But then, too soon, she was gone - worse than breaking up, and certainly more final. After a length of time he thought was appropriate (if that was even a relevant word, given the situation) he'd tried thinking about her, out in the barn.

It hadn't worked. He had tried to picture Kyla's small, sure hands moving on him, tried to tune in to the hum, and he'd closed his eyes - to see the snarling maw of a fierce white wolf staring at him.

He'd shouted and jumped up, ran straight into the house, into the shower, and stayed in for so long he'd drained the water heater.

That had been the last time he'd thought about a girl.

Now it was just the hands that made him hum. Sometimes fragile and delicate. Sometimes small but sturdy with ink-stained fingers. And, lately, sometimes the hands were big, strong and smooth, with lean fingers and certainty in their movement.

Clark's eyes fluttered open and on his knee was a hand, long fingered, determined. Shaking. Then it was gone, and he felt a jab in the arm, and he snapped back to reality, to the sharp tone of Lex's voice.

"Clark!" Lex was looking at him from under a furrowed brow, irritation tinted with concern. Relief replaced it once he realized he had Clark's attention. "Jesus, where have you been?"

To his chagrin, Clark promptly blushed.

With an elbow this time, Lex poked Clark in his side again, and gave an exaggerated (and rather cheesy) wink. "Let me guess. On a beach, hot woman, small swimsuit?"

Clark shrugged and coolly said, "Not exactly," enjoying the split second gape Lex wasn't quite fast enough to suppress.

Years of living with Lionel had honed Lex's poker face to perfection, a skill that had proven useful. Over the years, he'd managed to suppress his shock and paste on the "oh, really" face many times.

Go ahead and unpack, Luthor, your expulsion has been overturned. Oh, really.

No, Lex, today is Sunday; you've been unconscious since Thursday. Oh, really.

Hey, here are some photos of your father in bed with your ex-girlfriend. Oh, really.

Clark, that slack-jawed expression of lust you're wearing, that's because of a girl, right? Not exactly? Oh, really.

Lex imagined the proper 'buddy' response to Clark's comment would be to give him grief about it. He had no problem imagining the responses Pete, for example, would come up with. "Yeah, right, Kent. Two hot women on that beach with you?" or "Oh, no sand in the crack of your ass, you're doing her in the back seat of your truck, right?" or "Damn, Clark, got her bikini off already? Fast mover, slick!"

But Pete definitely wouldn't say "Not a hot woman, Clark, but a guy, right?" Pete wouldn't even think such a thing.

Which was just one more of the myriad ways he and young Mr. Ross were different; the idea that Clark was maybe, just maybe, lost in a haze of lust over thoughts about a man was without question the first thing that had popped into Lex's head as soon as the enigmatic "not exactly" had been uttered.

And yes, damn it, Lex was fully aware of the abysmal odds of that being the case, thank you very much. But small facts kept darting around in his mind, furtively whispering at him that if he looked at them closely enough, a case could almost be made that Clark might not be entirely committed to heterosexuality.

Like the fact that Clark hadn't been on a date since his sophomore year. A fact that meant nothing, Lex firmly lectured himself. The guy did live in Smallville, after all, a place where dating oftentimes meant taking your life in your hands, if not placing said life into the hands of some mutated freak. Not dating was really more of a personal safety issue.

Or else it wasn't.

Lex almost laughed at the dogged determination that his overactive and sadly underutilized sex drive was exerting over his rational thought processes. You can just stop projecting your latent desires on the poor guy right now, Luthor, he self-lectured again. Slow, deep inhalations, and he calmly conjugated some Latin verbs to squash the aforementioned sex drive.

Lex had spent the better part of three years sublimating his physical desire for Clark, preferring to focus on the rare gift of true friendship. He'd be damned if he was going to let some wayward hormones fuck that up now.

"Any coffee left, Clark?" He asked casually, accelerating just a tad.

"Oh, um, yeah." Clark did a brief all over body shake and then reached for the thermos at his feet to pour Lex another cup.

As Lex took the coffee, Clark held it a moment longer than necessary, forcing Lex to glance his way.

"So, Lex," Clark said with a little smile.

Lex licked his lips. "Yeah?"

"Are we there yet?"

Lex groaned and turned back to watch the road, "Five years old, Clark. Five years old."

They entered Metropolis to the sound of Clark's laughter.

Lex could identify the exact moment Clark caught his first glimpse of the exit sign that directed them towards the university. His spine straightened, he craned his neck forwards, and his feet started tapping on the floorboards.

It was fucking adorable, Lex thought. Clark was so anxious to get there he was about ready to stick his head through the windshield. "Relax, Clark," he laughed softly. "About ten more minutes and you'll officially be on campus, learning about the joys of collegiate life."

Clark gave him one of his big, dopey grins. "So you can tell I'm kind of nervous?"

"Maybe a little," Lex answered with a small, affectionate smile. "You know, we don't have to meet for dinner tonight," he added, after a slight pause. "There might be some official function for prospective students, a meet-and-greet type of thing. If there is, you really ought to consider attending."

But in the back of his mind, he heard the steady chant of please don't cancel, please don't cancel, please don't cancel. Lex considered any one-on-one time he got to spend with his friend as precious; the thought of having a long, relaxed dinner at a decent restaurant with Clark had been one of the things he'd most looked forward to about this entire trip.

Brow furrowed, Clark shoved a hand into the back pocket of his jeans, emerging with a folded, rumpled half sheet of paper. He smoothed it out as he looked over what appeared to be a program, most likely of the weekend's events.

"Nothing on here about a social gathering tonight," Clark reported. "It says I need to register with my orientation guide in front of Baker Hall by 3 o'clock, then there's a tour of the campus - dorms and academic buildings. Looks like we're done by six, then we're on our own for dinner."

Clark stopped abruptly, as if a thought he didn't particularly like had occurred to him, then swallowed hard. "Um, Lex, if you want me to stay on campus, I can.... I mean, if you don't want to have dinner together, then...." His words trailed off and he shifted in his seat, pretending to be caught up in the view of the city.

Lex snorted harshly. Good going, he thought; in my desperation to make sure I get some time with him, I've apparently made him think I'm trying to get out of dinner. "Not at all, Clark," he reassured his friend. "I'm quite looking forward to having a meal with you that doesn't involve French fries or delivery boxes."

Clark's relief was swift and obvious. "Good," he said with finality. "I'm looking forward to it too. But, um," and he paused again. "We're not going anywhere too snooty, are we?"

"Snooty?" Lex said. "No, Clark, it's not snooty." Barely controlling his laughter, he added, "Unless your definition of 'snooty' includes not getting a little plastic toy with your meal."

But Clark didn't answer, because Lex had just turned the car into the parking lot in front of Baker Hall. A swarm of college-aged kids were standing around, each one wearing an obnoxiously green t-shirt and holding a little neon sign printed with the name of their "orientation partner."

Lex watched, amused, and smoothly pulled to the curb as Clark scanned the crowd, looking for his name on one of the little signs. Shifting the car into park, Lex debated suggesting to Clark that it would probably be easier to find his partner if he actually stepped out of the Ferrari. But, with memories of his own college days not too far behind him, he decided it was better to let Clark take things at his own pace. This was, after all, a fairly momentous step for Clark - the first step towards breaking away from Smallville, leaving the security of his family and friends. For some reason, that thought caused a dull ache to echo somewhere near the center of Lex's chest.

Clark took a deep breath and placed his hand on the doorknob, looking back over his shoulder at Lex with a smile at half-wattage. "Hope I don't get stuck with a dork as my partner for the weekend."

Lex moved to open his own door, swinging his legs around and stepping out in one graceful motion. "Think positive, Clark," he encouraged. "If you do get saddled with a geeky little mouth-breather, you'll just look that much better by comparison."

Clark hesitated for a moment as he exited the car on the opposite side. He frowned, and then tilted his head to the side just a bit. "Yeah. Thanks, Lex. You really know how to cheer a guy up."

Moving towards the trunk, Lex nodded at him. "Sure thing, Clark."

One of the neon-shirted students whirled around to face them. "Clark?" he asked. "I'm looking for a Clark Kent."

"You found me, then," Clark replied, and extended his hand towards the speaker.

"Lucky for me," murmured the orientation guide, and Lex was certain he didn't like the young man's tone of voice at all. With deliberate motions, Lex extricated Clark's duffle bag from the trunk and set in on the sidewalk. The guide smiled brightly as he shook Clark's hand. "I'm Josh, Josh Parrin. Good to meet you, Clark." Josh flipped over the neon card he was holding and examined the back. "Says here you're from Smallville High. So, do you, um - " and Lex was sure he saw Josh's gaze sweep up and down Clark's body - "play football, or anything?"

Clark shook his head in reply. "I'm not really into organized sports," he admitted.

Josh clucked sympathetically. "That's too bad. But I'm sure we can find something that you will be into."

Only by sheer force of will was Lex able to stifle his outraged laugh. Was this guy for real? Give him a couple more minutes, and Lex wouldn't have been surprised if this Josh person started humping Clark's leg.

Lex cleared his throat rather noisily in an effort to gain Clark's attention. He had to get Clark away, if only for a minute, before Clark got dragged into a situation he wouldn't be able to handle.

Josh continued to blather on to Clark, and Lex shifted his weight impatiently from one foot to the other as he considered trying to forcibly drag Clark away. Just then, he overheard pieces of a few other conversations going on between other prospective students and their tour guides.

"Looks like you're pretty involved in the yearbook."

"So are you going to try for a spot on the varsity team here at Met?"

"Yeah, freshmen are allowed to run for student government, it's great that you're interested in it."

Had he been the type to blush, Lex might've colored up at that moment. How positively juvenile of him to project his latent desires onto this guy who was, after all, just doing his job. Josh was making conversation, trying to draw his assigned charge into talking about college life. That was all.

Josh paused for a breath, and Clark took the opportunity to turn his attention to Lex. "So we're still on for dinner tonight?"

Wouldn't miss it, Lex thought, but said only, "Sounds fine. About six o'clock, then?"

Clark nodded in reply, then stopped to think. "Do you just want to meet me out here or what?"

Lex reached into the pocket of his long black coat and pulled out his cell phone. "Hang on to this for now, and let me know when your activity breaks up for the day. I'll meet you out here once I get your call."

"Great!" Clark smiled, and leaned down to grab his bag. "See you around six o'clock then."

"Perfect," Lex replied, and headed back to the driver's side of the Ferrari. Opening the door, he noticed that Josh had placed his hand on the small of Clark's back to steer him towards the dorms.

Just his job, Lex thought as he jammed the key into the ignition. The man was just doing his job.

But perhaps, Lex reflected, he would make it a point to check on Clark a little before dinner.

With a last wave out the window, Lex pulled out in the Ferrari. Clark had a sudden and really embarrassing urge to jump in front of the car and make Lex take him with him.

Jeez, he was pathetic.

"Oh, come on," Josh's voice brought Clark back to himself, "You're only 18, right, Clark? Isn't that a little young to be joined at the hip?"

"Huh?" Clark turned back to his orientation partner and frowned. Then blushed as he realized his nervousness must actually be that obvious.

"Your friend will be back in time for dinner, so don't worry about it. We have a lot to see before then." Josh grinned, and Clark grinned back. So yes, it felt scary, but he also felt buzzed just by being there: in Metropolis, on campus, with a college student who, okay, probably got paid to keep him company, but still was not treating him like a kid or anything.

"So what's first?" Clark asked.

Josh glanced down at the duffle sitting next to Clark on the sidewalk. "Let's get that out of the way first off, and then we can take a quick walking tour of the campus. Tomorrow we'll go into more details on the different colleges within the university and go to some of the clubs. There's a group session in the morning and at lunchtime, but tonight is supposed to be more one-on-one time so you can see the parts of the campus that most interest you. Sound good?"

"Sounds great!" Clark said, beaming gratitude and anticipation from every pore. He picked up his duffle and they walked towards the dorms.

"So, first stop on our tour, Mr. Kent, is the most exciting place on campus!" Josh spread his arms and threw back his head as he made the grand announcement. Then he pulled in and leaned up towards Clark and said, close enough that Clark could feel his breath on his ear. "That would be my room."

Clark jerked back a bit from the invasion of his personal space, but he didn't want to offend Josh, so he just laughed. More of a slight chuckle, really.

Once they reached the dorm building, Josh went into lecture mode and Clark had to control a snort when he realized just how similar to Lex-in-science-mode Josh sounded. It wasn't as comfortable as with Lex, but it was enough to relax him a bit.

"So here we have the freshman dorm building, Clark." Josh expounded. "It's called Barton Hall after Sarah Barton, one of our greatest benefactors. In 1967, our dear Ms. Barton was caught fucking her thesis advisor in the balcony of the student theater. Thus, happily for us, her father donated the entire cost of construction for this lovely building in return for the Dean of Humanities losing her expulsion paperwork."

"Really?" Clark looked around, only half listening. Sounded like the sort of thing Lex's dad would do, if Lex were caught ...doing that with his advisor in the student theater. Not that Lex would do that.

Not any more, anyway.

Probably.

Jeez, this really was a big building; it must have cost a lot.

There was a security desk in front of the elevators and emergency stairs, a couple of couches in the lobby area, and someone had parked their bicycle in front of a potted palm that was more than half dead.

"Over here, Clark, I need you to sign for your guest pass," Josh called from the desk.

"Oh, sorry." Clark hurried over and signed in. The young woman behind the desk smiled at him. She had freckles and curly brown hair that fell in her eyes as she looked over Clark's name and address on the register.

"Picture ID?" she asked, looking up with a smile.

"Here you go." He pulled out his driver's license and pushed it across the desk.

She squinted it and then gave him a bright orange laminated card with Josh's room number on it and an ID number.

"Thanks." Clark smiled.

"No problem, enjoy your stay." She turned to Josh and grinned, "You gonna enjoy his stay, too, Josh?"

"Cindy, I'm shocked at what you are implying," Josh said with such overblown offense in his voice that Clark was laughing before he even had the chance to think about the comment. "I'll have you know that I enjoy escorting all my freshmen candidates."

"Yeah, Josh, we know. The whole third floor knows!"

"You're just jealous of the wonderland that is my room!"

Cindy and Josh were both laughing now, and Clark was too.

Sort of.

Except he wasn't exactly comfortable about the way that sounded. Of course it was a joke. Josh wouldn't be able to keep his job if he were doing something like that with all the students that visited. It was just a bit much, that was all.

