*Crazy what you are then/Give me an hour and I'll give you your dreams.../Don't make a sound/Shh and listen/Keep your head down/We're not safe yet/Don't make a sound/And be good for me/'Cause I know the way to somewhere out here * -- Frou Frou, "Shh"

Concentrating on the little things was important. Daddy... no, Father has always told him it was important. Little things could slip away, skip off, and come back with a razor for his neck.

Little things. Like forgetting that dead men had friends. Friends that came back to avenge him. Friends. Would anyone come avenge him? He would've preferred a rescue, but maybe he'd enjoy revenge, post mortem. Maybe. Maybe he wasn't sure and couldn't think straight anymore. Little things. Little... things.

Breathing hadn't hurt so badly since he'd been running in that cornfield, running from an imaginary nightmare and into a real one. Running... He felt his legs give an involuntary twitch at the concept -- running would get him home, right? Running would get him to a warm bed and a long, fucking long shower, and -- and he whimpered.

Little things. Small pleasures. Breathe carefully, and think of the little things.

He had cold toes. They felt disconnected, not part of him, until he twitched them and they touched and curled together. Cold skin on cold skin, a little thing that didn't hurt too much. There was the oddest wonder to feel, too, that one minute his toes felt there, cold but there, and the next they didn't. His fingers might have felt that way, if he'd had the morbid strength to touch them together.

Something was whining, panting in his ear. It sounded like a broken child, maybe a hurt dog? He couldn't think except that he was cold, and he smelled vomit, and that the concrete under his cheek was cold and sticky with sweat. Maybe not. Maybe it was water. Water had been thrown at him earlier. That was it. It was water.

Not sweat. He wasn't scared. He wasn't sick, and he certainly wasn't going to cry, or close his eyes and just die. It wouldn't be very Luthor of him. Daddy... Dad wouldn't like that. Dad had just smiled at him in that meeting, smiled like he'd meant it.

Proud that he'd... insulted him in a board meeting. Something. Something that had brought on a flash of anger and then a broad, frightening genuine smile. Real. Real like Dad never was. Real like Clark, but not the same real. The urge to find something Real was strong, but not so strong that he wanted to try moving.

The big breaths hurt, seared cramps through his arms that wouldn't move for him. That he couldn't move. Arms weren't meant to bend that way, and how was he ever supposed to know that he'd get a little taste of some of the things that had fascinated him best about the Spanish inquisition. Lofty thoughts of The Rack, smirking references, god, he'd do anything to take those threats back if he could get his shoulders back into his body and make them stop hurting.

Fix everything. It wouldn't fix anything. Phelan was dead, and if they wanted money... No, not so simple. It wasn't a simple thought, and breathing was harder again, and it hurt. Simple things. Simple... cold feet, cold body, cold head, unpleasant smells. If he wobbled a little from his side, the pain stabbed through him again and he could half hear the funniest howling scream. It used to be sharper, louder, only now it sounded scraped raw, poured through rusty grating.

Like his throat. Swallowing didn't soothe that, because there wasn't much to swallow in his mouth. Dry and cold, like dry ice. Liquid nitrogen. Was that why he was so damn cold? If it was, he shouldn't keep moving his toes. They'd fall off, and then what would he do? Something. Think about little things, and Dad would be proud and real again, and it'd stop hurting and it'd all be real...

Those two, they weren't Phelan. Phelan was the smart one, and Phelan had died by his brothers' guns. They'd slip up, and he'd be paid free. Because it wasn't Smallville, and Clark couldn't find him miraculously. Only maybe it was Smallville again. Maybe Metropolis was the dream, the nightmare, and it wasn't real. Maybe there was a meteor mutant under those men's skin, and that was why he was still there.

Maybe Clark needed to be there right away. Clark always found the mutants. Clark was special, Clark was a... a something. A reporter. A friend? Did he have those? No... yes. Yes, he - no, Dad said he didn't and Dad... Fuck Dad. Fuck him, fuck the Luthors, fuck...

"FUCK!"

The rasp howl slithered free again, one twitch too many unbalancing him. Back onto arms that shouldn't have bent that way, onto things that felt detached, the hurt-sick, all of it. None of the little, simple, almost enjoyable things. He jerked the other way, but it was no better, ending up flattened on the cement with no leverage to move. But it was almost like laying down, and maybe he could breathe a little more. Big breaths, yes... big breaths didn't hurt as much. Back hurt, all of it, arms still screaming pain at him. He twitched cold feet together, making sure they were still there. His dick was still there, crushed between the cement and his pelvis. That was almost a good surprise. Still there. Still there. He was still all there, despite it all.

Maybe his friends needed to be as good to him as Phelan's friends. Maybe they would be, but Dad said...

Friday mornings were a ritual for Lois. She arrived in the office before Clark, because Clark was invariably running almost-late because of his infamous Thursday night antics. Sometimes he'd come in looking just a little plastered, ruffled like he got dressed in a taxi while it was weaving in and out of traffic; sometimes, he was mellow and all smiles; sometimes he was frustrated or angry. But it didn't matter. There was always a little change in Clark, a little difference in the farm boy dork from Smallville after a Thursday night. He laughed more, he smiled less shyly and more slyly, and he tripped over his feet less.

He'd been doing it since sometime in his first month of working at the Daily Planet, as best as Lois could tell. Smallville had just hung up his phone, grinning a little to himself, and of course, she hadn't been able to stop herself from asking him what he was so smug about. It worked as good as a slap to wipe the worst of the excess from his face, but it still lingered.

"I'm going out on the town with a friend I knew in school."

Partying on a Thursday night? she'd asked herself. Whatever. Couldn't be much of a party, but to a guy like Clark a real Friday or Saturday night party might have scared him. But it was Friday morning that she met this... new Clark. A little cocky, more confident, at least a little more relaxed. And retrospectively, it made sense for him to do his relaxing on Thursdays, since most of his articles were in the Saturday and Sunday papers. A fling of energy before throwing himself into a deadline.

Or before Lois dragged him halfway around the city and into danger where only Superman didn't fear to tread. Clark always got lost, out of her sight and then it was so much for his confidence and ease on Friday mornings.

It was a pity she couldn't find a way to bottle that Clark and replace the usual one with him.

Sometimes Thursday nights didn't happen, and then Clark would come in and sulk. His buddy had something else to do, or his buddy had to catch a plane. Lois would always find herself feeling sympathy for him, but hey, at least his partying buddy called and told him, right? And yeah, she was right. The guy probably had more of a life than Clark did. Probably an older frat brother or something from Met U.

And it was maybe once a month, on those days where Smallville looked like he was still oozing whatever he'd drank the night before, that she'd pry a confession from him of what he'd done. She always felt a spark of delight hearing him whisper that he got dragged to a rave -- mr. thick glasses, big hands and goofy smile, at a rave? Or the way he turned as red as his tie when he told her that they went to a strip club. She'd teased him about being a 'wild one' for weeks afterwards.

Every few months or so, he came back furious, and though Lois never could find out why, she could guess. Even buddies fight from time to time. Probably over some pretty girl who had to be more attracted to the other guy.

His Buddy didn't get a name, which had always made Lois particularly curious. Maybe it was some obscure guy thing to not bother naming each other, or maybe Clark guessed that Lois didn't have much genuine interest in his itty bitty social life. Because she certainly didn't, she reminded herself, all but squirming in anticipation of what she might be able to pry from Clark's goofy grin and tease him with for weeks.

He was so backwoods and country that it was cute.

Smallville did show up to work late, but not the way Lois expected of him. He walked towards their side by side desks, shoved together at least a year ago to make talking easier, threw his coat onto the coat rack, missed, and fumbled in picking it up. Then he slumped down in his chair, looking dejected and eyeing his empty coffee mug with what Lois thought was a gaze that could signal the end of the world.

Goofy Farm boy looked heartbroken. Lois decided that she had to be losing her ice-bitch tendencies if Smallville's dejected sulk struck her as heartrending. She picked up his empty coffee mug when she stood, effectively snaring his attention, and tapped the ceramic against the wood for a moment. "You didn't get to go out last night? Plane to catch, or...?"

"Huh?" The blank look he turned on her seemed to be a direct slap in the face. Sometimes, Lois wondered if he thought she was stupid. Clark couldn't lie for shit. "Um. No. Was busy." He didn't say who was busy, him or his friend, but it was more than obvious.

Clark was never busy. Maybe he could be called busy if, by chance, he got his fingers stuck in his shoelaces, and then fell downstairs while tangled in with himself. Or maybe he could be called busy if he locked himself in his bathroom by accident.

"Come on, Smallville. Remember who you're talking to."

"Sure, Lois. How could I forget?" The look on his face was one of tension, and it was one that he couldn't hide. "Look. I'm just worried. It's nothing."

"That's good. Because I'd hate to have you zone out on me all day," she chided, wincing as she heard her own voice gentle towards him. Soft. She had to be going soft. "We've got a press conference to go to in half an hour, and it's a doozy, Clark. Headline news, just me, and maybe you sharing that byline."

"Yeah?" The faint knit of dark brows showed that she'd managed to spark some small bit of curiosity in him. That was obviously good for him, since he was all mopey. Maybe she'd even badger him out somewhere good to eat when they were done so that she could make him relax.

Yeah. She was definitely going soft.

"So, what's up?" he asked her, the black rims of his glasses making him seem even more of a nerd than usual.

It must've been because she'd been expecting that little spark of confidence he usually had Friday mornings. The press conference would've been hundreds of times more bearable if Clark hadn't been down in the ditches about his pathetic excuse for wild fun.

"Lionel Luthor is holding a press conference, but our leak with the cops say it's because his firstborn son has been missing since sometime yesterday." Lois was waiting to see the excitement that had to show up on his face. It was probably one of the biggest stories they'd had in weeks, and Perry White had given it to them. To her.

The distinct pallor that washed over his face sure as hell wasn't what she'd been expecting. "Since when?" Clark bit out, promptly standing up from his desk. "What happened? When's the conference?"

"It's in half an hour, so if we want to be up front and asking questions, you're going to have to do without coffee this morning." Clark ought to have known by then that he just didn't pitch questions at her and not expect them pitched back just as fast. "Now, what bug's crawled up your ass and suddenly made you wake up?"

The way Smallville reached up and pushed messy hair back out of his face made him seem startlingly familiar for just a moment, those green eyes gleaming thoughtfully. "It explains a lot, that's all. My... friend, he probably would have been working late last night, then." God, he did suck as a liar.

Usually she'd tease him for his lies, but it was too blatantly pathetic to bother teasing him. "He would've? Come on, Clark, get your jacket and a tape recorder. I'll drive us there. You can explain to me why you turned as white as paper once we're in the car."

The quick snatch of Clark's fingers gained them a recorder, and he grabbed his jacket up off of the floor. "Look, Lois," he began as they headed for the door. "I really don't want to talk about it..."

"I'm just pressing at an obvious question, Clark. I mention that the heir to most of Metropolis is rumored missing or dead, and you freak." Lois grabbed her own jacket, and slipped it back on, and her purse that carried all of the essentials she might need in day to day researching. Boy scouts thought they had it all covered, but she had those wimps beat in preparedness.

"Well, it's not exactly something you expect to hear every day, is it? That the infamous Lex Luthor has gone missing. Plus, it's nothing like him to just disappear, so it's bound to be serious trouble..." Clark hedged. "Plus... Well, look, I don't want to talk about it." There was a stubborn set to his mouth that declared she'd be in for a fight if she tried to drag it out of him.

But since when did Lois not try to drag things from Clark? She set off down the hallway with determination in her stride, knowing Clark would trail after her. "Come on, Clark. What don't you want to talk about?"

"I'm allowed to have a private life, aren't I?" he defended. "Plus, you never seemed so interested before..." Clark was very much like a duckling; give him something to follow, and he toddled right along.

Some days, Lois was tempted to put a bow around his neck -- or maybe on the bridge of his glasses -- and pull him around with a string. Not that he wasn't dependable and quick thinking, honest and just packed full of farm boy integrity, all of which balanced out his weaknesses and geekiness, but it was still an entertaining idea for her. "I've never seen you jump out of your seat like that before, either. I thought someone had stuck a tack on your chair."

The way he let out a slow, heavy sigh wasn't really what she was expecting. "I knew him. Lex Luthor. Back in Smallville." That was more than enough to pique her curiosity to the extreme, wasn't it? "Saved his life a time or two. He saved mine. Busy place, Smallville. He was..." The fact that Clark seemed busy searching for the appropriate word was absolutely fascinating. "He was great."

"He was great?" Lois shoved down the urge to swallow her tongue. Clark -- geek who barely had a pulse some days -- Kent knew Lex -- evasive, charming, cunningly cutthroat -- Luthor.

The epitome of Smallville knew the epitome of Metropolis. It was mind bogglingly odd.

"He was great? You knew a guy like that, and all you can say is that he was great?"

"Well!" It seemed a little defensive to her even as they headed down the hall with quick, hurried steps. "He was. He is. I mean, Lex is... Lex is all the things you wouldn't think he could be. He tries hard. He wants to succeed. He knows how to have a good time and he knows when to stop and be serious..."

'Lex' was probably a smear on some grimy wall who knew where, Lois's wickedly morbid intuition reminded her, but with Clark spouting off about the guy, it was hard to let that remark rise up to her mouth. She listened as they got into the elevator, then raked Clark's face with a surveying eye. "Smallville, you're talking about him like you're in regular contact with him. You wouldn't hide a contact like that from me, would you?"

The way those green eyes shifted away behind thick lenses said a lot. "Well..." Clark eluded again, fiddling with the recorder. "It's not like I hid it. I mean, you never asked, and besides. It's not like that. He's not a contact. He's a friend."

Lois let the words, and various slips of thought catch up with her, and when it all did, they left her reeling. "Thursday night. Right. He's the guy you go drinking with? That you go to clubs with?" Talk about a war of the worlds. She shifted, eyeing the face behind the thick glasses. Having a friend as awkward as Clark anywhere near him must have cost Lex Luthor a lot of his public 'cool' points.

A faint shrug of Clark's shoulders gave much by way of answers. "...Yes," he admitted. "My dad's probably rolling over in his grave every time Lex calls. He didn't like him much." That was the understatement of the year, wasn't it? Lex had won and lost respect from Jonathan Kent so often it had become almost a force of habit between them to dance that particular little tango. "I hope he's okay."

It was too much information, too fast, and Lois found herself juggling politeness with curiosity, and then... then there was the subject of the conference they were going to. "Well, Clark, you've got to be realistic here. Kidnapping or murder doesn't equal 'okay'."

"Yeah, well. Getting knocked in the head every third Sunday doesn't, either, but he survived that." The words seemed to come out before Clark was even aware he'd said them, but he didn't take them back. "Lots of folks didn't like Lex. Local folks, you know. They knew his dad, knew things he'd done. They expected the same thing out of Lex."

"But doesn't Smallville have all of those strange genetic mutations because of the LuthorCor-- I mean, LeXCorp plant there?" Lois led the way out of the elevator, and started towards the parking lot and where she'd parked her car. "I don't think you can look at this topic with the right detachment, Clark."

"Maybe not," he admitted quietly. "But maybe I've never been able to look at it with the right detachment. Most of that stuff came before Lex ever arrived at that plant." It was something of a lie, but Lois would never know. He could cover the old lies so well by now that sometimes Clark himself thought he couldn't tell the difference.

"Clark, don't you think that maybe you're a lot too close to this story to be covering it?" Lois glanced back over her shoulder at Smallville, pressing down a sigh.

"At the very least, I want to know what's going on." The puppy dog look on his face was really irresistible, wasn't it? "You wouldn't deny me that, would you, Lois? I promise I won't get in your way about anything..."

Particularly since he looked like a kicked puppy dog. Some days, Lois was sure Clark did it on purpose. "Fine. But if Lionel Luthor declares him dead or something, I'm not going to whip out a handkerchief for you to cry into."

If Lionel Luthor declared him dead...

Just the sound of the words made those green eyes widen. "I hope he's not," Clark said slowly. "I really hope he's not."

It was probably for the best that she did carry tissues, Lois decided as she led the way to her car in silence after that. It wasn't as if she could dredge up some soothing words that would put her partner at ease. Clark couldn't be normal, could he, and have a real loser of a drunk for a buddy, no, not Clark. Smallville had to be special and be friends with the local billionaire and mope over not meeting someplace with him, and then demand to go to that press conference.

The mere idea of Clark knowing a Luthor, any Luthor -- even the Luthor house pets, if people like that could actually stand to own animals -- was still sinking into her head. And Clark just mowed ahead like it had never been, if not a secret, a well hidden bit of knowledge before he'd accidentally showed his hand of cards.

"Get in the passenger side," she instructed him as she unlocked her car door. "Because you drive like an old woman."

"I don't drive like an old woman," Clark protested. He got into the passenger side, anyway, obedient as always. "At least not like any of the old ladies I know. They tend to take hills with stoplights at the bottom going seventy where I come from."

"Then maybe you should drive like an old woman," she teased him as she buckled her seat belt. It was all autopilot for her hands, key in the ignition, backing out of her parking space, and guiding it out to the busy road. Lois's mind was too busy processing through what Clark had told her, what it implied -- how could he not tap such a boundless source of information? Or maybe he had been tapping it, and just failing to tell her.

"I didn't tell you because I wasn't going to use him. Lex is my friend," Clark told her, almost as if he could read her mind. "I would never use him for information."

He'd obviously been working for her for too long, too closely, if he could read her so well. Lex Luthor, a friend. A kidnapped friend at the most, a dead friend at the least. New concepts for Lois to twist her brain around. "Never? Come on, Smallville, you can't say you've never even once picked up a bit of a story from him."

"Leads, maybe. Stuff he's suggested," Clark admitted slowly. "But never anything directly. Lex... Lex is better than that."

"Better than that?" She didn't look at him, but her raised eyebrows were in her voice as she took a left-hand turn the moment the light went green. "Better than what, exactly, Clark?"

The eyes that Smallville turned on her were disturbingly reminiscent of the light they passed under, gleaming in the sun. "Better than anyone thinks he is," Clark explained. "Better than his father. Better than people pretend they want him to be."

"I don't see how that relates to him giving you story leads," Lois countered, pushing down the tinge of offense in her voice. "You know, I think I liked it better before I knew who your drinking buddy was, Smallville. I haven't been hurling accusations at a missing man -- you're awful touchy."

"Well, I'm a little nervous. You'd be jittery if someone had kidnapped your best friend, right?" The earnest sound of that question was maddening. It was no wonder people opened up to Clark like kitties waiting for a tin of cat food.

If she had a best friend, sure she would've. "Of course I would. Which is why I wanted you to stay back at the Planet, and I can't see how you coming with me is going to do anything." But maybe that was what Clark was. Best friend to people who just couldn't have friends.

"I need to know what's going on, though," Clark argued, frowning. "I mean, you could have told me, but..." But that wouldn't have been enough for him, and his face said as much.

"But you'll be more convinced hearing it from Lionel Luthor's mouth?" She barely stopped at the stoplight, and leaned back in her seat to glance at Clark.

Clark seemed to want to shy away from saying anything, but he knew she would push. She always did. "Then I'll be convinced whether he was part of it or not," he said quietly.

A subtle idea that hadn't previously entered Lois's mind. That was why she kept Clark around, to feed her those odd ideas that seemed out of place, but so right. "You think he's capable of kidnapping his own son?"

"You'd be amazed at what he's capable of," Clark informed, shaking his head. "I've seen him threaten Lex with all kinds of things, disinherit him, throw him away as if he was nothing. This might just be another of those plots."

"You say that like it's an everyday event," Lois murmured. She had to slow down as they neared the LuthorCorp tower. Cops had areas cordoned off, and there were cars parked everywhere. It looked like they were going to have to take the first available spot and walk.

The shrug of those slumped shoulders seemed somehow to say that it might as well be. "It's just something they do. Power play games, really. Lionel likes to come out on top, and Lex is desperate to beat him at it."

Lois sidled a glance to Clark as she coasted into parking space and turned off her car. "You're not joking, are you? Come on, Clark. Lex Luthor is a thirty year old man, you can't tell me that he'd let himself be at that sort of risk."

"He'd do almost anything for his father's approval." The expression on Clark's face told her that it was true. "Almost anything."

"That, ah..." Was a pretty creepy thought, and she only refrained from saying it aloud because she slipped out of her car as mindful of traffic as possible. Her press pass was in her purse, and hopefully Clark hadn't forgotten his. "Doesn't say much for his strength of character."

"Actually it says a lot." Disagreement coming from Clark was... unusual. "After all, there are a lot of things that he won't do. Anything that hurts people. Loses jobs." Other things that went unmentioned.

"But that's different from 'almost anything', Clark," Lois pointed out softly, as they started down the sidewalk towards where the press was gathered. She stayed close to Clark's side; he was goofy and awkward, but he was tall and that was always an advantage in a crowd. "'Almost anything' implies everything up to but not excluding sexual favors."

The fact of the matter was that sexual favors had probably never been excluded so far as Lex went, but Clark didn't say that. He simply shook his head again. "That's why I said 'almost'."

"So I can add 'murder' onto the list of things he wouldn't do for his father?" There was almost a story in that, but... not quite. It was missing meat, and more importantly a reason to be published at all. She filed it away, and stayed quiet as she let Clark get them to their places before the currently empty podium.

"I wonder when he'll come out." Clark paused, his mouth pursing slightly, black frames of his glasses rising as his nose shifted. "Probably not until we're all chomping at the bit. He likes to time things that way, Lionel Luthor."

"Well, nothing screams convenience more than a ten AM press conference," Lois whispered to him, taking the tape recorder he'd brought, and checking to see that there were batteries in it. "We'll probably be waiting until noon."

"Considering he's been missing since last night, at least? Yeah. It's all about convenience." Because that was the way Lionel liked it, and the frustration on Clark's face nearly sang. "If he'd just tell us something..."

"Actually, rumor is that he went missing yesterday morning. But it's all rumor until we get word from the horse's mouth."

Yesterday morning. The look on Clark's face told her that she really should have left him at the Planet, one that somehow managed to mingle murderous and concerned and utterly afraid all into one. What was it about that farm boy?

Naivete. They had to be bottling Naivete at the source there in Smallville. "It could just be a business bluff, Clark..."

Or so it seemed until the crowd of reporters fell quiet, and Lois's eyes snapped up to the platform and podium. Lionel Luthor looked... worn. It wasn't a look many people had seen on him, and it wasn't one that looked good on him. Even Clark seemed to realize that, tensing beside her as the man began to speak.

"As of eleven thirty yesterday morning, my son, Lex Luthor, has been kidnapped." The statement brought a buzz of sound in reaction, and a raised hand halted it sharply.

Even with his worn, weary expression, he could still conduct the populous like a symphony, Lois thought to herself darkly. Maybe more of a Hitler than a conductor. After all, Metropolis was unquestionably Luthor's city.

"The kidnappers have contacted us, but not with any demands or requests. The Luthor Family, LuthorCorp, and LeXCorp, do not barter with common criminals."

"So what are you going to do to get him back?" Clark called out over all of the other questions being asked. Lionel's eyes turned on him, nearly cutting as they sliced past his glasses.

"Well, I suppose we'll just have to hope that Superman saves him, won't we?" Lionel answered flatly. There was a faint hint of edged purr beneath that voice that was enough to make Lois draw in a breath.

It seemed too serious for Lionel's usually flippant cool. The situation was well and truly out of his control, it had to be for him to say such a thing publicly, Lois decided.

He looked up towards the cameras in the back again, and spoke to them, just for them. Maybe to and for the kidnappers. "LuthorCorp's every resource is intent on finding my son, along with the Metropolis police. He had better be unharmed." A pause, and he seemed finished. There was a finality to the unspoken threat that hung in the air, but he pressed on. "If you can hear me, Lex, stay strong. Whoever it is will face the full fury of the law."

And of LuthorCorp, though that went unspoken as the man turned and marched away from the podium, ignoring the shouted questions that fell tunelessly upon his ears, against his back. Beside Lois, Clark was entirely pale, a ghastly and almost frightening green tinge to his face. "I think it's time for us to go," he told her weakly.

She wrapped fingers around his forearm, and tugged as she turned off the tape recorder that she'd only absently turned on in the first place. "Come on. We'll stop and get a coffee, and..." And there wasn't anything she could think of, as the media pressed after Luthor, to comfort her co-worker.

"I think I..." Clark paused, raised a shaking hand to his face. "You go back to the office, Lois. It's important. The write-up, it's important. I think I'll go back home..." It was obvious that Clark wouldn't get anything done that day, nothing real at any rate.

"Do you want me to... to talk with White for you?" He wouldn't be happy that Clark took a day off, but if she explained why he was taking a day off, Clark wouldn't get any grief about it.

His grateful expression nearly swamped her. "Would you? I just..." Clark was so sweet, so naive, so... Well, he really just wasn't cut out for anything hard hitting, was he? No, not Clark.

"Yes, I'll do it." She held up her free hand slightly to stop him from thanking her or just going on in his cute, but decidedly country-boy way. "Do you want a ride back to your apartment?"

"I think maybe I could use the walk." The abandoned way his eyes swept to his feet made her sigh slightly. He was so... Well. Clark. "It'll do me good."

"Okay. You have your cell phone on you, don't you? Promise to call me if you double-think my offer of driving you home." She let go of his arm, touch gentling off as she took a step away from him. Like he was a puppy who'd follow her home if she didn't leave soon...

"Yeah," Clark told her, giving her a faint smile. He still looked sickly green to her eyes. "I will. But I'm pretty sure I can make it back on my own."

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow, then, Clark." Maybe she'd see him tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow they'd have a corpse to report about, macabre findings of a gruesome death, and another tired press conference. Perry White was a frightening man on the best of days, but Lois knew that he'd forgive Clark under the circumstances.

It was with only a little twinge of guilt that she walked away from him, and hurried back to her car.

Dad wouldn't be proud, because he couldn't concentrate on the little things. Clark would've patted him on the back, might have told him it was or would be all right, but Clark was a bad liar, a bad bad liar and that would've been a telling lie. It wasn't going to be all right. It wasn't going to be all right because he'd been told that it wasn't.

It hadn't been so far. Big breaths hurt, arms screamed at him, his knee whispered blood, and the hurt-sick from being kicked wouldn't go away. His wrists and ankles ached, because maybe when the tape had been taken off it had peeled the flesh back. Raw trenches of red, that nothing could wash away, not even the pelting water that he was sitting under.

Water was supposed to clean, wasn't it? He remembered that from when he was little, when his mom would perch on a chair in a gilded bathroom, and supervise minor Napoleonic sea battles. Water was fun, and cleansing, and it gave life, and just maybe it was taking it from him again. He'd already died once in water, did that mean Clark would be there soon? Daddy wasn't going to save him, so Clark had to and he saved so many other people every day, couldn't he help? But maybe the two who had him were right. About it all.

Fingers were caressing over his scalp, smoothing down to the trenches of ache at his wrists, dragging a scream when they moved his arms for him. Intimate pain, fingers crawling over his skin like insects, crawling into him and violating what pride was left. He could hear the distant mewling noises, and wanted to laugh at the weakness that couldn't be, wasn't his. His weakness had been a saw-rasp of his voice, a calm plea for help that had slipped into a scream that only curdled his blood when he realized that the phone had been hung up.

Dad's voice, they'd been holding a cell phone to his ear and he'd heard his dad's voice. Dad had sounded scared, worried, and it was so good to hear. To hear familiar, to hear family, to think that maybe he was missed, missing, to know what he was known missing and missed. Words had rolled out of his mouth, that he needed to pay, pay whatever, or find him, save him, please...

And then they'd given him a stab to the balls with a stun baton. His genitals had threatened to crawl up into his body, but that wasn't to be had. It was too much like choice, and he wasn't facing any choices at the hands of his kidnappers. And when he'd found motion and lost pain for a brief moment, they'd let him babble at the dial tone.

He was a survivor. Daddy had promised him, no, told him that before. Only it had just been tape, a chair and an axe, simpler times, littler things to think of. One crazy woman that he hadn't been able to escape. Luthors didn't bargain with kidnappers. Luthors were strong, Luthors didn't cry or scream, or sob ragged hurting big breaths when thumbs pressed at the joint of his jaw and forced his mouth open. He got a drink, and started to retch when he realized what it was.

Maybe he was adopted. Maybe Dad overestimated him. He wasn't a survivor, and they didn't want money, they wanted him to hurt. Hadn't... hadn't the one told him that it didn't matter what he was, what he'd been and done in the past was coming back to him. He was an upstanding businessman, true philanthropist, tired, overworked, brilliant, lonely... didn't matter he'd been mostly on the straight and narrow since Smallville, since he made a friend. He'd been a rich little shit, a druggie, a sex fiend, a murderer, a manipulative criminal, and it was coming back, wasn't it?

He couldn't remember having ever felt dirtier than he did with water slipping over his skin, half-aware of the pain of being rhythmically jostled. One, two, one, two... If they thought they could get him that way, they were wrong. He was dirty, no one would bother to attend his funeral, no one was his friend or would help him, but he wouldn't give them the pleasure of reacting anymore. Oh no, not anymore.

And it'd be easier when he could move his arms to strangle whoever was crying.

It hadn't been easy for Clark; not at first. At first, he'd gone about doing things the way he'd done them in Smallville, saving people from others, from themselves. In Metropolis, though, that made him a suspect. That made people wary of him.

That made people think he was bad.

Okay, so Clark could deal with that on a personal level. He could. The problems came, though, when it began affecting his scholarships. His movements became limited because others were watching him constantly, hoping he'd screw everything up, tip his hand and reveal himself to be just what they all thought he was.

Guilty.

Criminal.

It had taken a great deal of fast talking to his mother to convince her that his idea would work. He'd slick back his hair, he'd learn to speak more deeply and with more authority. She sewed him a ridiculous looking costume from material they'd found lodged in his ship, a blue suit that fit him like a glove and what looked like red underwear to go with it. He'd laughed the first time he'd seen it, and tried the underwear on beneath the blue.

Martha had laughed at him.

He'd gotten accustomed to all of it, though, and it fit close enough that he could wear the better part of it beneath his own clothing. It was easy enough to slip the cape and utility belt out of his briefcase, replace them with his own work clothing. It was even easier to find somewhere high and out of the way to hide everything so that no one would be able to find it, and then he was off.

Superman.

It was hokey, sure. Kind of juvenile, even. It made him think of Lex's Warrior Angel comics, the ones that Clark knew he kept beneath his bed in Rubbermaid boxes so that he could read them before he slept, not the ones he kept firmly bound in plastic that had never been truly touched. Maybe that was half the reason that Clark did what he did -- because, really, Lex would expect it of him if he knew everything, wouldn't he? And Lex certainly knew enough.

Clark paused above LuthorCorp, hovering in thin air for a moment. He could remember the run from the Daily Planet, the one that had him smashing through thick plate glass. He had been terrified of heights then, but he'd still tried to save Lionel Luthor and his mother.

He hoped to God and the sun that he wouldn't be too late to save Lex.

As Superman, he had unchecked, unfettered access to the skies. In the early morning hours it was refreshing, soothing after a long patrol. But he didn't feel soothed as he scanned the city from above. There was little chance that Lex had been transported out of Metropolis. A city that size, he could be anywhere. More than flight would be needed to find him, more than intuition.

More, even, than super hearing or x-ray vision, and that was a tough one. He'd have to listen in and try to find out what Lionel Luthor knew.