"Okay, let's get that bag upstairs, Clark." Josh waved him towards the elevator.

Right.

Clark made sure to tuck the guest pass in his pocket, take back his driver's license, and grab the duffle.

He was relieved when Josh didn't try to stand too close or make any more weird comments about his room and its wonders.

"I'll show you the Student Union when we get out of here, Clark," Josh was saying, "and then - hey, do you know what your major is going to be?"

"Um, well, I'm thinking either astronomy or journalism. " Clark told him.

"Wow, really different subjects." Josh whistled in appreciation. "That'll be a difficult decision, but you won't have to declare until the end of your freshman year."

The elevator dinged and the doors opened on to the third floor. Clark followed Josh to a corner room that had a large RA sign on the door. Josh produced the key with a flourish, unlocked the door, and then held it open for Clark, saying, "For the next couple of days Clark, my room is your room."

It was way nicer and much cleaner than Clark had been expecting.

"Thanks, Josh. Nice place," Clark said as he moved into the center of the room and took note of the stereo with the Bose speakers, the DVD/VCR combo system, and most impressive of all, the Apple theater view flat screen monitor. The one Lex had bought last year had been almost $3000 and doubled as a Hi-Definition TV.

The monitor hung over a desk that wasn't dorm issue either. Clark didn't know the brand but it looked like solid oak. He'd hung around Lex's place long enough to know quality when he saw it.

"Glad you like it. " Josh smiled and moved past him into the room and over to the dresser. "Yours will probably be even nicer with all the stuff your friend, Lex, will buy you."

Clark frowned, "He doesn't buy me much stuff. Nothing really expensive, anyway."

With his back to Clark as he rooted through his top drawer, Josh snorted, "Define expensive for a Luthor."

"It's not defined by what's expensive for a Luthor, it's what's expensive for a Kent." Clark kept his voice low and even. He didn't know Josh and he wasn't going to pick a fight. The guy had no way of knowing he'd stumbled on a really sensitive topic.

Josh turned quickly, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "Hey, sorry! I just mean, well, he dropped you off in a Ferrari, Clark!"

Clark felt himself blush, but didn't hesitate to defend Lex. "The key there is, dropped me off, Josh. It's his car. So, no, I don't ask him to play poor when we go places together, but he's my friend and he doesn't have to buy me."

Josh cocked his head to one side and looked at Clark long enough that he started to wonder if the cotton shirt Lex had given him today was a designer label.

"Okay, Clark. I guess I was just misreading the situation." Josh finally conceded.

"Yeah, well, you're not the first. It's okay," Clark shrugged, thinking of his own father's continuing paranoia about Lex's money. "I guess it is hard to understand why somebody like Lex would have a Kansas farmer's son for a friend."

"No, Clark, I think I get it. Really." Josh grinned. "It's obvious once you know what to look for. Now, we better get going, but do you mind if I change?" Josh held up a cable-knit sweater he had pulled out of the dresser.

"Huh? Oh, no, go ahead."

"Thanks. The glowing green orientation T-shirt is going to make me break out in a second, plus it's not warm enough for October." Josh pulled off the offending T-shirt, stretching his torso and rubbing at the skin on his chest as he threw the cotton tee into his hamper and shook out the sweater. Clark could tell he worked out.

As Josh started to slip on the cream colored sweater, he looked up and caught Clark's eyes on him and smiled.

It wasn't a big grin like earlier. It was a small, almost secret smile, with his blue eyes glancing up through his lashes. For a second, Clark had a serious sense of dj vu. Someone else pulling on a shirt with a smile like that, someone with secretive blue eyes.

"Okay, Clark, let's go hit the Student Union."

"Great." He agreed absently and followed Josh to the elevators while silently combing through memories.

It had been Lex, of course, back during that first year in Smallville, before the tornado, before LexCorp took up so much of his free time. After a fencing session with Heike, he'd been changing out of his fencing whites and putting on a sweatshirt for his cool down period. Clark had been fascinated with the whole fencing thing and had watched intently as he'd shed the exotic whites.

Lex had caught him looking and had smiled just that way.

Four-thirty. Lex knew he couldn't really leave for the university before five-thirty. He sighed and went back to work.

Lex sat at his desk in his penthouse going over some files for a small biotech startup that was looking for investment capital. They were working on several enhanced natural pesticides; the one derived from marigolds looked especially promising. Lex highlighted a few lines in the prospectus to review later with Mr. Kent. If Jonathan Kent thought organic farmers would use it, then there might be some serious money to be made there.

He'd ask Clark about it at dinner. Sometimes it was better if Clark approached Mr. Kent first. They had learned the tag team approach over the years. Mr. Kent didn't frown every time he saw Lex these days, and Lex had learned to stay clear on the days when he was likely to: any day that his father had called Martha Kent to Metropolis unexpectedly, any evening that Clark had been late coming home, and any time Lex drove a Porsche. That was one of the main reasons his Ferraris had taken over as his favorite make of car over the last couple of years.

He didn't like to be reminded of hitting Clark any more than Mr. Kent did, although not for exactly the same reasons. He didn't think he'd almost killed Clark. He was pretty sure that even if he had hit Clark straight on with intent, the result would have been the same: his car opened like a can of sardines, him lying on the river bank, waking up to the taste of river water and Clark Kent. The taste of Clark's lies came later, and that was what he really hated about the memory of the crash.

It engendered lies.

And goddammit, he was going to dinner with Clark this evening and he was not going to think about this. It was part of the bargain they had struck without any discussion: Clark wouldn't lie if Lex didn't ask.

Lex couldn't remember when that had become their standard operating procedure, but eventually, around the time that Lex stopped keeping a tally of their mutual rescues, he realized that he no longer used the word 'how' with Clark.

'Who,' 'where,' and 'when' were almost always okay. 'What' was sometimes risky. But 'how' was a mother-fucking gut-puncher every time, and if the choice came down to giving up Clark or giving up a cheap grammatical construct - no contest. 'How' was eradicated from their conversations.

Anyway, tonight was just dinner. Nothing to do with mutants or hit men or pissed off business associates of his own or his father's. Tonight 'where,' 'when,' and 'what' would get quite a work out. As for 'who', Lex would make inquiries there, too. Something about Joshua Parrin made the back of Lex's neck twitch.

Lex glanced at the clock again. Still not even five o'clock!

He tried to bring his attention back to 'Marigolds: Nature's Chemical Shield' when his cell phone rang. He grabbed it without even checking the caller ID.

"Lex." He answered somewhat breathlessly.

"So glad to have caught you, Lex!" His father's voice boomed out over the cell phone.

Lex's stomach went into knots on reflex. He picked up the steel paperweight from the corner of his desk and rubbed his thumb over it.

"Dad." He replied, his voice sinking slightly and keeping even from years of practice and necessity. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I wouldn't know, Lex." Lionel responded smoothly. "That would seem to depend on the pleasure, wouldn't you say? As for the phone call, I contacted the mansion and was told you were away for the weekend."

Clark had made him the paperweight in shop class last year: a perfect half-sphere of brushed steel with the LexCorp logo imprinted on the top.

"Yes, and this would be your business in what way, Father?"

"Family business, Son. I thought if you were in Metropolis, perhaps we could have dinner together tonight. Just the two of us."

Clark had given him the paperweight when LexCorp had first been listed in the Fortune 500. He'd handed it to Lex with a blush and a stammer and Lex had never worked at a desk without it since.

"Sorry, Dad, but I have other plans."

"What could be more important than spending time with your father, Lex?"

The night after he'd gotten the paperweight, he'd used it to knock out some green glowing thief who had Clark by the throat in the library. The thief had been after one of Lex's ancestral swords.

Lex wondered briefly if years from now some thief would be threatening his descendents over their ancestral paperweight.

"I have a company to run and I have a life, Dad: neither of these things center around you anymore. I'm sorry if that upsets you, but I suggest you get used to it." Lex hit the 'end' button in the middle of his father bellowing his name.

He checked the time and it was two minutes after five. Perfect. He reached for his cell phone and was dialing Clark before the clock went to five-oh-three.

They took the long way around to the Student Union, managing to pass most of the major buildings on campus: The Earth Sciences building, the Whitling Social Sciences building, The Metropolis Center for Astronomical Study, the Yeager Library and the Mission Fine Arts Center.

The Student Union was really crowded, kind of battered, and the conversations going on around him gave Clark the impression that college students could argue about anything as long as there were vending machines in every room.

"It's pretty much like this all the time." Josh said with a smirk as Clark stood there looking bewildered. "It does tend to get a little worse right around finals, though."

The food in the main cafeteria consisted of over-cooked vegetables and something in baked cheese. Clark began to appreciate the need for the vending machines.

"Come on, let's go see what I really brought you here to show you." Josh said with a grin and took Clark by the elbow. Then they went up to the second floor for a look at the offices of the school paper.

"Wow."

It was - well, busy was hardly the word for it. It was frantic.

There were four or five students in the offices working, others going in and out, dropping off disks or papers, and outside there was a glassed in bulletin board that had the current edition tacked up.

It seemed strange to Clark to see a school paper that didn't have a headline related to strange Ripley's moments and the Crows football team. The Met Press's main headline was about a zoning issue before the city council and how it would affect student housing.

"If you end up choosing journalism, " Josh was saying, "this is one of the top college papers in the country. Competition to join the staff is pretty fierce, but it's definitely worth the effort."

"Yeah, I know. I sort of researched it a little, but I didn't realize it would be so - big." Clark blushed. "Our school paper only has like four or five regular reporters, you know?"

"You know, Clark, there are a lot of things here in Metropolis that are going to turn out to be bigger than what you had in Smallville." Just then someone muttered an excuse to get by; Josh stepped closer to Clark, so close that their thighs were brushing together.

Clark stepped away as soon as he could, but caught that smile again on Josh's face. It made Clark uncomfortable. It was a Lex smile and stepping too close to let someone by was a Lex move, but Josh was definitely not Lex. Not just the hair or the differences in lifestyles, but even in the dark without his x-ray vision, Clark would have known the difference.

Lex was, well, he was Clark's best friend.

He fit.

Josh didn't.

Clark cleared his throat and wished he could stop blushing. "I'm gonna get something from one of the vending machines. You want anything, Josh?"

"No, I'm fine." Josh shook his head, still smiling. He walked along with Clark into the vending alcove, brushing against him: hip, hand, thigh.

Clark had an overwhelming need to get outside, to get some space. This was just ... too much, and he didn't want it.

"You know, Clark, if you're hungry, why don't we have dinner down at the pub? Lex could join us." Josh looked up at him and smiled that damn half-smile again.

The polite thing to do would be to agree, but Clark really didn't want share Lex's time with anyone.

"Well," he started, and then his pocket rang and he jumped and bumped into the snack vending machine so hard it shook loose two bags of chips and a package of sandwich cookies.

His pocket rang again, and Clark pulled out the phone that Lex had loaned him that afternoon.

"Hello?" Clark winced as his voice squeaked on the greeting.

"Hey, Clark." Lex's voice came through clearly, "thought I'd call and make sure that we're still on for dinner."

Josh said, "Ask him about the pub, Clark."

"Is that your orientation guide, Clark?" Lex asked. Clark heard an edge to his friend's voice.

"Uh, yeah, Josh was wondering if we wanted to go to dinner with him at one of the campus pubs," Clark told him, wishing Lex would give him some kind of out.

There was a moment of silence and then Lex said, "Well, if you want to, Clark. Where should I meet you?"

Of course Lex would do whatever Clark wanted. Damn.

"Oh, your dad, huh? Well, I wouldn't want to put him out," Clark improvised.

"Clark?" Lex sounded puzzled.

Clark turned to Josh. "Lex's dad wants us to have dinner with him tonight and we can't really get out of it." He put on his best earnest expression. "Sorry."

"Clark! You're lying your ass off!" Lex sounded suspiciously like he was laughing.

Josh shrugged, smiled. "That's okay, maybe tomorrow night."

Clark nodded. "If we have time that would be great."

"Liar." Lex's voice was silk over the phone. "For this I'll take you someplace with finger food, Clark. Hell, we can go to Mc Donald's if you want." Clark wished Lex would stop snickering, because he was making it really hard for Clark not to start up as well.

"So, I'll meet you outside the hall in like twenty minutes, right?" Clark asked while concentrating on maintaining a neutral face.

"You know, Clark," Lex said in a voice full of false sincerity, "My father has just moved up the time for dinner. Meet me in ten?" The evil grin at the end of that sentence came through the phone loud and clear.

"Oh, okay, well, I'll head over to Baker Hall right now then." Clark turned to Josh who was leaning against one of the snack machines studying Clark. The orientation guide just shrugged and gave a little smile.

That was another Lex smile. The I-don't-believe-you-smile. Somehow it didn't bother him on Josh the way it did on Lex.

He smiled back as Lex said, "I'll be there in five. "

"See you there, Lex."

It took a good fifteen minutes of negotiation before they decided on a restaurant. Having offered Clark finger food, Lex ran through all their options. Thai? Too exotic. Mexican? Too dull. Ethiopian barbecue? Too weird, not that Clark said as much, but his wrinkled nose did an adequate job of conveying his opinion. Finally, they settled on Italian; not finger food, but it was familiar enough for Clark and not too declasse for Lex. And, for whatever reason, Clark was looking for familiarity - comfort? - this evening.

He winced a bit as their server led them to their table. He'd been stuck in a crowd back at the U, and now he was inundated with restaurant noises. The acute hearing, yet another of his 'abilities,' had shown up the year before, and he still found it a challenge to control in noisy places. Like this restaurant, for example.

Dishes clattering in the kitchen sink. Hissing and popping of boiling water. Murmuring of multiple conversations, assaulting him from every angle. Jesus, it was going to be rough to focus on Lex's voice. Good that it was so compelling.

Clark scanned the people scattered at various tables as he and Lex took their seats. Sometimes it helped if he could manage to visually assign the voices to specific people. At least then he knew which direction to block out.

A group of eight at one table. Easy enough to isolate them, as theirs was the loudest crush of voices. Tucked farther back, in a half-circle of a booth, a young family. Clark overheard the father saying something about his little girl turning ten and smiled. Cute.

Several different couples sprinkled at small tables-for-two, all in different stages of their respective romances. A gray-haired man smiling at his wife. Parents, probably, enjoying their alone time. A blonde twirling her fork and fluttering her lashes, trying to get the man opposite her to hang up his cell phone. Didn't look like they'd make it to a second date. A burly man with close-cropped hair sharing a heated gaze with the smaller man next to him.