Lionel was a real puzzle; he'd seemed devastated that Lex was missing, and maybe he was. Maybe he wasn't. God alone knew what was on that man's mind, and Clark had never been able to figure out any of it on his own. There was nothing for it but to listen in, though, and the best way to do that was to scan the LuthorCorp building until he found the man and then sneak close enough to listen to him. Even if he wasn't responsible, he surely knew details that hadn't been revealed.

It wasn't like Lionel Luthor to play all of his cards. He'd been in contact with the kidnappers, seemed confident that Lex was still alive; hell, that press conference was probably only one card out of the whole deck. Lionel was always more than he seemed on the surface.

On the surface, he was a man going through the motions of the day. It had taken concentration, but Clark had found him walking into the almost-penthouse office, settling down with a tense look of frustration, and the man who organized his security detail at his side.

"They took his Ferrari, I can't see how it's so hard to find a blue Ferrari -- what do I pay you for?"

The voice on the other end of the line was indistinct at best, giving half-hearted excuses. Clark's heart sped up at the knowledge, though; he could pick that car out of half a dozen just like it with ease. "Mr. Luthor, it could be hidden anywhere," the tinny little voice continued. "We're working on it, just give us time..."

"There isn't time, and I will have your head if you fail me, Reeves. You told me that you cleaned up Phelan's friends, and you were obviously wrong. Fail me in this, and you'll never work again." There were no more tinny excuses for Clark to overhear, because Lionel slammed the phone down on his desk.

Time to go into action, then.

Time to be Superman.

He floated in closer to the balcony and landed, tapping calmly enough at the door to catch Lionel's attention. Clark knew he wouldn't startle the man too badly; after all, you had to have a heart to have an attack, didn't you? And he knew he looked different enough dressed as he was, the blue of his suit masking the green of his eyes, wild hair slicked firmly back from his face.

For a moment, Lionel pivoted in his desk chair to peer at the figure looming in his window. Only Superman could have gotten up there on his private balcony, only Superman would have the imperiousness to knock despite his obvious intrusion.

"Come in, Superman," he invited without bothering to get up. Heavily lined eyes danced for a moment, sparking. "You were just the man I was hoping to see."

"So I hear, Luthor." Funny, how much deeper Superman's voice was than Clark Kent's. Funny that there seemed no connections between them at all. "You've lost your son."

"He seems to have misplaced himself, yes." There was almost sadness under the flat wry tones of Lionel's steady voice. His fingers curled over the arms of his chair, moving with the restlessness that the rest of his body refused to betray. "Are you here to offer your assistance?"

Superman gave the impression that he couldn't care less even as Clark's heart began to beat more quickly. "You implied that you found my help needful. I wouldn't let anyone just die... even a Luthor." He'd certainly spent time foiling a few Luthor plans, though, and they both knew it.

"And what do you want in return, Superman?" Lionel spread his hands as if he were a helpless man, and started to stand as if it had been cued. "I want my son found, before those barbarians kill him."

"Certain concessions, I think. You're driving him towards more definite morally bankrupt decisions. I want you to back off of that and let him try being a good man instead of a carbon copy of yourself." That didn't sound as if he knew him, did it? Surely not. All of that could be gleaned from the average newspaper, and Superman didn't have to tell Lionel that he'd find Lex no matter what.

"I force my son into nothing," Lionel drawled the very moment he was standing. "He's a philanthropist, isn't he? Scholarships and museums, and wild-life refuges. You wouldn't disappoint all of the people who leech off of him by letting him die, would you?"

"I wouldn't count on my help so much if you don't agree to stop pushing him. He's your son. You should be proud of him for what he is, not for what you want him to be." Kent stubbornness was unfailing in Clark. He had a little time, if Lionel felt he could stand to barter for Lex's life with him.

"Family values, taught by someone who isn't even human." Lionel lifted one arrogant brow, but his tired smile softened it exponentially. Even that was probably calculated. "Bring him home for me, Superman, and I'll stop pushing the boy. My men won't be able to find him in time, and the police are useless -- in fact, the police are at fault. There was once a rogue, dead policeman, who had two friends that allowed a hatred to brew in them for... oh, almost a decade now. And they have my son, somewhere in this city."

Lionel walked towards the balcony, and its still slightly open door. He was king of all the land that he could see, miles and miles of city that was his alone. "And if you can't find him... there isn't any way to redeem a corpse, is there?"

The faint sound of air pushed past him, and for a moment, the rich man thought that it must be some form of cross breeze sliding through the doors. For a moment, he thought Superman would tell him no.

Superman was gone, though, and that was all the answer that Lionel Luthor needed.

It was almost nice to be sitting down again. In a chair. Like real people did, only he didn't think anything was real. It would've been nicer if he wasn't cold, if he could've curled cold feet together without the whisper of blood and agony from his knee when he moved it.

All of his blood had to be draining out of that wound, pulled out by scrabbling fingers that had slipped under the flap of skin and caressed him to the bone. That was why he was so cold. And shivering. It wasn't fear. He wasn't scared anymore, not when there was a canyon of words looming out in front of him, a canyon of truth.

The gun against his head almost felt good. The flash of a camera, catching his humiliation, pictures printed out to show him what a worm he was, didn't feel good. But the gun held a warm promise. Daddy wasn't going to help him, Clark didn't care, and he was paying up in blood and agony for all of his crimes. When it clinked against his teeth, he opened his mouth, worshipped it with a shaky moan that made the not-Phelans laugh.

They'd laughed harder when they'd showed him the press conference. It was looped in the background now, his father telling him to be strong, and Clark's voice, fuck, Clark wasn't going to help him. Superman? Hah. Nietzsche taken too far.

Fuck Dad, and fuck Clark, and fuck Metropolis's savior. Fuck them all, and fuck being a strong Luthor. They hated him, polite hatred and only polite because of his money and influence.

"Let's finish him off soon, Conley," the one was saying, and maybe he'd said more, but Lex wasn't paying attention. "Before Luthor's dogs find us."

"They ain't gonna find us," Conley sneered. "Luthor ain't got the resources. You seen all of his men scrabbling all over the city, an' that flyin' freak ain't been heard from yet. Hey, rich boy. You think anybody's comin' to save you?" The shove of metal against teeth made Lex whimper, or at least, he thought it was him. Had he been the one screaming, too? Rich, red taste in his mouth, all salt and thick and metallic.

He mumbled something around the barrel, swallowing blood before he sagged back against the back of the chair, pulling away from the gun. Words sounded funny from his mouth, slurred with pain and detachment. It was his mouth, moving, wasn't it? His teeth biting out short words. "No. Said..." They'd said no one was coming for him, Lionel had said no one was coming for him.

"Said he don't deal with kidnappers," Conley said smugly, nodding to his partner. Friend. Something. "Sez you ain't worth it to him, in other words."

Bradley. Branled. Something. Something. He couldn't remember the man's name because there wasn't much to him, a creature of less substance than the gun near his head, than the man who'd held it. He just wished the guy's cock had held less substance.

"S... so?" So shoot him. So stop playing the game of misery, and bleeding him shivering and twisting his arms and making him hurt. No one cared, Daddy wasn't going to help, Clark was too special to help, and all he wanted was the hurting to stop.

He wanted to fly again. Just for a few moments, and if that was the last thing he ever felt it'd be wonderful. Before his soul got sucked down to the void where he was sure it was going to go.

"You know," a low deep voice interrupted, making the man with the gun in Lex's mouth jump. It hurt, jamming against the roof of his mouth again. "It's really not nice to hurt someone's kid just to get at his father."

"Oh, oh, SHIT!"

He barely slitted open his eyes, to see the screen that the press conference was looping on, and that other fellow running past it. Or trying to. But he closed his eyes, sagging back in the chair. His stomach had growled a few hours ago, and given up. It was probably a bad, bad lie, a waking dream. Everything else was, wasn't it?

Panic on the faces of his captors couldn't be real.

Couldn't be possible.

Someone was going to pull the trigger. Any. Minute.

Any minute, except for the noises and the screams and Lex was almost certain that they were made of the purest agony, and that he wasn't the one making them.

"I'll have you free in a minute, Lex. Just be still. Oh, God, you're bleeding so much..."

He didn't think he was making them. His mouth was closed, but he'd been confused about noises before. There was no question that he wasn't going to move, no matter who was giving the order; his arms hung down at his side when untied, the drag of unsocketed bone making him whine in the back of his throat again. "...'lark?"

"It's me. It's me. Shhh, Lex. Shhh. Just relax, relax... I'm going to be careful with you. Your muscles are too tense to get the balls back in the sockets, so I'm going to be really careful." It was Clark, it had to be Clark, those green eyes damp and so close and so pretty and Clark still had those gorgeous cocksucker's lips.

Clark was Real. Not even a dream could get that mouth so right, even when seeing it twist and frown felt wrong. "My... God." It was the two most coherent words he'd said in hours and hours and maybe days and days. He slumped a little on the bare chair, feeling aches and pains shock back to life with movement. Little things. He could concentrate enough to think of little things. Green eyes and a mouth made for smiles, and someone caring. Helping. And cold toes, what he wouldn't give to be warm again...

"It's okay. It's okay, Lex. I need for you to stay awake for me." Clark was pleading so prettily. So sweetly. "If you'll stay awake for me, I'll know you're all right." Hands wrapped him up in something warm, something red. What did that remind him of again? Oh, right. The riverbank. Why did it remind him of the riverbank?

Because it was warm, and red, and Clark had just had it over his shoulders and back; on the riverbank, like it was a cape. And now it was wrapped warm around him, only Clark didn't have one, too. He couldn't move his arms despite a half-hearted try, so he merely leaned into Clark, still sitting on that hard chair, taking deep breaths. It still hurt, but Clark smelled clean and maybe if he breathed enough clean he'd be clean again, too. "'m awake."

"Come on. I know you aren't really awake, or coherent, but you can stay with me." Why did it sound as if Clark was pleading with him? "I can get you somewhere fast, Lex, somewhere that everything can be fixed. Can you hang on for me? Can you bear it if it hurts? I don't want to hurt you, Lex..." No, Clark wouldn't want to hurt him. Clark was his friend.

Clark... was his friend, but he didn't have friends. Two unquestionable facts that faced off against each other in the battlefield of his brain. Clark lied, too, so maybe that was what made it possible for both of them to be facts. It was a good thing that Clark lied, because if he didn't have Clark... "It... it... 'sall right." Lies for a liar, because Clark would hurt him even though he didn't want to.

But Clark was going to try to fix him, and that was what mattered.

Even the easy, gentle motions of being gathered into Clark's arms hurt him, made him cry out in agony. It seemed to hurt Clark, too, or maybe Lex was just imagining that it was so, that Clark was making soft, quiet sounds to accompany his own pained gasps. It hurt so much. So much.

"We'll be going somewhere cold, Lex. Just hang on for me. I won't let you fall."

Cold. Cold, and he wanted so badly to be warm again. He tucked his head down, against the warm, odd fabric that Clark was wearing, had wrapped him in, and concentrated on every little thing that he could. Touch hurt, cold hurt, everything hurt. If Clark would just move and get whatever it was over with...

"Close your eyes," Clark whispered to him soothingly, and then Lex could have sworn that they were flying, soaring up into the air and through clouds. He knew that he had to be dead, then, that it was the only explanation. He'd asked Clark once if he thought a man could fly without wings, without anything between him and the ground, and Clark had said no.

But Clark had always lied and lied and lied.

It didn't change the reality that he was sure that he was flying. It wasn't the same as it had been in Smallville, soaring under his own control through the clouds, seeing things, seeing himself and the back of Clark's head in the moments before he'd gone back into himself. It was cold, and he could almost feel puffs of cloud bursting against his scalp, clinging like wet cotton candy before evaporating.

"Fly..."

"Everything will be all right," Clark told him over the whistle of the wind, making sure that he was tucked firmly, closely against his body. "Everything will be all right, Lex."

Strong arms wrapped tight, too tight, around him, not jostling him as they soared, even as it got colder and nipped at his limbs, at what he could feel of his limbs. His eyes slitted open, but it was cold and grey-white. Purgatory?

No. No, not quite purgatory, but something else, a looming creation of ice and fog and cloud, and God, if Clark was here, then maybe it was heaven. Maybe it was some bizarre form of hell where Clark would always be Innocent Mr. Smallville, going out on the town with him to goggle at things that were second nature to Lex. Who could tell?

No. Wasn't that reality? Heaven would be his every wish, his best wishes played out for him. Heaven would be if Dad had a heart, and if every day was a day in the president's office in the middle of a fall day in Smallville. When the fields lay almost barren and the sun was just warm enough to ward back the wind. But Hell would be all right, even if it was Innocence against Reality and cocksucker lips laughing at an odd joke over a few drinks.

Lex started to laugh, or maybe it was crying, and he closed his eyes to the thing he couldn't explain the existence of, closed his ears to the soft sounds of shush and soothing nonsense noises. He didn't even notice when he wasn't surrounded by clouds anymore, but ice, and tender white flakes.

"It won't take long," Clark promised him, stroking him tenderly, as if he was something worthwhile. Something necessary.

"C-cold." He tried to move into tender pain, wondering what wouldn't take long. The hurting was only growing worse from movement, and the cold was worse despite being pressed against warm warm Clark.

"I'll take care of you," Clark promised him, and then there was nothing but cold, cold and ice and a hard table beneath his back, and parts of him hurting that he wasn't even sure he knew he had before.

His back was forced straight as a board, shoulders down with it, and Lex decided that as soon as he could move his hands properly, he really was going to strangle whatever it was that was yowling. It was matched perfectly to the thrumming that was building in his skull, but didn't distract him well enough from the cold that was crawling over him.

Like fingers, like blood, creeping and slinking wherever he didn't want it to be, god, Clark had said he was going to help. And then just like that, it all started to slide off the table, or at least off of Lex's mind. It was like falling, only warmer, and hazier; the crawling sensation faded into nothing, and Lex was glad to go with it.

Waking was warmth and comfort and a cold nose, which sounded completely fucking insane. Maybe he was mad, Lex thought, but when his eyes opened, he realized that he couldn't quite be crazy yet. Not yet.

He was wrapped in furs and blankets, tightly packed feathers in the tick beneath him. His head was warm, and exploring fingers discovered that this was due to the fur cap snugly brought down around his ears and tied beneath his chin. That just left his nose and cheeks, and even those didn't feel so bad as they'd felt before.

Fingers.

Oh, fuck, he could move his hands. The realization was almost a giddy one, as he stroked over his nose and cheeks half to warm them, and half to wonder at being able to move again. Maybe it had been a bad bout of something. Drink, or food poisoning, or...

Or maybe neither idea -- not even hard drugs could explain furs and blankets, and an icily chilled nose. He twisted a little, spreading one palm out on smooth fur just for the sensation before he started to shift deeper into the warmth of it.

Hell must've frozen over. But being dead didn't seem so bad.

"I see you're awake now," a steady deep voice announced, one that made his head swim just a little more than it was already doing. His entire body almost swivelled in response to get a good look at the speaker.

"Clar..."

Black hair that was partially slicked back, but falling free of gel and styling, was the first thing to catch his eyes. Then green eyes, gorgeous jawline, high cheeks, and a tan that gleamed in the cold and crystal of the place.

And blue spandex, with an S emblazoned on the chest. Not Clark. Not, not Clark, but fuck, it was. If Lex had steadier footing in his own mind, he would've been quick to leap with accusations and triumph, anger over years of lies lashing out at his only friend. But he wasn't, and if he pretended he was in grasp of that much control, he'd only be kidding himself.

"I think I am," he finally answered warily.

"They worked you over pretty thoroughly." The Clark-yet-not-Clark moved closer to him, making him shift nervously amongst the piles of silk and cotton and fur. "I didn't want to take you to a hospital in the shape you were in. I'm not sure they could have done enough for you." Not soon enough to suit him, anyway, as was obvious from the expression on Superman's (Clark's?) face.

If he chanced what seemed suddenly so obvious, Lex was sure that he'd have a boldfaced lie tossed back at him. Lex couldn't risk that, not rationally. But highmindedness wasn't quite within his mind's grasp at that moment, so he let his tongue say what it wanted. "What happened, Clark?"

The faint pause almost hurt him, and then Clark's hand was on him, gently stroking bare flesh, the wide length of his shoulders. "A couple of Phelan's old friends kidnapped you. Your father asked for help. There was only one way I could give it. I..." Those green eyes darted away for a moment. "I always sort of figured if you knew, about this, that it would be the end of things. Our friendship." A strained moment of silence lingered between them. "Is it?"

Warm fingers on Lex's shoulders, shifting furs and blankets away from him. He didn't shift back again, but let himself draw a few deep breaths of the cold air. Little things were important to remember; like how the urge to choke on his own lungs was gone at last, and how Clark always had possessed warm skin. "After you came to Metropolis, Clark, I stopped asking you. If I hit you that day on the bridge. If I really did shoot you. Hundreds of questions... stopped. Because I was tired of lies..."

His smile, tense on his mouth, felt crooked. "I was really expecting another boldfaced lie."

"What would you have done, then? If I'd told the truth. If I'd said, yeah, you hit me with that car?"

"Let it go." Lex still felt tired, and the warmth was inviting even though he assumed that he'd be going back to Metropolis soon. "Maybe asked a few more questions. I don't know. I stopped pushing you for an answer, didn't I? Even when someone so... so very like you shows up wearing Alexander the Great's breastplate." Fingers he still felt giddy to move lifted, traced over the S on Clark's chest before dropping down to burrow under blankets again.

"Mom designed it. The material was in the... The ship." Everyone knew about Kal-El now. Superman. The symbol was as much a symbol representative of Lex and the things he'd told Clark as it was the house of El. "I think she made some sort of connection there somehow. Maybe after all of the problems with Phelan..." Phelan, who he'd wanted to kill. Phelan, who had deserved to die. Phelan, who could hurt Lex even now, a decade later.

Lex closed his eyes a little at the mention of his ex-protector's name. "It's a little comic-bookish, Clark. But effective..."

"It reminded me of you," Clark admitted, hands roaming. There was a slow purpose to the motion -- checking to be sure that his vision didn't lie, that Lex was all right. He knew what had been healed and what couldn't be, after all.

"Warrior Angel?" Lex settled back down, unprotesting and generally unresponsive to Clark's no doubt purely innocent petting. He was too tired to do anything even if it wasn't innocent... which it was, if he were still breathing. The fur behind his head tickled against the nape of his neck. Little things. He could process it all again, even if it wasn't as subconscious as it had been before. But how long before? "Clark... what day is it?"

The way green eyes cut away from him was a warning. "Wednesday." Clark looked back at him, carefully making sure that he was well-covered. "I've let your father know that you're alive, and that I brought you here so that you could recover. He was quite concerned."

Almost a week. "I'll bet he was." A lot could happen in a week, in a day or two; the world had ended and then rebuilt itself in that less than a week. "What happened to... them?" He wasn't going to bother giving them the names he could only half recall. "The pictures...?"

"Everything's been taken care of." It was a promise from Clark, and for all of Clark's lies, he kept his promises. "I made sure of it." He didn't tell him that he'd killed the two men with quick, vicious motions of his hands. Maybe he didn't have to say it.

It was the first thing Lex assumed, after all. That was his way of dealing with things, so it was the first possibility that came into his mind -- and was followed by realizing how hard that had to have been for Clark. Clark wasn't a murderer, Clark wasn't made for mop-up jobs... "Then I can't thank you enough, Clark. Thanks." He swallowed, half concentrating on the cool air and Clark's eyes.

"You'll be all right." That wasn't a promise; it was spoken hopefully instead, the faint glimmer in Clark's eyes obvious. "You're my friend, Lex. I wouldn't let anything happen to you."

But something -- not anything, anything probably would've been more gentle -- had happened. Only Clark hadn't let it happen. His father and that fucking press conference had let it happen, had drilled into his mind thoughts that he thought he'd gotten past in his youth. "I'm lucky to have a friend like you, Clark." Lex curled fingers into the fur under his hand, testing it. "Don't tell me... That you've been here the entire time? The Daily Planet..."

"Lois is covering for me. Sort of," Clark scrambled to say. She'd covered for him that first day, it was true, and he'd called in sick the days after. Thank God it was flu season. Perry White didn't want to see him, or even hear from him, until the air he breathed was germ-free.

"Good. I know you love your job." The idea of being able to move without pain was finally filtering through his head, and he daringly shifted the leg that he knew had been ruined with pain and thick fingers touching down to the bone. No problem with it at all. "Are you sure we're not dead, Clark? Because I feel pretty fucking good right now, for having slept for a few days."

The smile was one he remembered, brilliant and sweet and relieved. "I'm sure. You've been in the Fortress's Matrix. It fixed everything." It hadn't given him back his hair, hadn't healed the little scar on his mouth that made Clark want to lick it, but that was all right. Those were all things he believed to be firmly Lex, and maybe that was half of the reason that Jor-El and Lara hadn't healed them.

"Amazing." It should've taken weeks and more drugs than he'd had in his system in a long time, to get him to the point he was at -- testing joints and checking that everything still worked. His groin had stopped aching randomly, so they must have fixed the damage the electric prod had done. "I... am just going to keep thanking you if we continue talking about this. You've saved my life again."

"Lex..." The faint lingering traces of worry remained on the edge of Clark's voice as he leaned down, kissed Lex's forehead. "I need you to promise me you won't tell anyone. About this. About me." About Superman.

"I promise, Clark." He'd suspected for years now, and it was only in those first few, too-eager to prove himself years that he'd slipped up and hinted to others what he knew. When Clark had gone to college, he'd stopped. And watched Clark become more careful, less notable until Clark seemed like an ordinary joe.

Clark would never be an ordinary joe. Ordinary joes didn't press kisses to their best friend's head, beneath the edge of a fur-hat that Lex was fleetingly sure looked idiotic.

At least his head was warm.

"I trust you." He'd waited years to hear those words from Clark, forever, since Clark had thought that Lex had shot his own father. It was enough to make him shake a little, which brought on concerned questions, the tucking of furs closer once again. "Are you cold? Now that you're awake, I can take you home..."

Trust and touch and warmth were overwhelming him, and Clark would never think such supposedly normal things would bring out that reaction. Home... when he went home, he'd have to hit the ground running, back to intrigue and games with his father and slog through the daily grind. And the Media would still be all over his disappearance, and whatever Clark had done about the kidnappers. Was he cold? Yes. Did he want to go home? No. Would it be selfish and weak to not lie? Yes.

"I suppose... that I've been away long enough," he drawled. "And Clark Kent can't call in sick to work forever, can he?"

"Sadly, no," Clark informed him with a wry smile. "But you can stay here as long as you want. It won't be a problem for me to go back and forth during the day." The Fortress wouldn't let Lex get up to anything too dangerous, after all.

Clark hoped.

"You know, there've been days where I get off the phone with you and expect to turn around and find you standing behind me." The twist of Clark's lips was encouraging for Lex, as was the offer of letting him stay. Just a little longer, just long enough to try to get his thoughts to work again. Little things, he had to note all of the little things; foremost was that the inside of his head felt like a filing cabinet that had been let loose in a centrifugal fugue. It wasn't such a little thing.

"I think... that I need a day or so to think."

"It's yours." Clark gave time as freely as he gave everything else, and never mind that he was dressed in that silly Superman outfit, never mind the shield on his chest that marked him as Alexander's. Marked him? No, maybe not. If only Lex could think!

"Thanks." He shifted, palm to fur for a moment, and pulled himself slowly up sitting. Clark was still close and warm, contrast of cold air settling against his skin. He wanted to wrap his arms around him, suck the heat out of him and have it for himself, always... "Are there... is there any way I can get some clothes?"

"I'll bring you some of anything you want when I come back," Clark promised him. The clothes Lex had been wearing had been covered in blood and piss and God only knew what else. He wouldn't show those to him.

"Just a shirt and pants would do." Anything he wanted was amusing, a little warm thought to add to the pile he was gathering in his mind, like hot coals. He was getting a crick in his neck from looking up at Clark's eyes. "Are you going to sit down, Clark, or is looming really that comfortable?"

The way those green eyes moved away shyly, blue-shadowed by the suit Clark wore, said a great deal. "Do you want me to sit beside you?" he asked. It was almost as if Clark expected him to reject him because of what he was -- Superman.

"Yes," he answered patiently enough. "This is your... house. I'm not going to ask you to sit on the floor." The floor that glistened like the ice-sheened walls. The island of blankets, sheets and furs was a hundred times more inviting, but needed the color that Clark would bring to it.

"I don't get cold," Clark told him gently. "I've never really been naturally cold in my life. Sweaty, sure, hot. Suffering, even, that once, and any time that Kryptonite was near, but... Never cold." He settled down gingerly upon the bed that he'd brought in just for Lex. Everything for Lex. "When you didn't call, I got worried."

"I'm sorry I worried you." He'd been pretty fucking worried about himself at the time, Lex noted with a spark of amusement as he slumped comfortably into the bedding. And leaned, just a little, towards Clark. "Believe me, I would've preferred that I could've called."

Slowly, tentatively, an arm slid around his bare shoulders. "I won't let you be hurt, Lex. You're my friend." Friend and more, really, because Clark loved him, loved their Thursday nights, loved everything about him.

Or at least, Lex thought he did. But he couldn't quite trust thoughts that conflicted with reality, with things he'd always accepted as facts. That didn't stop him from twisting a little, resting his chin on the slick fabric of Clark's costume, the hard muscle of his shoulder. Clark was a white hat, he was a grey hat, his father was a black hat, and someday there'd be another big shoot-out at the O-K Corral...

"I think I'm going to... to go back to sleep again."

"All right. I'll stay here with you for a while," Clark promised him, and the faint rush of breath rustling against his hat and cheek was soothing. It was familiar. It was something that he knew and maybe wanted, not cold. Not like before.

Sleep came to him slowly, creeping up behind his eyes as the world tipped and tilted and pivoted despite being anchored tightly and warmly against his only friend. Little things kept him drifting on the edge of it, until he'd thought through them to his contentment and let Clark's presence seep into background music for his slumber.

It had been early morning when Clark slipped out of the nest of furs he'd created for Lex, pulling them warmly around the still-sleeping man as he stood and stretched. He'd made sure to place the Fortress in roughly the same time zone as Metropolis. It worked -- more or less -- and never mind what day it really was there. Metropolis was more important, and if he didn't make it there within the next hour, he was fairly certain Perry White was going to have his head.

On a plate.

He'd called in sick too many days, and Lex... Lex would probably sleep more. And even when Lex woke up, the Fortress's AI could probably keep him... not entertained, but fascinated.

It wasn't so hard for Superman to fly into his city, and then become Clark Kent again. A raising of the voice, ruffling of the hair, cheap glasses and an off the rack suit, and it was done.

Clark had always wondered how completely stupid someone would have to be to miss the fact that he was Superman. He didn't question luck, though; better to just be glad that they didn't notice and let it go at that.

When he entered the floor of the Planet that he worked on, it was an afterthought that he should pretend to still be a little sick. It might have kept Lois away for just a moment longer, instead of launching her out of her desk with a flurry of questions.

"I dropped by your apartment and you weren't there! Just where have you been, Smallville?!"

"My Mom came and decided I wasn't well enough to be alone," he rasped out, brows rising slightly in surprise. "She took me back home to recuperate."

"Jesus. You had me worried, disappearing like that! Tell me you watched the news while you were ill, Clark." She turned away, apparently satisfied with his answer, and was already walking towards their desks with clear expectation of him following her. "Luthor's been found, but no one knows where he actually is. You wouldn't happen to know, would you...?" Since he was obviously part of the man's inner circle, but Lois only let that lay implied between them.

He hated it when Lois ambushed him, but he followed along all the same. "Got a call saying he was found and that he was safe," Clark grated. "We kept the news off, mostly. I was feverish a lot, so."

"You look pretty healthy, but you sound like hell." Boy, if those words were supposed to make him feel better, he was glad that Lois thought of him like a friend. "So you don't know anything of what happened?" She perched herself in her chair, picking up a spoon to drag through her favorite coffee cup.

"Just that he's safe. That's all anyone would say. I don't even know who called," he admitted, shaking his head. Mmm, coffee would be good. Humans liked coffee when their throats were sore, didn't they? Right. So, he'd just have some, and smile at Lois. That always seemed to work, especially if he seemed a little nervous. It made her happy.

It was the goofy smile that Lex teased him about, that had made Lana and Chloe smile back at him. And it always softened some of Lois's edges, cut back at her quick words. "Then let me fill you in on reality, Smallville. Lionel Luthor had a short press conference Saturday declaring that while his son was safe and had been found, he'd been moved to an undisclosed location by his rescuer, and was presumably recuperating. Then he gave Superman a backhanded thank you. But the odd part..."

Lois lifted her spoon to her mouth, absently clinking it against her top teeth when she licked it clean. "The kidnappers were never brought to any of the police stations. And then there's that fire last Friday night in the industrial area. Two bodies recovered, a lot of electronic equipment."

"Wow," Clark murmured. "Sounds like somebody's covering something up." And somebody had been -- HE had been, covering up whatever they had done to Lex, because no one deserved to know. Lex didn't deserve to have pictures and videotapes strung all over the news channels the way they surely would have been.

But Lois didn't know that, and would probably never suspect that he could possibly be capable of such a thing. Let alone that Superman could do that, for a Luthor. "I've been investigating that, but all the leads I find go right into a black-hole. Someone is out there tidying up a messy cover-up, and I think it's Daddy Luthor. The police reported that some of the media on the equipment was recoverable for evidence, and then just hours later, it wasn't, and what equipment? There'd never been any equipment found, that was just apparently a misreport."

She rolled her eyes -- so at least one person wasn't buying it.

"So, you're thinking if you go in and do a little prowling, you might turn up something useful?" Sometimes, Lois was way too much like Chloe for Clark's own good. "Lois..."

"And I was thinking," she went on, ploughing right over his the common sense that he'd been about to share with her, "that you could interview Lex when he gets back. Sort of a straight from the horse's mouth about what happened. Because Superman supposedly rescued him, but somewhere in there, the kidnappers were killed, burnt to a crisp, and all the evidence of what was going on disappeared."

"I'm not going to ask him questions about this, Lois. I mean..." Maybe that was a little strong for Clark-Kent-reporter. "He's my friend," Clark finished weakly. "And I'm sure this has been traumatic for him..."

"Trauma can be talked out," Lois countered, after she took pause at the strength of Clark's reaction. In the fight of moral issues versus being a good reporter, Clark always did take the higher road, but not usually with that snap in his voice. "Clark, he's the only witness to whatever happened. You know as well as I do how valuable a news source that makes him..."

"Kent! Over here, in my office, now!"

Today was so not going to be his day.

Taking a deep breath, he nodded at Lois before walking away from her. He could talk to Lex, make a few conclusions of his own, scrape together a story that held no resemblance to what had actually happened. That would be all right, he supposed. For now, he had to face Perry White, and that was enough to put the fear of God in anyone, wasn't it?

"Yes, sir?" he asked at the door to the editor's office.

"If you take another sick day in the next two months, Clark, you'll be walking into the unemployment line. Do you know how much work you left hanging while you were out? You've got a computer at home, you could try to use it!" Sharp words, threats, but the editor just liked to put the fear of god in his reporters. And a fear of run-on sentences. Clark reminding himself that it was just for show didn't help when White, still half-snarling, launched himself out of his seat. "I expect a full day's work from you, Kent, and for you to steer Lane back to the land of sane, rational reporting!"

There was just something about Perry White when he was looking at you like that was enough to put the fear of God (or at least, the Editor) in even a man as strong as Clark. "Yes, sir!" he snapped out quickly, faking a hefty cough just behind it.

Perry knew he was faking it. Just from the tilt of his far from neat eyebrows when they crawled downwards towards the bridge of his nose. "I expect your human interest story before the day is over, and then keep Lois in line. Go on, get a cup of coffee and get going!"

Right, then. When God... er, Perry spoke, Clark jumped. The man might as well have said 'frog'. "Yes, sir!" Who knew how he'd manage to straighten out Lois. That was like asking a normal man to stop a speeding train! Still, it was part of his job, he supposed, or at least everyone else seemed to think so. Some days he thought he'd only been hired because he seemed so staid -- was he expected to be Lois's voice of reason?

She must've thought it was amusing, because she was smirking into her palm when he came towards their desks. "You're not in too deep trouble, are you?"

"I am to have everything in before deadline, and... Keep you from going wild looking for Lex." Well, honesty didn't hurt when you could give it. Plus, it'd give her something else to fret over, and that was all right.

Her eyes flared for just a moment before they narrowed in accusation. "Did you tell White that I was going wild? I'm just innocently sitting here and sifting through my research, Smallville..." There was an offended note in her voice, probably there in play, but she did turn back to her computer.

"I said four words," Clark asserted, "and they were all 'yes, sir'."

"That's two words. Didn't they teach you math at Met U?" Clark could feel the weight of her questions and curiosity lift from him as she placed fingers on the keyboard and started to call up her research.

"I knew I was forgetting something," he sighed blandly. "Let sleeping dogs lie, Lois. Leave Lex alone for a while. I don't think he's ready to be welcomed back by questions yet, just at a guess."

"But you will tell me when he comes back to town? And interview him, Clark? I'd like to be there... but I promise I could keep quiet." She took a sip of her coffee, looking at Clark from the corner of her eye, gaze predatory.

"I'll let you know when I know something." Right. Sure he would. He wasn't letting anyone near Lex until the other man was ready for that, and just at the moment, Clark really wasn't quite sure when that would be. "And you'd better, because if you upset him, I... WILL whine to Perry."

"That's playing dirty, Smallville. It's taken you long enough to learn how to play dirty..."

"Yeah, well," Clark replied as he began to work on a story about several little old ladies and a house in the crumbling historic district, "I've learned from the best." The best. That was Lex, not Lois as implied, and he'd see him again tonight.

Tonight...

He had cold toes.

Lex twitched them, and they felt colder, pressing down with more weight on the glossy floor. He expected it to be slippery, but standing proved his expectations were false. It was smooth like marble, and his dry feet gripped it well as he took his first steps away from the nest of bedding that he'd been lounging in for hours.

Clark's leaving had woken him up, but for the longest time he'd been unable to do more than curl up on himself, and lay there. Not thinking, not moving, merely existing and savoring warmth and comfort. Hunger had finally started to chew at him, and that was what had driven Lex to move. He selected the largest fur on the bed, then wrapped himself up in it like some explorer with a cape.

A voice from out of nowhere startled him nearly right out of that fur. "You are the one known as Lex-Luthor." It was a female voice, fairly unimpassioned. "You are human. Food will be desired."

The fucking ice had a voice, he thought, and felt a tingling sense of wonder crawling up his spine. Alien technology, no doubt a thousand times more powerful than the most imaginative movies and science fiction books could dredge up. And it spoke better English than a lot of the people he knew. Lex pulled the fur tight around himself again, and walked towards an archway that he assumed would take him to another high ceilinged cavern of a room.

"Who are you?"

"I am the memory of Lara, the mother of Kal-El," he was told pleasantly enough. "I have been programmed to protect and help Kal-El in accomplishing all that he wishes." All sounded like an awful lot, didn't it? "Food is available for you."

"Thank you." He found himself glancing up at the walls for a speaker, or a possible source of the voice, hoping that its idle resonance wasn't merely in his head. "Where should I go?"

"There will be seating available directly before you, Lex-Luthor." He could almost hear the dash in his name, the strange pause that seemed to make him someone other than just Lex or just a Luthor. "Kal-El will return in approximately seven point three five hours."

How the voice knew that, Lex wasn't going to ask. He returned his eyes to looking straight ahead, and there was a laughably glossy table straight ahead of him. And food on it, food that smelled inviting and home-cooked. Not mansion cooked, or cooked by some overpaid chef, but the smells he had associated with the Kent's kitchen. A thought skittered across his mind as he walked towards the table: laughter and smiles smelled like warm food that verged on burnt.

"Could you just call me Lex?"

"I will do as you ask. Kal-El has placed me at your disposal for the extent of your time in the Fortress." The Fortress... That was the second time Lex had heard the ice palace that seemed to surround him referred to by that name.

Fortress, Fortress... it tickled at his mind, a half-memory from years ago. It seemed familiar, and was without question linked to something about Clark, but he couldn't place just what. There were days that Smallville seemed centuries away, and that was one of those days.

"Can you tell me about Kal-El?" He knew Clark, but Kal-El was a facet he wasn't familiar enough with, Lex reminded himself as he slipped into one of the metal chairs at the table. It was as an afterthought that he brought his legs up into the chair with him, close to his chest, and wrapped the fur tighter to keep warm.

"Kal-El is known to the human world as Clark Kent. Kal-El is a refugee from the planet Krypton. The sun in that system exhausted its supply of nuclear fuel. Its core collapsed, destroying our planet and all of the others in the system. His father, Jor-El, and his mother, Lara Lor-Van, could not bear to see their child die. As a result, Jor-El searched for a compatible planet to host their son. Earth was located, and decided best despite its yellow sun. His vessel came to rest approximately twenty-two years, four months, three days, and six point nine five hours ago in the place known as Smallville." The AI paused as if considering the matter. "Is this the information which you require?"

So many questions answered in one fell swoop. After he'd eaten, he'd have to rest and work on reorganizing his thoughts so there'd be someplace to put those tidy tidbits of thought. "Yes, and thank you. If I can think of anything else, I'll ask you." He snuck a hand out of his cocoon of fur, and picked up a piece of bread from the nearest plate. "How is this food still warm, since it's so cold here?"

"It is the nature of the Fortress to see that the wishes and needs of Kal-El are met in all ways." All ways, which must mean that Clark had told the thing to take care of him at some point.

But since when had taking care of him been a 'need'? Did Clark need to protect him, the way he needed Clark to believe in him?

Lex chewed his bread -- warm, moist in the way that only oven fresh things were -- and reached for what looked suspiciously like lunch meat. Simple food, true, but he wasn't sure his stomach could handle anything fancy, and the pie off to one side was a hundred times more tempting than champagne or pate. Where had his thoughts been...?

Right. Clark. Well, that wasn't hard to figure out, but being hit between the eyes with so much information after having received so little for so long made it difficult to sort things out immediately.

"Is the food acceptable?" Lara asked him. "It is a poor imitation of Kal-El's memories. Martha-Kent has more acceptable apple pies." The fact that Clark's 'mother' -- AI, whatever -- didn't seem peeved by this was vaguely amusing.

"It's quite good," Lex complimented the voice, swallowing the bread and meat. He let that settle in his stomach for a moment before he reached for the pie. "If it's a poor imitation, a good imitation would be very impressive."

The pause that rang for a moment seemed audible. "Kal-El has found you trustworthy," he was told finally, as if this was some statement of great significance.

After almost ten years of lying, it was significant. Clark trusted him to keep the secret that he'd been keeping for years, trusted him with the truth and not evasive lies, and trusted him in his Fortress. How many people would think of trusting a Luthor alone in a ramshackle apartment, let along a top secret lair that could put Warrior Angel's to shame?

He cut himself a piece of the apple pie, and there was a satisfying burst of cinnamon and apple in the air. "I'm glad that he has."

"It would be well to have your assurances that you will continue to be trustworthy." The words were, as always, flat, distant, and yet Lex knew there was a dark edge behind them, a threat. The Fortress, the AI... It was all about protecting Clark.

Christ, he had to defend himself to everything, didn't he? Everything Lex did had to be justified, and in that moment it hung like a sword over his head. Any of the justifications he could give for why he could be trusted would be as hollow to the AI as they were to real people. "I have every plan of continuing to be trustworthy."

"We believe that this will be the case, Lex-Luthor." Back to the funny paused double name. "We are grateful that you will be Kal-El's trusted one." Whatever that meant.

More thoughts to mull over. He'd always half-fancied his mind like an hourglass. Measured, steady, predictable. It ticked off the seconds of eternity for him, organized and dependable. Only now it had leaked all over the place, and the damnable AI was throwing new an unexpected grains of sand onto the pile he was trying to sweep together.

Lex took his time eating, drinking water, chewing at the pie. Imitation food indeed. He guessed he would've paid six dollars for a piece of pie that was so perfectly balanced between sweet and spice, the tang of barely ripe apples. Good food and idle thoughts distracted him until, in his own time, he returned to the half-thought he'd had.

"What did you mean by 'trusted one'?"

The word that spilled from nonexistent lips was one that he did not recognize immediately, and it seemed obvious that the AI was contemplating a better explanation. Finally, it settled on saying, "There is no Earth comparison."

"None at all?" he asked with a little surprise. Lex had eaten his fill, and was half-contemplating either heading back to bed or exploring. "Really? That's a bit hard for me to grasp."

"My knowledge of this world is a reflection of Kal-El's knowledge. He considers you his trusted one." Again, the vague word sounded, teasing at the edges of Lex's mind. "Our belief is that he does not yet understand this."

"Then I'm not in the dark all by myself." Lex's voice gave away a little of the internal satisfaction he felt as he stood up, feet on the cold floor again. He let the curious scientist in him run on autopilot, just like he let his legs carry him back towards the warmth of the bed. "Can you describe the concept in Earth terms at all?"

"Not within the confines of Kal-El's conceptions," the AI admitted. "If you would permit me to scrutinize your own mind, perhaps an explanation could be made more easily."

He'd been comfortable with the disembodied voice, but at the first mention of scrutinizing his mind, all comfort with it slipped away. "If you're looking for a particular word, you should try a dictionary instead," Lex murmured as he knelt on the bed for a fleeting moment and then shifted back furs and blankets. There was no need for him to panic, was there? The AI had asked for permission. Surely if he didn't grant it, it would leave him alone.

No amount of curiosity was worth having his mind violated or 'scrutinized'. Particularly after the past few days.

"No dictionary will provide the appropriate concept." The AI spoke as if it knew for certain, and it probably did, with Lex's luck. "We would be careful not to harm you, Lex-Luthor. Lex." It seemed to remember his request of name change.

All in all, he couldn't shake the feeling of acute discomfort that was crawling at the back of his neck. The AI didn't get a response until Lex had shifted down into the bedding, fur and blankets pulled up to his neck.

"Go on, then. Do it."

There was no immediate discomfort; only light, spilling vaguely over him almost as if it might be considered natural sunlight. It was too bright to be natural since Lex had seen no sign of sun yet, but it was not painful, either.

"Ahhh," the AI sighed slowly as the light faded away, leaving Lex in the vaguely lit twilight. "The Earth concept is the same as Krypton; the words are more limited, however. We see."

"And what do you see?" It was almost like Clark's usual evasiveness, answering without actually answering him. Could machines, technological creations, talk circles just as well as humans? Lex supposed he was finding out.

"The concept is similar to that of lovers; beloved ones, adored ones, trusted ones. Kal-El lacks the understanding of this concept due to the nature of his upbringing."

"Oh." That made Lex wonder how he had an understanding of the concept, but he wasn't going to ask how the AI had sorted that out of the mess inside his head. "I'm honestly not surprised that he didn't have words for it." And he oddly wasn't shocked that Clark thought of him that way.

It went a long way to explaining why Clark had reacted the way he had to the kidnappers, and then his nervousness at being close to Lex that... morning, or the previous evening. Time was still busily blending itself together without Lex's permission.

"Kal-El's raising was more conventional than that of Lex-Luthor," the AI said with an almost delicate precision that seemed to imply that Lex knew things that the average person would not. That was probably true, as well, but he still couldn't imagine that homosexuality or the implication thereof could have honestly been missed by Clark for twenty-five years.

Then again, Jonathan Kent had raised him.

"Obviously," he murmured, half to himself and half to the AI. Did that mean that the burden of control fell to him by default? It was hard to believe that Clark had been oblivious to years of flirting, and half-outrageous suggestions. But Clark was... something. Something else, special and a level above other humans. Not even human, but that hadn't quite registered with Lex's mind; it was going to take some time to adjust to. Clark was more human than most of the people Lex met in the board rooms.

But it was still ludicrous for Clark to have never realized that he was the only person Lex let into his personal space; hadn't he ever wondered why? Anyone else would've put a hand on Lex's chest and drawn their arm back with a nub, whether he was disoriented or not.

Well, Clark was Superman, so maybe he didn't ever worry about drawing back bloody stumps, even from irritable Luthors.

"May I assist you in any other way, Lex-...?" The pause was still there, but it was now merely amusing.

"Based on what you've learned from me, would you say that Clark is 'closeted', or merely unaware?" A lot of things were amusing. Pauses in his one syllable name, talking to the air, home-made pies that came from thin air and being warm and disgustingly safe. It was the antithesis of Luthor, to lay and sleep and doze if there wasn't an ulterior motive behind it. Some seduction for money, or ground to be gained by being alluring.

"Kal-El lacks awareness of the nature of the relationship," the AI decided. "Kal-El understands that things are different between Lex-Luthor and Kal-El, but he does not understand the difference."

"All right." Words for himself that time, as he closed his eyes to the twilight brightness of the cavernous room. "I can handle that." Slowly, and however he liked. It gave him control by default, and there was no denying that control, even the illusion of controlling and guiding something again, made him feel better. Not that Clark had ever been controllable. But with his ignorance, the... 'relationship' lay in Lex's hands to guide. "Thanks."

"You are very welcome, Lex-Luthor. Do you desire rest?"

"Mm." A noncommittal answer, because despite closed eyes and comfort, Lex's mind was racing. If he wasn't careful, it was easy to slip back to thinking of little things, of everything that had been said to him by those two...

It was even easier for the AI to nudge him into light sleep, dreamless and easy. "Sleep well, Lex son of Lionel, House of Luthor," the woman's voice whispered lightly, and then it was gone.

Done. Thank God, he was DONE, and Clark was sure that if he didn't hand in his article and leave, he'd implode from the sheer irritation. One more speculation on where Lex might be, and he'd shriek like a girl afraid of a mouse.

He'd have to deal with that bridge when he crossed it, or she set it on fire, though. There wasn't any way to preemptively warn her off. Or maybe there was; he'd have to think about it.

Lois had been oblivious to his building annoyance. She chattered through lunch about the warehouse fire, and then after lunch blathered endlessly about where billionaires went on retreat for fine medical care. Switzerland? The Bahamas? There'd been enough jokes about the things that money could buy to last Clark a lifetime, even if she had been trying to be polite about it.

After all, she'd never even tried to hide her dislike of all things Luthor; but it went from vehement muttering to probing speculation as she realized her partner was as close to one of the Luthor family as an outsider human could be. There were tons of reports that she'd read through, about the Luthors and Kents, marvelling about how fate just kept smashing the families together.

Poor family, rich family, and of course, more what money could buy jokes and teases.

She was very very lucky that he had managed to learn some restraint of the incredibly heated Kent temper over the years. He was starting to fret, though; if she kept on, she was going to find out about all of his various rescues and perhaps even find pictures of him from his younger years. That was a bit worrisome, considering the fact that she idolized Superman so.

What money couldn't buy Lex was the obvious state of peace that he was in, lounging in the bed very much like Clark had left him early that morning. He'd pulled the hat off at some point, and had it fisted in one sleep-loose hand. It was enough to make Clark breathe a sigh and smile, shaking his head slightly. Lex looked so comfortable, so happy. Not at all like he'd been days before, and that was a sobering enough thought.

He settled upon the edge of the bed and reached out a hand slowly. "Lex," he said, hoping that would be enough to wake him. "I've brought you clothes."

"Thanks." Lex sounded too awake for someone who'd just been sleeping, and his eyes opened too easily. He hadn't been sleeping at all, but just laying there; the smile on his face, not his 'people are watching' smile, didn't yet fade as he started to sit up. "You look tired, Clark."

"It was a long day," Clark told him, wrinkling his nose. "Lois knows that I know you. She's been digging up interesting tidbits and talking about how odd it is ever since."

"Would an interview shut her up?" Lex shifted in the bed, sitting upright with smooth grace. He slipped fingers towards Clark, as if it were the most natural, comfortable thing in the world to be doing, smile tipping towards self-amused. "It worked with Chloe. I'm loathe to reward obnoxiousness in reporters, but..."

"But I don't want you to," Clark told him solemnly, enjoying the touch against his thigh. "You shouldn't have to relive the details just to satisfy Lois, Lex. It won't shut her up, it will just make her louder when she wants something else."

Lex sensually rubbed one finger over the line of a muscle, repeating the motion over and over. "Actually, I was thinking that I could just be obnoxiously evasive. My father's worn her down to the point where she doesn't even bother to get anything in depth out of him."

"Takes a lot for Lois to reach that point." God, Lex was touching him, and it felt better than anything had ever felt before now. "You shouldn't do anything you don't want to do, Lex."

The idle fingers on Clark's leg never paused."Since when do I do things that I don't want to, Clark?" Lex's mouth was wry as he gave Clark a candid expression -- but in blue eyes and in Lex's voice, there were layers of meaning. He definitely wasn't just talking about Lois and being interviewed.

"Since never," Clark admitted, mouth curving upwards in a definite smile. He looked good, even in that silly suit. Why on earth would he have worn it? Oh, right. Because of the flying thing. "You're too stubborn for your own good."

Gleaming blue, red and gold. Naturally unnatural colors that tainted the brilliant green of Clark's eyes towards blue. "My stubbornness has served the both of us well." Lex's hand flattened, palm down against the muscles of Clark's leg. "When we get to Metropolis, you and I need to talk."

"A... bout this?" Clark said uncertainly, hand moving to press against his chest. He sighed deeply. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Lex. I didn't think you'd want to know."

Lex's eyes faltered a moment, and he glanced up at some point past Clark for too long a moment. "Clark, I'm not even going to pretend I just followed what you said. You're my best friend -- why wouldn't I want to know?"

"Pete knows," Clark said slowly. "Knew. It tore him apart, dragged him down, made him old before he should have been. Made him serious." He gave a deep, heavy sigh. "Dad worried about it every day. Hypertension. Blood pressure medication. Heart attack. Why would I burden you with something like that?"

Clark was talking about what he understood; at least Lex had been able to decide what page Clark had been on. His fingers on his friend's thigh tapped for a moment, and then withdrew as he moved to stand. It was impossible to seduce a man when there was a gulf of a thousand lies and betrayals between them.

The floor was still cold under his toes. "Because I was fifty up here," an idle gesture to one temple, as he reached with his other hand for the clothes that Clark had brought him, "before I turned twenty. For Pete, for your father, this place and what you are and do are too extraordinary; they knew you when you were 'normal'. I've never held expectations of your normalcy."

"I would never want to do anything that could hurt you, Lex," Clark said seriously. "I know you've been curious. I know you've done research. I know..." He paused, took a deep breath. "That you knew about the key. Wondered about the caves. Wondered about me." He had known all of those things and yet he had kept quiet and not given away his secret. "You're so serious sometimes..."

"You say that as if it's a bad thing." Lex slipped a pair of his boxers on -- and they were unquestionably his own. They didn't get worn unless it was particularly cold, but he knew from the feel of them that they'd come from his top dresser drawer. Well, Clark had never needed keys. He picked up his shirt and slipped into it with ease, the light purple material comfortable. "Before you went to Met U, Clark, I realized that if I kept probing at your secrets, you'd end up dead because of it. And as curious as I was, I didn't want you to die for my curiosity."

"And I didn't want you to die for it, either," Clark told him frankly. He watched Lex dress himself with a certain ease, a grace and style of motion that could only belong to the affluent bald man. "You aren't the only Luthor who's been curious about me, Lex."

"I know." There was a mournful note in Lex's voice, merely a quiet undercurrent to his words as he pulled his trousers on. It felt odd to wear clothes again, as it always did after an extended convalescence. "But when I 'lost interest' in investigating you, so did Dad. And maybe he knows and suspects what you are. It benefits him to have you in Metropolis."

"Why do you say that?" Clark asked, honestly curious. He would have thought that having him in Metropolis would have been a pain in Lionel's ass, at least as far as most of his schemes were concerned.

"Think..." Hard, concentrate steadily, and Lex hoped the words that next came out of his mouth made sense. "It's in Dad's best interests for the city to seem like a safe place to live, to be alive. You help that, Clark -- as Superman, and at the paper."

"Because he can con more people that way." Of course. Well, Metropolis was safer most of the time, it didn't just seem that way to him. Still, the feeling that he might be helping Lionel in any way was irritating. He'd probably never forgive the man for some of the things he'd done, including his investigation into the Kent family.

"You could put it that way," Lex agreed, tucking his shirt neatly into his pants. "It's part of his game. So... are we heading back to Metropolis tonight?"

A nod of Clark's head came in answer. "As soon as you want to," he promised, and his eyes lingered faintly upon Lex, upon his hands and arms and the way that he moved.

But he didn't, and that was the crux of it. The bland gleam of the walls was soothing, Clark was soothing... It was unfamiliar, and there in laid the promise of its comfort. The familiar was a world of threats and looming grand schemes, and he could barely think past adjusting the collar of his shirt, unbuttoning the top button, and noting that he should put shoes on before cold toes went any colder.

"Whenever's convenient for you, Clark."

His friend looked at him calmly, those eyes reflecting back blue and ice. "That's not what I said, Lex. I said, whenever you want to."

"He does not yet desire to return, Kal-El." Damnable AI. Lex decided to kick it at first opportunity, never mind that he couldn't see it. "He will not tell you this, however, believing such a desire selfish."

Lex's mouth twisted bitterly at having been caught, but forced it towards wry as he walked to the bed to slip socks and shoes on. "I want to go back to Metropolis tonight," he lied in the face of the AI's words. Clark needed to go back, and he'd already been there too long.

It was like his time at the Kent farm all over again. If he'd been allowed to take the easy way, he would've stayed there as a farmhand for all eternity, talking with Clark and pretending that he had a real family.

Luthors weren't meant for the easy way.

"Would you settle for going back to my apartment, then?" Clark asked him seriously. It was obvious that Clark didn't believe him, and it was equally apparent that he wasn't going to directly contradict whatever Lex told him.

Damn him.

The first argument Lex had against that was 'security'. Only Lionel's exquisite security had failed him badly, hadn't it? And his own hadn't been able to find him. "That's a workable plan," Lex murmured, leaning back on his palms casually. If he was going to lose an argument, he might as well seem like he'd won.

An acceptable compromise, then, from the look on Clark's face as he stood. "I'm going to wrap you up," he said seriously, dragging the larger furs off of the bed. "It's cold out there, and colder in the air."

"I vaguely recall," Lex smiled faintly. "Clark, did you have any idea how generally gracious your AI is?"

The brilliant grin Clark gave him said quite a lot. "Lara makes a mean apple pie," he agreed with a nod. "I hope you were well-treated." He knew Lex had been.

"Yeah." Lex stood, helping Clark pull the fur tight around him. Real intellectual, very convincing of his ability to function in the shark pond of Metropolis. 'Yeah' indeed. "You... I can see that you take after what she must have been like."

Dark brows knitted slowly, Clark's head tilting to the side. It was an expression he could almost put to the AI somehow. "You know, I never would have thought about it like that." He gave a grin that Lex loved. "After all, the only other person who knows about Superman would say I'm just like Dad."

"That, too. A person can take after more than one parent, can't they?" Lex's cool eyebrow twitch was a poor response to that smile, but he coupled it with moving closer to Clark. "Come on, let's go back to Metropolis. Before my backbone gives up on me."

With a nod and a quick motion, Lex found himself wrapped tightly in furs and steel-bound arms, the foofy little fur hat settled back atop his head. "Hang on tight," Superman told him, and then they were airbound.

Sleeplessness had been an easy claim for Lex to make. It was partially true, and partially a lie, but there was no AI to rat him out. He could've slept more, but he wanted to think more than sleep again, and he'd done quite enough dozing and sleeping.

There was media to catch up on, financial news to watch and read with desperate fascination at everything he could miss in a week. LeXCorp still stood, the stock having taken no more than a pot-hole's worth of motion downwards on the day he'd gone missing.

Twenty four hour news was a wonderful thing at four am. His dad really had to love him somewhere under the games they played, to have left his company intact.

Then again, maybe it was a bizarre ruse to keep him from realizing that Lionel himself was behind the kidnapping. Lex didn't think that was true, but he secretly feared that it might be. It was worrisome, fretful, and too possible to ignore.

"Lex." Clark's voice from the bedroom seemed drowsy, full of lingering sleep. "Come to bed. I don't mind sharing."

But there was a perfectly hideous... no, no, functional sofa that he was seated on already. Lounging as he was, remote in hand, with only the glow of the set to light the room, was comfortable. "Soon," he called back to Clark, voice a bare whisper in the darkness. He'd wait until it was almost time for Clark to get out of bed before he got into it. Delaying was the best way to deal with things for the moment.

The faint sound of a groan was too pleasant for him, so much so that he almost didn't notice the pad of bare feet. "I'm going to have to drag you away from the television, aren't I?"

"I've missed a week, Clark. If it's keeping you up, I'll put it on mute and read the tickers." Closing stock prices on the top ticker, news headlines on the bottom. Lex didn't even bother to look up at the sound of Clark's approach; he still had enough of an ear for Clark's walk to know that he was just a foot or so to the left.

"It's keeping you up, and you still need to rest. Another eight hours of sleep won't make you that much further behind." It was gentle prodding, more like Martha Kent than Jonathan, but it had the force behind it that implied there would be a less gentle push for him to rest shortly.

"I'm a natural night owl. I'll sleep while you're at work -- because I need to be caught up on things before I go to tell my father that I've come back." Lex laid the remote down on his lap, and lifted his left hand towards Clark, snaring into the fabric of his loose sleepwear.

The motion alone seemed enough to make Clark soften, and one glance revealed that it had done exactly that. "There's a set in the bedroom," Clark tempted him. It was almost too much to believe that he had never considered Lex as a possible lover, at least in that moment.

"I don't know, Clark -- Armani makes for poor pajamas." The teasing, the way Clark tempted him and had always tempted him, it was impossible to think that... Fuck. To think. To think at all. Like a house of cards, Lex could feel things crumbling to base level again with little warning. He'd had a perfectly coherent thought flee him. "Maybe I should borrow yours."

"They'll be a little long, and a little loose, but they do tie at the waist." It was an offer made so easily that Lex almost sighed. "Come on. You can watch tv in comfort and if you fall asleep, you won't wake up with your neck bothering you."

"If you were human, you'd see that phrase for the lie it is." A tap to the remote shot the room into relative darkness and silence except for relaxed breathing. Fingers still on Clark's pants, Lex uncurled himself from the sofa and stood. "Necks are tricky that way. They'll bother you when you least expect it."

"So I'm told," Clark agreed, taking his elbow almost gently. It was sweet, gentlemanly, weirdly Clark. "Can you see well enough to get to the bedroom?" There was always that strange adjustment between darkness and light, and Clark made it more quickly than others. Than humans.

"I can." If he couldn't, did Clark honestly expect him to say 'no, I have no night vision at all?' But it wasn't an issue. Lex was an experienced clubber, and used to dim uneven lighting. And being touched. And having his fingers in another man's pants.

Those were the Good Ol' Days.

"You know, your AI had some interesting things to tell me, Clark."

"Really?" Curiosity, definite interest in what Lara might have had to tell him. Knowing Lex, it had probably been something involving an elaborate plot to take over the world. Or maybe not. You could never really tell with Lex.

"Really. I found out that for all of my best attempts, I never have quite managed to bring the city to the wide pastures of your mind." He leaned into Clark as they went through the door. Clark's bedroom had a window, inexpertly curtained closed, so there was more than enough light to move about without walking into things.

"I suppose I've always been in Smallville at heart," Clark agreed. He almost felt a twinge at that; it was akin to being called provincial, he supposed, but he didn't mind. It was Lex, after all.

"Your AI had trouble with a concept I asked about. It had to pry into my mind to find it." He could do it. Run on autopilot, let his mouth run itself as smoothly as it pleased. It was frightening to Lex to observe how little conscious thought went into the words he said, the actions he took with Clark. Lex twisted to stand in front of Clark, his right hand settling on Clark's shoulder. "Do you know what it was?"

"No. Lara didn't mention anything." There was a vague suggestion of consideration in his voice, the way that his own hands moved to lightly support Lex. "Are you all right?"

"No."

Lex smothered his truth with a motion, lifting his chin and leaning in a little closer to Clark. It brought him near enough to feel the younger man's breath against his face, the smell of sleep and toothpaste mellowing to his senses. A tiny tip more, and he pressed his mouth gently to Clark's.

For a moment, it seemed that nothing would happen; that Clark would simply be still and allow him to do as he wished, lips pressed to lips with nothing more between them. The faint motion of an arm wrapping around his waist and the vaguest parting of Clark's mouth indicated otherwise after several seconds. "Lex..." God, and his name was a breath, a sigh, a fucking benediction!

Clark was a warm, pliable mouth against his as he pressed his advantage, tipping his head to one side for the added benefit of friction between their mouths. Lex let his body run on autopilot, hands only moving a little as he slipped his tongue briefly between the crisp smoothness of Clark's bottom teeth and the wet fullness of his lower lip.

The faint quickening of Clark's breath felt good to him, just as the slight tug of strong arms drawing him close made him feel safe. "Lex..." His name again, and had he ever wanted to hear anything from Clark as much as he'd wanted to hear that? Not that he could remember. "Lex, Lex..." He could feel Clark trembling somewhat beneath his hands, and that was better than anything. He could do that. He could do that to Clark, to Superman, to this beautiful creature.

He owned Superman.

"Fuck, Clark..." The low moan that rumbled between them was foreign to Lex's ears, but he was sure that it was his. Breathing was suddenly a crushing waste of time, every faint breath he pulled in through his nose somehow becoming a lost opportunity to the press and friction of Clark's mouth and mumbled prayer. Slowly, almost patiently, Lex pulled back from the kiss, leaning his forehead against Clark's.

"Lex..." The hoarse sound of that voice seemed almost unreal. "Lex. You kissed me." Obvious statement, no confusion in it. It sounded as if Clark knew it was right, just right -- perfect.

"I did, didn't I?" There was satisfaction in the smile of Lex's voice as he leaned into Clark with a little more weight. "I've wanted to do it for years. You're beautiful."

The soft press of that full mouth came against Lex's again, teasing, slow. "I've wished you would." Kal-El might not have made the connection of what 'trusted one' meant, but he sure had the idea of kissing down pat.

"Then why didn't you do it first?" Lex pulled at his friend, who was glaringly one of the few people on the world that trusted him. There was irony, bittersweet to his mind, in what the AI had referred to him -- 'trusted one' meant more to Lex than it would've meant to most people. Trust was a commodity more precious than the rarest ores, almost impossible to buy back after having sold it.

The tug at Clark brought them both closer to the bed, and the way that Clark wrapped him up tightly in his arms and then floated them closer to the mattress was... interesting, to say the least. "I didn't think I should. Kissing other men has never been high on my list of priorities." On the other hand, kissing Lex was obviously something he had considered. Hm.

"I suppose I won't be offended that you've made this four a.m. exception." Lex was careful to not move away from Clark, sliding a hand against his back to twist fingers into the soft hair at the nape of his neck. He stifled a yawn with a muffled noise. It was odd how proximity to a bed made sleep more tempting.