Holy cow. Were they - those two guys, they were - even inside his head, Clark's voice squeaked on the next word - together? Like that?

Sure looked like it, he noted with interest. Clark had to focus in on their voices a little more than the others so he could effectively tune them out. Which was just weird, especially since they were bothering him less than any of the other customers. Their voices were low and deep, like they were being especially careful to maintain their privacy.

"Clark?" Shoot. Lex was using his hey-pay-attention voice; busted.

"Sorry," Clark muttered. "Guess I'm just trying to take everything in."

Lex looked satisfied with the explanation. "I suppose," he remarked. "You've done a lot today, I'm sure you're feeling a bit overwhelmed."

He didn't even try to hide his relief. "That's it exactly." It made him happy that for once he was able to give Lex a truthful answer, even if it wasn't the entire truth.

They spent a few quiet minutes perusing the menus; or, in Clark's case, pretending to do so. Now that he was away from Josh, he wanted to try to sort out some of the things he'd felt that afternoon, and he was hoping Lex could help.

But how was he supposed to bring that up? What was he supposed to say? Clark tried to frame the conversation in his head. Start off by telling Lex what it was about Josh that made him uncomfortable - but he didn't think saying "he acts like you and he shouldn't" would make much sense. Clark liked it when Lex acted like Lex; it was just wrong when Josh did it.

Clark sighed and set his menu on the table. He caught sight of the two men he'd noticed earlier, and his hearing immediately zoomed in.

//...could tell he was checking out your ass, I was going to deck him if he didn't cut it out...//

Hm. Well, that sounded like a heck of an evening. The big guy looked older and tough. It was kind of neat to think of him watching out for his, what? Boyfriend? Or was Clark jumping to conclusions?

When he refocused his hearing, he noticed their server standing next to the table and hoped he hadn't zoned out for too long this time.

"Are you ready to order, sirs?"

Lex nodded his head, indicating that Clark should start.

"Um, sure. I'll have the...spaghetti." Seemed safe enough, Clark thought. Italian place, right?

A stifled snicker from across the table, and the server hadn't written anything down. "Which one, sir?"

Crap. The spaghetti one, he thought desperately, and shot a confused look at Lex.

Who, thankfully, took pity on him. "The carbonara, I think," he told the young man. "And I'll have the cioppino."

Grateful that Lex knew what he was doing, Clark relaxed into his chair and let his friend choose his salad and dressings. All in all, it had been a whirlwind of a day, and he was ready to let someone else make the calls for a while.

Clark took the last bite of his pasta. "What's this stuff called again?" he asked.

"Spaghetti carbonara," Lex replied. Gesturing at Clark's completely empty plate, he said, "I take it that you liked it."

"Yeah, it was great," Clark enthused. "Maybe I'll ask Mom if she can try to make it sometime."

Lex took a last sip of his wine, then said, "It looks as though we'll be finishing up here earlier than I expected. Was there anything else you wanted to do before I take you back to campus?"

//...but what? You're kind of making me nervous, here...//

Clark frowned, trying to focus on Lex's voice, trying to shut out the conversation that had intruded on his hearing off and on all during dinner. Over the past hour, the bits and pieces he'd overheard had drifted from cholesterol levels to forensic science to the migratory patterns of birds indigenous to the Pacific Coast.

//...like you said, it's been five years...//

"Umm, I don't know. Do you have any suggestions?" Clark stalled for time, now exerting some real effort to reign his errant hearing back in.

//...oh my god, don't do this to me here, not here, not after....//

But, damn, it would be a lot easier to do if that other conversation hadn't finally started to get interesting.

//...just shut up? I'm trying to tell you something I don't tell you enough...//

Clark could feel the weight of Lex's scrutiny. It wasn't as if he thought he'd get away with hiding his agitation; he knew that bluffing wasn't exactly his strong suit. "Metropolis has quite a varied night life to offer, but I'm not sure how interesting you'd find it."

He was certain that Lex knew lots of interesting things they could do; and, crap, at the word 'interesting,' his hearing just kind of wandered off again.

//...means so much to hear it, I love you too, you know that, right...//

Which cleared up any lingering doubts about the exact nature of the relationship those two guys had. Of course, Clark was probably the only one with doubts; Lex would've seen the truth immediately. He was perceptive that way about people.

//...sorry we had to be a thousand miles away from home before I could say it...//

"Yeah," Clark said, trying to summon up the willpower to just. Stop. Eavesdropping. "What do you mean by 'interesting'?"

//...all right to indulge in a little sentimentality at times, right, I mean...//

Ah, the famous Luthor smirk. But it was what Clark thought of as 'his' version of the smirk, the one with no malice behind the eyes. Lex started to say something, but then checked himself; he closed his mouth, looked down for a moment, looked back up, and the smirk had disappeared. "Don't worry about it, Clark. How about a movie?"

//...can think of a couple of ways I could indulge you...//

Holy crap. That was definitely a suggestive tone of voice the younger guy was using. And, oh yeah, movie, Lex suggested a movie. "Uh, sure. Movies are good. But, um, I didn't think you went to movie theaters?"

//...is that right?//

A laugh. "I didn't mean in a theater, Clark. There's a projection television at the penthouse, too, and more than a few DVDs."

//...oh yeah, you saw that guy checking me out, and now you want to stake your claim...//

This was bad, very bad. Those guys needed to get up and go away because they were making it damn near impossible for Clark to stop listening. Lex was already looking suspicious and this was one more thing Clark would have to lie about, because there was just no way anyone else would be able to hear a whispered conversation from across a room this big.

//...so what if I do? What do you think we're going to do about that?//

Lex was actively frowning now. "Clark?" he prompted.

//...I think we're going to make our way into the men's room so I can blow you...//

Clark breathed in, shallow and quick. Felt a drop of perspiration trickle down his shoulder blades and along the line of his backbone. He knew that Lex had asked him a question, knew he needed to answer Lex, but he couldn't for the life of him remember what they'd been talking about. Crap. He tried to clear his head and focus; rubbed his sweaty palms up and down his thighs to dry them off, then realized that touching himself in any way was a really lousy idea. His eyes were bright, they had to be, he knew it, they were glimmering as he looked up at Lex and said nothing.

//...this is nuts. You can talk me into anything, you know that, you always could...//

Pull it together, he had to pull himself together. Lex was watching him - wait, watching him - a movie! That was the question. He let his eyes sink closed in relief as he finally was able to give a reasonably coherent reply. "Don't think I, um, I'm really up for a movie tonight," he stammered.

Up. Regardless of how compelling he found Lex's face on an average day, right now Clark couldn't make himself look at his friend, because the younger guy at the other table had gotten up. Up and out of his chair, and he was headed off to the bathroom, and was the bigger man going to follow him?

Oh god. He was. The short guy had barely cleared the threshold of the dining area when his companion rose from his own chair and headed in the same direction.

"Clark. Clark. Is something the matter?" Lex's voice was insistent and demanding; Clark's attention snapped back to his own dinner companion.

"No. No, it's just, I need...." How to finish that sentence? 'I need to go check out two guys blowing each other in the bathroom to see if it does anything for me, because I think I've been getting hit on all day by my very-male orientation guide, and even though I'm not interested in him, there's something about you I find very appealing?' Huh. No.

Clark yanked his napkin from his lap and set it next to his plate. "I've gotta...I'll be right back, Lex. Sorry." He turned from the table and headed out.

Clark's first thought was to get out of the restaurant, but he couldn't just leave Lex. Instead he went the opposite direction from the two men he'd overheard, trying to get a little distance from them and control his way-too-acute, way-too-focused hearing.

//... don't like to be kept waiting...//

Okay, not far enough.

Clark was almost at the front door when he spotted the coat-check girl putting up a break sign and leaving the front desk of the restaurant's cloakroom. As soon as she was gone Clark ducked in.

This was good. No people, no distractions, he could focus on tuning these guys out.

//...-one might come in.//

//Would you like that? If a guy came through that door right now and saw me on my knees...//

Clark covered his ears and paced to the back corner of the room, behind the coat racks and shelves and leaned against the wall. He shut his eyes as he felt the heat building up.

Cool thoughts. He needed to think cool, undesirable thoughts. Like what if his dad found him listening to this.

That worked.

He felt the charge dying down. He opened his eyes and blinked. Okay. Safe enough.

//...seeing you taking it like this. So fucking hot. Love your mouth...//

And the walls melted away, his vision stripping through the drywall, the wiring, the masonry and plumbing, coming to rest on a vision of two men: the one thrusting rapidly in and out of the other's mouth.

He snapped his eyes shut again, but it only made things worse because behind his eyes it wasn't two strangers having sex in the men's room: it was him and Lex. Instead of a blowjob, it was Lex's hands running over his body, Lex's mouth tracing fire over his skin. Clark's own hands followed the golden path of Lex's dream hands: stroking at the nape of his neck, down over his chest to his belly, saving the aching backs of his knees for last.

The charge that had set his eyes alight earlier traveled harmlessly over the lines his hands traced as he listened to a stranger orgasm, and Clark lost himself in a glowing vision of making love to his best friend.

"Sir, would you care for dessert?" The server was a professional. In no way did he imply that it was odd for Lex to still be sitting at the table ten minutes after his dining companion had gotten up to leave.

Lex would factor that into the tip.

"I'll have the check, please. " He couldn't stomach dessert now, even if Clark appeared at the table this very moment full of all his usual Clark-ish apologies and half-truths. The anticipation of another round of lies was actually one of the worst things about waiting for him to come back.

"Certainly, sir." The server pulled the bill out from his apron pocket and placed it on the table. Lex picked it up and handed it back with a hundred dollar bill to cover the seventy-five dollar meal.

"Keep the change."

"Thank you, sir."

"Which way is the men's room?" Lex asked as he rose from his chair.

"Around the bar and to the left, sir." The young man pointed to the back of the restaurant. "You can't miss it."

Naturally, because that would make things too easy, that was not the direction Clark had gone. He'd headed towards the front.

"Thank you."

Lex cursed quietly under his breath at the inanity of wandering through the restaurant, trailing after Clark who had obviously not gone to the bathroom. He felt ready to grab Clark by the scruff of his neck and shake him, once he found him. It wasn't an unusual fantasy for Lex. He often imagined shaking answers out of Clark, making Clark tell him where he'd been and what he'd done and why. For such a big guy, Clark disappeared far too easily.

Still muttering to himself, absorbed in threats he knew he'd never carry out and questions he knew he'd never get answered, he almost walked right past a flickering glow coming from the coatroom.

A small sign on the counter of the attendant's booth pleasantly informed him that if he needed assistance, he could ring the bell; Lex gave a silent, sardonic laugh and decided he could handle it himself. After all, coatrooms were just big closets, and closets were a specialty of his.

There were several rows of coat racks topped with shelves for hats and handbags. The restaurant was busy since it was a Friday night and at least the first few racks were crammed with coats, scarves and the occasional bag or box. The room was poorly lit and whatever had been flashing seemed to have stopped. Perhaps it had just been one of the light bulbs going out.

He didn't see any sign of Clark and felt a bit foolish for having come in to look when obviously Clark had left. Not like he hadn't done it to Lex once or twice before. Lex turned and was about to leave when he heard a low groan.

Shit, maybe Clark was in here and wasn't feeling well.

He called Clark's name softly as he walked to the back, passing three more racks of coats on the way.

He was already formulating appropriate responses to whatever situation he might find. Clark could be ill: call Mrs. Kent and prepare to sue the restaurant. Clark could be making out with the hat-check girl: smile indulgently, suggest that the couple would be more comfortable back at the penthouse and pay off the manager to let the girl go early. If fate was really kind, Clark would be making out with a waiter: smile indulgently, suggest the young man really needed to be getting back to work, take Clark back to the penthouse and find out if he was interested.

Lex smirked at his wishful thinking, but he knew that whatever the situation, he could handle it.

Then, confronted with the sight in front of him, he realized that maybe he couldn't handle it at all.

Clark was leaning against the back wall under some of the empty hooks, his legs braced wide apart, his pants tented. His hands were - flowing was the word that came to mind. Clark's mouth hung open just a fraction, as if he couldn't focus enough to keep it closed. His eyes were fixed on the far wall, squinting slightly. Lex scanned the room and saw nothing; but, God, Clark was obviously seeing something and liking it.

Clark's hands were flowing over himself: his chest, his arms and - Jesus! - his groin, never touching his cock. Lex was grateful for that; if he watched for much longer, Lex was going to come from this alone. Lex felt his skin tighten and the air almost crackled with energy.

He had never seen anything so erotic.

Lex stood, motionless, in the doorway. He knew he should leave Clark alone: leave, hell, he should run away - hadn't he spent the last three years avoiding this kind of temptation? But even as the thought crossed his mind he knew there was no way in hell he was walking away from this vision.

No longer under his conscious control, his legs stuttered forward, carrying him closer to Clark.

He wanted to put his hands over Clark's hands, he wanted to be the reason Clark was standing there nearly senseless, he wanted every fantasy he'd denied himself for the last three years.

A voice sounded outside, followed by the bell ringing. In his mind he clearly saw the sign: Back in 20 minutes. If you need assistance please ring the bell.

The noise must have penetrated Clark's trance, because his eyes opened and he glanced around. Lex stared, transfixed, as the green-gold depths of Clark's eyes slowly focused on him, his expression one of amazed recognition, not at all like they'd been looking at each other from across the table all evening. There was a sense of relief on Clark's features, relief and a heat so palpable it was almost visible. Lex knew what would happen next, he'd been waiting for years, there was no way he'd back away from it, not even if every damn customer in the place stormed in demanding their coats.

He pushed in beside Clark so that the coats would hide them from the front of the room and Clark instantly reached for him. Lex watched, and it was like everything was happening at half speed. Hoping that would make all of this easier to remember in case this was the only time it happened; he wanted this burned into his memory, to be a part of his brain, a part of him.

Clark's hand reached out, brushing against the front of Lex's shirt, pulling a breathy gasp from the older man. Fingertips smoothed over a nipple as Clark gathered up the soft folds of silk in his fist, using the shirt to pull Lex in close to his body.

As if Lex could possibly have been anywhere else.

Lex felt his breath coming faster, his nerves singing and muscles vibrating; by instinct his eyes began to close but he fought it; wanted to see, had to see Clark when their lips touched.

It all melted away at the first hot, moist press of mouths; like an idiot he stood with arms limp at his sides, letting Clark kiss him, stunned and feeling just as senseless as Clark had looked only a moment ago. Then a thought, one that almost knocked him over - I could be touching him right now, why am I not touching him? - and Lex reached out with hands that moved with much more assurance than he felt, holding Clark by his trim waist, reeling his big body closer and reaching out with his tongue.

Clark answered his unspoken request by opening his mouth, welcoming Lex's tongue in, meeting it with his own in a slick slide, curious and questing.

The tiniest sliver of rational thought made its way to the surface of Lex's brain - "Have to get out of here, get back to the penthouse, want to do this right." Clark deserved better than a quick fuck among a bunch of stranger's coats. And Lex really didn't want to put on a show for whoever the attendant was.

"Lex?" Clark's voice grabbed him.

"Shhh," Lex warned and followed it up with a quick kiss, listening to the customers at the front of the cloakroom ask for "a scarf just on that shelf there." It was retrieved and they were gone, along with the help, who was left grumbling about overlong breaks.

They really needed to get out, and now. "Come on, Clark, let's-" but he didn't get to finish that sentence before Clark's arms were around him, pulling him closer, and Clark was nuzzling into his neck, muttering half-heard words about "need it" and "just figured out" and "want to touch" and, shit, Lex was going to have to do something about this if he was going to get Clark moving.

"God, Clark, you're so hot! But - but we have to get out of here." Clark shut him up easily enough by going back to tongue-fucking Lex's mouth. Lex remembered what it was like to be that single minded, when all you could remember was your dick and what it wanted. He was nearly to that point himself.

He broke away for a moment and felt Clark's mouth slide wetly down his neck. There was a flash out of the corner of his eye; he hoped to god it wasn't a camera.

"Okay, Clark," he said, " what do you say we take the edge off a bit so we can get out of here?"

"It's there, Lex, you have it... god, want to light up the sky with you..." And Clark just groaned and leaned into him, pressing all of his hard planes and angles into Lex's like he wanted to be in Lex's body with him. Lex groaned back, but bit his lip and reminded himself of where they were, and where they could be - in his king-sized bed at the penthouse.

"Okay, I'll give it to you, Clark. I promise I'll make you feel good." Clark whined as Lex moved away slightly, making room to press his hand against Clark's crotch, cupping his half-hard cock. He reached for Clark's fly and pulled the zipper down, reaching in to stroke Clark's cock to fullness, casting a quick glance behind him, hoping that nobody was approaching and not sure he'd be able to make himself stop if they were.

He was just about to sink to his knees when he realized that Clark was no longer making any noise; his body had gone completely tense and his breath was shallow and quick. Lex looked up. "Clark?"

His friend's eyes were squeezed shut; his face was contorted in a cross between pain and anger, and what had happened to put it there?

"Clark, relax, babe, it's okay." He tried to make his voice soothing, even though Lex himself stood frozen and could feel his stomach flipping. God, what had he done?

Clark still hadn't said anything. "Clark - do you want this?"

"God, Lex, Jesus, I - no. Not this, just -" And Clark might have still been talking, but as soon as the word "no" fell from his lips, Lex had shoved him away and violently pulled back, desperately sucking in air like he hadn't had to since he was nine years old. He couldn't hear, he couldn't think, he could hardly breathe - all he could think was God, this is Clark, and what am I doing? What have I done?

Lex felt sick to his stomach. He floundered for a moment, not sure of where to look or what to do, and then years of training and instinct kicked in. "Clark, I apologize." Because a Luthor was always polite about his molestation, wasn't that right?

Lex spun around so he didn't have to look at the wounded eyes of the young man that had trusted him. "I'll go watch the door. You, you just get yourself together and then I'll take you back to the dorms."

He heard a ragged breath behind him but refused to look, exactly as it should have been from the start - refused to look, refused to touch, and if he'd had the strength to do that, maybe he wouldn't be standing here now, unable to look at the wreckage of what had been the only innocent thing in his life.

"I'm just- I really am sorry, Clark."

He went and stood blindly at the coat check counter.

Lex clenched his teeth, hard, as he listened to a zipper being fastened, the ruffle of cotton being tucked in, and Clark's soft huffs of breath as he tried to compose himself. God damn it, he cursed, not for the first time that night; from the way things were headed, it wasn't going to be the last, either.

As soon as he'd heard that word, Clark's 'no,' Lex's first instinct had been to run. Turn around, leave the restaurant, get in the car and get away - and call the family attorney as soon as was feasible. That was certainly the way he'd been trained to handle just such a situation, except for the one part that made it completely different from anything Lionel could have thought to teach him; he actually cared about Clark.

His friend, Clark; at least, they had been friends until about ten minutes ago, and Lex cursed again at his loss of control. And, not that things needed to get any worse, but not only was he here in the guise of friend, but he was actually responsible for Clark, in some weird karmic joke; for the first time, Jonathan and Martha Kent had actually trusted him with their son - they'd asked him, for God's sake, if he could help out - and this is how he chose to assume the role of guardian. By abusing the trust placed in him and the morals of his charge, and damn, wasn't he taking after dear old dad rather nicely after all?

Waiting until Clark finished making himself presentable, Lex felt more than saw Clark's presence at his elbow, standing slightly behind and to his left. Lex recognized the significance of Clark's position - from where he stood, Clark could both keep an eye on Lex, negating the possibility of any sudden moves. He didn't have to meet his eyes this way, either. Briefly, bleakly, Lex wondered when exactly this night had gone from a friendly dinner to an exercise in military tactics.

They left the building and crossed the parking lot wordlessly. After all, Lex mused, what was there to say when you'd just been damn near raped by your best friend on your first night in the big city? Lex allowed himself to glance over in Clark's direction, just out of habit to ensure his passenger's seatbelt was fastened. Clark was staring right at him, looking at Lex like he'd never seen him before, and as their eyes met, Clark flinched and turned his eyes down to his shoes.

The silence in the car surrounded them, settling between them like a third passenger. Lex felt despair sinking into him. The magnitude of what had happened hit him full on; for the first time, he faced the idea that this thing he'd done might well be unfixable, if not unforgivable.

He started the engine and put the car into first gear, heading onto the street. The stunning lack of options he had was nearly overwhelming; he couldn't run away, he couldn't get rid of Clark, and he couldn't say anything that would make things right.

He surreptitiously glanced at Clark again, hoping to gauge his reaction; the boy's head was down, still pretending to examine his shoes, fingers playing with the hem of his jacket. His face was a morass of confusion and - despair? Betrayal? Repulsion? For the first time in years, Lex was glad that he couldn't see Clark's eyes. If the expression on Clark's face was any indication, the look that was waiting for him in those eyes would flay the flesh from his bones.

Lex pulled his gaze back to the street in front of him, realizing as he did so that, at some point, he'd started chewing on his bottom lip. He immediately released it and ran his tongue over the sore spot on the inside of his mouth. A flash of sense memory hit him: Clark's lips on his. Clark's tongue running over his. Clark's hands tangled in his shirt. Clark - damn it!

Even after what had just happened, even in his own head Lex couldn't keep his hands off of Clark.

No wonder he can't look at me, Lex thought bitterly. He's disgusted with me. Hell, I'm disgusted with myself. He's probably ready to open the door so he can throw himself onto the street in case I try to assault him in the car on the way back.

The Ferrari pulled up in front of Baker Hall and came to a halt. Clark didn't move. He was afraid that if he got out of the car without saying anything he wouldn't get another chance to set this right. He'd behaved like an idiot. First he'd come on to Lex and then he'd pushed him away.

So Lex had gotten a little ahead of him. It wasn't like that hadn't ever happened before. Okay, he'd thought for a second that with Lex it would be different, but that was no excuse for freezing up the way he had in the middle of everything.

Shit.

"Lex?"

"Don't worry, Clark. Just go on." Lex's voice was flat and he continued to stare out the windshield. "I'll send the limo for you tomorrow to take you home. I think I may be staying in Metropolis for a while."

"What? No!" This was much worse than he'd thought. "Lex, I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to -"

"It's not your fault, Clark. I took advantage. It won't happen again."

Clark couldn't believe how wrong it was all going. "Lex, you are not sending the limo for me tomorrow. I'll meet you here for lunch at noon."

"Clark, I really think it would be better if we just -"

"No, Lex. I am not getting out of this car until you promise to meet tomorrow. We'll talk. We'll work this out."

"What will we talk about? Will we make up a story about this, Clark? Maybe I dreamed it. Or maybe I was under the influence of some new meteor mutant. Or maybe it wasn't really me - has Tina Greer escaped her cell? What story are you going to spin for me on this, huh?"

Clark felt a pressure building up that he recognized. Decision time. Lose a friendship or come clean. He remembered Pete's reaction to finding out that Clark wasn't human. The look of disgust on Pete's face at the idea of having a freak for a best friend had almost killed him, and he'd never kissed Pete.

"Just promise me, Lex. Meet me tomorrow." By then Clark would have to make his decision.

Lex finally turned and looked Clark in the face. "You can't just let it go, can you?"

"The stuff of legends, Lex."

"Have you ever noticed how badly most legends end, Clark?"

Clark swallowed hard. "Please, Lex?"

"Fine, noon then." His words were hard, but his voice sounded like it was about to melt into tears. "Don't be late."

Clark paused outside of Josh's dorm room. He narrowed his eyes and peeked in the room; if Josh were awake he'd go for a walk. He had a key, and he really didn't want to deal with Josh or any of his insinuations. But the room was quiet and Josh appeared to be sleeping quietly in his bed. Clark's duffle was tucked under the bed he would be sleeping in and there was a note on the pillow about what time they were getting up in the morning.

Softly, Clark slipped in, stripped down to his boxers and got into bed. When he took off his shirt he had to squeeze his eyes shut over the memories of Lex's hands stroking him through the same forest green cotton.

It had been so good up until Lex had just stopped and tried to jump ahead. Clark didn't get it. Chloe had done something similar once when they'd been dating. They'd been making out in the barn and he'd gotten warm enough that he had his eyes closed, just in case, and then she'd run her hand over his crotch and he'd just felt -

Nothing.

All at once.

Like a switch being flipped off.

What had happened with Lex tonight had felt much worse. After all, he'd never felt the gold hum through his veins with Chloe. Until tonight he'd thought maybe nobody else glowed. Just him, like his powers. But he'd felt the hum in Lex. So that meant other people glowed, too - if they were the right people. The right person.

The first sign Clark had that Josh was awake was the sinking of his mattress as the other boy slid into bed behind him. "Clark?"

Josh slid one hand round his waist and tangled the other in his hair. Then Clark felt kisses between his shoulders, but it was all dead. Josh's hands, Josh's lips, it was like being groped through plastic. There wasn't even an echo of the charge he got from Lex.

Clark twisted away. "What - what are you doing?"

"Come on, Clark." Josh was grinning, resting his head on his bent arm as he stretched out on the edge of the bed, blocking Clark in. "You came home early and all pensive, I can tell things didn't go well at dinner. I just thought you might want to work off a little tension. Have a little fun." He leaned forward and gave a quick lick at Clark's chest.

Clark jerked back against the wall so hard he was sure that he'd cracked the plaster, then he grabbed Josh's shoulder and held him away at arm's length.

"Well, I don't," he said, "so just go back to your own bed and forget it."

"C'mon, Clark, I can tell you want to, you're giving all the right signals." Josh tried to wiggle closer.

"I am?"

"Oh, yeah."

So maybe he was humming for Josh and he didn't realize it? But he didn't even know Josh. Okay, now Josh was nibbling on his wrist and the inside of his arm. Clark let it go on for a second just to see what would happen. If he ignored the lack of any charge or tone in the contact, the sensation wasn't that bad, so he let Josh slide a little more forward.

Josh swooped in and covered Clark's mouth; strangely, it reminded Clark of Lana high on Nicodemus pollen. He slid his hand down Clark's boxers.

Josh's hand was like a dead fish on him and his mouth was off an inflatable doll. Clark's skin crawled as he launched himself out of the bed so fast that Josh fell onto the floor.

Clark had pulled on his jeans and was out the door before Josh finished squawking in surprise. He shifted up to his top speed without even checking for witnesses, the need to escape rising in his throat. He had to get away. Get out. Figure out what he was doing wrong that made Josh, to whom he felt less than no attraction, think Clark wanted to make out, when Lex, whom Clark wanted like sunlight, thought he'd been rejected.

What was wrong with him?

"What happened?"

"He got scared and left. I told you that tonight would be coming on too strong."

"It doesn't matter. We have enough pictures and can create more. There will be plenty of evidence as long as you are there to back it up."

"Fine."

"You do understand, Mr. Parrin, that without your testimony the pictures are worthless. My employer does not pay for objects of no value."

"I told you, it's no problem. I know what to say if he calls."

"Very well then. Contact us if Mr. Kent returns. There may yet be opportunities to further your acquaintance with him."

"Sure."

Josh hung up the cell phone and got a beer out of his mini-fridge. Rich bastards were all the same. He was doing Clark a favor, helping him realize that.

Really.

The chill night air was seeping into him, and Lex drew his long, black coat around him more tightly. Not that I deserve to be comfortable, he thought grimly, looking around for the glass of scotch he'd just set down.

He'd driven around for a long time before coming back to the penthouse, pouring himself a drink, and moving out to the balcony to think. An hour. One full hour he'd stood there, glaring over the city as though somehow it were in the wrong.

I'm brooding, he thought with disgust, and tried to shake off the feeling. It wasn't helping a damn thing, and it certainly wasn't going to fix anything, least of all his relationship with Clark.

Clark.

Lex's mind was floundering, a distinctly unfamiliar feeling; he didn't even know what to think about Clark now, he didn't know - well, he knew one thing, and that was that his damn phone wouldn't stop ringing.

If it was Lionel calling to harangue him again, Lex thought he might just throw himself off of the balcony - or, better yet, go to Lionel's place and throw him off of his.

He pulled the cell phone from his pocket and stabbed at the talk button, not pausing to glance at the caller ID unit. Oh, yeah, I'm living dangerously now, he thought, and barked "Lex."

There was silence for a moment and then a very hesitant, "It's, it's me. Clark. Um, I'm sor - look I shouldn't even - um." There was a shuffling sound over the speaker as if the caller were shifting the phone from hand to hand.