"If I've offended you, all you have to do is tell me not to kiss you again," Clark murmured. That sound was accompanied by soft kisses to Lex's temple, the place just above his ear.

On other people, it would've been an almost-nuzzle into hair, but with Lex it was just sleek smooth skin, and a shiver at the tender warmth of Clark's mouth. "I'm offended you waited for me to make the first move," he chuckled, shifting back just a little, as if to lay down on the bed in his ruffled business attire. "Didn't you say you were up to sharing the bed until your alarm goes off?"

"Maybe." Clark sounded almost flirtatious, nearly teasing. "You have to promise me you'll get rid of the shirt and pants, though. You'll be more comfortable in underwear or pajama bottoms."

"You're a tough negotiator, Clark." With a little space between them, his arms falling from Clark's back to his own sides, and then rising to unbutton his shirt, Lex felt empowered. "I'm not even going to turn the news on." At least until Clark went to work.

"That's kind of you," Clark decided, helping him to undress by starting on Lex's pants. "I'd feel obliged to watch with you if you did, and then I might have to go rescue someone, and I'd really rather stay here with you."

Watching Clark's hands in day to day motion, while he ate and talked, hadn't ever given Lex enough information to expect the way that Clark touched him. Maybe it was the recent circumstances that made the fingers at his buttons so exceedingly gentle and light; or maybe Clark was being a cocktease.

Lex shrugged out of his shirt, arms twisting behind his back and stuck in the sleeves for a moment before he let it drop to the floor. "You walk to work, don't you?"

Clark nodded, allowing Lex's pants to fall to the floor, leaving him in nothing more than the soft boxers that he'd put on before they'd left the Fortress. "Every morning," he agreed, leaning down slightly to press his mouth to Lex's again. It didn't seem forbidden so much as something he hadn't seriously considered before now. He wondered why, momentarily, but shook his head slightly at that thought. Probably because it had never been presented as an option. Lex was an option, though, a beautiful distraction that had always teased at the edges of his mind.

Comfortable, slow kisses, and Lex was almost glad of the circumstances that had temporarily tamped down his natural urge to go for the gusto. He pressed against Clark again, the fabric of their sleepwear rubbing when he pressed hip against hip almost more arousing than skin to skin would be. There was a simmering heat building in Lex, and it probably wouldn't be given a chance to boil for at least a few days.

"I think I'm finally tired enough to sleep -- come on, Clark."

It was easy enough for them to find the covers and slide beneath them, Clark tugging Lex close and warm against his side. "You want an extra pillow?" he asked, solicitous, easy.

"I think you've got it covered," Lex smirked a little, a smirk that transmuted into a disgustingly relaxed smile. Clark wasn't expecting... anything more than him to be there. And he was certainly comfortable with having another man sleep against him, in a way that was far from innocent. The luxurious drape of Lex's relaxed body couldn't be taken as anything other than an invitation.

"Good," Clark whispered, and Lex felt the brush of his mouth once again, lightly pressing against his head. "Sleep, now," Clark soothed him, almost as if he was a child, and he didn't fight that. It felt too good when accompanied by the slow stroke of fingers down his spine, the easy touch so similar to those they'd always shared.

Only it wasn't pats and hands on shoulders, no... Ah, he'd help muddle Clark through it later. For the moment, Lex laid there, feeling and concentrating on that stroke of strong fingers, on the roughness of Clark's sheets, on the pace of the other man's breath. He didn't sleep, but instead dozed like that, dancing on the edge of consciousness until Clark's alarm clock started to beep angrily.

He was distantly glad to be in Clark's small, tidy little apartment instead of his own expansive penthouse.

The speed with which the clock was turned off was phenomenal, and the fact that the bed didn't even jar beneath him was even more so. Clark probably knew he wasn't really sleeping, but he still snuck out of the bed so gently that Lex barely knew he was gone. Covers tucked up under his chin with ease, and then he heard Clark move towards the bathroom.

When he heard the shower-head click on, Lex realized that he needed to both a) take a long shower and b) use the facilities. In no particular order, but the sudden urge to be under hot water -- with Clark -- made him twist on the mattress, laying on his back. There were shadows on the ceiling, dawnlight ghosts flitting through the curtains.

He'd have to make a few calls while Clark was gone. Get another set of clothes, and one of his less attention catching cars.

Hopefully that wouldn't lead to anyone finding him. Lex didn't want to be found yet. He didn't want anyone flashing pictures of him or begging him for interviews or touching him or anything else. He just wanted Clark. Clark was reliable. Clark was safety. Clark could protect him from all of those things, even if Clark had lied to him.

The lies... were lies, and he still didn't take well to the fact that they'd occurred, but Clark had done it with good intentions. Lex only wished half of the truths he gave had intentions that good to back them up.

There really was no way for a bald billionaire to not be found. But he... could say he was on vacation. Didn't want to talk to the press, didn't... Fuck, could he trust himself to hold that much control and not lash out at them? Lex shifted, pushing the sheets down from his chest. Shower, he really had to shower.

He was a little surprised when the bathroom door swung open, letting out a faint rush of steam and a weak light. Clark was there, towel draped around his hips, another in his hand, and he was... Wow.

"Hey, you're supposed to be sleeping," Clark told him with a smile.

"How could I sleep with a wake-up call like this waiting for me?"

Lex let his eyes linger from Clark's damp calves to his knees, to his thighs, to the damnable towel, then up to his stomach. It almost took an act of Congress to get him to look Clark in the eyes, his own gaze starkly open.

"I'll be home by five thirty," Clark promised him, moving closer to the bed. The towel working at drying his hair ended up on the floor, and he leaned over, allowing the one covering him to gap. He only pulled the covers up over Lex again, giving him an indulgent smile that said he knew his friend would be up before he could turn around. "We can go out for pizza."

"I can pick you up, then," Lex suggested, leaning back on his elbows. "There's a few things I need to do today." Like plan on how 'normal' he should act when he stepped outside of Clark's apartment. Evasive normal, or oblivious normal?

"Sure," Clark agreed, and it was obvious that he was fully willing to let Lex do whatever he was comfortable with doing. "Just... If you feel the need to come back to the apartment early or something, I'll give you a key." Clark's way of saying not to do too much.

"Thanks." Lex's eyes stayed steady on Clark as he finished drying himself off. "A key is probably a better idea than letting me just shoot the lock off or something rash."

"Well, the superintendent would probably be a bit peeved if you did that," Clark had to agree, abandoning the other towel altogether as he began to root through the dresser beside the bed. He wasn't shy; but then, Clark had never been, not with Lex, anyway. "I'll leave it on the table by the door. You can just call me if you need anything."

A simple offer that struck Lex as oddly sentimental. Of course, everything that made him feel like he was worthy of humanity was striking him as oddly sentimental. He looked unabashedly at Clark's body, back, hips, cock and ass, making a subtle shift so he wouldn't tent the bedding. "And perhaps later you and I can talk about... things?"

Fuck, that hadn't been meant to be a question.

"We can talk about anything you want." It didn't have to be a question, really. Clark gave what he expected to receive, and that was whatever was requested. Lex remembered him in Smallville, asking for impossible favors, unwilling to answer questions about his strangeness, but giving other things in so many ways. "We can even get the pizza to go if you'd rather talk about it here."

Lex could feel the small, idle smile on his face twitching broader by the second. "That sounds like a damn good idea, Clark. Because the erection that was pressed against my leg all morning probably isn't good restaurant conversation."

The sheer flood of heat that rushed into Clark's face was nothing new. If anything, it was still remarkably charming after ten years of acquaintance. "Lex," he got out, swallowing hard. "I... I didn't mean..." To press like that. "You aren't upset, are you?"

It had been a bit vicious to word it just like that, but Clark should've learned by then that very little offended Lex, and unless Clark had changed his name to Lionel, probably wasn't going to upset him. "No, not at all -- I'm flattered, Clark. Sincerely flattered. In fact, if you hadn't noticed, I had a similar affliction that is entirely your fault."

The way those green eyes shied away from him said that it had definitely been noticed, and that it hadn't been minded. "Well, if it's my fault, do I at least get a kiss before I leave?" Clark asked, pulling on a shirt.

A quick kiss, a quick fuck, whatever Clark was comfortable with... Obliviousness, Lex decided, made for a better tease than even the most studious of cockteases. He sat up a little more, expression quirked with amusement. "Thought you'd never ask, Clark."

Clark sat on the edge of the bed and leaned close to him. "Kissing you is better than anything," he whispered, nudging his lips against Lex's.

Clark's hair was going to be particularly mussed if he didn't stop and check it before he stepped outside, because Lex's left hand stroked into it the moment he leaned into the kiss. Warm nudging kisses, innocent to start, but someone, somewhere along the line had taught Clark what do to with his tongue.

It was enough to make a man jealous, at least a man like Lex, and when the kiss deepened, he didn't want to let Clark go. "If I don't get up and go to work, Perry is going to fire me," Clark said huskily, pulling away from him slowly.

"Want a job at the Inquisitor?" Lex countered, as he let his hand fall to the bed. "Good luck today, Clark -- I'll see you later."

The sigh Clark gave was so definitely one of longing, even though he rose and began to slide on pants. "Right, because as much fun as it would be to write about Lex Luthor pregnant with Superman's alien baby, I think my mom will be a little more proud if I stick with the Planet."

"White won't fire you as long as you're contrite." Lex folded his hands in his lap, resting back on the pillows and half-watching Clark. He didn't like the transformation between Clark (Kal-El?) and this... Clark that was the exaggeration of every bit of geekery Clark had in him. "And you, my friend, are nothing if not sincere and contrite."

The slip of thick black frames behind Clark's ears could almost be heard. Yes, Lex definitely hated it. "This morning, I don't think I could be sincere and contrite if I tried... at least, not if I crawled back into the bed." For more kissing, probably, because Lex doubted that Jonathan had ever explained the intricacies of anal sex to his son.

There were certain days that Lex wished that his own father had never explained it to him.

"You'd feel sorry for letting your mother down, Clark, and disappointing four years worth of college professors by working for a rag that isn't worth toilet paper -- now go on, get to work before I do something to get you fired."

"Lex." One more easy kiss, even though it was from that strange pseudo-pseudo-Clark. "I'll see you when you come. Five sharp?"

"Five sharp, Clark." Noon sounded like a reasonable time to stop lounging in bed, and a faint yawn caught him off guard just after finishing that kiss that left him slightly breathless.

It wasn't long before he drifted to sleep. He didn't even hear the faint click of door and lock behind Clark as he left.

"Lois, I'm not telling you when Lex comes back to town," Clark sighed tiredly one. More. Time. "So stop asking."

It had been an incredibly long fucking day, and Clark was almost sure that if he could get a headache, he'd have a pounding one. The clock crept more and more slowly, and now that it was standing at a quarter to five, he was pretty sure that it must have just died and he'd be stuck here with Lois until Hell froze over or Lionel Luthor actually ceased being Satan reincarnate.

It was a time-warp worthy of needing to be solved by... well, by someone. Not Superman, but someone.

One more lengthy bit of research started on -- arms smuggling and Metropolis. Very interesting to research, and regularly interrupted by Lois's obnoxious questions. Sometime around four she'd eased off, but it was only a matter of time before she swung back into full action. It was either Murphy's Law, or Occam's Razor that said--

"All right, Clark, all right. I'll stop asking," she huffed at him. She'd stop asking for about fifteen minutes, all right...

Then she'd be right back to annoying the piss out of him again.

Heaving a deep sigh, Clark went back to typing, shaking his head to himself. God. Fifteen minutes. Well, fourteen and a half. Fourteen and a half minutes and he'd have Lex and deep dish pizza after that and then...

Well, then.

He'd done a little bit of research on that, too. Men. The sorts of relationships they shared. It had been startling, unusual, and he was absolutely certain that his dad wouldn't have ever, ever wanted him doing that.

Clark couldn't bring himself to care.

Perhaps he did, just a little; knowing that he would have disappointed Jonathan Kent was overwhelming. Didn't Superman balance all of that out, though? He was sure that it must, because that was even more than Jonathan had ever thought he would do.

And at the root of it... his father would've been much happier for him to get close to someone he trusted and liked than that brief burst of college frenzy where he'd gone through a quarter of the freshmen class's girls.

Then again, Superman and Lex Luthor would've been one more thing to have driven his father into his grave.

"Clark, are you day dreaming on me?" Lois's voice was accusing, as she reached over to tap his coffee mug. "You've been out of the solar system today, Clark, just--"

"Excuse me, is Clark Kent in this office, or am I on the wrong floor?"

Green eyes jerked up behind his glasses, and Clark stood, simultaneously knocking his keyboard over and spilling coffee on his pants. "Darn it..." He certainly looked like a competent reporter now, didn't he?

"Either that's a very rich chemo patient looking for you, Clark, or you've been lying through your pearly whites," Lois gritted out in poor sing-song as she crossed her legs delicately, and smiled at the man who started to walk towards them the moment Clark had stood.

Lex had... tried to be low-key. Nondescript sweater and pants, real shoes that weren't loafers, and a knit cap to defend against the crisp fall air. But his trousers weren't jeans, the sweater was too upper-scale and too expensive, and Lex still walked and moved like Lex. Like sex and power and money were holding his spine upright. "Hey, Clark. Hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"No, not anything I can't put away," Clark told him with a sheepish smile. He might as well shut the computer down and just leave since he'd become all thumbs the second he'd seen Lex. "And I wasn't lying, Lois. I just told you that I wasn't saying anything about it."

"You..." He was going to get it the next day from her, Clark just knew it. But not then, and not in front of her potential victim. "Mr. Luthor, can I ask you just a few quick questions about what happened with the kidnapping, and if there's any link between that and the burned down warehouse, and--"

"No." Lex flashed her a charming smile as he cut her off, and leaned his hip casually against the edge of Clark's desk. "You know, the janitors here must hate you, Clark."

"Well, you know me," Clark sighed, shaking his head. "I've gotten a little better about the bizarre accidents." His mouth curved in a wry upward turn as he quickly turned off his computer and closed his drawers, locking things away carefully. "So. Pizza?"

"Not much better about them." Lex took a smooth step backwards, and flashed another smile at Lois. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Lane. Have a nice day."

Clark could almost hear her teeth gnashing. He'd have laughed if he hadn't thought she'd make him suffer even more the following morning. "See you tomorrow, Lois."

She couldn't leave it there -- reporting and dignity had little in common most days. Lex started towards the office exit -- with everyone staring at him, probably hoping to do just what Lois had done -- hanging back just a little to wait for Clark. Someone on the other side of the room snapped off a picture, and moments later, Lois was on them again.

"Mr. Luthor, the press has a right to--"

"Stay out of my personal business, Miss Lane, whether it's news or not. If you're looking to report sensationalist trash, the Inquisitor has an open position."

The warning look on Clark's face probably frightened her more than Lex's avoidance and sharp retort. It wasn't as if he'd ever looked at her like that, or anyone, for that matter. Not that she'd seen, and the fact that he'd do it for Lex Luthor... Well. Well, well, well.

"Tomorrow, Lois."

"If you want to act like a civilized reporter, Miss Lane, call my PR people." Lex opened the office door, pulling a set of keys from his pocket. "Clark, you're driving."

"You realize that I'll probably have a heart attack from the shock of being behind the wheel, right?" Because all of Lex's cars were outrageously expensive. Clark didn't really care -- not really, because that was part of Lex, and a part that he liked quite a lot. He was teasing, and Lex knew it. "So. Do you have any preferences for pizza, or...?"

"Someplace far away from LuthorCorp, and the Daily Planet," Lex told him, face falling to a mid-point between face of stone and PR smile. He led the way towards the elevator he'd just come up.

"I thought you'd say something like that," Clark decided as they reached the doors. He pushed the button almost gingerly, as if he was afraid of the germs that might cover it, and waited for the elevator to come to their floor. "There's this little place down on south east Napoli Street called Mangia's. You ever been there?"

He'd been everywhere in Metropolis, but Lex swallowed down that retort. A better question for Clark to have asked, he thought as he slipped his hands into his pockets, was if he recalled the place or if he'd been conscious when he'd visited it. "I might've been, Clark, but it sounds like a great idea." Come on. The elevator had to arrive before the loping hounds of the wild hunt got them both.

"It's an incredible place. Mom and Pop sort of Italian, and there's this thing they do with bacon and water chestnuts..." Lois was closing in, and was that Jimmy behind her? Oh, God, and Perry behind him.

The faint ding of the elevator was an incredible fucking relief.

"Hey, you know I love to support the hometown restaurants and stores." Lex hung back for a moment as Clark entered the elevator, turning to face the hounds with a smile that danced between frustration and rage. It felt good to be himself again. To take a smooth step backwards into the elevator, let his smile twist towards triumphant as he jammed the close-doors button hard enough to break the fingers of a lesser man.

It was just in time, too -- Jimmy had started to run, and Lex mouthed 'Have a nice day' when he pulled even with the closing doors.

"That was almost cruel and unusual, Lex." Not chiding, no, not from Clark, more... Amusement. Indulgence, even.

Once Lex felt the feeling of the floor sinking under his feet, he turned to flash Clark a smile, warm quirk of his mouth. It felt warm, taking in the acceptance Clark had of how he acted. "You want to bet that at least one of them is taking the stairs this very second?"

"Lois," Clark confirmed. "Jimmy's half a flight behind her and Perry is still yelling at them on the tenth floor. Shall we get off on the third?"

"Why, to meet them on the stairs?" Lex quirked an eyebrow at Clark, leaning his back against the side of the elevator. "I'm not going to play hide and evade with your coworkers, Clark, as interesting as it sounds."

"Actually, there's a second set of elevators that come out in the back of the building, but..." Clark shrugged and let the thing go even further down. "They're going to be waiting when the doors open."

"There's something invigorating about pushing past reporters, Clark. Now, think I can trust you to drive my Mercedes?" Lex moved idly to stand in front of the doors, eyeing the floor display. Second floor...

And first, and Lois was already yelling out of breath questions when the elevator doors slid open. "Do we make a run for it, or should I just hope that Jimmy will help get her away?" Clark muttered.

Lex started forwards, putting a hand out in front of him. "Contact my PR person," he snarled at her just as Jimmy came upon them. He was expecting Clark to be in his wake, since the fuss was drawing a crowd in the lobby. So much for the hat helping disguise himself a little, but he was used to people acting that way, particularly in light of the press conference, of his father's statements, of...

He snapped when Jimmy's flash went off in his eyes.

Clark's hand reached out before any of them could do more than blink, getting the camera loose from Jimmy. "Look, he's got no comment, he doesn't want to talk, I'M not going to talk, and we don't appreciate you taking pictures, all right!? He's my friend," he stressed, "and you're really not helping anything!"

"Clark, I can't believe you're stymieing what could be one of the biggest stories in the past--"

"The film. Get the fucking film..." Why was his jaw shaking like his fists were? He wanted to smash the young man's shocked looking face, wanted to break the camera, the flash, and get what felt like the entire staff of the Planet out of his personal space.

"It's not a story that's going to be made at my personal expense, Lois. Or at Lex's. I told you no, and I meant no. So go back upstairs, and Jimmy..." Clark paused, pulling the film out of the camera with a sigh and crumpling it up before shoving it in his pocket. "I really hope there wasn't anything important on that roll of film." God. Perry was SO going to fire him.

Lex was oblivious to Clark's fear as he visibly shoved down rage and who could tell what else, slipping to stone face and impeccable posture like he'd slipped on a new shirt. And started to walk towards the door. His car was just outside, parked quite legally at a meter.

"Clark, this..." Lois's voice was receding, and he didn't care what she was saying to her partner. No, fuck it, his partner. His friend.

"I'm sorry," Clark apologized to him almost abjectly. "If you'd called, I'd have come down, Lex. I'm so sorry."

"I thought I'd surprise you, Clark." He dredged up a hollow smirk as he led the way around the corner of the Daily Planet and towards his car. Clark was sure as hell going to drive -- Lex wasn't sure he could slide behind the wheel without driving straight into a wall. Or a stream of pedestrians.

"Surprise was on me; I thought hordes of angry stockholders were bad, but that was barbaric."

"There's a reason they pay me so much, and most of it is for keeping Lois out of trouble," Clark admitted, pausing beside the only car that could be Lex's -- an electric blue Porsche that gleamed. "Keys?" He didn't know the keyless entry code, though he could probably guess it.

He tossed them to Clark underhand, and waited for Clark to open the door before jerking open the passenger side door. Comfortable seat, comfortable car, comfortable Clark. "With friends like that, Clark..." The cap he'd worn was itching, and he yanked it off as he closed the door.

"Right." It was agreement, flat-voiced, but... Definite agreement. "You look better without the cap," Clark decided firmly, settling into the driver's seat and adjusting it back slightly. "Lex. I'd kiss you, but..."

Lex tossed the cap into the back, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes for a long moment. "Clark, I don't care who sees or who doesn't. But if I see another camera flash today, I'm going to do something rash."

"Then it's probably best that I not kiss you until we get somewhere to eat." The sound of the car starting was a powerful roar, and the sight of Jimmy and Lois standing just outside the front of the Planet was no surprise. "We'll get it to go, and then go home."

Lex's mind echoed the words at him as he slumped back in his seat, giving the lingering reporters a bland look as they drove past them. Home. Go home. "Yeah, that sounds like a great idea. I'll stay here when you run in." And then they'd go home. Home was where the Clark was.

"All right, Lex." Because Clark would give him anything that he intimated he might want, wouldn't he? Yes. That was so Clark. "Would you prefer some kind of pasta to pizza? I'll bet they'll have homemade lasagna, the kind with all the cheeses that you like best..." He sounded almost like someone's mother trying to coerce Lex into eating.

He closed his eyes as he sagged back against the headrest, mouth twisting towards a smile that finally made itself known in his voice. "Clark... You sound like your mother."

"Mom's always known best." It was teasing and friendship at its best, Clark laughing with him rather than the way that most people laughed at him. "There are worse things than sounding like Mom." Sounding like his AI, for instance.

"That's true -- you could sound like my father." Lex sat up a little, forcing himself to become animated again. Through the act of pretending, the emotions usually followed. It had never failed him before. "'What do you think you're doing, going to some lower end take out place, when there's upperscale restaurants where you should be rubbing elbows this very second! Rome wasn't built from the sidelines, Lex!'" He pitched his voice to match well with his father's slightly nasal lecturing tones.

It made Clark laugh, because how could he not? Clark had never particularly liked Lionel, and he'd liked the man even less after seeing the way he treated Lex and the way that he'd investigated Clark. "One day, it'll be entertaining to see how you talk to your own children."

"My own kids, Clark? Now you do sound like my father." Lex leaned into Clark a little, eyes dropping to watch the relative relaxation that Clark drove with. "I have no plans of settling down with some wheedling business heiress and breeding unto her a bucket of children."

"I never thought you did, but there are other ways." Other ways, right, because Clark was adopted, wasn't he? Even if he was an alien, and that thought almost made Lex's brain ache. "There are kids everywhere who need good parents, a good home. I always thought you'd want one of your own, though I never really thought about you having someone in your life to be the quintessential mother."

Superman -- posterboy for the wonders of lucky adoption. Lex's smile was starting to feel more natural by the time he patted Clark lightly on the leg. "That's a reasonable idea, but personally... that's also down the road, you know?" What a topic to come out of no-where, but Lex was used to it. Conversations that started from nothing, and meandered into nothingness again. Words that went everywhere and went nowhere. With Clark, that was just the way things happened.

Green eyes slanted in his direction, a grin sneaking across Clark's face. "You're not getting any younger, Lex." Not that thirty was old by any short means of the imagination, even though Lex hadn't managed to take over the world... Yet. "On the other hand, neither am I."

"That's right. You've almost been around for a quarter of a century." Probably longer in Earth years, given that Clark had probably arrived in a status chamber of some sort, and that time nearing light speed slowed in comparison to Earth time, and...

His brain screeched to a halt, as if there was some safety mechanism that was keeping his brain from rushing at optimum speeds. Contemplating relativity as it was understood, and Alien friends, when the flash of a camera bulb could throw him into paralysing fury probably wasn't one of the better things he could do.

"Has your mom started to pester you for grandchildren? Because they all do it at some point. Can you imagine my father doting on... anything?"

"Frankly? I see him snapping the necks of small helpless puppies before the word 'dote' even enters his vocabulary." Clark wasn't stupid, and Lex couldn't deny that the statement was probably true. "Mom wants grandchildren, but fears that... Well." He shrugged. "And she's probably right. I'm not certain that human females would be capable of that sort of..." What was the word? "...hybridization."

"Probably not," Lex found himself agreeing, just because he never had liked the idea of Clark with his cock in a girl. Or a guy. "It's for the best that you're... what you are, Clark, and not some super-human. Because if you were a human with that strength, it'd be a matter of Man of Steel, woman of tissue."

The disturbed look that crossed Clark's face said a lot about his visualization processes. "Lex. That wasn't quite an image I needed." Plus, well, he hadn't come that hard since he was seventeen or so. He'd only put a hole in the barn wall that one time before he figured out how not to come that desperately. Not that he'd tell Lex that.

"I've had it in my head for years, Clark -- I thought it was time I had a chance to share."

Lex shifted his left hand, settling it high on Clark's thigh to let idle fingers stroke the muscles there. "We still should get around to discussing this morning."

"All right." Clark would be more than glad to talk about it, if Lex was ready to talk about it. "I enjoyed kissing you." If that wasn't the understatement of the millennium, he wasn't sure what was.

"Right to the point as always, Clark. Can I assume you'd enjoy experiencing more?" With him. Not all at once, but close, because Clark was hard to resist and he'd been resisting for years.

"I think it would be safe to assume that I'd enjoy anything that involved touching you." The lingering feel of that gaze on him from the side, stroking at him, was enough to make Lex shiver. "Anything that you'll let me do."

"Eyes on the road, Clark," Lex pointed out perhaps a little sharper than he'd wanted. There was something about his cars, Clark, and death-defying accidents that put him on edge. But it didn't stop the stroking of his fingers on Clark's thigh. "This has been a long time in the making, Clark."

"Ten years." It was agreement of the best kind. "Ten years is a long time to want something, Lex. I... In Smallville, I'm not sure I even knew that I wanted it." Well, he wasn't sure he'd known exactly what he wanted until this morning, but still. No reason to admit that. Lex probably already knew.

"And you're comfortable with it now? Just like that?" Just like that. They'd been tight friends from the start, instantaneous, and then drifted before Lex had desperately pulled them back together in Clark's senior year of high school. And no matter the argument, it was always like they'd just chatted about nothing the day before.

It was them. Just like that, impossible to explain or to reason. So it was only logical that the next step could build itself out of nothingness and seep into their lives.

There was a look from Clark again as he took a turn at a light. "I'm comfortable with it now. To be honest, it would never have occurred to me to even consider it if it hadn't been for this morning. If it hadn't been for you. If it hadn't been for kissing." Because Clark took all sorts of bizarre things for granted, but never touch.

"So I wasted years of effort flirting with you." Lex gave a melodramatic sigh that felt good, and chuckled at himself. "And it could've been as easy as that." Only the timing wouldn't have been right, and everything might've crumbled down around them. It was a little thing, a sharp little shard of reality that Lex had to admit to. Clark had been jailbait, and then Clark had been establishing himself as a man in the world, and a Superman in the world.

"Is now the time to admit that I didn't even realize you were flirting?" The question was dryly spoken, but there was no hiding the amusement in it. "It never crossed my mind, Lex. At least..." Not until this morning. A lot of things hadn't really crossed his mind until then, and now...

Well. All of that research at lunch had nearly melted his brain, because wow. And Lex. And together. Even an alien had to have some boiling point, right?

Lex couldn't stifle the laughter now, chuckling low and warm in the back of his throat as he looked out the window. Thinking about it, he had to have been to that restaurant at some time, because it was near to what he fondly thought of as the clubbing district.

His fingers were alternating between sensually stroking and drumming atop Clark's leg. The radio was on, but too soft and quiet to actually pull the tune out of. "So my come-on to you in your Fortress went right over your head?"

A secret little smile crossed those lips. God, how he loved Clark's mouth. "Well, maybe not entirely. But I think the actual contact is what it took to make me certain."

Such an innocent. After everything he'd stopped as Superman, after everything that had gone fucking unbelievably wrong in Smallville, Clark was still such an odd innocent at heart. "And here I thought you were being a suave tease."

"I learned a long time ago not to touch other people, Lex. Not unless they invited it. Most people don't," Clark admitted, pulling up in front of a small brick building nestled between larger ones, built more like warehouses. "In fact, I can count on one hand the people who've been willing to let me touch them without fear while still knowing everything, and that includes you."

Him, Martha, Jonathan, Ryan? And... Or was there even an and that existed? Lois, possibly, but that was an infatuation with Superman and not with the actual man beneath the silly costume. "Their loss, then," Lex murmured, feeling haughty and vindicated for having stuck it out for so damned long before Clark told him the truth.

It was easy to lean over the gearbox and kiss Clark.

No flashbulbs went off, no pictures taken, just warm, sweet kisses that tasted the way he'd always thought Clark would. Something vague like cookies and milk, almost as if he kept them for a mid-afternoon snack, and Martha probably did send them over to him or something. There was nothing that he could ever remember that could be as good as kissing Clark, and for a moment, Lex never wanted to do anything else.

"I need to go in and at least place an order," Clark said reluctantly as their lips parted for a moment. "I'll come right back out." Until it was ready and they could go home.

"No anchovies on the pizza." Lex sat back in his seat, unbuckling the seatbelt absently. He probably didn't have to remind Clark of that, but he'd done it every other time they'd had pizza, and habits never died for Lex Luthor.

"No anchovies," Clark swore, and then he was gone, leaving Lex alone in the car with nothing more than his thoughts and the almost-silent radio.

Lex could've turned the radio up, but the buzzing of his thoughts was more entertaining. His head was still a spin-cycled jumble, thoughts skittering and drifting in sharp contrast to the easy organization and neatness he was used to. There was no meaning, no coherence behind them, no...

No, that was just what he was missing. His big picture. His game face. It just wasn't there, or wasn't coherently there, because he'd needed Clark to save him and admitting that to himself, no, begging for it to his captors' faces had mentally castrated him.

Dammit.

The door opening surprised him a little, shook him from that thought for just a moment and nearly scared him to death. "No anchovies," Clark promised to him. "But I did ask for sausage and pepperoni, and I got some kind of rotini for you. The older man said it was the sort of thing you'd like." He tilted his head to the side. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just doing some thinking." Some thinking he wasn't sure he could do, or should do. Because the conclusions weren't to his liking, and he was going to have a talk with his father the next morning because he couldn't hide from his old man forever.

"So just how did the fellow in there know I like rotini?"

Lex loved the way Clark's eyes lit up when he thought he'd gotten up to something vaguely naughty. "Well, I asked him what a cultured, interesting bald Metropolitan man might enjoy for dinner when he was being forced to enjoy deep dish sausage, pepperoni, cheese and mushroom pizza with a farm boy."

"If you could get them to put, say, truffles instead of mere mushrooms on the pizza, I don't think you'd have to bother with rotini." Little things, like Clark's smile, were refreshing, and Lex took advantage of the freedom that no seatbelt gave him, to move towards the driver's seat in the small interior. "You know, I'm going to have to start driving cars that give you more headroom. You look like a fucking giant."

"Mom was afraid that I'd never stop growing," Clark admitted with a shrug, peeking up at the ceiling. "It's not that I'm that much taller than you." Six inches, maybe. Six inches made a huge difference in tiny sports cars.

"Just tall enough that your hair clings to the roof," Lex agreed with mock solemnity. "If it weren't cold out, we'd be in one of the convertibles."