God damn it, Lex thought savagely. He's calling me, he's going to want to talk about this. It wasn't supposed to be until tomorrow, and I haven't had nearly enough to drink to do this tonight.

But -

"Lex? Are you there?"

-- there was a note of something in Clark's voice, something beyond anxiety about having a difficult conversation with a friend.

Panic?

Lex abruptly dropped his other concerns. "Clark," he said. "What's wrong? What do you need?"

"Umm, I- Do you think you could come and get me, Lex? I- I think I need a ride." Clark's voice sounded higher than normal and strangely young.

Lex closed his eyes, putting all his effort into his hearing. The background noise from Clark's end of the connection was similar to what Lex heard from the balcony. Car engines. Wind. City noises. "You aren't in the dorms, are you." It wasn't a question.

"No, definitely not in the dorms. Not sure where I am, though."

His heart started to beat faster. Not in the dorms? What the fuck? "Clark." Lex stopped himself before asking what had happened. Clark was upset, and that was answer enough. "Clark," he repeated. "I need you to look around and tell me what you see."

"Ummm, it's all just buildings, Lex. They're dark. A couple have big loading doors. I think there's a main road about a block down, I can see lights, like store fronts or something."

Lex inhaled deeply in an effort to stem his racing thoughts. All right. The university wasn't in the best part of town; it doesn't necessarily mean he's in danger. Just have him look around, find a street sign, and you can go get him.

Lex was already moving into the penthouse, heading for the front door and the side table where he had dropped his keys earlier.

"Clark, I need you to find a cross street for me. Can you do that?"

"Right, yeah. I can do that. Um, I'm really sorry about this Lex. I, I didn't know who else to call. I couldn't call my folks. You know? Okay, umm, I think I found a street sign. I'm on Staten Rd. and the cross street is Chancelry. Hope that tells you something, Lex, cause I don't know any more than I did before." The sigh carried clearly over the speakers.

Unfortunately, it told Lex several things. First of all, it told him Clark had wandered far enough away from the U that he more than likely wouldn't be able to find his way back. Secondly, it told him that Clark's survival instincts were every bit as low as Lex would've expected them to be.

Worst of all, it told him that Clark - young, inexperienced, naive Clark - was almost certainly going to be in danger, if he wasn't already.

"I'm grabbing my keys right now, Clark, so just stay where you are." He debated with himself for a moment before adding his next thought, then said, "But find yourself a streetlight and stand under it. I'm on my way, just stay there and I'll -- "

"Hey, Lex? Could you, um, bring an extra shirt with you?"

Lex stopped with his hand on the front doorknob.

"A shirt. What kind of a shirt, Clark? What for?"

"Just, like, a big shirt. I kind of don't have one, so if I could borrow one, you know -"

"You kind of don't have one? You mean you're out on the street in the middle of the night with no shirt on?" Lex spun around and headed back to his dressing room.

"Yeah."

If there was any way this situation could possibly get worse, Lex was unable to see what it was.

"Umm, no shoes either, but I don't think any you have would fit me."

Jesus Christ. Clark was out in Metropolis' red-light district half-naked and shoeless. Lex checked his watch; it was quarter past midnight. The Ferrari was downstairs and it was late enough that he'd be able to blow every light between here and Chancelry.

"Clark, I'll be there in ten minutes. I'm bringing a shirt -" he paused to grab a white button down shirt from the front of his closet, "and I'm leaving right now. Just don't move, Clark, all right?"

"Okay, Lex. I'll be here." There was a pause and Clark's voice was very quiet when he continued. "If you aren't here in ten minutes, I'll call you back, okay?"

"No," Lex snapped as he threw open the front door and headed for the elevator. "I'm on my cell phone, and you're going to stay on the line until I get there."

There was nothing but a slight hiss of static in response as the floors flipped by far too slowly.

Lex stormed out of the elevator, striding towards the Ferrari. "Keep talking, Clark. Are you standing under a light like I told you?"

"You can't talk on the phone and drive, Lex. It's not safe. Nothing's gonna happen in ten minutes. Really." Clark argued, ignoring the question about the light.

Lex pointedly squashed the rising memories of the all the things that had been known to happen in the space of ten minutes. He threw his long body into the car, slamming his phone into its base and twisting the key in the ignition. "Much as I'd like to assume nothing will happen, Clark, we both know that isn't necessarily the case."

The smell of singed rubber assailed his nose as he peeled the car out of the garage and headed onto the city's darkened streets. "And you didn't answer what I asked - are you under a street light?"

"I heard you start the car, Lex. I'm hanging up." Lex was glad that Clark was starting to sound more like normal, but now was not the time for the Kent stubbornness to assert itself.

"I have a fucking speaker phone, Clark," Lex snapped, not noticing the fear and agitation that bled out through his voice. "Now stop worrying about me, and get your ass under a street light, understand?"

"Somebody might see me." Clark's voice took Lex back to the insecure fifteen year old he'd met three years ago. Clark hadn't sounded like that in ages. Fuck. What had happened? >Besides being molested by his best friend?< The thought almost froze Lex, but he told himself if that were the cause, Clark wouldn't be calling him. And anyway - the point now was to get Clark as safe as possible until Lex arrived.

"That's the idea, Clark, " Lex explained, hoping his voice conveyed a sense of patience he wasn't feeling. "You need to make yourself conspicuous." The words 'trust me' were right there, balanced on the very edge of being said aloud, but he bit them back. He didn't deserve Clark's trust.

Clark gave an edgy laugh. "I think I'm pretty damn conspicuous as it is, Lex."

Okay, that was better. It wasn't a normal laugh, but it was getting close.

Lex tried another question "How did you -" but cut himself off again. No 'hows,' remember? It's not like anything could hurt him, Lex was pretty sure of that much; which just raised the question, if nothing could hurt him, what did he have to be scared of?

Resigned to surface-level queries, Lex asked once more, "Are you under the light?"

"Yeah. Okay. I'm under the damn light, Lex. Just. Just don't drive like a maniac, okay? Get here in one piece."

There were a few seconds of nothing but breathing and gear shifting, and then, "Lex? There's a car coming. It's slowing down."

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, and nothing was going to happen in ten minutes, right? What could happen in ten minutes?

"It's stopped. A guy's getting out and coming this way."

"Just - don't let him touch you, Clark. Don't let him get near you." Lex stepped on the accelerator and watched as the needle edged farther past the speed limit.

There was a static sound over the speaker, and then another voice, a man's voice. "You certainly advertise well, kid. I've got some time to kill. Want to show me the rest of what you've got?"

For a second, it felt to Lex as if his brain was frozen. This wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening, he couldn't let this happen. He had to get there. He ought to be there.

"I'm not interested in showing you anything. " Clark's voice was sharp and deep.

That's it, Clark, Lex breathed, stay confident, don't let him back you down.

He yanked the wheel to make a corner, the Ferrari swerving crazily. "Clark, are you all right?" Silence.

Lex heard a chuckle. "Is that your boyfriend on the phone? Did he put you out here like this? That's pretty kinky. Does he like listening to you when you're picking up other men?"

Clark's voice went from deep to a growl. "Get off."

The words reverberated in Lex' head. Get off?! What the... "You sick fuck!" Lex yelled, and jammed his foot down harder on the accelerator.

"Hey, now, I can play into that fantasy if you want. The whole rape thing? You like that do you? Do you like this?"

Then there was a squawk and a gasp.

Clark's voice was almost unrecognizable now "I said get off. Why are you doing this? What is WRONG with you people?"

Lex yanked on the wheel again, this time to the right, and, thank god, there they were. Three blocks ahead of him, outlined by the streetlight, he saw a black BMW coupe pulled up to the curb. Then he saw Clark with his back to the street, dressed only in jeans, holding a man by the throat and pinning him up against the wall. Clark was still talking to him, his voice growing louder and harsher over the cell phone speaker.

It seemed Lex had been worried about the wrong person's safety.

"I didn't invite you, I don't want you, there's no... nothing... between us. Why the hell do you think I'd be interested?"

The man's voice wheezed past the constriction of his throat. "You're the one standing out half naked on the street with a body like that. You don't want to play, kid, stay off the field."

Lex skidded to a stop next to the damned streetlight, almost hitting the BMW, and jumped out, moving to pull Clark back before he killed the guy.

"Clark. CLARK!" Lex made his voice sharp, trying to snap Clark back to his gentle, typical self.

"What!" Clark snapped the reply back over his shoulder without even looking at Lex.

Lex reached for Clark's arm, hoping the touch would get through to him, hoping it wouldn't make things worse.

"You can't do this," Lex told his friend, his voice gentle now, ignoring the man thrashing desperately against the wall. Ignoring the ease with which Clark held the 300-pound, leather clad bear of a man six inches off the ground. "Really, Clark, don't."

"Why not?" Clark asked, his voice thick, his eyes glazed. Lex wasn't sure he was getting through, but then Clark's grip on the man's throat loosened enough to allow him a full breath.

Lex wedged his shoulder in between the two of them and tried to get Clark to focus. "Because you don't really want to; you don't need to." As he felt Clark begin to relax, he pushed at his friend until he stepped back.

"Okay, okay. I just - can we go, Lex?" Clark asked quietly.

"Yeah, " Lex agreed with relief. "Come on."

"Yeah, you better talk your pet down, asshole. I think he needs more training." The would-be john leered as he rubbed his neck. "I'd be more than happy to help with the punishment."

"No, my friend isn't going to do anything, because he's a good person and would regret it in the morning. I won't." Lex snarled, his coat whirling around him as he as he turned and raised his fist, punching Clark's attacker full on in the face. He felt his fist connect with a satisfying, bloody crunch, and watched the man's head snap back against the brick wall. He smiled as the now-limp body slumped to the sidewalk.

Lex shook off the pain in his hand and counted it well worth it.

Hands.

Strong, slender, insistent hands helped him with a too-small shirt.

Hands pulled him, petted him, pushed him into the car and buckled him into the passenger seat. Hands hummed over his skin with easy familiarity and belonging that not even the Ferrari's motor could drown out.

Lex's hands.

Lex's hands on the steering wheel, driving.

Lex driving them slowly through the darkened, empty streets of Metropolis.

"Where are we going?" Clark finally asked.

"I was going to ask you." Lex said glancing over. "I assume you don't want to return to the university dorms."

No, Clark didn't want to go back to the dorms. He crossed his arms around his chest trying to forget the feel of Josh's hands, Josh's mouth sliding, slick and numb, over his back.

"Clark!"

The note of panic in Lex's voice made Clark focus on the now and the clear tone of Lex's company. It was time to stop acting like a kid who couldn't take care of himself.

"Thanks for coming to get me."

"Did you really think I wouldn't?" Lex flicked a pained look at Clark and then focused on the road. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly; Clark saw them flex a little as Lex's face shut down, reverting to blankness.

"I wasn't thinking much." Clark struggled to sit up straighter and stop acting like such a child. "But I did figure some things out tonight."

"Like what?"

Clark stopped, willing Lex to focus on him. He needed the older man to see him, to know how serious he was. "Like I want you."

"What?" Lex slammed his foot into the brake and came to a hard stop.

"I want you," Clark repeated, knowing it showed in his eyes, wanting Lex to see it.

"Clark, if this is some kind of pity fuck or gratitude, I don't need it and I don't want it."

"What if it isn't pity or gratitude? What if it's just what I said."

"Nothing's ever just what you say, Clark."

Which was true, but just not something he could answer to right now. One thing at a time.

"What do I have to do to convince you that I want you, that I'm ready for this?"

Lex huffed out an impatient breath and snapped, "You'd have to go back in time to when we were in the coat room and tell me to keep going instead of telling me to stop touching you."

"What?" Clark stared at him incredulously. "I never said that!"

"Clark." Lex's voice sounded vulnerable and defeated. "I've wanted you, since that day at the river. Do you think I would have stopped for any other reason?"

"I thought-" Clark struggled to keep his tone steady.

"What?"

"Nothing." He couldn't do this. If Lex didn't know, if he couldn't tell...maybe whatever it was that sent tremors though Clark when Lex was around was all one-sided. Or all in his head.

"What did you think, Clark?" It was a command more than a question.

"I thought I did something wrong. I thought you were - annoyed or frustrated with me or something."

"What could you have done wrong?" Lex sounded appalled. "I was the one molesting my best friend behind a coat rack."

"You weren't molesting me, Lex," Clark objected. "I liked what we were doing. I liked it a lot. I just -you sort of wanted to skip ahead, and I wasn't ready to go that far yet."

"So when you said 'no'..." There was a hopeful tone in Lex's voice.

"What I meant was 'can't we go back to what we were doing a second ago?' But my brain was pretty much jelly at that point and I just wasn't up to stringing more than two words together."

Lex started driving again and did a U-turn in the middle of the deserted street.

"So, where are we going?" Clark asked.

"Back," Lex grinned as he floored the accelerator. "We're going back to what we were doing, but this time in comfort."

The ride back to the penthouse was wild. Lex cranked up one of his clubbing CDs and raced through the streets like they were his private track. He barely slowed down to enter the building's parking garage and then threw the car into his reserved space and practically raced Clark to the express elevator. They were both grinning until the doors closed on the elevator and they realized there was nothing to stop them from getting started.

Clark broke first, standing right up in front of Lex and sliding his hands under the long black jacket and up Lex's sides. By the time they got to the penthouse, Lex's shirt was opened and they were kissing and stroking each other over every bit of bare skin they could find.

Clark had to laugh at how difficult it was to get the door unlocked while kissing. Lex was the ultimate multi-tasker.

Once inside he let Lex pin him up against a wall with a kiss that went on for several minutes. Then he was gone. Clark shook his head in confusion and started to go find him but Lex was back before he'd gone two steps. Holding up a bottle of lubricant and a couple of condoms, Lex said, "You're sure?"

"Absolutely."

Then, finally, they were in and on the couch, the condoms and lube waiting on the side table and nothing else to stop them.

It was like living one of his fortress fantasies, except the skin was warm and real and lips were on his throat moving places he didn't send them. Somehow not knowing where the next touch would be, not knowing whether it would be a hand, fingertip, lips or tongue made all the difference.

The humming was building up, not something he could hear but something he could feel, taste, like his blood was vibrating, surging to any point of contact where Lex's skin met his own, better than it was by himself in the barn. With Lex, when they touched he felt the hum spread, felt it returned and redoubled, building faster than it ever had before. He moved his lips down the perfect column of Lex's neck and ran his hands up under Lex's shirt, tremors following quickly like shivers in the dark. But it wasn't dark.

Clark could see flashes of gold through his eyelids. He had to see. Opening his eyes he found the most gorgeous thing he'd ever imagined as a filigree of gold flowed over Lex.

I did that, he thought and smiled. We'll light up the sky.

Then Lex opened his eyes.

This is perfect, it's perfect, Lex thought as Clark's lips skimmed the skin of his throat. He'd been emotionally jerked around to just about every extreme tonight; anger and curiosity and lust and despair and now raw sexual need imbued with something more. This went beyond anything he'd had before; with Clark, he was dizzy, he was eager, Christ, he was practically seeing stars and they were still mostly dressed.

Stars, he thought again, and his spine stiffened a bit, because this time he was sure he'd actually seen something, but his eyes were closed, and these weren't the kind of random light patterns seen from behind closed eyelids. So he opened his eyes and saw Clark above him, perfect, with a tracery of veins shining like gold.

Glowing.

Lex cried out in alarm and fell backwards off the sofa.

It wasn't just Clark. Whatever it was was all over him too, like some neon spider web pulsing over his arms.

"Clark! What is this? Get it off!" he yelled as he batted at his arms. He stood up and caught a look at himself in the mirror across the room. The web was all over his face and his neck, his scalp.

"God, what is this?" He rubbed at his skin frantically. The only time he'd ever seen anything like this was when Clark got sick around meteor rocks, but then the veining was grayish-green and deadly.

"Lex! Lex! It's all right!" He felt Clark's arms around him, but as soon as Clark touched him the glowing web flared again.

"You're doing this, Clark! Get off me! Don't touch me!"

He could see the hurt and confusion in Clark's eyes as he pushed him away, but at the moment, he couldn't bring himself to care. Reflexively, he kept scrubbing at his arms and face, hoping the glowing strands would fade.

It took another moment before he was able to stop touching himself; he gathered his composure and looked over at Clark, who was obviously miserable.

Lex sucked in a breath. "I suppose you don't have any idea what this is about."

Clark stood hunched by the wall, as far as he could get from Lex and still be in the room. "I kinda do. Have an idea, I mean. I just didn't realize you wouldn't."

Lex narrowed his eyes. "Will you be sharing this idea of yours, or does this get filed with all the other things I'm not supposed to ask about?"

Clark flushed. "Other things?" he repeated, not looking directly at Lex.

"Jesus Christ, Clark," Lex spat, and ran his hand over his scalp. "Do you really think I'm a complete fucking idiot? I've stopped pressing and I've stopped investigating, but I've never stopped wondering what it is that's different about you, and this..." He moved his left hand, gesturing towards Clark and back to himself, emphasizing the fading glow. "this is...."

"Freakish?"

Lex's expression softened a fraction, and he took a cautious step closer to Clark. "No."

Clark looked up, his jaw clenched, his face shut down. "But not exactly normal, right, Lex?" He swallowed. "Not what usually happens to people when they... " Clark broke off, blushing, and stabbed one finger out towards the couch.

"I don't think either one of us has dealt in 'normal' for quite some time, Clark," Lex returned, a grim sort of half smile on his face. Just then something clicked, and his head snapped up; he took another couple of quick steps towards Clark.

"Wait - Clark, are you saying that this, this -" and he made the gesture back and forth between them again - "this glow is a result of arousal?"

Clark didn't answer.

Lex brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose and pinched. "Is there anything you're willing to tell me at this point, Clark, because I'm starting to think you just might have to kill me."

"Sure you're not thinking I might have already killed you?" Clark asked morosely, then folded his arms and turned away to stare at the floor. "I swear to you, Lex, I didn't know. I didn't know that this wouldn't happen to other people. I guess I should have, but I thought it was like, something they don't show on TV and stuff, you know? They don't really show people...having sex. I thought the glow was like that."

"Like what?" Lex asked, truly confused, unsure of the point Clark was trying to make.

He looked up at Lex. "You know...intimate."

Lex swallowed hard, humbled, and moved closer to Clark, close enough to touch. He'd been stupid to think Clark would intentionally endanger him; from the look of him, Clark was having even more difficulty dealing with this unusual reaction than he was.

"Hey," he said softly, holding Clark's chin in his hand. "I don't think you should have, or even could have, known about this. But if we're going to figure it out, I think there are some things we need to talk about."

"I don't know what we should do, Lex. I should have known, see? I really should have. It was just that," Clark stopped and clenched his jaw for a moment, blinking hard, "It's just that I wanted this - " here he paused and touched Lex, causing the glow to flare -- "to be normal. I wanted to be able to fall in love and make love like, like people do. Like humans do." Lex sucked in a breath and waited for the next words. "But I can't, cause I'm not."

Lex felt like the room was tilting as Clark looked up at him with wide green eyes and said, "I think I come from wherever the meteors come from. From some place where people are covered in gold when they make love, from someplace where you're attracted to a person because they - they hum like you want. Like you need. It's in my bones, Lex, the way you hum. I'm sorry."

The words swirled in the air around them, like dandelion fuzz on a summer's afternoon. Meteors - gold - humming - making love.

Lex felt his knees give out; in a blur, Clark was behind him, catching him as he fell.

Gently set him on the ground, and Lex blinked, then blinked again.

"I don't even know where to start," he admitted weakly.

"I'm not sure either." Clark's voice was uncertain, but his hands were firm as they stroked across Lex's skin, up his back and down his arms. "Do you hate it, Lex? Do you want me to stop? I can. I'll stop if you want me too and we'll just forget about it."

There was a faint tracery of gold on Clark's hands and Lex saw an even fainter answer on the skin of his own arms. He noted with scholarly interest that there were differences. Not only did the veins on Clark glow gold more strongly, but they also appeared to have a different structure. Lex could see that the pattern on his arms followed directly along his major blood vessels, while Clark's seemed to follow an independent structure that looked somewhat like veins, but did not follow the normal circulatory pattern.

It was almost as if Lex's arteries and veins had been hijacked into double duty: carrying both blood and energy as the situation required.

I'm a mutant.

Clark's not human.

In those two sentences Lex had the answers to nearly every question he'd ever had about Clark. And, after all that time, after all the years and questions and doubts - it didn't matter. What mattered was understanding this: that he was in Clark's arms, Clark was stroking him, and Clark was asking Lex for permission to continue.

It was a rather sudden change in his priorities.

"So...earlier tonight, in the coatroom." Lex's voice was soft and thoughtful. "You told me you said 'no' because you weren't ready to go that far. You didn't mean you weren't emotionally ready, you meant literally, physically, you weren't ready."

"I didn't want - I didn't mean to be a tease, it was just, we were kissing and you were touching me, and it was all so perfect and then, it was just like - I don't know. Like a short circuit or something." Clark squirmed. "I wanted to go back to what we'd been doing. The touching. The kissing. I wanted to keep feeling that. I'm sorry I disappointed you. I didn't know what you wanted me to do."

Clark wasn't looking at him at all now, wasn't even seeing Lex, but he didn't stop stroking. The gold was spreading just a little and Lex watched his fingers brighten.

"God, no, no," Lex murmured, and drew Clark closer to him. "I'm not, I wasn't disappointed in you."

He hadn't looked away from Clark's fingers, just monitored the glow.

"We were just out of rhythm and didn't know it...." his voice trailed off. "Can you feel that? When you're touching me. The glow, I mean. Is it, is it a tactile sensation, or is it just visual? When the gold color spreads through these vessels, is it a conscious thing? Or does it just happen?"

Lex wrinkled his brow and looked at Clark expectantly.

Clark looked down at the glow that was now spreading up his arms, pulsing a little.

"I can feel it, almost hear it. It's kind of like a hum or a vibration, but at a very low level." Clark blushed, "It's kind of like the vibration of the motor when you're sitting in Ferrari, but, not - I mean - it's more subtle. It's really hard to explain, Lex. Can't you feel it?" as he asked the question he ran a finger up the inside of Lex's arm and a bright path flared along the veins.

A shiver followed, but it wasn't a shiver, not exactly; and Lex's eyes grew wide.

"This. It's like...is this...." He stopped, because he knew he was babbling, and he'd never been able to stand that from anyone else.

"I can. I can feel it, Clark," he whispered in amazement. Then, looking into Clark's eyes, more ideas came to him. "Is this a full-body reaction? How old were you when you first noticed this? Does this happen every time you touch someone?" Lex frowned. "No, I'd have noticed that earlier. So this only happens when you're...you're...."

"Really, really, horny." Clark affirmed, grinning now. "It started sophomore year, but at first it wasn't visible like it is now. I would get these rushes of whatever this is, and I'd just have to let it out." The grin slipped again, and Clark looked away, "It was kind of dangerous until I learned to control it."

Lex found himself touching Clark's forearm, tracing elaborate patterns into the skin to watch the trails of gold. "Beauty and danger are often interrelated in nature," he began, and was startled by a chuckle.

"I'm analyzing, aren't I," he laughed softly. "I tend to do that. But you said...dangerous? Dangerous in what way - " he snatched his hand away from Clark - "it doesn't hurt you, does it?"

"No, no," Clark gasped and grabbed Lex's hand and encouraged him to continue his stroking. "You've got to know not much can hurt me, Lex." Clark sigh and closed his eyes as Lex ran his thumb up Clark's bicep and his fingers over Clark's triceps and the webs of gold exploded in slow motion over Clark's arm like a fireworks.

After a moment Clark continued still with his eyes closed, "You remember the fires? This is what caused it."

Lex froze.

The fires.

He remembered more than he wanted to about that hot September.

Clark's eyes snapped open and he looked pleadingly at Lex, "I can control it now, Lex. Honest. I won't hurt you. I wouldn't. If it gets to be too much I- I just keep my eyes closed. Until it passes."

"You close your eyes," Lex said evenly. "If it gets to be too much, you close your eyes. Because if you leave them open, you set things on fire?" He looked at Clark, waiting for confirmation.

Clark pulled back. "Yeah. It's just, there's a lot of stuff that goes along with being different Lex. The way I'm different. But I would never let it hurt you."

"I know," Lex said quietly. "I know that. You've kept me safe from so many other things, I can't believe you'd cause me any harm now. It's just that...well." He searched for a minute, wanting his words to be the right ones. "This is a lot, a lot to take in. But before, you asked me a question. You asked if I hated this, if I wanted it to stop." He reached over up and put his hand on Clark's neck, watching the flickers of golden energy as he did. "The answer is no. I don't hate it, and I really don't want it to stop."

He drew in a breath. "But I don't want to hurt you again, or however I made you feel in that coatroom, either."

Suddenly frustrated, he took his hand away again and clenched his fingers.

Scrubbed his hand against his scalp and squeezed his eyes shut, like the answer was behind his eyelids.

"What - what do I - " his words were halting; it felt unfamiliar, this lack of direction, his lack of control. The only thing making it all right was that this was happening with Clark. Clark was here with him.

Clark grabbed Lex's hands and tugged until they were kneeling, facing each other. "Maybe we're making this harder than it has to be."

Still holding both of Lex's hands, he guided them across his chest and down to the waistline of his jeans. Light rippled and pulsed in veins with the color varying from sunlight to deep gold.

"I like this." Clark whispered as the gold seemed to collect in a swirl under Lex's hands.

Lex felt a charge travel up his from his palms, much more definite than the little vibration he had experienced before.

God, he actually felt it hitting his cock and thought he might come right there.

"Clark," he breathed, and pushed one knee forward, close enough to rest near Clark's thigh. He raised his left hand, stroking down the length of Clark's jaw, mesmerized by the charge running between them.

"I want - want to touch you everywhere." There was a noise, low and hungry, and it startled him to realize it had come from his own throat.

"Tell me where to touch you, tell me where it feels good," he whispered with a small smile, then added, "or else you could show me."

"Touching is good, " Clark said, and then licked his lips and swallowed hard, "pretty much anywhere you touch is good, Lex."

Lex raised one skeptical eyebrow and gently slid his hands down to cover Clark's soft cock, stroking against it a few times.

It was amazing to see the lights all over Clark's body sputter and fade. Amazing and disappointing. Clark groaned in a manner that was obviously more frustration than pleasure. "Okay, maybe not there. Not yet, anyway."

And Clark took his wrists and again guided Lex's palms back up above the waistline.

Clark leaned in and kissed him, long and low and with lots of tongue and the fires came back even stronger. He slid his mouth off Lex's and down his neck then pulling Lex's head down he bit the nape of his neck. A charge sang down Lex's spine and then Clark whispered, "There."

"God, yes," Lex answered, and slid his hands up Clark's chest, skating his palms over Clark's shoulders and down his back, hooking his arms around Clark's.

He dropped his head to Clark's neck, and gently mouthed the skin there.

Clark gasped and shuddered a tiny bit, and Lex felt the charge in his mouth this time. "L - like that," Clark stuttered, and brought his lips back to Lex's neck.

Clark moved his hands over Lex's shoulders, down his back, and up again retracing the same path as his mouth explored every inch of Lex's neck, and then up over his scalp and down to his ear, pausing there to lick in and around each fold of cartilage.

Lex tried to keep his balance as shocks washed through him, humming and zinging along nerves that weren't quite made for it. Clark might not be hard, but Lex was more so than he'd ever been in his life, and just the thought of Clark's mouth sending one of the charges over his cock made him instinctively hump into Clark's leg.

Clark paused long enough to gasp in Lex's ear, "Guess I kind of forgot something, didn't I?" and he dropped his right hand to Lex's belt.

"It's okay, we've been exploring other possibilities, but if you want to explore this as well, that would be good." The urgency laced through Lex's voice was almost embarrassing.

Clark fumbled with the buckle for a moment before grinning at Lex. "Help me?"

"Absolutely," he replied, and quickly discarded his belt. Clark's hand was covering him through the fabric of his pants, his fingers opening and closing, fanning over his length.

Lex wanted to hold back, wanted to slow down, but Clark's other hand was on his waist, and the glow was pulsing in every direction across his skin from that point of contact - out and up his chest, around his sides, and down, below his waistband.

His hips snapped forward reflexively, and he watched Clark's eyes grow large as a groan was wrested from his throat. "Anything, Clark, but do something," he muttered, licking up Clark's throat again.

"God, Lex, these aren't, like, your favorite pants or anything are, they?"