"Because my hair is such a danger to the roof of your beautiful Porsche," Clark agreed with the same almost-silly dignity. "I see your point."

"Well, look at the odd angles it sticks up at, and..." Lex stopped short, midway to leaning in to kiss Clark as an idea struck him full force. It skipped past his timing monitors, which seemed to be at parade rest, and directly to his tongue. "How do you cut your hair? And shave?"

That obviously hadn't been what Clark expected, and silence held in the car for a moment before Lex was given an answer. "When I was little, scissors worked just fine. They dulled out a little quickly, but they worked until I was fifteen or so. After that, Dad did it with the hedge trimmers. Right up until my hair broke them," Clark admitted dryly. "After that, we switched to industrial grade titanium blades. That worked for about six months. These days, the AI takes care of the matter with lasers."

"Of course." Lex chuckled softly, leaning in to kiss the edge of Clark's smooth jaw. Laser cut, for his pleasure, and at that thought, a soft snort choked at the back of his throat. "That was a complete non sequitur, wasn't it?"

"Well, I admit that I don't think anyone's ever asked me a question like that," Clark admitted, giving a faint sigh of enjoyment. Lex could feel him shivering beneath the touch of Lex's mouth, fingers reaching over to caress Lex's thigh.

Heaven, to be making out in a car with his best friend, like they weren't the people that they were. Highbrow business elite Lex Luthor, sharp-minded investigative reporter Clark Kent. Or world savior Superman.

No, Clark was just a guy who liked mushrooms on his pizza, and kissed like the world was ending. A few more kisses, gentle sucks to the edge of Clark's jaw, and Lex trailed up to tug at his bottom lip with kisses. It was only fair, considering how many times Clark had unwittingly stuck it out at him over the years.

"Lex..." His name was the sweetest breath against Lex's chin, his nose pressed lightly to the rich man's, and God, it felt so good. "Lex. No one has ever even come close to you." No one. Not Lana, not Chloe, not Lois or anyone. Ever.

"My ego feels vindicated," Lex murmured. He tipped his head up a little more to maul Clark's upper lip with a kiss, breath ghosting for a moment with a faint pant. "You're a challenge to my self control, you know."

"I want to be challenging that for the rest of your life," Clark murmured, and Christ, soon they'd be fucking in the Porsche in front of God and everybody if one of them didn't get some control.

Lex wondered if he should be thankful for the knock on the driver's side window.

He stared at the boy -- scrawny, blond, pretty limpid eyes -- half wondering if it was a subtle assassin, or just someone there to deliver the food Clark had ordered.

Well, his paranoia hadn't gotten any worse in the past week.

The window rolled down with a touch of Clark's fingers, his smile still present. "Thanks," he said, and the boy handed over a bag filled with smaller boxes, and two larger ones that obviously held pizza. "Tell your mom hi for me."

"Sure, Clark," the boy replied, and waved on his way back inside even as the Porsche roared to life.

"Some days I forget that you make friends everywhere," Lex drawled as he took the bags to hold in his lap.

"There was this guy I knew back in high school who said that it never hurt to know a little bit of everybody. Or maybe it was a little bit about everybody..."

"About everybody," Lex told him firmly. He buckled the seatbelt, then leaned back in his seat and let his eyes half-close. "But I think my reasoning and yours are at odds with each other."

"In the long run, I'm not sure it matters." No, because Clark would always be there to catch Lex when he fell. It was no wonder he'd been wishing for Clark to come and save him. "We'll be home soon. You can rest until we get there, if you want." Sleep, if Lex wanted.

Having been saved by Clark was so much nicer than if his dad had saved him. He'd still feel like he'd been run over by the Karma bus, and his father would of course have been subtly bending his mind...

Thinking about what his father would've done was almost as bad as having it happen, when Lex's mind was such a vivid but jumbled mess. "You know, I'm going to take you up on that offer, Clark."

"I'll even sing you a lullaby if you want."

That offer didn't even get a response, and a glance revealed that Lex's eyes were closed, his breathing evening out quickly. Clark knew that he must be exhausted, so he said nothing else, and simply drove on towards home.

The Ticker was fascinating to watch. Clark couldn't be sure when it had become The Ticker, but it had to have magical properties. Lex's eyes would go wide or mild, or he'd laugh or choke depending on sets of three letters and a few numbers. The Ticker kept taking Lex's attention from Clark, and he'd apologize for it, and finally Lex had turned the TV to something mindless.

He'd relished eating the rotini, and the slab of stuff that had passed for astonishingly deep dish pizza, and had watched Clark eat the rest like the human vacuum cleaner that he was.

Clark's kitchen table just hadn't been comfortable, and the sofa wasn't the right place for food, so the bags and boxes and both of them were on the floor, along with the incongruous plates and silverware.

"I told you it was good," Clark muttered around the last mouthful. He'd polished off most of it, including the last of Lex's rotini, and Lex had enjoyed just watching, especially after his nap. He'd awakened in Clark's bed, never even aware that they'd parked and that Clark had carried him up seven flights of stairs without jarring him awake.

Clark's fellow tenants had to be talking. Apartment buildings like Clark's, the smaller ones that tried to be upscale, tidy and well functioning, were always hotbeds of gossip. Well, talk was just talk, and Lex had little fear of anyone in the apartment building hurting Clark. There was always Talk.

"I wholeheartedly agree," Lex drawled, leaning across the carpet and refuse that separated them. "You've got a little..." Sauce just below his lips, but a kiss took care of it.

A kiss could take care of a lot of things.

"I want to do that some more." Oh, and more than that, so many of the things that he'd seen during his lunch break, so many of the things that he wanted to do, touch, have Lex show him. "But we ought to do dishes or we'll never get this off of them."

"Fill the sink with water, put the plates in it, and let the maid get it in the morning," Lex said seriously, pulling back to peer at Clark while his own words registered with him. "I've got my laptop here, a few changes of clothes, and did I forget to tell you I stuffed a maid in the cupboard?"

"I think the maid did slip by me, yes," Clark agreed, mouth curling upward in amusement. "But we still have to wash the dishes, Lex. You can dry," he promised, beginning to gather things together easily enough.

"You say that as if I'm offended by the idea of manual labor," Lex drawled as he rose to his feet, grabbing up the paper bags. "Which I'm not, nor do I really consider drying, what, three plates and a bowl? Manual Labor."

"When was the last time you did dishes?" Clark was teasing him, and it was so sweet. So easy. "College? Or did that maid live in the closet back then, too?"

"Last week," Lex admitted slyly. So easy, such a precious little thing to him, to share real smiles and joke eachother. He dropped the paper bags in Clark's blue bin labelled 'recycling'. "Because my place has a dishwasher, Clark. You should get one, too. It's real easy. Put the dishes in, close the door, flip a switch, and an hour later you magically have dry, clean dishes. That's not too complicated for the farmboy in you, is it?"

The sly reply was just as good as Lex had hoped it would be. "Aw, shucks, Mister Lex, I ain't never thought about that." Clark and his twisted sense of humor! The younger man -- alien? -- laughed and shook his head. "When there's just one of you, it's so much easier to just wash them and get it over with. How much effort does it take to clean up after a plate of pork 'n' beans, really?"

"I don't know. Buy a few more sets of dishes and only run the washer once a month," he suggested flippantly, opening cupboards at random to find the dish towel. "You're not the pathetic bachelor you like to pretend to be, Clark."

"True. I'd usually have the dishes washed and dried already, but since I have help, I ought to take advantage of it, right?" Like the opportunity to kiss Lex that was presenting itself, and he wanted to very badly, but... Not yet. It'd be a reward for actually GETTING that handful of dishes washed, Clark decided.

"That's right, you could've just super-speeded through this, couldn't you have?" Lex reached to turn the water on, then stood with one hip against the counter as he watched Clark wash. "My mere presence is making you mundane."

"How do you think so much got done at the farm?" Clark asked him. It was hard not to just turn and pull him close, kiss him, but he had to admit that he did speed up the washing just a little. Just a little. "At least once I was old enough that it really kicked in. Apparently I needed a certain amount of exposure to Earth's sun before these things started to show up. Early on, I thought I was just another person who'd been affected by the meteors."

"But you are," Lex murmured, leaning his hands back on the countertop. Once Clark set a washed plate down, he started to dry it. "Just not like the rest of us are."

"I guess that's more or less true," Clark agreed, placing down the next plate. "Do you..." He paused. "I know you have to mind at least a little. I mean, your hair..."

"Has defined who I am. There's upsides and downsides to it, but I'm thankful for it -- I haven't had to touch an inhaler since that day, and that alone is worth this." He finished his idle drying, and lifted a hand to smooth it over his scalp. "Anyway, I don't have to waste time shaving in the morning."

"Plus, you're beautiful that way." There was no denying the sheer honesty in the compliment, or the way that Clark was looking at him. "I've always thought that."

Beautiful? Freak. He'd always been a freak, and just because Clark didn't think so didn't change the reality of it. It was Real that he was a freak, just like it was Real that Clark wasn't human. He had different perceptions, optimistic ones that couldn't belong to another human.

"I sort of hoped you'd think that, or else the kissing we've been doing has some serious issues underlying it." And maybe it did. Maybe Clark had some twisted hidden urge to fuck a freak. Phelan's buddies certainly had, hadn't they?

Maybe Lex needed to stop thinking again. Eyebrows furrowed, he picked up the next wet plate and started to dry it.

"I've thought that for years," Clark told him seriously. "After a while, even Lana seemed sort of plain next to you. Nobody else has eyes like yours. Nobody else smiles quite like you." He set down the last washed dish and reached out, allowing a thumb to trace faintly over Lex's scarred upper lip. "Nobody else has anything on you, Lex."

That last dish was going to air-dry, because Lex dropped the towel on the countertop when he opened his lips to Clark's thumb. It didn't matter if that had been Clark's intent or not, because it was easy for Lex to shift nearer, open his mouth a little, lick the smooth pad of Clark's thumb.

"Sweet," Clark whispered, moving closer to him. "Lex. So sweet..." And then his mouth was where his thumb had been, and Clark was gathering him close and kissing him again in a way that made everything else seem distant and unimportant.

Since, Lex decided quickly, it wasn't a game, he wouldn't need to think. No intrusive unsorted thoughts were needed, just the warm press of Clark's mouth and every sensation filed away to be pulled out and properly inspected. Later.

He'd have to send either Lana or Chloe flowers for teaching Clark how to toy with another's mouth so well. Warm lips and seeking tongue against his own, slipping and twisting wet and hot on both their mouths. His hands came up, clutched in Clark's hair to guide him gently, to hold him back when he broke the kiss. "There..." His heart was thrumming in his chest, voice a twinge ragged. It only grew worse when he looked at Clark's red, wet mouth, and instantly imagined it around his cock. "There're better places to do this the first time than the kitchen."

"Right," Clark agreed, nodding, but he didn't want to give up on kissing Lex, not just yet. If he could kiss Lex and carry him, that would be perfect, but Clark wasn't stupid. Lex would yell at him, or at least be moderately offended. It was enough to make the alien grin as he kissed Lex again. "Come on." He could wait.

At one point, Lex had had the entire event planned out. Dinner and opera, perhaps, or dinner and some Broadway show that Clark would like, on a Thursday night. Clark on satin sheets after the show, and then wandering in to work the next day thoroughly fucked.

Things just never went according to plans. Still, he could keep that plan for another night, another time; just because it wouldn't be the first time didn't mean it lost its lustre.

Lex slid an arm around Clark's back, low on his lean waist. "Lead the way, my good man."

So easy to make those steps from the kitchen to the bedroom, littering the floor behind them with kicked off shoes and socks tugged off by toes. They both laughed a little at that, and when Clark got him into his bedroom, he paused. His hands were on Lex's hips, broad fingers wrapping around to tug at him tenderly. "You tell me if you aren't ready for anything. If you want me to stop." He'd make Lex promise if he had to.

His pride rose up like a startled python rose out of a sun-spot induced haze, hissing and spitting in the back of his mind. "Clark, I'm no blushing virgin. In fact, I've rid quite a few blushing virgins of their affliction." His hands drifted to rest atop Clark's hands, a thumb smoothing over the tendons on the back of Clark's hand.

"And I'm not saying that you are, but you're one of the few people I can touch. You're one of the few people I want to touch, have ever wanted to touch, Lex, and I want to keep the privilege." Maybe that would soothe Lex's pride, though God only knew. Lex could be touchy that way sometimes, and now probably wasn't the best time to spit out that he'd be alleviating Clark of that affliction, too.

"Clark..." Lex found himself smiling tightly, unable to stop himself as he leaned in to softly quiet Clark's rather inane babble. Slow and hot, a taste, Lex hoped, of what was to come. "That's not a worry to waste your time with. You've been invading my personal space for years now."

"And I'd like to keep right on, Lex," Clark assured him, enjoying the feel of that kiss and giving another one in return. "Mmm. You taste good. Like spaghetti." And garlic, which was okay, because so did Clark.

"Do you mind if I see what the rest of you tastes like, Clark?" Lex felt a smug smile coming to his mouth, as he gently urged Clark back towards the bed. Clark had long since lost his suit coat and tie, but there was still the shirt and pants to get rid of.

"I don't mind." Clark was enjoying everything too much to mind. "You know you can have anything you want, Lex. I'd give you anything..." Heady promises, promises Clark could maybe even keep.

At least Clark would want to keep the promises he was giving. Whether he did or not didn't matter, because there was honesty in the intent that made Lex smile. "I know, Clark. And all I want right now is to enjoy you, Clark." His hands moved again, to the buttons of Clark's shirt, deftly flicking plastic free of the holes.

The hands that slid down Lex's sides were gentle, tender fingers tugging up his sweater, parting the jangling metal of his belt and sliding it slowly free enough so that he could tug at the buttons and tabs. "Anything," Clark promised again, kissing him so sweetly it left him trembling.

"Mmm, I believe I can arrange that." Lex pulled back long enough to jerk his sweater up over his head, and let it fall to the floor. There was something particularly romantic about making out in the light that crept in through Clark's currently uncurtained window, in seeing his best friend as a study in shadows, pales and blues, and the purple shades of night.

"Lex. So beautiful..." They were words, just words, and Clark was stripping him so easily, as if it was almost nothing to get him naked, as if Lex had always been meant to be bare with Clark. Maybe he had been, maybe that was their destiny, and fuck, Clark's skin felt so hot.

Open-mouthed kisses passed back and forth, growing heated as Lex pushed Clark's shirt off of his shoulders, as he let his hands repeat what Clark had done with the pants that he was stepping out of. Lex could feel Clark's fingers on the waistband of his boxer briefs, and encouraged that motion by sliding both of his hands over the warm bubble of Clark's ass, beneath the fabric of utilitarian briefs.

"Fuck, I've wanted you for years, Clark," he shuddered, trailing a kiss along the edge of Clark's jaw.

"You never said anything." The faint raggedness that touched those words felt good, sounded good to Lex's ears, and the way that Clark's hands crept inside of his underwear to clasp his ass nearly made his knees melt. God, it felt so fucking good. "If you'd said something, Lex. Anything..."

"I'd always assumed that action was enough..." Lex leaned into Clark's neck, back to those hands, submitting to the urge to touch and be touched. His skin wasn't crawling, and it'd stay that way as long as he didn't do any thinking. He let his mouth work of its own accord, kissing and sucking the muscles that led to the hollow of Clark's throat. Clark tasted as sweet as the kisses of his mouth, the kisses of his voice.

It was all so good, so sweet, and Lex was naked before he even really seemed to realize it. Clark's clothing was in disarray as well, pants down around his ankles, shirt dangling loosely from one elbow, and the warmth of Clark was everywhere. It was around his waist and against his mouth and the lips that were caressing across his brow made him sigh with pleasure.

A poem was niggling at his brain. 'They that have power to hurt, and will do none, that do not do the thing they most do show, who...' who... "Bed. Just two steps backwards, Clark," Lex panted quietly, sliding his hands from Clark's ass to his sides, pulling down on his underwear.

"Lex..." Two step backwards was pure heaven, and Lex was under him, on his back. Clark pulled him up towards the head of the bed, Lex's feet scrabbling to help push them back. "Fuck..."

"Jesus..." Lex clung tightly, and then resumed pushing Clark's underwear down, smirking when it caught on the heavy weight of Clark's erection. No thinking -- no god-damned poems or mental pictures, not just then he told himself -- just feeling, cock and hands and lips that he trusted.

Not like Phelan's two friends, with their blood slicked thick fingers, prying at his kneecap, the gun in his mouth, the snap of his bones, nothing like that at all, nothing like it...

"Help me turn my fucking mind off, Clark..."

"Shhh. Shhhh." That was the Clark in him, soothing sweet with kisses and touches, tugging Lex close to him. It wasn't meant sexually, even, just as warmth and adoration of a sort that Lex didn't doubt, couldn't doubt. If he doubted it, he'd go mad, he'd...

He didn't know what he would do. "Do you... Lex, close your eyes. Close your eyes and think about you. You and me, and nothing else."

God, he couldn't do it anymore. He'd worked hard all day to pretend he still had his game face, and then there'd been that fucking camera, and that goddamned Lois Lane, and tomorrow he was going to see Daddy...

Dad.

Father.

And Clark was saving him again, when all he wanted was hands and sex, hard and rough and perfect. Clark was always perfect, so perfect that there were probably people out there in Metropolis dying because he was there for Lex.

His hands, on the small of Clark's back, were shaking as he clung; one leg drawn up in the act of getting better traction against Clark giving him the grounding sensation of warm skin against the inside of his lean thigh. Little things. Breaths, not big breaths, just normal breaths...

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Clark asked him softly, moving to the side and pulling Lex tightly against him. They were on the bed enough not to be aggravated by falling off, or feet dangling anywhere, and Clark's bed was big enough that it could hold four Clarks and three Lexes. "You don't have anything to be sorry for, Lex."

"You want to bet on that?" His voice wasn't shaking, no, and he didn't easily duck his head down beneath Clark's chin. His erection was fading already, but that didn't stop him from shifting to bring his hips in line with Clark's again. "I'm so horny -- and it's your fault -- that I feel like I'm twenty again."

"Maybe it is my fault," Clark agreed, hand slowly caressing down the length of Lex's spine. "That you're feeling young, that is. Not horny. Maybe I like you that way. Maybe I like it when you're almost soft and young and Lex the way I remember you to be. The way you've only ever been with me, isn't it?" Just a hunch. Just a suspicion.

Just a hundred percent right. "Only with you, Clark," Lex drawled. It was easy to pull up memories, good ones, new and older, of time they'd spent together. Hours wasted peering under the engines of his cars together, working out whether or not if such and such was tweaked, well, then maybe it'd take that corner better, or do that straight away faster; movies mocked and savored, along with movie popcorn or the microwavable imitation; parties, clubs, benefits, gallery openings, the works...

"You know, I think I've gone on more dates with you than with all the women in my life put together."

"I can guarantee I've gone on more dates with you than all the women in mine." There was a faint amusement in Clark's voice concerning that, but also a certain sweet concern. "Lex. Tonight, why don't we just sleep a while?"

"You always know what I need, even if I don't want it," Lex sighed. He dragged his hands up, over the perfect muscles of Clark's back, and secured himself closer. If Clark thought they were going to be putting on pajamas, he was wrong. "Tomorrow, Clark, I promise you're going to get at least the best handjob you've ever had in your life."

"Tomorrow," Clark agreed with him, brushing a few more kisses over Lex's temples. "First thing, because you know how demanding I am."

"Milk fresh from a carton, and a handjob -- things every man deserves in the morning." Lex refused to let himself be too distracted by Clark's kisses, and pointedly spoke against the hollow of Clark's throat, lips brushing it in faint half-kisses. "You... mean so much to me, Clark. Just in case actions haven't spoken loud enough for you."

"I think they have," Clark assured him gently, a hand coming up to cradle the back of Lex's head gently. "More than loudly enough. You mean as much to me, Lex. You might mean everything." And when Martha was gone, he would be everything.

That was as close to a sentimental 'I love you' as Lex was going to let himself stray. It was there in his actions, and maybe some day he'd say it. When he could think again, when things had settled into whatever would pass for normality for them... "You're good to me, Clark. Thanks."

"You never have to thank me," Clark promised. "Close your eyes, Lex. Go to sleep. Tomorrow, we can worry about in the morning."

"It's not even nine," Lex complained quietly. "I never sleep before midnight. I've been sleeping like a dog the past couple of days."

Clark just took his complaints in stride, though, working the covers up over them. Lex had never made the bed that morning, which made things a little easier, at least. "You've been hurt, Lex. That sort of entitles you to a week or two of sleeping like a dog."

"I think that week of sleeping like a corpse compresses my over-sleeping rights." He shifted a little, rolling to lay on his back, but with his head turned to look at Clark's familiar face.

"That only satisfied your body's needs," Clark chided a little. "Doesn't do anything for your mind's, and you need to rest, Lex."

"Sleep, and ignoring the matter doesn't do much for my mind, either, Clark," Lex sighed, closing his eyes. It was a pity that closing his eyes blocked Clark's face from him. "But I'm good at it."

"When you're ready, we'll talk about it." That was a promise he could count on, the way he could count on soft lips pressing to his closed eyelids. "You don't have to say anything until you want to, Lex. Not to me, not to anybody."

"There just isn't anything to say or talk about." Lex shifted, tugging Clark against him to lay at least partially atop him. Contact, skin to skin and muscle to muscle, was reassuring.

"Mmm." It wasn't agreement; it was Clark allowing him to get away with a lie because Clark wasn't ready to press him. In their youth, they'd both been impatient, pushed when they didn't need to, nearly destroyed their friendship. They were ten years older, now, and that had to mean something, didn't it?

It meant that Clark had learned that gentle prodding, or even a smile and nod could get him farther with Lex than confrontation. A simple 'mmm' coaxed Lex to sigh the last of his disjointed thoughts. "Or if there is, I can't think of what it could be, or how to say it."

Thank God they'd finally stopped just yelling first and thinking later; or maybe Clark had, and that change had only come when Jonathan had died, hadn't it? Maybe. "Don't worry, Lex. It'll come to you."

"Perhaps," Lex agreed vaguely, stroking fingers over Clark's shoulder blades. "You think that if I pretend to sleep, I'll actually start to sleep...?"

"Works for me sometimes. You could try it. I promise I'll hold you all night, Lex. I'll keep you safe..."

Drown him in safety and warm silence. Lex breathed out a shudder, swallowing venom that Clark didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of. "How do you usually spend your Friday nights, hmn?" When Lex didn't drag him off somewhere with little to no warning, or when Lois wasn't tracking down a lead.

"Hmmm, usually getting ready to print. Newspapers are pretty busy on a weekend," Clark told him. "Even the human interest stuff picks up on Fridays, it seems, and Lois seems to just start in on her active phase sometime around four in the afternoon. Bet she's probably staking out the apartment by now."

"That reminds me -- any way you can pull the curtain without actually having to move?" Because if there was a camera flash, and he caught sight of it, someone was going to fall seven stories to their death.

"I can try blowing them shut." There was amusement in his voice, and his hands cupped Lex closer to him. "Otherwise, I'll have to get up, Lex." And he really needed to, because he didn't want Lex exposed to something like that, not in his home.

"Hm, then you'd best get to it. Because I've forgotten what cupboard I put the maid in..." He trailed off, when he heard a ringing. It wasn't a phone, and it wasn't the ringtone of his cellphone. Doorbell?

"Dammit. Stay here, Lex. I'll see who it is," Clark sighed, rising slowly. He moved to shut the curtains even as he reached for his bathrobe so that he could at least get rid of whoever it was, hopefully.

The doorbell persisted, and Lex laid there for a moment before he shifted to at least find his pants. Or the suitcase he'd had brought for him. There were pajama pants in there, or a robe, or... something. People just didn't ring doorbells at nine at night for no reason.

With his luck, it'd be Lois and half of the fucking journalist population of the midwest.

With a sigh, Clark made his way through the living room. They should have turned off the lights on their way through, but they hadn't exactly been thinking about that at the time. With care and silence, he slid the chain into place before opening the door to peek out of it.

Holy Mary, Mother of God.

"Mr. Kent, I know you're in there." There was no mistaking the same flat, hard-edged tones Lex had mocked earlier that day, just like there was no way for Clark to deny that long copper-brown hair was Lionel Luthor's. "And I know you have my son."

Of course he knew. How could he NOT know? With a sigh, Clark opened the door a little further. "Just a minute, Mr. Luthor," he excused, and shut it again. In a burst of speed, he rearranged several things, making it appear that he was sleeping on the couch, and paused in the bedroom to look at Lex. "Your father is here," he announced in a whisper, and then he sped back to the door, pulling the chain off noisily and opening the door. "Come in."

Lionel paced into the room with smooth impatience, casting Clark and then the rest of the living room a brief glance-over. "Quaint. How are you today, Mr. Kent? And how is my son?"

"Tired, I suspect, Mr. Luthor. He's in the bedroom, probably asleep by now. Superman brought him by yesterday morning. He's been here ever since. I don't think he's ready for company just yet." Clark's voice held the firm conviction of a Kent behind it, and never mind the show he put on at the Planet.

"Only yours, Clark." Lionel had a particular inflection he used on Clark's name, as if he were stepping on it when he said it. "Is he well? From what I know, he should still be in a hospital, for weeks to come." And was that concern, or some layer of the game on Lionel's face?

"When Superman brought him back, he was physically healthy," Clark hedged, green eyes turning hard. "For now, he doesn't need to play with you, Lionel, nor does he need to answer a lot of media questions, so if it's all the same to you, I think you've worn your welcome out."

"I've always liked your spine, Clark, this... this fire you keep muted too often. It's such a shame -- you know that I have you to thank for drawing Superman's attention unwittingly to Lex's disappearance, don't you?"

"Dad, what a pleasant surprise." Lex leaned against the frame of the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest as he looked at his father, who was always crisply elegant and exuding feelings of control even when he was invading someone else's home.

"Lex." Was that a feeling of relief at seeing his son or something else, carefully masked? "Son. I've been desperately worried..."

"I'm sure you have been, Dad. I was going to swing by your office tomorrow morning and talk to you then, but..." But Lionel had saved him the trouble. He took a step into the living room, glad that he'd tossed on his dressing gown. "You can see for yourself that I'm perfectly well, thanks to Superman."

"Yes, Superman. Such an unpredictable creature. I do wonder why he took such an interest in you, Lex, but I'm grateful to him for having saved my son." The way that Lionel reached out as if to touch him was unusual, made Lex want to flinch.

"I'm sure we all are, Mr. Luthor," Clark said, smoothly moving to intercept that touch. "Now, if you don't mind, it is late, and I'm sure Lex is tired..."

"Clark."

Lex put a hand on his friend's shoulder, then stepped around him. The tactic Clark was trying never worked with his father and would only make him more suspicious or persistent. Or both. "I'm taking a... vacation of sorts for a few days, Father. LeXCorp, you no doubt noticed, is once more functioning as it should, and I'd appreciate it if you told me about any LuthorCorp board meetings or information that I need to know." He skirted around his father, too, heading for Clark's comfortably small kitchen.

"Of course I will, son." And hell would probably freeze over if Lionel actually kept a promise, so Lex's assistant would undoubtedly keep his ear to the ground just in case. "Wouldn't you be more comfortable at home, though? In your own surroundings instead of..." A hand waved dismissively. "Here?"

Clark was going to explode. Lex just knew it.

"I'm having a new security system installed into my penthouse," Lex explained as he opened Clark's refrigerator and pulled out a carton of juice. That wasn't the reason, of course -- it had been an afterthought earlier in the day, but it would serve as a decent excuse for the time being. "And Clark has been good enough to open his home to me and offer his gracious company."

"Friends do that kind of thing," Clark demurred, shrugging his shoulders and hunching them inward to make him seem a little smaller.

"Yes, well. You could have come to stay with me just as easily, Lex," Lionel sighed.

"Forgive me for not trusting the security that let me be kidnapped while walking to my goddamned car!" He could feel his voice swinging towards a rage, barely kept it at a conversational murmur as he pulled a blue plastic cup from the countertop. It made the orange juice look sickly green when he poured it.

"And being here with no security at all is going to make you safer exactly how, Lex?" Lionel asked, casting a damning gaze towards Clark. The Kent boy was looking spectacularly helpless, and had he always looked like that? No. No, he hadn't, and Lionel had seen him throwing bales of hay most men couldn't lift, never mind the other things he knew about Clark.

"He'll be fine, I'm sure," Clark murmured mildly.

"At least here the police aren't bribed to stay away," Lex muttered after a quick swallow of juice. It cleared his head like liquor, cold bitter tang and a touch of pulp in his mouth. Thick like blood seeping from the roof of his mouth... No, maybe he should stick with liquor after all. "Fear not, Dad, I'll soon return to the elite of Metropolis. And tomorrow you will inform me of what LuthorCorp goings on I've missed."

"All right, Lex." It wasn't giving in easily, not from Lionel. It was giving in because he knew Lex, and he knew things would only get worse if he kept pushing. "Fine. Call me in the morning."

"I'll be there at eight a.m.," he told Lionel as he put the carton back in the fridge, and walked back into the living room. "There's a lot we need to talk about. But thanks for your overwhelming concern, and dropping by."

"It's what any father would do, Lex." So disgustingly patronizing, and the spark of fury in Clark's eyes made Lex wonder for a moment if his father would escape the apartment whole.

"Right, then. Back to bed?" Clark asked with a nod at Lex, opening the door to usher Lionel out of the apartment.

If he answered 'yes', his father would jump all over it the next morning, and if he said 'no' it would face the same treatment. Just when he thought everything was going to wrap up neat and comfortable... "Yeah, Clark, I'll go back to sleep. Goodnight, Dad." He couldn't bring himself to meet his father's eyes, not without seeing the spark of sneering half-sadness that he'd seen over and over again in the press conference loop.

"Lionel. I'm sure you can see that Lex needs his rest, and I'd like to get back to my couch if it's all the same to you," Clark said firmly as Lionel momentarily paused in the doorway.

From the twist of his mouth, the way he'd been half-about to say something, told Lex that Lionel hadn't bought it. He looked too smug, too... something. Something Lex had never liked in his father's eyes. "Good night, boys."

Lionel closed the door behind himself.

"Have I mentioned lately," Clark sighed, "that I really hate your father?"

"No." Lex drained the last of the juice from the cup, smiling to himself as he set it down on the counter. "But it's a sentiment that bears frequent repeating."

"He's going to make things difficult for you tomorrow." Clark's hand was on his hip, though, sweet reassurance, and that was enough for Lex for now.

"So are your co-workers at the Daily Planet," Lex reminded. At least they were playing tit for tat in giving each other problems to deal with. He left his fingers curl over Clark's hand, and took a steady step back towards the short hallway. "Bed. If the doorbell rings again, it can keep ringing."

"Right," Clark agreed with him, following along easily, as if this was something they did every night. Maybe it would be one day soon. "No more bell ringing."

And come morning, they could worry about any and every thing else.

Fact: Clark Kent was quiet, bumbling, smiling, friendly, and brighter than a welding torch in an ink-dark night.

Fact: Clark Kent had few friends despite making acquaintances with everyone.

Fact: Clark Kent was Smallville embodied into one person. All American, wholesome...

And the more Lois thought about it, the more Lois read over articles, the more she realized that Clark was Smallville after all. Wholesome, but covering an unexpected reality. A struggling all American apple pie and farming small town that had new life breathed into it by the machinations of the Luthor family.

Wherever she found reference to a Kent in the archives in the last ten years, there was a Luthor somewhere in there. And when Lex had been in Smallville, Clark Kent always figured somewhere into the equation. And vice versa.