Lex managed a strong shake of his head and a small negative sound at the back of his throat.

"Good."

Clark groaned as he broke contact with Lex's skin to grasp his pants and boxers at the waist band and quickly but carefully rip them off. He shredded his own jeans much faster and Lex managed to think that it must be nice not to have to worry about friction burns.

Then somehow they were on the couch, and it felt like he was in contact with Clark's body everywhere at once, and the glow was pulsing and singing and fucking every capillary in his body over and over again. Lex heard a noise and realized he was moaning.

"Lex? Lex?" Clark pulled back slightly and was lying there, mere centimeters away with his eyes tightly shut. "I need you to touch the backs of my knees, okay?" Clark asked in a ragged voice. "Please. Quickly. Just brush your fingers over the skin there, that all."

"Anything, anything," Lex muttered again, and writhed his way down Clark's body, the friction making the glow pop and shimmer between them.

He laid his palms on Clark's hard thighs, ran his hands down and back until they were behind Clark's knees, and let the pads of his fingertips dance across them.

Clark arched up with a half-strangled moan, his cock now completely erect and pressing into Lex's chest. With another thrust against Clark's leg, Lex's mouth twisted into a smug grin. If he likes my fingers there, he mused....

With a swift motion, his legs were up, over Clark's, and off the couch, and he was lifting Clark's legs, pressing his mouth to the crease behind Clark's left knee.

He painted the skin with his tongue, then exhaled across it. Pulled his lips back to scrape his teeth against the skin, all the while watching the lightning storm playing out on Clark's leg.

Clark was whimpering, then moaning, then begging. "Damn it, Lex, please! Please, God, need you, need you, please."

He grabbed Lex's hand again and finally, finally, guided Lex until he was stroking Clark's stiff and leaking cock. The lightshow swirled and pulsed between them, and Lex realized his own skin was covered in the same golden aurora as Clark's and the light traveled between them in ripples.

Lex slowed the speed of his strokes as he looked at Clark laid out on the couch, his legs up over Lex's shoulder so Lex could just turn and lick behind Clark's knees. He looked down at his own cock, still heavy, rubbing up against Clark's ass like it had a mind of its own.

"Lex, please," Clark was begging. "Want you so bad, Lex, oh god, fuck, fuck, fuck..."

"Clark," Lex croaked, and then cleared his voice and tried again, "Clark, tell me what we can do that will be good for you." He quickened and strengthened his strokes on Clark's cock as he spoke.

"It would be really, really good if you would just make love to me." Clark gasped out between thrusts. "Now."

"Oh, Jesus." Lex let his head fall backwards against the top of the couch. "Okay, yes, that would be good." He sat up again and with one hand he felt for the lube and condoms that he'd set out earlier. Stroking Clark slowly with his other hand, Lex looked up and smiled, "Want to put it on me?"

Clark took the package, opened it and pulled out the condom. The second he touched it he got such a look of disgust on his face that Lex chuckled. "They aren't that bad, Clark."

"We are not putting one of these between us."

"After I get tested again, we won't have to, but until then, we should play it safe."

Clark held himself up on his knees so that he was barely touching Lex as he straddled his reluctant lover's lap.

"I don't get sick." Clark said quietly.

"You don't know for sure, you might -"

Clark started trailing small, wet kisses along the base of Lex's throat. "I don't." Pause, and a lick. "Get." Tongue swirling up to Lex's ear. "Sick." And he lowered himself down onto Lex's lap, trapping their cocks between them and moving his hips in a tight circle. "Ever." He flipped open the bottle of lube, squirting some into his palm and using his hot hand to slick Lex's cock.

"Okay," Lex panted. "Okay, makes sense. Not sick." He held Clark by the waist, guiding him back up on his knees and then slouched down on the overstuffed cushions of the couch until he had positioned his cock to best advantage. He held his cock with one hand and used the other to guide Clark down onto it.

Clark's legs flexed effortlessly as he slowly impaled himself, rocking slightly, small grunts of pleasure coming from his throat. Lex was torn between watching Clark and closing his eyes in order to focus on the sheath of silk that was strangling his cock in the best possible way. Every time Clark inched down a bit further Lex was squeezed and a brief tingle would trill all along his shaft and pool in his balls.

At the same time, Clark hadn't stopped stroking Lex's arms and chest, where the hum or charge, or whatever it was, was still building. It was swiftly getting to the point where Lex didn't care what it was as long as it just didn't fucking stop but, god it would be good to just get there already, because if this kept going and building he was going to fuck to death here on the couch and, oh, god, he was all the way in.

He was inside Clark.

Who had frozen in place and was breathing harshly in his ear.

"Clark?" and whose raggedy trembling voice was that?

"Now, Lex, move now. Please?"

They tipped and rolled and Lex didn't really care why they didn't end up on the floor, but he would have to ask Clark about it later cause right now, oh, FUCK, he was hammering into the tightest, slickest, safest place he'd ever been and it was home and love and, really, the fact that he had golden veins running all over his body getting brighter and brighter was a small price to pay for the-

"CLARK!"

Lex was shooting, melting, emptying into Clark and he felt the molten gold run down through his veins and into Clark who went incandescent before they both collapsed.

Later, much later, after all the aftershocks had calmed and the glow had faded away, Clark pressed a sleepy kiss to Lex's temple. "Warm enough?" he mumbled, wrapping his lover even tighter in his arms.

"Warm, yeah, but we have to get up. Can't sleep out here," Lex returned as he tried to disentangle himself from Clark's embrace.

Clark made a disagreeing sort of noise. "Why not? It's warm, it's comfortable, and lots of nice stuff has happened here."

Lex gave him a playful shove and managed to break free. "True as all those statements are, I don't think you want the help finding us here in the morning."

With a frown, Clark propped himself up on one elbow. "Help? There are people here?"

"Not yet," Lex said calmly as he stood up. "But Mrs. Hall will be here in the morning - actually, she'll be here in about three hours. Can you manage to make it to the bedroom by then, or would you rather my cook check out your assets?"

That seemed to be incentive enough for Clark, who let Lex lead him into the bedroom, enjoying the view the entire way.

Like he did every morning, Lex awoke at a quarter of six, without need for an alarm or regard for how much - or how little - he'd slept the previous night. Clark snuffled a little as Lex carefully climbed out of bed; he noted how easily his lover could change from "unbelievably sexy" to "just adorable."

Giving into a bit of temptation, Lex snuck a soft kiss to the top of Clark's head before he moved into his dressing room. So long as he was up, he'd decided to look over some LexCorp paperwork. Nothing urgent, but it would ensure he had the rest of the day free for Clark.

Clad in soft gray pants and a dove-colored button-down shirt, he swung through the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee before he hit the office.

A shiver wriggled up his spine when he passed the living room; he wasn't the type who customarily used the term 'mind-blowing,' but in deference to the previous night's activities and revelations, he decided an exception was in order.

There was a neat stack of paperwork centered on the large, mahogany desk that sat in the room he used as an office when in Metropolis. Sighing, he sank into his chair, willing himself to put last night out of his mind for a couple of hours in order to accomplish something - something business related, that is, he thought with a grin.

A plain brown envelope rested on the top of the paperwork that awaited his attention. Looks like a courier package, he thought idly, and tore it open to examine the contents. His sensitive fingers identified the papers inside as photographs, which immediately raised his hackles; when one was raised as a Luthor, an unmarked envelope of photos automatically called for suspicion.

When he saw the pictures of Clark in bed with Joshua Parrin, he knew he had been entirely correct in his trepidation.

Sleeping past 6:00AM was a rare treat for a kid who'd been raised on a farm, Clark thought when he rolled over and noticed the time. 8:20, not bad.

The movement put him on the side of the bed Lex had occupied when they got under the covers last night. It's not even warm anymore, Clark frowned, wondering how long Lex had been out of bed and how he'd managed to leave without waking him. The idea that sex made for heavier sleep crossed his mind, and he didn't even try to suppress the goofy grin that paraded onto his face when he thought about sex. Sex, sex, having sex, making love, orgasms, oh boy oh boy, his brain sang, and this time he laughed out loud.

He pressed his face into Lex's pillow and inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of his lover. Lover, he thought gleefully, and paused to remember holding Lex in his arms, touching his skin and kissing him and rubbing against him...ooh. Do people have sex in the morning? he wondered, and decided to get up and ask Lex.

The thought of meandering through the penthouse without benefit of clothes made goose bumps pop up on his arms; Lex had said the cook would be here. He wandered over to the closet and rummaged around for something to wear. Crap, he thought, we're going to have to stop back at the U, I left my duffle bag there. He made a deliberate effort not to let his thoughts drift to Josh.

Once in the closet - a thought that made Clark laugh again, hey, I'm in the closet! - he found some loose shorts and an old fencing team sweatshirt. This'll do, he decided, and walked into the hall. Ten bucks said he'd find Lex tucked behind his laptop somewhere; Clark started listening for the tapping of keys to locate him.

He rounded the corner into the office where Lex was and started out saying, "I think I'm going to have to stop back at the University after all," but got no farther with his sentence.

He's not working, Clark realized. Clark also realized he'd been expecting a certain type of look from his new lover, a look of happiness and satiety and eagerness and maybe even a look of hey-want-to-do-that-again-and-soon?

What he got was a narrow-eyed glare that reminded him of a snake about to strike.

Clark stopped his forward motion so suddenly that he bobbled on the balls of his feet. Jeez, what happened, he wondered, I haven't seen Lex this angry in a long time.

"I'm sure you do." Lex met his gaze evenly, and his eyes were closed off again, the very picture of determination and distance.

Clark had seen that look before, but it had never been directed at him.

"What - I do, I mean, I left my bag in Josh's room-" he winced at the name - "and I have to get my stuff before we go home."

Lex slowly rose from his chair. "So you want to see Josh again before you leave town."

Clark was getting confused, and had a certain feeling there was more going on than he was aware of. "No," he answered, "I don't want to see him." There was more he could add, much more, but his instincts were telling him to tread carefully around this Lex.

"I see." Lex nodded. "Is that customary for you, Clark? To leave without saying anything, without thanking Mr. Perrin for his...." The pause between words seemed to drag out endlessly. "...hospitality?"

What the hell? Clark took a step closer to Lex, who mirrored his action with a step backwards, his eyes darting down to a pile of what appeared to be papers and photos. Like they were important.

Clark worried the desk leg with his big toe. There was no way this was about his manners or propriety, that much he was sure of. He measured his next words carefully, noticing how Lex had placed a hand on the pile. "Is that what you think I should do?"

Another smirk, and Lex shook his head knowingly. "This isn't about me, is it, Clark? Tell me what you'd usually do in a situation of this sort." Lex glanced down at the topmost sheet on the pile, then back at Clark. "It's not like you to leave so early in the evening, is it."

It had to be in that pile. Whatever had gotten to Lex was in that pile of papers, and Clark was consumed with the need to find out what was there. He advanced on Lex, focused on the hand that rested on the stack. "I live on a farm, Lex," he said quietly, forcing his own voice to remain steady. "I'm kind of an early riser by force of habit."

Another shake of his head. "I'm not talking about the habits you picked up on the farm, Clark." He looked Clark over, appraising him, then lifted the top sheet from the pile and handed it to Clark. "I'm talking about the habit of taking leave of your lovers before dawn."

Clark was trembling so violently it was difficult to read the paper Lex had given him. On the top was a pristine photocopy of a receipt for the Metropolis Hilton: the date was three months prior, the charge was for two guests in a room with one king-sized bed, and the signature on it was his own. The document copied beneath it was a slip for room service to the same room; this one had another signature on it. Another man's signature.

Then Lex silently handed him the photographs.

Josh, climbing into Clark's narrow dorm bed.

Josh, curling his hands around Clark's back.

Josh, kissing the back of Clark's neck.

"It's, it's not, it wasn't like that, it's not what it looks like," Clark protested, knowing how cliched and false the words sounded even as they left his lips.

Lex just stared at him. "I'm sure," he answered, his voice cool and unchanged. "It's never what it looks like with you, is it."

Clark stood, stunned, with Lex's last words running on a loop through his head: never what it looks like with you, looks like with you, what it looks like. He glanced down at the skin of his arms and the strip of skin that showed from under the too-small sweatshirt and looked over at Lex: at the skin on his face and the skin visible at his opened collar. The skin. His skin. Lex's skin. Then he was grabbing Lex.

"Let go of me now, Clark." Lex really tried to break his grip but he didn't have a chance.

"No." Clark used one hand to pull off the sweatshirt, keeping Lex with him the whole time, taking Lex's hands in his and putting their hands on his own chest, running them up and down from his pecs to his abs and back up his chest.

Then Lex stopped struggling and used his words to strike. "Is rape in your line too, Clark? How multi-talented you are. Seduction, rape- can pillaging be far behind? Or will you just blackmail me?"

But even as Lex tried to antagonize him, Clark was watching yellow tracings of light bloom under Lex's hands and spread up Lex's own fingers.

"See? Do you see it, Lex? Yes, Josh crawled into my bed, and yes, he kissed me, but it was like being kissed by a corpse. There was no glow with Josh, he didn't fit like you do and I didn't want him any more than I wanted that asshole that tried to pick me up on the street last night. I want you. We glow, Lex, we hum!" and he pressed his mouth to Lex's, sealed their lips together and kissed him with lips and tongue and teeth until he felt Lex melting under him.

When they broke to breathe, Lex rested his forehead on Clark's chest for a moment, and Clark whispered, "We belong together, Lex, and unless you really want me to, I don't plan on letting you go."

Lex just shook his head and gripped Clark's shoulders more tightly, making strange eddies in golden light that patterned Clark's chest and back.

"I'm a complete bastard, Clark." Lex muttered. "And a stupid one at that."

"Oh, yeah. And I would have reacted so well to pictures of you with someone else." Clark drawled.

Lex jerked away and this time Clark let him go, knowing that he wasn't going to go far.

"I shouldn't let my self be manipulated that way." Lex picked up the stack of hotel receipts and photos and through them against the wall behind the desk. "I should trust you, or at least trust my own instincts. Dammit!"

Clark watched as Lex vented his frustration on the rest of the papers on his desk, sending them all to join the photos on the floor. Finally, he leaned heavily on the antique mahogany desk and hung his head. His back was to Clark, his neck exposed, and the thin line of gold that followed his spine and disappeared under the waist band of his pants made Clark again aware of the haunting tone, the special hum that said 'Lex'.