Then there was the Lillian Fund at Met U, which was now in its eighth year of providing one new full scholarship every year to a student interested in Journalism. It was hard to track down who it was funded by, but a little digging had turned up one Alexander J. Luthor, son of Lionel and Lillian. That was the scholarship that had put Clark through Met U.

Lois leaned to look out the window and down onto the street. It was hard to miss the sound of a Porsche's engine, particularly when the vehicle stopped short right in front of the building to drop off a passenger. She wished she had a better view because the passenger side door took forever to open before Clark rose out of it, briefcase in hand.

Fact: LuthorCorp was right next door, so it made some semblance of sense for Lex Luthor to drop Clark off. If he was, say, staying at Clark's place, or vice versa.

Fact: The previous day, Lex had come up to the Daily Planet in full PR smile mode, looking for Clark. For dinner.

Fact: Lex Luthor had gone completely ballistic when Jimmy had snapped off a photo, and Clark had been abiding of the muzzling of the press.

It was also a fact that Perry White had taken her, and Jimmy, and most of the rest of the staff to task for 'Papparazi' tactics that he only expected of the trash that the Inquisitor hired. And that after that, he'd talked to her in private -- about Clark, about how you could catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, and about the time he'd pissed off Lionel Luthor and the man had snapped and almost crushed Perry's family jewels with a well placed knee.

Fact: Lois had already psyched herself to apologize to Clark for being an ass, and unable to separate the line between 'person time' and 'reporter time'.

Fact: As much as she didn't like it, she was just going to have to suck it up by the time Clark made it up to their office.

With a sigh, she settled back into her chair and waited, pretending to dabble at some research online. Clark would have been gratified if he'd known that her morning was going as slowly as his afternoon had gone the day before. As it was, she wasn't about to admit it, especially when he finally came into his office with his head down and a sheepish expression on what was visible of his face.

God, could anyone get more self-effacing than Smallville!?

"Hey, Clark -- do you want a cup of coffee?" Standing gave her something to do so she didn't look like she'd been waiting with baited breath for him to roll into the office. "Was, uh, dinner good?"

"Great," Clark told her firmly, fidgeting a little. "Coffee... would be nice. Lois, I'm sorry I was so..."

"Clark, I'm sorry I was... such a bitch yesterday. I ambushed your... friend, and then, God, we chased you, and I'm sorry we made such a scene, Clark. It was just a surprise for us all." She talked over his last few words, and when she was done, found herself standing there expectantly, with both coffee mugs clutched in her hands. "Forgive me, Smallville?"

"Forgiven," Clark promised, smiling up at her shyly. That was just so... so him! Now, to hurry on and make him think about something else besides her apology, because she'd just die if she had to do it again.

"Great. Are you up to putting in a full day of investigating? The Police chief has dental on those two bodies in the warehouse, and has ruled it a suicide, but doesn't that just strike you as too neat and tidy, Clark?" That would distract him, to throw the story at him before he'd had a chance to sit down, Lois hoped.

Fact: Smallville loved his work.

Fact: Smallville was actually hot when he glared like that. And oh, GOD, Lois did not just think like that.

"LOIS!" The obvious frustration on his face was there, and he gave a deep sigh. "Look. Lois. Superman saved Lex. And whatever happened other than that... Well, we just don't need to know. Lex doesn't even know, because he wasn't conscious."

"I wasn't insinuating that Lex Luthor had anything to do with it!" She sloshed coffee when she poured it quickly, and drew back her hurt hand with a yelp. "I'm insinuating that maybe Lionel Luthor had something to do with it. Because when the police first reported, they said there was evidence on the scene that was being looked at in connection to your friend's kidnapping, and then... it all disappeared."

That calmed Clark almost visibly. "Well, I wouldn't put it past him. To be honest, I wouldn't put it past him to have given Lex to the kidnappers to begin with. He's not exactly the kind of man you'd nominate for Father of the Year, if you know what I mean. OFF the record, Lois."

"This is all off the record, Clark," she sighed as she walked back to their desks with the coffee. So, Clark was over-defensive of his friend, which gave her the perfect angle to tackle topics from. "Only cold hard facts get reported, Smallville. So if I ask you a question out of friendly curiosity, you're not going to shut down on me, are you?"

"Depends on the question," he told her with a grin, taking his mug from her. It was fairly cheerful, and it didn't really hurt her feelings. Much. "I won't say anything that might hurt Lex, though. We've been friends too long for that."

"Not, you know, that you ever told anyone." Lois leaned back in her chair, turning it to better face Clark. She'd always liked to think of Clark as a fledgling that she was training, but now there was every sign that a certain billionaire was training him up to be his right hand man. Or something -- something was definitely going on, more than 'good friends'. "He looks pretty healthy, Clark -- how come? When you were out sick, Lionel Luthor was going on like Lex Luthor was at death's doorstep and somewhere in Switzerland."

Reaching up, Clark scratched his forehead just above his eyebrow. "All I know is that Superman showed up with Lex Wednesday afternoon sometime. He said that my place was where Lex had wanted to go, and who could blame him? I mean, his own father's security was so poor -- or so deliberately rigged -- that it got him kidnapped. Lex doesn't know anything about what went on, but presumably, Superman has some kind of... I don't know, medical facility? Something? That's better than whatever we've got. Or maybe nobody ever bothered to contact Lionel. He's a real bastard, so for all I know, he was making a fuss just to make a fuss. He's always been big on having the attention of cameras and the media..." A memory seemed to surface, Clark's mouth turning down in a sharp frown. "About ten years ago, Lex offered himself as a hostage to save a bunch of high school kids. Me included. His father used it like it was some kind of neat PR trick."

"Earl Jenkins," Lois said automatically, then found herself flushing. It wasn't like Clark didn't already know she was an information digger, because she'd always been one. "I was looking around to see if anything like this had happened before. The file photos on that are a bunch of kids coming out of the plant, and then Lionel hugging his heir. Smallville was a regular media circus over that one, wasn't it?"

"Well, it's not every day that kind of thing happens," Clark replied solemnly. "Earl used to work on the farm sometimes. When he got a good job offer from LuthorCorp, he took it. It was steady work, paid well, especially... if he kept quiet." He paused, looking at her. "There really was a Level Three. Lex didn't know. Plausible deniability, I think Lionel called it. Lex went in fully prepared to give himself for all of us."

"But it was there?" That hadn't been in any of the articles, but Lois didn't feel shocked, at least not intellectually. "And Lionel Luthor let his son walk in there and say that it didn't exist? But he knew? See, Clark, that's just why I think Lionel might've had a hand in this."

"Yeah." Clark could see why she'd believe that. Hell, he believed that, because he'd certainly left behind enough evidence for the police to find and suspect worse. God. "He knew. He lied to Lex and to everybody else. Lex nearly died down there. Earl did die from whatever they had been doing before Lionel closed it off and bricked up the entrance to the elevator."

Lois tossed Clark a lopsided smile, fingers curling around her coffee cup. "Right. I think you've got a story to finish about the Metropolis SPCA for tomorrow's edition, Clark, then you and I are going to visit the police and find out who these two guys were."

Lois was really something when she decided to go for a new expose. "Right. Give me an hour, and I'll be ready to go with you. Maybe if we're lucky, we'll find out at least a little something." And if they were even luckier, they could trace it back to Lionel, though Clark suspected the bastard's tracks were better covered than his own had ever been.

She was quiet for a few minutes, rustling through files and print-outs of microfiche, losing herself in sorting and highlighting articles and thoughts that caught her eye. She already had a good half of the story written in her head, and hoped more detail and Clark's input would flesh it into a full article.

"So, how long is your friend going to be crashing with you?"

"Until he can get better security in place. He was leaving LuthorCorp when it happened, so I'd guess he's looking for someone who'll do a better job than the security there," Clark replied, going through and carefully reading over his article. It should be okay for what they needed, and while Perry might suggest changes, he wouldn't if Clark had given in and gotten hot on the track of something with Lois. He'd learned that when Clark finally gave in to her, there must be fire where she'd seen smoke.

"But he's got his own building, and his own penthouse, doesn't he? I'd think security there is better than where you are. I mean, you live in a pretty good part of town, but..." But it wasn't high class, and it was downtown housing, which always had a slum-lord feeling to it even in the nicer buildings. Lois wasn't afraid to imply that, either, since she'd always liked to tease Smallville about his apartment.

He blushed red right on the cue she'd expected. It was damned near cute.

"I think I make him feel safe," Clark said quietly. "I saved his life a couple of times when we were in Smallville. Maybe right now he needs a talisman as much as he needs a friend."

Was it possible that Smallville missed the subtle and not so subtle overtone of homosexuality that rose up when he talked about his friend? Minor Fact: Clark Kent was oblivious in his goofdom. "Saved his life a couple of times? Clark, looking through all of these clippings... you were saving his life on a pretty regular basis. When the two of you weren't reenacting episodes of Scooby Doo."

"There's nothing wrong with Scooby Doo!" Clark protested, face heating up even more. "Well, okay, so before the ghosts were real, it was easy to figure out the villain..."

"Really easy," Lois snickered.

"...BUT..." Clark continued, "they always got their man."

Right. Right, and that was another Minor Fact: Clark Kent was totally oblivious, period. How could anyone miss the drug usage, the bondage, the lesbianism, the bestiality inherent in Scooby Doo?!

"So, you usually get your man, Clark?" Lois had to bite her bottom lip to not smirk or wink at him when she slyly slipped that in. He'd miss it -- if Jimmy was there in the office yet, she would've bet him a twenty that Clark would miss that innuendo.

"Well, yeah, usually," Clark admitted. "Of course, Smallville's a lot different than Metropolis. Not as many people, for one thing. Fewer to pick from, you know? And hey, a couple of times? It even turned out to be a girl."

"You caught girls, Clark? I'm shocked, and morally stunned," she sighed, taking a deep sip of her coffee. She could call Clark's moves better than anyone else in the office. Usually. Now there was a Lex factor skewing her usually predictable results in the Educate Smallville game, but she'd still do all right. "Come on, Clark, how many words does the SPCA get, anyway?"

"Exactly six hundred. Not one word more, and if I can just whittle down three more..." Three was easy enough, actually. "And yes. I caught girls. Admittedly they were bank robbing homicidal lesbian girls..."

"... Smallville, the things I never want to know about your sex life."

"Many and varied. Right," Clark said sheepishly, saving the document and mailing it to Perry White with a few quick motions of finger and hand. "There. All done, so we can go now..."

"And I'm driving again. Is the only time you drive when your friend gives you his keys?" She finished her coffee, and stood up to get her coat. There was a half and half chance that Clark would fumble his jacket, and a better chance that he'd blush. Endearing, predictable Smallville.

"Hey, Clark, you wouldn't happen to have the, uh, film from yesterday, would you?" Jimmy called to them from the other side of the office, jogging towards them.

"Sorry, Jimmy," Clark apologized sheepishly, nearly dropping his jacket in response to whatever startle Jimmy must have given him. "Um, I think maybe it's sort of done in. Lex would have taken your camera if I hadn't taken the film. And," he told Lois, "why would I drive any other time? I mean, when a man hands you the keys to a Porsche, you don't say 'no thanks'."

"I'd never give him the keys back," Lois said, casting an eye to Jimmy's tightly crestfallen look. God, she was surrounded by puppy-men. "Clark, what do you mean 'done in'?"

"Well, I pulled it out of the camera, wadded it up and put it in my pocket. It's probably still on the bedroom floor..." he offered. "That important, huh? I'm really sorry, Jimmy."

"Just, uh... a couple of photos I can re-shoot." Jimmy was trying hard to not glare, Lois could tell. "I just never expected to lose that film."

Clark gave a heavy sigh. "Then don't take pictures of my friend, okay, Jimmy? He's not up to that right now, and just because he's my friend doesn't mean he's your personal photo op."

Friend, friend, friend, and the film was on the bedroom floor, was it? Lois felt her eyebrows creeping up by slow inches, along with an odd twinge of jealousy. That would have to be dealt with later. "Clark's running a one-man attempt to suppress the media," she winked at Jimmy. "Sorry about the film -- why don't you go talk to White about Lessons in Angering Luthors? You'll feel tons better."

The look of confusion on Clark's face said that he obviously had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, and it was probably just as well. "I can see if I can salvage the film. I mean, I just left it in the pocket... But you have to promise no pictures of Lex."

"Swear to God, Kent," Jimmy said, putting one hand up in the air. "If we need a photo of him, I'm not taking it. Or I'm getting a huge zoom lens."

"Attaboy." Lois slipped her arm into Clark's arm, and pulled at him. "Come on, Smallville. Let's get going."

Clark grinned at Jimmy, like sunlight coming from behind the clouds, damn him. "Oh. Right. See you around, Jimmy, and hey, I'll bring you that film, okay?"

"Thanks!" Jimmy's answering smile was the clouds drifting away, and Lois internally mourned the days when men had balls and just grunted and went about their work.

"Okay, so one more off the record question, Clark?"

"Sure," Clark agreed as they moved towards the elevator. "Hey, think we'll be back by five?"

"Why, going out to dinner again?" It was vicious teasing, but it felt damn good.

Clark just smiled at her, though, delighted. "Nah. My mom's making pie." That was reason enough to want to get off on time, right? "She said she'd bring it by around five-thirty. She wants to check on Lex, anyway."

Just hearing about the wholesomeness felt stifling, and she was sure that Lex Luthor of the high class everything would be feeling smothered by it in a matter of hours. She bet to herself that the pie would be apple.

"Your mom, Clark... is something else. Now, my other question." She stepped into the elevator first, still tugging gently on his arm. "Who's sleeping on the sofa?"

"That would be me." The blush that crept up and turned his face crimson said otherwise, though, and MY, wasn't that just fascinating? So, Smallville was sharing the bed with his friend. She couldn't decide whether to be jealous or to add it to her collection of fantasies.

"I have an air mattress I could let you borrow," she baited. "You know, because sofas are so tough on a person's back. But you seem pretty okay today." Cue mentions of back and neck pain, sometime within the next two hours or so.

Small town farmboys were so damned cute when they tried to lie.

"Mine's pretty comfortable." Okay, so that wasn't a lie, obviously. "I used to have one out in the barnloft and I'd sleep on it a lot, so I guess I'm sort of tough." Except Clark Kent WASN'T, and now he was blushing. "Actually, I guess I hadn't thought about it. I was a little sore first thing..."

Maybe she played her hand a little when she smirked smugly, and just nodded. It was fun, even if she was playing her hand. "I bet you were."

The look he cast her was suspicious, but he seemed willing enough to let it go. "Yeah," he said finally, green eyes narrowed slightly. "Now, we're heading to the main precinct, right?"

"And the chief of police himself. Now, I expect you to be as quick-witted and sharp as you usually are, because this is a great opportunity." She patted his arm as they headed out of the elevator on the lobby floor.

Smallville wouldn't let her down, Lois knew. She'd play bad cop, he'd play good cop, and between them, the head of the cops would spill a lot more than he'd planned on feeding them.

"Ah, Lex. Good morning, son. I take it that you slept well in that hovel to which you've descended?" Lionel asked with a smile as Lex walked through the doors to his office. "I can only imagine what sort of discomforts you must be suffering."

Lex had spent the entirety of his drive readying himself to join easily into his father's games. Chatting with Clark to calm his nerves, punched the wall of the elevator a few times to get his adrenaline flowing... he could manage it. Even when his father threw a half-expected left fielder like that at his feet and waited for him to do something with it.

"A man of the people has to hone in on the lives of his constituents from time to time, Dad." Lex flashed his father the shark smile, felt his lips pull back grimly for a moment as he approached his father's vast desk. "But thanks for asking."

"You're very welcome, Lex. Now, surely you'll want to tell your poor old father all about your harrowing adventures with Superman -- for example, why you aren't injured badly enough to be in a clinic in Switzerland, when I was shown..." Was that concern on Lionel's face? It couldn't be. "...Well, some very disturbing images, son."

"If I were religious, I'd call it a miracle," Lex started honestly. "But let's backtrack a minute -- you... saw? How?"

"There were certain videos delivered into my hands, Lex, detailing some very... unpleasant scenes. Direct-streamed, more like, from an untraceable source." Of course from an untraceable source because what idiot would reveal themselves to a Luthor that way?

It was stomach churning to think that his father had seen him so... weakened. Putty in their hands, and he'd said things, begged things that never bore repeating. Lex helped himself to a seat, fingers curling tight onto the arms of the chair to hide a tremor. "And?" There was always, always an 'and', with Lionel. Only stupid people failed to prod for it.

"And, if Superman hadn't rescued you, the money was already on its way into the account they had set up to receive it." Obviously Lex was going deaf, because his father had never agreed to negotiate with kidnappers before now. He was certain that it must be a lie, but if it was, it could be verified. "You're my son, Alexander!"

As if he hadn't been his son when Earl Jenkins had him hostage. When Lucas's mother had tried to kill him with an axe.

The silence stretched out until it was weak and thready, and then Lex lifted his chin a little to better look at his father. The man's desk was dramatically positioned, just so that whoever sat down across from him could see only Metropolis as a backdrop. It was something to think on.

"Funny, I watched the press conference. Repeatedly. For a few hours. You never said anything about giving in to kidnappers, in fact... you threatened them."

"Of course I threatened them, Lex." The scowl his father cast him was sharp. "If I hadn't threatened them, there would have been kidnappers lining up week after week to take their chances at picking you up, especially if they knew they'd get paid."

"Intellectually, Dad, I'm aware of that." He loosened his grip on the chair's arm, letting his fingers drum steadily on the leather. "It was a risky, but ultimately successful gamble you made... and I'll thank you for it when the rest of me catches up with my healthily detached intellect."

"Lex, regardless of the way things have stood between us..." Lionel took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "There comes a time when a man realizes that perhaps he needs his sons more than he had previously thought."

Lex let out a breath that had somehow gathered itself in his chest without permission. "Is that what brought on your impromptu visit to Clark's apartment last night?"

"I wanted to be sure of your safety." It wasn't an answer, exactly, but it was something, wasn't it? "Rumor had it that Superman had returned you to Metropolis, and I couldn't imagine where else you might go, considering the area in which he was last seen."

"I did ask him to leave me there," Lex admitted after a moment. "Since the security here is in such lapse, and I use the same people for LeXCorp's security."

"We're working to replace them. A high number of the personnel were apparently members of the police force who have been 'moonlighting'," Lionel murmured skeptically. "It doesn't say much for them, I suppose, but it seemed the best choice at the time." That way, the police Lionel had bribed would stay bribed.

"They were Phelan's friends, father. You remember Phelan?" Lex knew he didn't have to ask that, but he had to talk or else sudden rage would spike in his voice. "You had my fucking kidnappers on your goddamned payroll!"

"After Phelan's death, I didn't exactly consider any of the rest of them as having even remotely enough balls for trying to harm a Luthor, Lex. Even Phelan wasn't that stupid," Lionel replied sharply.

"Phelan was the brightest out of them," Lex muttered, looking down for a moment before he leaned forwards in his chair. It was a horrifying thought, that they'd been leeching for years off of his and his father's money, and then turned around and did... did all of that, god dammit. "Tell me you destroyed whatever... media they sent you, Dad."

"And all of the remaining proof of what had happened... Well, what Superman hadn't destroyed already. Your kidnappers had been broken into rather small pieces, nearly folded in half." The look that Lionel gave him was heavy, full of weighty knowledge. "Almost as if it was something personal he held against them."

But all Lex gave Lionel was a nod, and a slow, growing smile. He could do this, he could carry on and keep talking about it as long as he held that wonderful mental image in his mind. "They had it coming to them, so I don't give a damn how or why it happened."

"That's my Lex." There had never really been any question, had there? Not really. He was so much like his father sometimes that it was terrifying. "I'm sure you'll want to go back to your little downtown nook this afternoon. If you'd like, I've taken the liberty of looking into bodyguards for you, Lex."

Those two fuckers broken in half, snapped backs, oh, yes, that was a thought he could hold onto. Broken necks for the pain they'd inflicted on him, for... for... Lex closed his eyes tightly for a moment, half-aware he hadn't yet answered his father. Nausea rose up, and he could taste the tang of bile in the back of his throat. What the fuck was wrong with him, thinking like that?

"Actually, I'm going to stay where I am for a few more days." His voice wasn't shaking at all, he told himself. It was just a cross-breeze or... something that made it feel in his throat like it had.

"Because you feel safe there. With that Smallville creature." And God, Lionel obviously meant creature. Lionel knew. Of course he did. Of course he knew. He'd been transporting all of that refined meteor ore for years, doing... THINGS with it. Of course he knew.

"And what if I do?" Lex snapped quietly. Goddamn whatever it was -- disgust at himself, shock? -- that had sapped the strength from the growl of his voice.

His father simple smiled, however, nodded. Lionel probably thought he had some sort of plan, because why else would he leave Lex alone about it? "Good. I want you to feel safe for now, Lex. You've been through a terrible ordeal."

Or else Lionel had a plan, and wanted to soothe Lex into letting his guard down. But there wasn't anything left to guard, not when he'd been flayed open and now he knew his father had seen. Seen things that even Clark hadn't, he assumed, things that he would've preferred death over having anyone see, if he'd had a choice.

Lex forced a smile to his mouth, but it felt like a grimace as he looked across the canyon of desk between them. Canyon of desk, canyon of lies, it was all the same. "You know, I'm always a little shocked when you say something like that. Considering that last night you seemed ready to grab me by the scruff of my neck and drag me off like a wayward pet."

"Last night, I hadn't understood that you are safe right where you are, Lex. There's only one bedroom. One door into the apartment. It required a certain amount of personal knowledge to be sure of your safety." So smoothly spoken.

It was almost like watching a lion gnaw on the bones of some mauled gazelle. Of course it was smooth and relaxed when he had the prey right where he wanted it. "And what exactly was it that assured you of my safety there?"

"Well, it certainly doesn't hurt that your... friend is there. I feel sure that you will be well-protected, Lex?"

So that was the game. Draw him out, get a confirmation -- but to what ends? Lex sat back in the chair, fingers still drumming the arm. "Of course. I trust Clark with my life, and friends are much better protection than, say, our city's finest."

"At this point, I don't doubt that it's so. Everything has been properly taken care of, Lex. You understand?" his father said, nodding at him. "For now, stay where you are. Don't go wandering without protection. You may interview all potential candidates at a later date. Perhaps when you are more up to it."

Which he wasn't, not yet. Sharp fear would cloud his ability to judge character, and strike out potentially good candidates just because they were a little too something. "Now that we've settled that, Dad, was there anything else?"

"I've had my assistant draw together the necessary items to update you on everything you've missed at LuthorCorp. I assume that you did the same for LeXCorp when you were out yesterday, and won't need any assistance there?" Lionel smiled at him, because he knew that Lex would never let him anywhere near his own business.

"It was hectic, but I managed almost a week of work in one day." Lex settled himself into smug calmness, wrapped himself in icy self assurance, and braced for his father to lob another surprise at him. "Are there any highlights, or has LuthorCorp ambled silently onwards and upwards?"

"I'm sure you'll find everything you need in the packet waiting for you outside, Lex. For now, I really would like to get back to business," Lionel said with a smile slicker than a snake oil salesman's.

"Of course." Lex stood up, feeling almost light-hearted. He hadn't been prodded about Superman, how he'd recovered so quickly, or the actual events from which he'd recovered -- it had been a damn good decision to drop in on his father at the start of a work-day. "Oh, if you happen to have my watch in with whatever you've had taken from the site, have it delivered to Clark's apartment for me."

"As you wish, Lex. I managed to retrieve it and your wallet, among other things." Destroyed them or kept them for his own personal knowledge and gain, who knew with Lionel? Not Lex, that was damned sure. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Just send any... personal items of mine over to Clark's apartment. I think that's all I need." And maybe, just maybe, a couple of weeks without his father toying with him. That odd sympathy and worry was soothing compared to Lionel squirreling things away to use against him later. Lex let one hand close over the back of the chair he'd been sitting in, before he made himself relax and pivot smoothly to leave.

"Oh, and Lex..."

Christ. His teeth clacked together so hard Lionel probably heard them.

"Don't embarrass me too terribly much when you bring Clark out to meet your adoring public, hm?"

He twisted a little to grace his father -- still sitting calmly in his chair, unflustered as always -- with a small smile. "Hey, at least you remember his name."

"Oh, yes. Right. Your, um..." Lionel paused, considering the matter. "Yes, wasn't her name Helga? Or perhaps it was Gretel and I'm confusing the matter with Hansel." He smiled, a knowing expression. "There's a great deal of Martha in him, Lex." Martha, who could be pursued, wooed, now that Jonathan was gone. If only she would allow it.

An interesting consideration.

"Have a good day, Dad." He wasn't going to listen to his father, his untrustworthy, disloyal father, letch about Clark's mother.

After all, there was a bundle of reports waiting for him outside, and he could lose himself to making phone calls and reading. It struck Lex just then, as he walked out of his father's office, just how much he adored his job.

There were a lot of people in the main precinct who were very worried about covering their ass and it was obvious. The sidelong glances that were half contempt, half fear, the vague breath of whispers that filtered to Clark's ears making him certain that there were more of them in on it than just the two he'd killed.

It would be an understatement to say that he was completely fucking furious.

Lois seemed at least marginally aware of his tenseness, smiling mildly to herself as they walked towards the chief's office at the back of the sprawling building. "Let me introduce us to him, Clark," Lois whispered as they neared the office, that bore a frosted glass door with 'Steven McBride' stenciled over top of it.

Right. He gave a terse nod, eyes narrowing slightly as one of the policeman walking past him leered -- not at Lois, but at Clark, and he heard some commentary further down the hall about Lex and his new place of residence.

Double fuck.

"Clark, are you okay?" Lois asked, softly, gently, as she raised a hand to knock on the man's door. No, he wasn't okay, because there was suddenly clearly something going on with the police. Not all of them, but enough, enough to worry him.

"Fine, Lois. I need to make a quick phone call..." Tell Lex not to go back to the apartment, to go to the Planet and stay at Clark's desk until he got there. He wanted to be sure that Lex was safe, and if that meant moving somewhere else on extraordinarily short notice (like Antarctica), then he would.

"Uh..." She could see it in her eyes -- Clark's lame, pathetic excuse of the day wasn't taking well, but it never did, and she never pried. Chloe had spent all of high school giving him that look. "Okay, Smallville. I'll start without you." And she turned sharply away to knock on the door again.

The sound of a voice calling her to come in sounded as Clark dialed his cell, quickly connecting to Lex's and waiting impatiently to see if the younger Luthor picked it up. "Come on..." he muttered to himself, giving a passing policeman a bit of a hotfoot. He'd been the one making snide allusions, after all. So what if it was petty?

"Lex Luthor."

The policeman glared around blindly for a moment, then shook his foot a little like he'd stepped on something before ambling onwards with a file in hand.

"Hey, it's me, Clark." He didn't want to say Lex's name, not here where someone might dirty it, and then he'd have to kill them. He wouldn't think twice. "Where are you?"

"Heading over to my office to pick up some files -- why, is something the matter?" Lex sounded, for the first time in days and days, like himself. Arrogant, calm, laid back. There was the muffled sound of music turned down in the background.

"When you're done, go back to the Planet. You can sit at my desk and do whatever you need to do. Don't go back to the apartment." He was fairly certain that was a bad idea given the way some of the cops were looking at him. Not all of them, just a scattering. Five, maybe six. As if they knew him, were aware of him, had their eyes on him.

"Whoa, now. If you think I'm walking back into that shark-den, Clark, you're crazy."

"I think you're safer in the shark den. I'll explain it all when I get back to the office, and I'll make a call and get Jimmy to walk you up to the desk." Fuck, and he'd have to go get that film...

He could hear Lex make a disbelieving sound. "All right. Fine -- but you'd better have a damn good reason for this." And then Lex hung up, and Clark could still hear the tingle of anger that had been in his friend's voice.

Just what he needed today. Any day, because the only thing worse than Lex being pissed at you was Lex being suspicious of you and it was all downhill from there, wasn't it?

Reluctantly, Clark closed his cell phone and stepped quietly into the office of the chief of police, hoping he wouldn't knock Lois off balance by doing so.

"...soften the news if you could."

"Soften the news? I'm not sure that's exactly possible." She glanced up at Clark, patting the chair beside her. "This is Clark Kent, my co-worker. Clark, this is Steven McBride, chief of the Metropolis PD. He was just telling me that the two bodies came back positively ID'd as the two missing policemen."

Clark nodded slowly. "I see," he said calmly enough. "And I suppose they must have been trying to find Lex Luthor, and that's how they ended up dead? The kidnappers possibly killed them?" It was a subtle enough sort of insinuation, and Superman could be interviewed and prove them all to be lying.

The chief just shook his head. He had tired eyes and a lined mouth, and there was a bloodshot look that said he'd been pulling long hours. "No, not quite, though that's what I had personally hoped at first. I'll be honest and say that we've got some house-cleaning to do, and I want you to softly introduce this idea to the public so that this can be carried through. I'm going to have to fire some men with good records behind them before this is all done. The dental and the arson reports suggest that they were the kidnappers."

A certain relief flooded through the reporter. "So you know who the other men are who may or may not be involved?" That meant there would be a list; a list that he could get for Lex. The urge to hurt them himself was strong, difficult to live with. Jonathan would never have wanted Clark to feel that way about anything, about anyone. Maybe he wouldn't, if Jonathan was still alive, and that made him feel the slightest bit guilty. There would be no harm in giving those names to Lex if he could get them, though. There would be no harm in ruining men who had wanted to hurt someone else.

"Are you ready for that sort of expos,, yet, or would you rather work up to it? How much of this can we put into print without actually interfering with this housecleaning?" Lois, a recorder running on the desk already, and a pen and pad of paper in her hand, leaned eagerly forwards.

"We're currently investigating the Phelan connection, and that's what I want to have focused on. If anyone has information on the dealings of officer Phelan from 1995 to 2001, they can anonymously contact the precinct and leave their tips. The people running the tip-lines are newcomers to the force who couldn't have been involved in that."

"Including the men who found him that last night at the Museum?" Clark asked curiously, nodding. He was glad there was someone who might be respectable amongst the police force. It made him feel better.

"You're familiar with the case already, Mister... Kent?" McBride seemed to falter with his name for a moment, eyes dropping as if he'd find a nametag on Clark's shirt.

"Research," Lois said quickly, "because we wanted to come in here armed with every fact possible."

"It's good to know your subject beforehand," Clark agreed, smiling politely at the chief of police. "We wanted to be sure that we were up on everything, sir." Never mind that it was his fault Phelan had been shot.

The man eyed Clark for a moment, lips thinned. "Well, that's very good of you. There will be official dismissals to come, and lists of course, but I don't want this to become a three ring circus or a McCarthy mess. Because I can't say for sure who everyone involved was."

"Of course, sir. It's important that you learn about everyone involved," Clark agreed smoothly enough, his eyes flickering imperceptibly over the papers on Chief McBride's desk. There was bound to be some sort of information there, after all, even if it was hidden from normal eyes.

When Clark got like that, Lois knew to step up to the plate. "All right. I'm going to need the phone-number for the hotline, and..."

Clark only had to pay Lois and McBride half an ear of attention as he scanned the desktop. There was the arson report, under a sheaf of papers, listing 'cause unknown, faulty wiring?' as the reason for the property burning down.