Clark couldn't wait any longer. His own chest was bare as he walked up behind Lex and plastered himself against his lover. His mouth was on Lex's neck, his hands slipped under Lex's shirt and stroked low over his belly, while his knees rubbed insistently at the backs of Lex's knees through his pants.

"Damn, Clark." Lex gasped, but didn't make any move to stop him.

"Hey, Lex," Clark whispered. He reached into the pocket of his borrowed shorts and pulled out the bottle of lube and set it on the desk next to Lex. "Do people make love in the morning?"

"To hell with what other people do, Clark. We do," Lex grunted, and spread his legs further as he thrust his ass back against Clark.

It was like a flare went off, and Clark was instantly, achingly hard. He felt in tune with Lex and they were both covered in veins of energy that seemed to be pulsing together in rhythm.

"Jesus, Clark! What was that?"

"Don't know, it's never happened like that before, but God, Lex, you are so gorgeous like this." He wanted Lex's skin bare, naked skin against his own. The need was right there, growing; he could feel the heat building up behind his eyes.

Conscious of yesterday's ruined clothes, he made himself slow down enough to undo the buttons of Lex's shirt before stripping it off of his lover. He hooked his fingers under the collar and slid the fabric down Lex's arms, letting his palms run over the smooth, smooth skin, watching from under half-closed lids as the glow and crackle of gold pulsed across Lex's back.

Once Lex's arms were freed, he braced himself against the desktop, as Clark traced the lines of Lex's back with his fingers and bent his head to suck and kiss the juncture of Lex's neck and shoulder.

The sight of Lex's naked ass, spread and waiting for him was almost too much. Clark pulled back enough to grab the base of his cock. A pulse of energy rippled up his arm and he had to close his eyes again against the heat that exploded in his head.

"Clark? Are you okay?" Lex started to turn to check on him.

"Fine." Clark assured him and bent to rest his head against Lex's neck, "Just don't move for a sec, okay?"

As soon as his forehead touched Lex's neck Clark could feel the pressure behind his eyes begin to recede. At the same time Lex moaned and started rocking against him.

"Sorry, sorry, but I have to, have to move, ahhhh, Clark! What are you doing?"

"Don't know." Clark admitted, but snuggled closer, enjoying the feeling of the tension draining out of him as Lex rocked back against him. "What does it feel like?"

"It's as if, like-" Lex panted and rocked, then tried again, "It's like fingers of hot wax spreading across my back, but- it's not wax. It's you."

Clark pulled back sharply. "Does it hurt?"

"No!" Lex threw himself backward to regain contact with Clark's skin. Clark automatically wrapped his arms around his lover again, holding him tight.

"It feels ... incredible, Clark." Lex told him. "It's like nothing I've ever imagined, but I've been looking for it forever."

"Yeah, that's what's like." Clark agreed, and smiled into Lex's neck.

"Hey, Clark?"

"Yeah?"

"To quote someone very dear to me: It would be really, really good if you would just make love to me." Lex said as he leaned forward again and braced himself on the desktop. "Now."

Clark laughed and picked up the lube. He was so hard, and Lex was so beautiful that it was difficult to remember what he had to do, but he focused on how he had felt last night and slicked up his fingers. He slid them into the crevice of Lex's ass, over his puckered hole and then gently slipped one finger inside.

Lex rocked backwards wanting more, making needy noises deep in his chest. Clark moved his finger slowly, paying attention to Lex's breathing and his moans. He pulled out, then added another finger, and scissored them carefully.

Lex pushed back harder, moaning. "I'm ready now, Clark, come on."

"You're sure?"

"Fuck, yes."

Clark pulled out his fingers and quickly placed the tip of his cock there, guiding it with one hand and holding Lex's hip with the other, he pushed in slowly. Lex groaned softly but he didn't tell Clark to stop, and honestly Clark didn't think he could. The golden light that had been growing stronger though all of this pulsed in ripples back and forth between them, focusing on the shaft of flesh connecting Clark and Lex.

Soon they were both thrusting in time with the energy pulses. Clark had both hands on Lex's hips now, slamming in and pulling out harder and faster. They were shouting and neither of them knew what was said until Clark screamed Lex's name and came with flash of light and a stream of heat deep inside Lex.

Lex arched his back and Clark clutched him to his chest as the web of gold grew brighter, a white light flashed and Lex came hard, semen shooting up onto his belly and chest and all over the top of the desk.

They ended up collapsed on top of the desk in a warm, damp heap. Which was exactly where they were when the phone rang.

Lex shifted to reach for the shrill device, but Clark hugged him tighter. "Ignore it." he told his lover.

"No," Lex kissed him gently but shook his head, "he'll just let it ring, and I'd rather deal with this now while I'm feeling both well fucked and well loved."

"Who do you think it is?" Clark raised his eyebrows as he sat up and let Lex get the phone.

Lex stood up to take the call, looked at Clark with a stone cold face, and said, "My father."

"Hello, Dad."

"Lex!" The only word to describe Lionel's greeting was 'jovial', a word Lex only associated with his father when something Lionel wanted had either been won or destroyed, depending on the situation. "Wonderful to hear your voice. I was beginning to be think you weren't home."

"I'm here, Dad, just otherwise occupied." Lex let his voice go distant and his mind cold. He shut out everything in the room to focus on his father. He'd learned years ago that this was the only way to survive encounters with Lionel, even encounters he thought he might win.

"I wanted to make sure you got that package I sent you this morning, and ask you to come for dinner at the townhouse tonight. I have a new wine I want you to try. We'll have it with filet mignon." It was his father's little ritual. Destroy Lex's illusions of love and then invite him for rare steaks and blood red wine. Male bonding, Luthor style.

Lex re-lived for a moment the opportunity he'd had to let drop a major architectural feature on his sire.

"Yes, I got your package, Dad, but I'm afraid I won't be over for dinner tonight. Nor any night soon."

"I see. So it's to be a trip, is it?" Sigh of the deeply disappointed and put-upon father. "I had thought that Smallville would settle you down, Lex. The best way to get over these little disappointments is to get deeply involved in something new, not go looking for more trouble."

"No, it's not a trip. I'll be going back to the plant. I have plenty of work to do there." Lex told him. His fingers were beginning to ache from the tight grip he kept on the phone, and he was getting cold.

"Do you think that wise, Lex?" The cold concern in his father's voice reminded Lex of how dangerous Lionel could be when things did not go as he'd anticipated.

Lex shivered.

Then he felt a warm breath across his stomach and looked down to see Clark kneeling between his legs, looking up at him with sparkling eyes.

"I think it is possibly the smartest thing I've ever done." There was a softness in his voice as he looked down at Clark that he knew his father would pick up on, but it couldn't be helped. He wouldn't stay cold around Clark. That would just be a different way for his father to win.

"You're not keeping him, surely, Lex? He has certain interesting points, I'll admit, but in the end he'd just another hustler. You'll be lucky not to catch something from him. He's trash, son. Not worth your time."

"You know nothing about it, dad." Lex said and actually smiled, for which he was rewarded. Clark grinned up at him and then leaned forward to lap at the trails of semen on Lex's belly and chest. There was no glow now; Lex thought it must be too soon, but he could still feel a little shiver, a hum, a low tone just below the range of his hearing.

"You should consider the boy's parents as well, Lex."

In an instant Lex was ice again.

"What about the Kents?" And, as he felt Clark tense and look up at him, it amazed Lex that he had underestimated his father's power to sully the innocent and the beautiful.

"What will they think? The apple of their eye out with a lecherous, drug-abusing playboy? Martha Kent is one of my most valued employees. I'd hate to see her upset." The vicious glee in Lionel's voice was thick in Lex's ear.

"Listen to me, Father, because I will only say this once. You harm the Kents at your peril. I couldn't do it three years ago, Dad, but I can now."

"You'd never have the balls," Lionel scoffed.

"The last man that threatened the Kent family in my presence is dead, Lionel. Be glad this is a phone call."

He didn't wait to hear how his father would try to top that. He just hung up the phone.

Lex was very, very cold.

"Hey," Clark's voice whispered in his ear, "Let's go back to bed." Warm arms wrapped around him and he closed his eyes.

He shivered and opened his eyes to find himself in his bedroom in Clark's arms.

"Put me down. I'm not a fainting heroine, Clark."

Clark did. Right on the bed and proceeded to climb in next to Lex and curl up around him.

"You just need some warming up."

"Well, that's true enough," Lex admitted and eased down into his lover's arms. "We Luthors are a cold blooded race."

"Your dad may be a reptile, Lex, but after last night I can assure you that you are hot blooded." Clark snickered.

"Oh, God, Clark, save me from the bad jokes."

Clark laughed, pleased to have gotten Lex back from wherever he went when he had to deal with his father.

They lay quietly for a time before Lex reached out to the bedside table and picked up the phone. He handed it to Clark. "Call your parents."

"Now?" Clark looked at him, wide-eyed and nervous.

"Now. Better they hear everything from us than from my father."

Clark nodded and started to dial.

A sharp rap at the front door made Martha look up from her dusting.

"Sign here." The courier at the front door held out his clipboard.

She signed, and a slender, legal-sized envelope was surrendered to her. Nothing too peculiar, Martha reassured herself; now that she was working for Lionel she'd come to expect the occasional package. But on a Saturday? And before seven o'clock?

She sat down with it at the kitchen table and opened the flap of the envelope. Upending it, a manila folder slid out with a note sitting on top. An uneasy feeling settled at the base of her spine as she examined the note: it was brief, on a sheet of fine writing paper, and in Lionel's distinctive spiky handwriting.

"I feel it is in your best interest that you be made aware of Clark's proclivities. You have my deepest sympathy, as I fear the untoward influence of my own son has encouraged him in these pursuits."

Proclivities? What on earth... a file. It was a file on her son, a file about Clark. A file like the Lex's, the one she'd found on Lionel's desk.

Gingerly, hesitantly she picked up the folder, not opening it - that would make it real, in a way. It felt like photographs, and maybe some papers. Which meant there might be things about Clark in the file similar to what she'd seen in Lex's file.

She looked out the kitchen window and saw no sign of Jonathan. He could be anywhere on the farm by now, probably with the cows. And that was a good thing. She was sure that whatever Lionel had sent them, Jonathan was happier not knowing.

But Clark would never do things like that; not the little black-haired boy she'd raised.

Martha got up, leaving the folder on the table and went in to the kitchen. She poured some warm water from the kettle into a measuring cup and added sugar and dry yeast. Then she got out her flour and mixing bowls.

Martha Clark had not been an innocent when she left Metropolis for the more placid town of Smallville, but some of the things she'd seen in those photos had made her squirm in discomfort. It was only later, after Clark and Lex had left for Metropolis that she'd wondered whether her discomfort had been over what she'd seen in the file, or the fact that she'd looked at it at all.

Lex was Clark's best friend. Even closer than Pete, for all that Pete knew Clark's secret. Martha had thought for some time now that Clark was close to some kind of turning point with Lex. She was sure that he would tell Lex everything about his origins and powers sooner or later, and wasn't it her job to protect her son?

Mechanically, using a precision she didn't usually bother with, Martha measured out four cups of flour into the largest bowl.

She'd read Lex's file as it was left conveniently on Lionel's desk. She was sure that Lionel knew she had. Now he had sent her a file on Clark. The question was why?

Martha had worked for Lionel for three years. In that time she had found him fascinating, a brilliant businessman, and an obsessive gamesman. No interaction with Lionel, no conversation, no exchange of pleasantries, was without its little scorecard. And his favorite opponent was his son.

The yeast wasn't fizzy enough yet so Martha paced as she waited. Waited and thought, and found she did not like what she was thinking.

She actually liked Lionel, but she wouldn't allow herself or Clark to be used against Lex in whatever game Lionel was playing.

Martha thought of Lex's hesitancy the day before, how he'd waited to be asked in. He was always so polite and courteous to her, and the lengths he went to for Clark were nothing short of spectacular at times.

He'd do anything for Clark. And he'd be devastated if Clark were hurt because of him.

The yeast was bubbling nicely now, but Martha walked past it and picked up the file of photographs off the table. She went through the living room, picked up what she needed from the sideboard and headed out into the yard.

She walked out around to the back of the house to where they had their summer cookouts and placed the file in the brick fireplace and struck a match. She lit the folder in several places to be sure it would burn, then stepped back and watched to be sure that no scraps of paper blew out into the yard.

"Martha?" Jonathan called as he came around the corner of the house. "What are you burning?"

"Some private papers of Lionel's. I should take them in to be shredded, I suppose, but this is just as good." She smiled and slipped an arm around her husband's waist as he scowled at the flames that were dying down. She smiled up at him. "Want some coffee?"

'"Love some. Just let me put some dirt on this and make sure it's well out. It's been a dry enough fall not to take any chances."

She nodded. "I'll go in and pour," and she left him to it.

Just as she entered the kitchen the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mom."

"Clark! You didn't call last night. Is everything okay?"

"Sorry about not calling, things got kind of, um, busy last night."

"But everything is okay?'

"Yeah, but, um, Mom, Lex and I are coming home today. There's some stuff we have to talk to you about."

"Stuff?"

"Well, important stuff, really. We need to explain some things to you and Dad."

"Don't cut your trip short, Clark. Whatever it is, we trust you to do the right thing. You and Lex. You tell him that, all right?"

"You're sure?"

"I'm positive."

"Love you, Mom."

"Love you, too, Clark. Give my best to Lex."

"Okay, bye, Mom. See you later."

"She said that?" Lex's voice went up an octave, and Clark grinned.

"Yup, that's what she said." He snuggled down under the comforter and opened his arms wide, "So come here and let's get some sleep."

Lex returned the grin and allowed himself to be wrapped in Clark's arms and manhandled into a comfortable position that involved practically braiding their bodies around each other.

"Have I mentioned that I love your mother?" he mumbled as he started to drift off to sleep.

"No, but that's a good thing." Clark agreed, and then closed his eyes as well.

As Martha hung up the phone, Jonathan came in the front door. "Who was that?"

"Just Clark, checking in." She smiled and got down two mugs for coffee. "He was apologizing for not calling last night."

"Everything okay?" Jonathan took the mugs and poured the coffee.

"Yes, everything is just fine." Martha picked up the water and yeast mixture and poured it down the sink. She'd decided she didn't need to make bread today.

THE END