More like Lionel Luthor, but all of that was all right with Clark. He wasn't sure what evidence had been left behind, but the grim notion that it might have been necessary to protect Lex came to mind. He knew what had been done to his friend, and he imagined that they'd photographed at least some of it. Burning the building down didn't seem as if it would be a necessity, but... Maybe it had been. Superman would have to visit Lionel, and that was almost enough to make him sigh even as he got down to the possible suspects list.

It was probably as long as his arm, and that made it difficult to keep from grimacing even as his cell phone rang. "Oh. Sorry, I should have turned it off..." he apologized.

McBride cast him a sharp look at that ringing, and he could hear Lois sigh. "You ought to put that on vibrate, Kent..."

And of course the moment he answered it, getting to his feet to leave the office, he heard the roar of Perry White's voice in his ear. "Kent, what do you think you're doing?"

"Um..."

"We'll understand if you take it outside," Lois mouthed, gesturing to the door.

Well. It had been a while since he'd let Lois loose on anyone, anyway, so... Clark stood, nodding, and stepped out into the hall. "To what, exactly, are you referring?" he asked his editor. Surely Lex hadn't gotten back to the Planet that fast!

Then again, it was Lex.

"Just what the hell is Lex Luthor doing here, in my office, death glaring my photographers and ignoring my reporters, while setting up his laptop at your desk?"

"Sir, I can explain, just..." Not here. "Just don't let him go anywhere. It's not safe, and..."

"It's not safe? The hell, Kent. The HELL it's not safe. The man's supposed to be on death's doorstep, but instead he's on the Planet's doorstep for the second day in a row, and acting like we're insulting him by noticing that he's here! I want this explained yesterday!"

Carefully, Clark dropped his voice. "Sir. We're in the middle of an expose concerning the matter from last week and the subject in question." Maybe that would soothe Perry somewhat. "We should be back in the office within the hour, sir. Please."

"A whole hour of this smug bastard sitting at your desk, Kent? This better be god-damned well worth it, and you and I are going to have a LONG talk in my office."

And then Perry hung up.

Clark was so screwed. With a sigh and a shake of his head, he turned off the ringer on his phone and stepped carefully, quietly back into McBride's office, listening to Lois wrap up the interview.

"--ack on Monday to see if anything new has come up, or should we just call?"

"Just call, and if there's any substantial developments, I'll request you to come here." MrBride stood up from behind his desk, shaking Lois's hand first, and then more warily shaking Clark's hand. Like he'd seen him before, or had a half-thought that connected him to something he didn't like. "You two have a good day, and thank you for your time."

"No, thank you for your time," Lois smiled at the man.

"Thank you, sir," Clark agreed smoothly, nodding a little sheepishly. "I'm sorry to have been such trouble." A hand waved his cell phone and then tucked it into his pocket. "It was Perry, wanting us to get back to the office," he informed Lois.

"Oh, well..." She flashed a toothy smile, framed in red lipstick, to the chief of police as she crowded Clark to the door once she'd slipped her recorder back into her purse. "Editor calls!"

"Right," Clark said dryly as they started to head down the hall. He recognized several of the men on the Chief's list and had the vague urge to step on a few feet. "Actually, Perry was calling to yell at me because my friend is sitting at my desk. So, when we get back, he's going to yell because I told him not to go home, and Perry is going to yell because he's at my desk. Save me, Lois. I'm throwing myself on your mercy. Do you think if I threw myself under the wheels of the nearest bus, I'd escape?"

"No. The busdriver would probably stop and yell at you for even trying." She patted his elbow delicately as they walked back towards the entrance. "So, uh... why can't he go back to your apartment? Or, I don't know, his own? Or his corporate offices? It isn't like he doesn't own a quarter of the city in some shape or form."

Broad shoulders shrugged, hunching together. "After last week, he doesn't feel safe very many places, and if... Well, you already know what sort of people are involved. It wouldn't be very hard for them to figure out that my place isn't the most secure, you know? I didn't want him going back by himself..."

"Clark... you have no idea how many degrees of fucked up your friendship with him seems to be," Lois sighed as she stuck an arm out and thrust open the precinct doors, leading the way to her car. "If he's going to crash at the Planet, the least he can do is give a teeny, tiny interview."

"I'll talk to him about it," Clark promised her. "He's not ready for anything yet, but that's not to say he might not be ready later." Not that he ever would be, at least not for a long time. Maybe he could distract Lois on his own.

And maybe things like earthquakes would stop happening. Because Fate was nice that way, and wanted him to have a little down time every once in a while.

Yeah, right.

"I'm not going to push," she sighed, "even though I desperately want to, Smallville. You understand that, don't you?"

"I know, Lois. Thanks. I really appreciate it, and even if he doesn't know it, Lex appreciates it, too. He's been my best friend for ten years. Nearly ran over me with his Porsche the first time we met," he informed her as he slipped into her car and buckled his seat belt.

"So I read in the articles," she chuckled softly, starting up her car. It wasn't a great purring beast like Lex's cars, but it worked and drove reliably from point A to point B, with sometimes a minor detour to point C, the mechanic's garage, at an inconvenient time.

Lex had offered a couple of times to buy Clark a car, and he'd never taken him up on the offer.

"I'm still trying to adjust that you've been telling lies of omission to me for over two years."

"Well, you never asked, Lois, and I never really thought it was all that important." Clark shrugged, trying to make himself look a little smaller. It was hard in Lois's car, one obviously meant for people of tiny stature. On the other hand, Clark often felt that way about Lex's cars, too. "We've just always been friends. That's all."

"After yesterday's... show, Clark, there's a betting pool starting." Lois licked her lips, like she always did when she was winding up to say something that would probably piss him off.

"On what?" he asked a little tentatively. Did he honestly want to know? God, probably not, but he needed to know, so he waited for the answer.

"Well, that was a pretty impressive show you two put on yesterday. Lex was by the book billionaire playboy calm for a whole... thirty seconds? You two were pretty damn well synched, and the elevator was cruel. Then he snapped, and you took Jimmy's film, and..." Lois gave a shrug as she made a right hand turn. "Well, it left a lot of people scratching their heads. It's not every day that Lex Luthor, halfway presumed dead, drops into the office to take Smallville out to dinner."

"Ah. That." The fact that he didn't seem pissed off surprised Lois no small amount. "People have been saying that since I was fifteen, Lois. It doesn't make it any more or less true just because they're saying it at the Planet now."

Lois started to laugh then, nervous relieved laughter. "Oh, wow, that's good -- that you're both so secure in your masculinity, because half the Planet has money riding on the two of you being at least, well, friends that have sex."

Clark nearly choked at that, turning a bright crimson that obviously negated that -- to Lois at least. "Good stars!" he stuttered out, shaking his head slightly. Well, yes, people had been saying that for years, but it struck a little closer to home this week than it had anytime in the last ten years... or at least the fact that at least half of the Planet was that sure.

At the next red light, she glanced over at him and frowned for a moment. "Clark, uh... that wasn't what you were expecting me to say, was it?"

"Not... exactly," Clark admitted, red cheeks somehow incredibly charming. "I mean, I know what people think, it's just a surprise that many people think it and are willing to put money on it!"

"Well, it also collaborates with the fact that Luthor hasn't rocked the social circles with his famous flavors of the week in almost five years. He's fallen right off the radar of the gossip columnists, and the first time he makes a scene in forever is with you, Clark. That's some pretty unlucky timing you have."

Well, there wasn't much to say about that, because it was true, wasn't it? After Victoria and Desiree, and after Helen's unfortunate demise... Well, Lex hadn't exactly been in the mood for female companionship, and Clark had known it. He shrugged slightly. "I can take it if he can."

"I'm just trying to show you things from the outside looking in, Clark. The man, who usually has a two foot bubble of space around him out of sheer fear that he inspires people, has no problem standing shoulder to shoulder with you. And lets you drive his car. And now he's shacking up with you, Clark. Think of how that looks."

Clark grinned at her suddenly. "He's been married two times, Lois. Surely that ought to say something, hadn't it?" Of course, all of those wild nights that Clark had heard about from Lex's pre-Smallville days also said a lot, he was sure. "Besides. People will talk any time they're given the opportunity."

"Okay, okay," Lois muttered as they pulled into the planet's parking lot. Clark could spot, parked over in the far corner, Lex's beautiful blue Porsche. So he was at least still on the premises. "But for your information, if this is another one of your lying to my face moments, I'm not above waving this in your face for years to come."

"The very moment that I have carnal knowledge of Lex Luthor, I swear I'll call you, Lois. Even if it's the middle of the night." Well, okay, THAT was maybe a lie. Definitely a lie. Well. Right, yes. And now he had to face the wrath of Perry White and the absolute fury of Lex Luthor and he didn't have that film for Jimmy.

His life was as good as lost. He'd never have carnal knowledge of anything.

"Clark, if you ring me up at three am to tell me you've had sex with an arrogant bald -- albeit rich -- freak, I'll find a gun, and drop by your apartment to shoot you." She put the car into park, and waited for him to get out before she locked it.

"Gee, I'm glad I have your eternal friendship, Lois," he sighed as they headed across the street. "I don't think you'll have to worry about it. If Perry doesn't kill me, Lex will finish me off, or vice versa. And then Jimmy will stomp on the remains because I still haven't brought him that film."

"Jimmy shouldn't be too heartbroken after the lecture we got about trying to get the time of day from divas and madmen." Lois jogged a little to keep up with Clark. "You missed that."

"Tell me all about it, so that I can go to my death with a smile on my face?" Clark sighed.

"First, to stay out of kicking range. Second, despite tidy manicures, watch out for the right hook..."

Clark sure as hell had better have a good reason for having him 'hide out' in what he could only consider his own personal hell. It wasn't even noon yet, and his office and penthouse in LeXCorp were being scoured for bugs, tracking and monitoring devices. Merely phase one of a two fold plan to tighten his grasp over what he'd previously considered impenetrable domain.

He was fast missing the days when he'd been soaring the corporate playing fields, elating in schemes and takeovers. It wasn't that he'd stopped all of that -- in fact, despite his disappearance, LeXCorp was on marvelous track. It was just that he felt like a shattered, detached mess and couldn't connect to the entity that was his company.

Maybe he'd needed to have that detachment for years now. Needed to separate the Lex from LeXCorp and remember that he was a person as well as a CEO. Once a week meetings with Clark for chat and food had helped somewhat, but pain in extremis and near death had shoved him onto the path that forced detachment from LeXCorp.

Lex had sat and scanned the files his father had gathered for him, the files his own secretary had gathered for him -- far thicker, most of them requiring silence and privacy so he could properly look over them -- and then had settled his laptop on his lap to tinker with an artificial life program he'd been writing.

Someone was talking to him, and since it was neither his father nor Clark, that someone wasn't getting another more than a tight smile as an answer to whatever they were saying. After the first three times, he stopped glancing up. He's said his words, curt and sharp though they'd been, to Jimmy Olsen, explaining that Clark had rang to say there was some reason why he couldn't go to the apartment, so for the time being he could wait at Clark's desk.

Why wasn't that answer enough for them?

"Lex." Why couldn't they just leave him alone!? "Lex, hey, it's me, Clark?" A hand waved in front of him tentatively to get his attention, and he did give it -- swivelled his head and glared up at Clark with the fierce energy of a thousand suns, and the visible gulp that Clark gave was almost amusing. It would have been if Lex hadn't been completely furious, anyway.

He liked straight, solid answers, hated it when Clark was cryptic without giving him an answer. "It's about time, Clark. Are you going to tell me just what's going on, or am I going to have to throttle it out of you?" He didn't drop his gaze as he let his fingers hit familiar keys and put his laptop to standby.

Someone to his right was asking him if he wanted a cup of coffee, but fuck them. His gaze didn't flinch from looking at Clark.

Those green eyes were open, honest, yearning for forgiveness, damn him. "There weren't just two of them. There are several more who were involved, and if they know you're staying with me..." Clark paused, fretting for a moment at the inside of his mouth. "It's not exactly secure. I didn't want you alone, and I didn't want you anyplace where nobody would put up a fuss if men in uniform showed up to tote you off."

It was surprising how quickly pure fury could dissolve into fear, and Lex's eyes faltered and finally dropped from Clark's too-truthful green eyes. He wasn't lying. "Goddammit." It'd be so easy, wouldn't it? Easy as an EPA inspector tossing him into the back of his van when there'd been the Club Zero incident, and Clark's cows, and maybe that was how the two not-Phelans had gotten away with him in the first place. A limp Lex Luthor being carried off by police would've been commonplace before he hit eighteen.

He rubbed a hand over his scalp, letting out a tense breath as he sat back in Clark's chair. "Well. Quite the story, isn't it?"

"It's a big one," Clark agreed with a nod. "I was worried. I didn't want you going back there alone. Thanks, Lois," he said over his shoulder, and handed Lex a cup of coffee. "I know you'd prefer not to be in a newspaper office, but I also knew that people here would be more likely to kick up a fuss and remember names if someone tried something like that."

Lex took the coffee from Clark, curling his fingers tightly around the cup, and elbowing shut his laptop. "My father already discussed this with me as a possibility, but... shit. I need to tell him this. Half his security force is moonlighting policemen." And that could go on the record for all he cared, as he got out of Clark's chair, and laid his laptop on Clark's desk.

Lois was eyeing the computer as if it held the secrets of the world, and Lex didn't care if she tried to sneak off with it. "I'll just be over here in the corner trying to not disturb you, Clark."

"I get the feeling your father might already know, Lex," Clark told him gently. "The fire that burned the two kidnappers was probably set, and the downtown precinct is about to start cleaning house. Until then, though..." Well, until then, Superman would be taking Lex Luthor home instead of Clark Kent.

Not that it would go over well with Lex when he found out.

"You forget that there's a difference between my father 'knowing' and my father knowing," Lex muttered as he paced towards the window, pulling out his cellphone. Part of the game, part of the game, and he could manage the game as long as he had little things to back him up. Hot coffee in his right hand, warmth seeping through ceramic and the stares of a handful of reporters mingled with the eyes of one Clark Kent. Little things, little things... "Hello, Cynthia? Patch me through to my father. This is urgent."

What his father knew, and what his father knew he also knew were separate things, and to play this, he had to act surprised that there was suddenly every chance that his father was either unwittingly shammed into this like Lex was, or that his father had been deeply involved. But as long as Lex was shocked and outwardly innocent, he could play at his father and possibly see which it was.

It was enough to make any non-Luthor's head spin. "I have to talk to my editor," Clark whispered, standing up and moving reluctantly towards Perry White's office. Well, at least Lex hadn't reamed him out completely. That was a start. Maybe Perry would even leave him a limb or two, and wouldn't that be nice?

He was going to need limbs if he was going to fly anywhere in the next few hours.

Perry's office door was closed, but when Clark opened it, it was clear that Perry had been waiting impatiently. "Have you placated your wild beast, Kent?" he asked before Clark had closed the door behind him.

"Lex has decided that a cup of coffee might be more soothing than the blood of reporters, yes, sir," Clark answered meekly, moving towards Perry's desk.

"Tried that technique earlier and failed when I asked him what the hell he thought he was doing here. Is he strung out on some drug, Kent? Because he was looking clean through everyone until you walked in a few seconds ago. And just why is he here?" White stood up behind his desk, to pace away his agitation. Clark had seen him do it a hundred times before. "And I want you to explain yesterday's little scene. Lois explained to me that you and Luthor apparently go way back, but..."

"Would you like me to start at the beginning, sir, or should I start with yesterday?" Silly question. "We've been best friends since I was fifteen. He drove off of a bridge when a roll of barbed wire spilled out of a truck and in front of his Porsche. I pulled him out of the river and we've been friends ever since. Lois sort of took it as a personal affront, I think, but..." Slumped shoulders shrugged. "We've just always been friends, and she never asked." He paused. "And the reason he's here... the kidnappers were policemen. And policemen could get into his apartment, since they're moonlighting in the security service LuthorCorp and LexCorp use. And it wouldn't be that hard to get into mine, either, so he wouldn't have been safe there. I figured this would be the safest place for him."

"Jesus H. Christ, Kent." White moved to the shuttered windows that let him look out over his domain, and opened the blinds enough to give Clark a view of his and Lois's desks. Lois had Lex's computer open, and was trying something with it, while Lex had leaned himself into the far corner, cellphone to his ear. "So he'll be here until you clock out today? You know how I feel about parents bringing their kids into the office, Clark, and I've got to say that your... friend has been a hell of a lot more distracting than Marcy's little girl."

"Well, sir, it's that or I go with him, and I remember what you said about keeping Lois in line..."

Perry dragged a hand over his face, looking out the window. "Get working on that story, Kent. I want it ready for press tomorrow, understand? And get Luthor to cooperate? If he's here anyway, there's three photographers who're chomping at the bit to get an updated stock photo of him."

"I'll see what I can do. I think he's a little shaken up right now, considering that the people who're supposed to be protecting Metropolis are actually more interested in killing him," Clark noted dryly. "I'll get back to my desk, then."

"This is one hell of a story, Kent... get to it." Perry finally looked away from the window, and glanced at Clark with something that felt like approval for his tactics so far. Not that White would ever say it, but it was there in his grim smile and tight eyes. "Keep Lois out of trouble."

"I'll do my best, sir." And his best was better than most, because he'd spent years keeping Chloe out of the worst of things until he'd lost her in that unfortunate accident.

Unfortunate accident.

He didn't want to lose anyone else like that again, Clark decided, standing and striding back towards his desk, leaving Perry's door open behind him. The man liked to hear the clatter of their work around him, and Clark could respect that.

The tableaux he'd seen through Perry's window hadn't shifted. Lois was sitting at her desk with Lex's favorite laptop, trying to thwart the screen-saver of a DNA double helix that was demanding she enter a password. Lex was shoulder to shoulder with the glass that overlooked the street, and part of the LuthorCorp building, talking easily to someone who wasn't his father.

Clark could tell it wasn't Lionel by virtue of Lex's voice not being raised loud enough to rattle the glass he was leaning back against.

"You'll never figure out the password," Clark told Lois quietly, making her jump and glare at him. "Well, you won't. It's probably something nobody would ever really consider, like Macedonia or Hephaestion." Clark gave her a bland smile. "Let's get to work on that article, then."

"Ego much? He really goes in for the Alexander the Great references, doesn't he?" Just to spite him, she tried first Macedonia as a password, and then Hephaestion. Twice, since the first time she hadn't spelled it properly. "Well, what do you know. Not a world conqueror at age thirty, but has the password of one." The top window once the screensaver cleared seemed to be streams and steams of mindless code running and running and running.

"Yes, by five o clock, and not a minute after if you ever want to be paid in this city again, Sharpe. I want William watching their every move, yes..." Lex's voice faded into Clark's consciousness as he leaned over Lois's shoulder, and tapped the 'sleep' key again. "Call me back if there's trouble."

"Come on, Lois. Work. If you keep annoying Lex, he won't ever talk to you, not even if you strip naked and beg." Clark grinned at her, even though the vicious jealous streak the words brought trembling through him made him want to growl instead. "I've got some of the names of the men involved."

"As tempting a mental image as that is, Clark, I'll have to pass on it." Lex pocketed his phone, and yanked his laptop away from Lois with little ceremony. "After all, I have women who'll do that without expecting anything in return for it."

Lois glared at Lex's back as he headed over to steal a chair from Jimmy's sad little desk, laptop protectively tucked under one arm. "All right, Clark. How'd you get names?"

He winked at her and smiled. "You think all I was doing was peeking around and taking phone calls? There was a list on his desk. I can read upside down."

"You're brilliant, Smallville. Are they going into print, or are we sitting on them?" Lois opened up a document file, and was already in the process of writing down her notes and filling details out with important things like verbs.

"Depends," he said firmly. "I think we ought to go ahead and get the police corruption angle in for the weekend and then release the names, say, Monday? That'll give the populace an idea of what's going on and then, bang. We have the information nobody else in Metropolis can get."

"Good -- great. Here, Clark, this is what you missed for phone calls, read through it and see if there's anything I'm missing." Lois pushed the notebook over to him, her attention focusing on the computer.

"Don't you think some of us should be aware of these names before Monday?" Lex had quietly dragged a wheeled chair to a spot between the window and Clark's desk. Since there wasn't much space there to begin with, it made it seem as if Lex were looming just behind Clark, saying the words just for him to hear.

"Yes," Clark agreed softly, "and some of you will be getting those names and any other information immediately, so long as you promise not to do anything more illegal than making sure they never work again and can't harm you." He began shuffling through the messages quickly, pulling a couple of them out. "In exchange for one stock photo for Jimmy because Perry says the old one is just that -- old." He smiled, knowing that Lex couldn't possibly think that was any sort of payment, not really. "Well, only if you want to, anyway. You know I'll give you the names." And then some.

"Everyone knows my father plays dirty. Might as well let him save me the trouble this time." Lex stood up, a hand lingering on Clark's shoulder for a moment. Little things like touch, like strong muscles under his tense fingers. It was just a camera, not a gun. Guns barely scared him any longer, except when they were lodged against the roof of his mouth. "So, where's this Jimmy?"

"See the desk with the guy looking for his chair? That's Jimmy," Lois supplied helpfully.

"Grand." Clark got a quick drum of fingers on his shoulders before Lex strode towards the scruffy-looking young man. New college graduate, he guessed, probably only at the Daily Planet since the summer. "Jimmy -- Mr. White said you needed a photograph."

The almost-boy looked at him with huge eyes, almost as if he feared Lex was about to light into him, or worse. "Um, yes?" Jimmy squeaked out, holding up his camera. Light gleamed in and bounced off of carrot-red hair, not quite as deeply so as Lex's had been, but enough to make him remember.

"One picture," Clark called. "One flash."

"I'd like to apologize for my behavior yesterday. It's been a long week, and your little attempt at being paparazzi startled me." The fuck. He'd see what Clark thought of flash photography, after... no, he wasn't going to think. Little things, little things, he could concentrate on the little things just like Dad had told him to do years ago. "We should probably go some place with better light so you won't have to use a flash."

"Just not the front lobby," Clark directed them distractedly. "Too close to the street." And too far away from Clark. Jimmy cast a crooked grin at him and then shook his head at Lex.

"Come on," the redhead said. "There's an empty office down the way. We'll open everything up and turn on all the lights."

The young man's red hair was damnably distracting. There just weren't many people in Metropolis with hair that shade. It was probably dyed, Lex told himself as he snapped at Clark over his shoulder, "Don't you have an article to be working on, Clark?"

Then he turned back to the young photographer, his face a carefully cool smile. "Lead the way."

Jimmy moved along with a grin that was full unleashed, his whole face lighting up with it. "Hey, I really am sorry about yesterday, you know. I mean, Lois says jump, and I don't ask how high, so. Clark said he'd get my film back -- I had some awesome pictures on that roll, I hope they might be salvageable. I promise not to use yours, though," he assured quickly as they headed down the hallway.

Decent kid, Lex decided on a flip toss of his judgement. Lois Lane was the only one who really rubbed him the wrong way -- there was nothing wrong with talking to the boy, playing back and forth with idle chit chat. "Thanks. We'll probably swing by the apartment to get that and some other stuff later, so you'll get your film back." If Clark hadn't crushed it to dust.

Jimmy's freckle-spattered skin flushed slightly and he looked down at his feet. "Um. Right. You're staying with Clark..." His voice trailed into silence. "Clark's a really great guy."

He'd been bouncing those insinuations since he moved to Smallville, since he bought Clark that truck. But it was easier to lie or ignore when he hadn't been sleeping with Clark the past couple of days, when he hadn't almost had sex with him, what, twice now? The night before and that morning, only both times something had seized up in him and Clark -- great guy, Clark, dependable, frustrating as hell -- had stopped him from pushing himself.

"He's a good friend," Lex agree, keeping easy pace with the boy as he led the way down the hall towards what did look like a deserted office. "Not many people would let someone crash their apartment for a few days."

"Yeah, but that's just Clark," Jimmy said, pushing open a door and revealing a mostly empty room. "I mean, he's not the most reliable in terms of time, right? But he's always there when you need him, if you know what I mean." The redhead grinned. "I haven't been here all that long, but I've figured that out."

"Yeah? So I take it Clark's pretty well liked here?" Lex couldn't quite return the grin, but he could pull up a cocky half-smile as he leaned back against the deserted desk. "That's good to hear."

"Oh, yeah," Jimmy told him, beginning to pull open all of the shades. "Everybody likes Clark, even Lois, and Lois doesn't like anybody who's not giving her a story."

Lex squinted against the bright sunlight, and stopped himself from putting on his sunglasses. It would just defeat the kid's purpose, and he was already being good enough to not ask about the flash. "Do they work well together, Lois and Clark? I usually only hear a little about her."

"He's sort of a grounding force. You know, Lois is sort of like those... Well, no, she IS one of those people who run in where angels fear to tread. Clark's got a little more sense than that." The boy began tinkering with his camera, getting things ready. "Do you want to turn into the light?"

"You're the photographer, you tell me what I want to do," Lex drawled amiably, still leaning back against the desk. His palms, warm from holding that cup of coffee Clark had given him, stuck somewhat to the cheap formica desktop. Little things. "Grounding force, hmn? I'll have to remember that. So how often does Lois run in where angels dare not tread?"

Jimmy snickered and shook his head. "Oh, every day, almost. And, yeah, turn into the light, sort of. It'll be better, and I won't need the flash, then." He paused, moving towards the window a little more so that he could get the shot lined up properly. "Used to be, she was mugged and battered more often than any other reporter at the Planet. These days, Clark sort of keeps her out of most trouble. Not all, 'cause sometimes she goes off on her own, but..." He smiled.

"Clark Kent, savior of the terminally abused idiot," Lex purred, half to himself as he turned into the light. He could look past the LuthorCorp building that way, could see to the sharply elegant spire of LexCorp where at that very moment there were thousands of employees, at least twenty of whom were scurrying around tightening the building's security before the bewitching hour of five p.m.

When he thought about it, he was personally just as bad about getting into tight situations as the woman Jimmy had just described. His mouth turned bitterly downwards as he struggled to tamp down other thoughts.

Lois was a lot like him, but pretty, and normal, worked with Clark every day, someone Clark could take home to his widowed mother, and he wasn't having to step down on a morbid streak of jealousy. He wasn't.

Cheap piece of shit formica tabletop. Little things.

"Hey, do you want to smile, or look serious? Either one's fine," Jimmy told him, lining up the shot. "I can take a few so that you can pick whichever one you like best..."

"I'd rather smile. Give me a minute. It's... it's been a hell of a ride this past week." Lex closed his eyes a moment, swallowed down as much of the bitterness as he could. There had to be a thought he could focus on. The look on his father's face, when -- no, no, if that was a happy thought, he was in dire straights. Clark that morning, before... yeah. Clark, hair ruffled, eyes so green that no shade of paint could match it for depth and tenderness, smiling at him, making a joke about toothpaste, morning breath and kisses.

He let the smile come to the surface, and then concentrated on his empire in the distance.

"Yeah, that's great," Jimmy told him, and the rapid click of his camera sounded several times in a row. He moved around Lex slightly to get a few different angles. "You ought to smile more. I can only imagine it's been a rough week, though, so. Hey, maybe if you ask right, Clark will have his mom make you pie. She's got the best pie..."

"Apple pie, with lots of cinnamon. I know." Nostalgia wasn't all bad -- Lex almost missed Jonathan Kent's nagging, superior moralisms on a sadly regular basis. At least Clark's father was a good man, and usually right. Not like Lionel. No, he wasn't going to think of Lionel. Clark. Clark's sexy stomach, and huge hands... "She makes damn good muffins, too."

"Think you could talk him into having her bring us some?" Jimmy put the camera down. "All done. I think I've got plenty for a new stock photo. Thanks for being so nice about it and everything."

"After how I acted yesterday? Not a problem." He turned away from the window, rubbing his palms absently along the sides of his trousers after he pushed away from the desk. "Clark's really the person to bother about muffins."

The photographer laughed, checking his equipment. "Yeah, but you've got an in. You've known him long enough to know his mom. That's a better start than I've got."

"I've also known him long enough to have had his father a put a shotgun barrel to my chest a few times." Lex tossed that off wryly, mouth twitching with amusement. "There had to be something to make up for it."

"So much for milk, cookies and all-American apple pie," Jimmy whistled. "Hey, I'll take you back now, if you want? Clark's probably got Lois working hard enough now that she won't bother you. Much."

Good kid, Lex thought again, even if he did dye his hair. He started towards the door, a hand lifting to rub at the back of his scalp idly. "You've got a good manner about you, Jimmy -- next time the Planet wants a stock photo of my father, I'll tell him to ask for you to do it."

"Thanks!" The way that the boy fairly beamed with joy was really sweet. Lex hoped he didn't lose all of that enthusiasm and delight; journalism wasn't exactly for the ingenuous sort Jimmy seemed to be. "And if Miz Martha makes muffins, I swear, I'll even save one for you."

"Hey, and I'll get it shotgun free," Lex smirked, walking beside the boy. He could've walked his way back to the office by himself, but with a reporter at his side already it lessened his chance of being randomly accosted by someone from another part of the Planet.

It wasn't much of a trip back; quick, easy, and Jimmy talked at him the entire time, laughing and beaming as he moved. "Yeah, see?" he said, pausing for a moment and waving a hand. "She's totally busy. It's safe."

"Small wonders." Lex nodded his head to Jimmy, a faint smile on his mouth that he didn't have to force. No flash, no problem. "Have a good day, Jimmy."

And then he veered over to Clark's desk, quiet enough, he hoped, to not draw Lois's attention. She wasn't too sharply insightful like Chloe could be, but then again, she didn't seem to have an intense crush on Clark like Chloe had.

Not that he'd observed yet. He'd have to watch, once he got a little more coffee and sat down again.

"Hey," Clark whispered, smiling up at him. He was hard at work writing down the names of the men who'd been involved in the kidnapping attempt. "Look, I was thinking. I'm not sure we ought to go back to the apartment until at least Monday..."

"And I was thinking that my penthouse should be safe by five pm," Lex cut in quietly, pouring a splash of coffee into the cup he'd been using -- which he could now see was Clark's cup, from the Snoopy painted on the side.

"You'd turn down good old-fashioned apple pie with vanilla ice cream for your penthouse?" Clark teased him. "I talked to Mom, she says she'll even fry chicken if you'll come let her make sure you're okay."

"Oh, well, put it that way," he drawled, shifting to sit down somewhat behind Clark again. "Jimmy was just talking about your mother's apple pie."

"She brought some down once. Wanted to see where I work, make sure everything was suitably clean and nice and right for her only boy." It was said with an affectionate sort of amusement. "She's really worried about you, though."

"And he doesn't take just anybody home," Lois said dryly from behind him. "I've been trying to talk him into it so I can get some of that chicken. No go."

Good. Lex flashed her a smile, and quietly quipped, "I've been around for so long I'm almost family. By now I've got to rate about even with your drunk uncle Billy, right, Clark?"

He would have if Clark had one, but that only made his friend snicker and nod. "Way above that, Lex. You're practically adopted. Or does that make you an in-law?"

Lex's stomach lurched a little at that, and not a good lurch. "Don't say things like that -- my father... is still up to his usual games. That's a frightening prospect." He wasn't going to elaborate, though, not with Lois obviously paying their conversation half an ear of attention.

Those green eyes looked at him, just a little soft at the edges despite the false confusion on Clark's face. "Like he hasn't always known you were family for us. Well, once Dad made you shovel out the barn, anyway."

"Oh, God. I don't think I'll ever forget that. I ached for weeks afterwards..." He leaned back in the chair, surveying Clark with a smile tugging at his mouth before he pushed light at the side of Clark's chair with his foot. "Go on, get back to work. I'm not here."

"Of course you're not," Lois muttered, before she leaned into Clark so casually. Too casually for Lex's taste. "Clark, look at this guy's file."

"Huh?" A hand reached out, took the folder from her and began to flip through the papers. "Wow. Shit." Clark didn't curse, at least not out loud, not like that. "Lex. You'll want to look at this," he said seriously. "They haven't even tried to cover half of this up. How could they keep him on the force?"

Charges of assault, dropped, charges of blackmail, dropped, charges of unlawful use of force, dropped, charges of illegal surveillance, dropped... "Because he was never pegged for any of this, Clark. Because he's got friends in high places. Maybe a judge?" Lex didn't bother taking the file from Clark's hands, just leaned in close and read over his friend's shoulder.

"Bet he's a card-carrying member of your good ol' boys club," Lois muttered in disgust.

"Bet he's got family mingled up somewhere higher, because even friends can't get you out of that much..." Clark muttered. Well, all right, if it wasn't Lionel Luthor. "He's on the list."

"I'm not surprised to hear that -- and I don't doubt he is a card-carrying member of the good ol' boys club," Lex drawled back at her, voice mellow as he sat back once more. When he leaned too close in to Clark, there was an overwhelming urge to lay his head down on Clark's shoulder, and close his eyes. "You get the best parking spots with that card."

"And you so need those," Clark agreed, turning his face slightly. Their lips were separated by barely a breath's worth of space. "With all of those cars and everything. At least you don't destroy them as fast as Whitney used to."

"No, I just leave that up to you." So close, so close, and it wouldn't be bad to kiss Clark in his office, would it? It'd be a nice little thing, brief, but--

His cellphone started to ring, and Lex stood smoothly to answer it in some corner as far away from people as possible.

"Wow, Clark. No wonder there are rumors," Lois smirked, but he ignored her. He'd wanted to kiss Lex badly, and now Lex was off in a corner by the window.

"Rumors are never half as good as the truth," he told her blandly.

"If you're not having sex, the two of you are all ways to fucked up," Lois sighed wistfully. Lex had a hand cupped over his mouth and the receiver, but his voice still carried and it wasn't a happy voice. "But back to the list, Clark. We need to get the rosters of who was on security duty that day at LuthorCorp. Because obviously these two guys had someone on lookout for them."

"I'll see what I can do. I'm sure Lex will know by now, but..." He paused, looking over at his friend. "He's upset enough, Lois. I can't question him much."

"He seems pretty all right," Lois countered. "You know, once you got him to blink and respond to human voices again. Can't you just see if he can have it sent here, or...?"

"Lois," Clark said gently. "No." Because no matter what he seemed, Lex wasn't all right. Not even close.

"Geeze, Clark, it's something he could probably have a secretary fax over. Nothing he'd have to do personally," Lois sighed. "Damn. Fine, I'll abandon that train of thought. Let's wrap up the story and then go over it with editing."

"Right, because my mom is frying chicken, and I'm not missing that for anything." Clark started his hunt and peck typing again, going back to work on the article.

"It's not even remotely close to dinnertime, Smallville," Lois smirked, shuffling through her papers.

A few more shuffles, and she was so lost in work again that Lex slipped to sit down unnoticed. And this time he did lean forwards, forehead resting against the back of Clark's shoulder. Warm muscle, comfortable, and he was suddenly drained of energy. "Guess what's not going to be ready?"

"The penthouse," Clark said, heart falling slightly because Lex was so obviously upset about it. It might not be obvious to Lois, but it was more than obvious to Clark. "It's okay, Lex. I'll bet Mom will want you to stay where she can keep an eye on you and make sure you're okay, anyway." And Clark would stay, too, and there was only one guest room.

"Father was going to deliver a box of... things recovered off at your apartment, but he's going to have a courier run it up here." Lex shifted a little, pressing closer against Clark even if it was just using his back as a partial pillow to rest his forehead on.

"The missing evidence?" Lois almost squealed, twisting suddenly in her chair to look at them both.

"My god-damned wallet and wrist watch!"

Clark sighed. "Lois. You're going to have to edit this one on your own." She'd upset Lex enough combined with everything else that he was going to have to take him somewhere quiet for a few minutes.

"Wait a minute, why?" she scowled, eyebrows coming together sharply. "I'm sorry if I've said something, I just..."

"It's okay," Lex lied. It was a tense lie, but he didn't like Clark slacking on his work because of him, even if it was an oddly warming thought. Warming in the face of one of his father's couriers coming. "I'm going to go wait for Dominic in the Lobby. If the two of you scrape together something interesting, you know where I'll be." All of that was said almost into Clark's shoulder, and Lex only stood as an afterthought.

"You're not going to the lobby by yourself," Clark told him firmly, standing up as he did. "I don't want you down there alone. There's too much traffic, anything could happen."

"Clark." Lex out a hand, amiable at first, then pushing him back, on Clark's shoulder. "You can't be everywhere at once, and I can take care of myself. There's too much traffic, which means there's people there, all right? This is my goddamned city, and I'm not going to hide in it."

It was obvious that Clark didn't like it. It was also obvious that he was going to give in, evidenced by the soft sigh that parted his lips and spilled loose. "All right, Lex, but if anybody tries anything... Yell, okay?"

Clark didn't get the courtesy of an answer, as Lex turned away and headed towards the doors. From comfortable to hurting to angry in less time than it took most men to piss. It was exhaustive, but fury and defiance drove Lex towards the elevator. Fuck Clark and his humiliating over-protectiveness.

A deep sigh burst from Clark and he reached up to rub his temples. If he was a mean person, he'd thank Lois for that, but better to just sit and hope that it would all be over soon. Best to hope that nobody tried anything. He didn't want to have to kill anyone else.

Lois whistled quietly, and even with his hand half-obscuring his eyes, he could see the way that she was tapping her papers to her knee. "Is he always... like that?"

"Forceful? Driven? From one extreme to the other in 1.6 nanoseconds? Yes," Clark told her firmly, shaking his head. "And right now, he's hurt, and he's scared, and he doesn't want to show it to anybody. He won't show it. And I just keep making it worse because..." Because he didn't want Lex to be hurt, or scared.

"Because you care?" Lois quirked an eyebrow just a little, her smile dancing on smug and sympathetic all at once. "I guess now would be a bad time to ask why you put up with it."

"He's my friend." Maybe the only one he had left. "That's a rare commodity, Lois. Even in Smallville." Especially in Smallville with Chloe dead and Pete institutionalized and Lana dying from cancer. Never mind everyone else. "He's not used to people caring."

"Acting like that, I'm not surprised," Lois told him mildly. "Clark, you're a great guy, but I think you're about half an inch from smothering your friend. Now, back to work or you won't be leaving here at five."

"...Maybe I am," Clark said finally, faintly. He knew he was, there wasn't any maybe about it, but Lois hadn't seen him. She hadn't seen him bloody and ripped and torn and suffering, and Clark couldn't bear to see it again. Ever.

Just like Lex couldn't bear to have it happen again, and couldn't bear the insinuations of Clark's protectiveness. "You're good in a tight situation, Clark, but not everyone reacts like you do," Lois went on, voice a murmur as she looked through notes, and then hooked the tape-player up to a small pair of earphones. "Lex strikes me as the sort of guy who'd like to lock himself up in some horribly expensive library for a couple of days, and drink things that cost more than my monthly rent. Yanno, not that I know him, but it seems like the way people like that would cope."

People like that. To Clark, Lex had never been 'people' like anything. He'd always just been Lex, and even if that was the way that Lex preferred to deal with things, he sure as hell wasn't going to verify it. "I'll try to calm the overprotective in me, then," he sighed quietly. "Habit, I guess." Clark was an only child, after all, with just his mother left. It was natural that he would be, even without the Superman angle.

And with it...

"It's not a bad habit," Lois half-assured him, looping the headphones over her ears. "Just... a kind of annoying one. But it's cute."

With that almost damning phrase, she hit play on the recording from earlier that morning, and effectively tuned Clark out. It made him want to go downstairs and check on Lex. It made him want to be sure that he was all right, and, well... Maybe with a little x-ray vision...

No. No, he wasn't going to check on him. He wasn't. Lex needed to go downstairs by himself, and maybe Lois was right. Maybe it was annoying. Maybe it was suffocating, even, and he could let that go. Really.

So, his typing slowed a little, and the waiting was distracting; but at least Lois wasn't commenting on it. She was listening to the conversation again, listening for those little flavor bits, like the timbre of McBride's voice. By the time he finished writing it, and passed the article over to Lois to trim and embellish on, twenty minutes had passed.

And Lex was just striding into the office again, expression tight, a small cardboard box tucked under his arm.

Clark couldn't pretend that he wasn't relieved, that his heart hadn't sped up slightly when Lex came into sight. God, he was all right, and Clark could let that stressed look go. He could. "Get what you needed?"

"Haven't looked through it, but it's not ticking -- and Dad's too fond of Dominic too much to have him deliver anything deadly." Lex sat down heavily in the chair that he'd left just behind Clark's desk, and then reached past Clark to grab a letter opener to slit the tape. Too fond of Dominic, and of course Dominic had to be chatty and bring him a veiled message from his father about security. Lionel was cleaning house, and would have it all settled before Tuesday, so in a vague joint effort, the House of Luthor would be secure again by Monday.

Just in time for that stockholders meeting he had Monday morning.

A quick peek into the box revealed just what Lex had expected to be delivered, and so Clark waited quietly while he peeled back the two leaves of cardboard to dig out his wallet and his watch. "I've always kind of wondered about your dad and Dominic. They're funny." Odd, because Dominic held the weirdest grudges and yet he wouldn't leave Lionel, either.

"Let's just say that my family's rampant bisexuality is hereditary," Lex drawled, rubbing a thumb over the face of his watch, and then flipping it over to make sure that everything was in order. It was damn comforting to have it back, to wrap the familiar weight of it around his wrist. "Amazing. Everything looks like it's in order."

And Lois was making the funniest choking noise.

"Lois? Did your coffee go down the wrong way?" Clark asked it so sweetly that it was almost vicious, especially when he was having such problems thinking of Lionel as a sexual creature.

She coughed theatrically, patting her chest. "Yes, just... little coffee went the wrong way. Mr. Luthor--"

"Lex. My father is Mr. Luthor," Lex corrected with a bland smile as he stood for a brief moment to slip his wallet into his back pocket.

"Lex, did you just imply that--"

"My father fucks anything with a hole? Why, I believe I did." Just insulting the man made him feel better, as he absently checked the box to see if there was a false bottom. It seemed like the box was deeper on the outside than the inside, which made him suspicious.

"Geeze, let a girl finish her sentences."

"Lois, honestly, do you really want an answer to that question? Because if you do, I can leave," Clark offered. "There are some things no man should know, and just thinking about the sexual proclivities of Lionel Luthor is enough to put a dent in any man's head."

"You have no grounds to file a complaint, Clark. I grew up in his general vicinity, and denial only gets you so far in life. Give me the letter opener again." Lex didn't move from his chair, just held a hand imperiously out for what he'd requested. There was definitely a false bottom, but why would his father bother? Unless he wanted Lex to whip out the box and have whatever it was make its way into public hands somehow. Or, hide it from Dominic.

"You know, if you two want to have this conversation up a floor, the gossip columnist would eat this stuff up," Lois muttered. "I'm trying to edit, so keep it to a dull roar."

"Yes, Miss Lane," Clark teased obediently, handing over the letter opener with a vague sense of curiosity. What could Lex be doing? There wasn't anything else in the box that he could see...

"Call it tracking down a lead," Lex drawled. A quick stab of motion, and he'd wedged the tip between the side of the box and the bottom he suspected to be false. Careful motions loosened that cardboard 'bottom' all around, and he pried it up to reveal a metal box that he dumped out into his hands. An inch tall, heavier than it should have been, but otherwise the dimensions of the box it had been tucked inside.

The mere fact of its presence worried Clark greatly; he couldn't see through it, couldn't know what was in it, and that scared him. "Lex..."

Lex was already opening the box, though, and revealing the treasures that lay inside. Polaroids, some kind of tiny video tape (the pop into special 'video' sort?), a cd, and oh, god, oh, GOD...

"Hey, what's that?" Lois didn't get an answer, or even a chance to peak as Lex closed it quickly, clutching the lid shut with white-knuckled fingers. He wasn't going to think, to speak, he didn't think he could speak even if he had to. And he hadn't seen anything. There weren't Polaroids of... of. Anything.

Little things. The metal was cold under his fingers, and soft, and he was clutching so hard that he imagined he was denting it.

"It's nothing."

"Hey, Lois. I'm done with this," Clark said calmly. "And Mom's expecting us for dinner, so I think we ought to take off now. Traffic and everything, you know."

"Smallville, it's not even near time to go for the day. You can't just go taking off whenever you want to -- come on, let's print this out and then run it past White," Lois coaxed, tugging at his arm.

Lex only paid either of them half an ear, as he pushed his chair backwards a little to get some space, and then let himself sag back, fingers still clutching tightly at the slender case. Looking at Polaroids when half numbed by pain was different than when he was close to thinking coherently again. There was even little flecks of blood on that topmost one. The others were probably worse. He really had looked like a useless worm, a waste of space, sniveling, broken, crying...

Why Clark was even bothering was suddenly far beyond him. Kidnappers, 20, Ego, 0.

"Let me explain it to you a little more clearly, Lois." Clark's hand was on her elbow and he was escorting her out into the hall, standing there firmly so that he could still see Lex while keeping their conversation quiet. "What's in that box is nothing you need to see. What's in that box is nothing Lex needs to see, either, and I'm not going to make him sit here in public after seeing it."

Lois didn't drop her eyes, or show much shame for Clark dragging her out there to talk. "Look, I didn't send him... whatever the hell it is, his father did. Now you and I have an article to finish, Smallville, and if you're just going to leave right now, I'm not covering your ass with White. This is the scoop of the year, and I can't believe that you're just... just not caring like this."

"Some things are more important than your name in print, Lois. I don't want to have to quit, but if that's what it takes, I'll do it, and I'll do it this afternoon." He would be giving up his mild-mannered reporter gig, and then God only knew what he'd do, but... But for Lex, he'd do anything.

"Whoa, Clark -- that's... really drastic." Lois was suddenly wide-eyed, a hand on his arm. "Come on, let's talk with White. I think you maybe need a vacation?"

"No, I don't need a vacation, I just..." He just needed to know Lex was all right. "He's hurt. And he's not ever going to show anybody and he's going to pretend he doesn't need anyone and he's my friend, Lois." The implication in his voice said that he'd do it for her, too, and maybe he would. Clark would do a lot for someone who needed him. "Just right now, what's in that box..." Lionel was a sadistic fuck.

Lois's fingers stroked at Clark's arm, gentle for the moment. "All right. Okay. I'll explain this to Perry, and you... go on, get him out of here. You already wrote most of the story."

He couldn't help but smile at her, hug her close for a moment. "Thanks, Lois. I'm sorry." Even if he had gotten all of those names and she'd seen the folder Lex had looked at and everything.

She patted him on the back gently, then started to pull away when she heard the office door open. Lex, standing there with a tight, grim smile, that metal box still clutched in one hand. "Hey, Clark -- where's the men's room?"

"Come on. I'll show you the way." Show the way, burn all of that fucking trash to nothing with his eyes, do anything Lex asked him to do.

"I'll shut your computer down for you," she offered Clark, as she brushed past Lex to head back to the office.

Lex just watched her leave before he walked towards Clark, tight lipped. He couldn't manage much conversation, not, not... not when... No. He wasn't going to think, or scream, or be anything but calmly casual.

"Lex, do you want me to melt it down for you?" It was asked so quietly no one would ever hear, Clark's gentle direction towards the bathroom making it easy for Lex to find it. Clark even held open the door.

"Keep the disc, burn the photos..." Lex took a shuddering breath, and lurched towards one of the stalls. He wasn't going to be able to keep from throwing up a moment longer, not from the rising lurch of his stomach. "Burn it all. Burn the whole fucking building, I can't..."

Can't think, couldn't think at all. He banged his knees on cheap tile as he knelt down, lifted the lid of the toilet, and let his stomach riot freely.

Clark's brows knit as he waited, picking up the box where Lex had dropped it. It was easy enough to pull out the Polaroids, settle them in the sink, and set them to burning. He could see the blood spattered along the pictures, and the fact that it was Lex's made him furious.

Damn Lionel Luthor. What was the point in sending Lex these things!? Clark already knew, though; it was an attempt at making him controllable, probably. That was Lionel's nature.

Polaroids smelled particularly acidic when they burned, the plastic edges curling and twisting to a flaming lump that threatened to slid off the edge of the sink and onto the floor.

The toilet in Lex's stall flushed, but Lex almost couldn't stop gagging on air, stomach still fighting him even when there wasn't anything left.

"They're gone," Clark told him seriously, pushing the charred remains into the sink and rinsing them down the drain. "I can get you some water, Lex." He was sure that the other man would at least need to rinse out his mouth, and suspected that he'd want to go home soon.

"I can't do this, Clark." Lex staggered, a hand clawing flat against the wall of the stall the only thing that helped him stand. He wiped at his mouth with a wad of toilet paper. "I can't... can't fucking do this anymore."

"All right." As if Clark would say anything else. "You don't have to do this anymore, Lex. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do anymore." Clark would take care of it. Superman would take care of it.

Lex let out a soft, ragged breath, closing his eyes tightly as he backed unsteadily out of the stall. "Christ, you don't even know what I'm talking about, Clark. I don't even know what I'm talking about..."

"Whatever it is, Lex, it doesn't matter. You see that? It doesn't matter, because we'll figure it out and we'll take care of it." We, not I, because Clark knew how Lex would look at a declaration of I. He reached out, pulled Lex tenderly close for a minute. Fuck what anyone might see if they came into the bathroom. He didn't care.

It was easy to duck his head down, to bend into Clark's arms and sway against steady strength. His head was throbbing out a beat just behind his right eye, searing through to a spot at the back of his skull, and his mouth tasted of acrid bile. Little things. That taste was a little thing, wasn't it? Like the tense sobs that he was sure couldn't be coming out of his throat.

"Shhhh." Comfort was so easy for Clark to give, the way that his hand cupped the back of Lex's head, another spreading across his shoulders in a slow, soothing motion. "Shhh. I'll make it all right. It will be better." Maybe not soon, maybe not even for a long time, but one day. One day. "Shhh."

"You and your fucking savior complex..." Lex started to laugh between the sobs, and his voice broke with an edge of hysteria, a hand spasming between clutching and clawing at the back of Clark's shoulder. Laughter was slowly winning, because it was absurd. He couldn't think, and Clark was being so goddamned stoic that he might as well put on the fucking cape and spandex then and there.

It wasn't that he meant to be, and Lex would have been sure of it if he could have thought that far ahead. It was that Jonathan had raised him to be, that he'd raised him to be this creature that hid the beauty of himself and had some sort of idiotic need to save everyone, even half-mad Luthors that didn't deserve it.

"Lex... Lex, please, I can't bear it..."

That sounded like his Clark. Almost a whine in his voice, familiar... Lex choked back more laughs, struggling to pull himself back together. He could do it. Little things, little things like Clark's hand on his back, like the cheap, lemony aftershave Clark wore that clung to his neck. "Can't... Can't bear what...?"

"Can't bear you being so hurt. Can't bear that I can't help you, can't make it better right, right now. Now, not next week or next month. It's easier to save you from immediate danger than this," Clark confessed, gently rubbing at the space between Lex's shoulder blades.

Funny, he'd been waiting for Clark to say he couldn't bear him. "Christ..." Lex took one big breath -- an oddly comforting thought, but only in that he knew why it oddly comforted him -- and exhaled slowly. "You can help.... help me by being yourself. I..."

Need. He needed Clark to be Clark, to be Real. Not Superman, but Clark. It wouldn't be hard to admit need. It was just one more needle sharp blade of control that he was handing Clark, sagged against him for warm and touch as he already was.

"I need you... to just be."

"I can do that." Clark could do that, he would do that, just for Lex. Sometimes it felt as if everything was Superman, everything except Sunday dinner with his mother and Thursday nights with Lex, but for Lex... "I can do that. Lex."

"You're the best friend anyone could ask for, Clark," Lex sighed, dropping his head onto Clark's shoulder, pressing a kiss against his neck. The remnants of the cheap aftershave didn't taste bad. "Mine."

"Anything you need," Clark promised him. "Anything." His head dropped, mouth parting slightly as he reached for Lex's.

The sound of the door pushing open caught them both by surprise. "Oh! Oh, shit, oh, shit. Clark, I don't have my camera! Don't hurt me!?"

Lex jerked back sharply at the door, and the voice, ducking a little to escape the warm clutch of Clark's arms. Jimmy, wasn't it? The good kid. "It's okay, it isn't what you think."

"It's okay if it is," the redhead told them quickly, eyes huge in his face. "Just, you know, I didn't see anything. I didn't take any pictures. I swear!"

Clark looked at him, stricken. "Jimmy, I'd never hurt anybody, least of all you!" Well, that wasn't quite true, was it? He'd hurt the men who'd hurt Lex, after all. Killed them, in fact.

"It's all right, Jimmy. Really." Lex stepped towards the edge of the sink, where Clark had set down the box that still bore the video tape and the disc, and closed the lid. Somehow, knowing the polaroids were destroyed soothed him; after all, he hadn't watched the tape himself, or the disc when they'd been hurting him. It had just been those fucking photographs, and Clark had destroyed them, or so Lex hoped desperately.

When he turned back to look at the panicked young man, he brought a hand up to wipe at his tear-stained face. "Just as well you didn't have a camera."

"Hey..." Jimmy's face seemed sympathetic. "I'm gonna head down to the one on the next floor. Clark, you might wanna stand against the door, though." He nodded.

How quickly having to protect his public persona brought Lex around to something closer to sanity. "No, it's all right. We're just leaving, aren't we, Clark?" A swig of coffee would get that taste out of his mouth, and his sunglasses were in his pocket. Problems solved.

"Fried chicken and apple pie waiting at home," Clark agreed quietly, reaching out and snagging the lead box off of the edge of the sink. "We'll stop by my place and pick up a few things on our way if you want. I promised Jimmy I'd bring his film back to him..."

"No hurry!" Jimmy said, wandering in reluctantly and waiting for the two men to move from in front of the urinals.

Lex flicked his sunglasses out of his pocket, dropping them neatly onto his face as he walked smoothly towards the door. It took concentration, but he knew Clark was following him, and that Jimmy was a good kid and probably wouldn't run around the office blabbing about what he'd seen. "That sounds like a decent plan. You have a good day, Jimmy."

"See you," Jimmy agreed, sneaking around them and starting to unbutton. Obviously they hadn't made him too nervous, and Clark was grateful for that.

"We'll go get your laptop and head downstairs?" Clark asked him, almost to verify what Lex wanted.

Lex slowed one they were in the hallway, to walk right beside Clark. "Yes. I'm really tempted to swing past Dad's office and thank him, but I'll get around to it later."

Clark wished he could tell Lex never to see his father again, because the man was obviously a sick, sadistic bastard, but he didn't. He said nothing, only nodded slowly. "Tomorrow's soon enough, or the next day," he agreed. "Besides, who'd want to miss Mom's cooking?" Lex, probably, since he'd just thrown up.

"You know that apparently half of your office would kill for your mother's apple pie, don't you?" Lex smirked slightly, a sly twist of his mouth. "Anyway, it's Saturday. You and I are doing nothing tomorrow."

Never mind that reporters worked on Sunday. Clark was definitely calling in dead if Lex wanted him to be with him on Sunday. "Well, there are a lot of people who've done ridiculous things for Mom's pie," Clark grinned. He was one of them. Pete had been known to drop to his knees and beg.

"I think I vaguely recall an incident with Nell, constant phone calls, and a horse...?" He opened the office door, waited a second, and then followed Clark in. Lois was waiting -- vulture-like, Lex thought fleetingly -- at her and Clark's desks.

"Mom still insists that was all about dad and not the apple pie," Clark said, looking at Lois with eyes that all but begged her for everything to be all right.

"She would, but your mother's quite a humble woman, Clark..." Lex's eyes darted over the desktop, looking for his laptop, or... any signs that he'd been there at all that day. But there was his laptop case, and Clark's briefcase, laid atop each other on Clark's desk.

"Smallville, White said you can get a three day weekend instead of just Monday and Tuesday. Go on, get going now -- He said our story is just fine. Of course, if you want to mail in anything for the story we're running Monday..."

"I have a copy for you right here, Lois." He handed over the list of names and information that he'd gotten on them while in the precinct office. It would be easy to recreate it for Lex. "And Lois? Thanks."

"You're welcome, Clark." She smiled as she looked up at her fellow reporter, almost beaming. "Go on -- have a good weekend."

"You, too, Lois," Lex told her, grabbing a quick swig of cold coffee and his laptop bag. "Stay out of trouble."

"Oh, well, I'll at least stay out of jail," she said, giving them both a grin. "Probably going to be the best idea when this story breaks, too."

"If you need anything, call."

"I've got your cellphone number, Clark, don't worry -- just remember to turn it on this time?" Her voice sounded a little exasperated despite her smile, and Lex found himself suppressing a grimace as he handed Clark his briefcase.

"Right." Clark couldn't help worrying, it was his nature, especially when it came to people he cared about; people he loved. Especially when it came to Lex. "Have a good weekend. Lex, you want to drive?"

"Yeah, I've been okay with the car today." Lex was feeling agreeable enough as he turned away from the desk with a last polite nod to Lois. No, he didn't have a spark of jealousy in him, not a single spark of it.

Not him.

If it got any worse, he'd turn absolutely GREEN.

"Cool. I always like it best when you drive," Clark told him with a grin that was purely exhilarating. No matter how fast Lex drove, he had a beautiful control over the machines he loved so much. It was more fun than driving.

"I think my cars like it, too -- I swear my Porsche felt like it'd missed me this morning. It's nice to let someone else drive every once in a while, but... my driving gloves would never unstretch if I let you use them," Lex teased warmly, tone conversational as he looped a thumb beneath the strap of his laptop's case, fingers clinging loosely over the material.

"Hurry up," Clark teased him. "Porsche, pie, it's a perfect day."

Perfect day. Maybe. Maybe Lex would be willing to agree to that depending on how it ended. But simple things could make or break a man, couldn't they? He was understanding that better than he ever had. Simple things like burning Polaroids, expensive cars, and the promise of a temporary safe haven.

"Lex!" Martha's delight at seeing him glowed on her face, the handful of new wrinkles around her eyes a surprise. There was more white snaking out from her temples, withering the vibrant red down to a more lightened strawberry. "Clark said you were coming. I'm so delighted to see you, and to see you looking well."

"Thank you, Martha -- you're looking quite well yourself," he smiled, an honest gesture as he set his suitcase and laptop case down just inside the door. The feeling of being a wandering, homeless billionaire was starting to wear on his nerves a little, but he could still manage that smile for Clark's mother.

After all, compared to his father, she'd barely aged at all.

The wry smile she gave him was accompanied by a hug, one that almost took him by surprise. "So Clark says, but he's my son. I suspect that he fibs."

"I do not!" Clark protested as she turned to him to hug him, as well.

Norman Rockwell, eat your heart out.

"That's a son's solemn duty, Martha. Is there anything we can help you with, or have we arrived too late to be useful?"

"You arrived in perfect time for eating," Martha replied with a smile. "Just when you needed to get here. I have fried chicken and mashed potatoes and cream forties..."

"Mmmmm." Clark's eyes were nearly glazed, sort of the way he looked at Lex when they kissed. "Cream forties..."

"Cream forties?" Lex twitched an eyebrow as he walked further into the house, slipping his coat off. "This is some obscure farming term for a relatively normal food, right?" There had to be a coat-rack somewhere to the... right, yes, the small ranch-style house was laid out a lot like the Kent's house in Smallville had been.

"Peas," Martha informed him with a brilliant smile, one that held no mockery. "But they're Clark's favorite peas, so I try to always have some put up every year."

"I even come help pick them. Mostly because I'm the one who gets to eat them," Clark admitted, smiling at Lex. "You want me to show you to the guest room?"

"You could, or I could wander around until I find it on my own." It was easy to feel the good-natured expression that he was putting forwards, to let the slight mask seep down to the real him as he backtracked to get his laptop and suitcase.

"Ha-ha-ha," Clark said, and that did make Lex smile. It was so much better when Clark was just Clark.

"I'm sorry there's just the one guest room, boys..." Martha began.

"It's all right, Mom. It's not like there's more than one bedroom at my apartment," Clark replied with a smile.

Lex hoped that his faint wince had been entirely internal. He glanced at Martha's face from the corner of his eyes, and found next to no reaction.

She was good. Then again, she had managed to work for Lionel and not kill him, so she had to be good. And she had raised Clark, and dealt with Jonathan Kent, so she was probably more formidable than most of the CEOs he butted heads with.

"I have an old sleeping bag if one of you wants to sleep on the floor," she offered, dangling it like bait.

"Thanks all the same, Mom." The slightly proprietary hand that Clark placed at Lex's waist said a great deal to her about his intentions, especially when accompanied by the faint color in his cheeks. Obviously, he wanted to see how she would take such a possibility.

There wasn't any real reaction, just her eyes dropping obviously to Clark's hand and Lex's casual, comfortable stance. "All right. Blankets are in the linen closet if you need extras tonight, and don't take too long washing up." There was a smile with her words, and that bolstered Lex as he waited for Clark to lead the way.

"We won't," he promised her with an oddly grateful note to his voice.

"I'll let you boys set the table when you come back in," Martha said, and she headed towards the kitchen as Clark picked up Lex's bag.

"Come on. It's just down the hall," Clark encouraged, and for a moment, Lex thought that he'd be kissed then and there, but Clark moved away again. Damn him.

That night, they'd see if Clark was going to keep slipping through his fingers. Lex was pointedly not going to think about anything, and he was going to have Clark's mouth, and beautiful body, and hard cock, and they were going to be very quiet so that Martha didn't notice.

Good thoughts that stirred more than a little reaction in Lex as he followed after Clark. A slow, lazy pulse of want in the pit of his stomach, right where it could sit for hours and hours, lurking for the best moment. "Hopefully it's not a twin bed."

"It's a full," Clark said with a slow, lazy sort of smile. "Long enough for me, and almost wide enough for two. So long as there aren't too many acrobatics."

"I was thinking less along the lines of acrobatics, and more along the lines of a quiet symphony." Lex reached fingers to brush Clark's hair out of his face, lifting away the damningly silly glasses that muted his pretty eyes. Sure, the door was right there, but Clark could open it since Lex had found interest in something more pressingly entertaining than putting their things away.

The way that Clark's mouth curved, his fingers reaching for Lex, said a lot. "I think we can manage that," he agreed solemnly. "I think I'll like that, Lex." A quiet symphony. He'd never thought of it that way, never thought of anyone that way, but Lex... Well. Lex seemed like the sort of man who'd inspire that reaction just by giving him that terminology.

"Your mother would probably appreciate it more if we delay our performance time." Lex leaned up to Clark quickly, seizing the kiss that he wanted the moment that he folded Clark's glasses away into his pocket. Real Clark, not the Planet's Clark, and not Superman. His farmboy, annoying, teasing, sometimes cruel, quick on his feet and mind, and entirely Real. Warm lips felt just as good every time, pliable when Lex pressed against them, coaxing between them with his tongue.

The way that Clark opened to him was so perfectly his Clark, sweet and easy and acquiescent in a way that those other Clarks couldn't be. Those other Clarks weren't real because of it, didn't wrap their arms around him the way that his Clark did. "Come on," Clark murmured huskily as he pulled away from him. "Mom's probably dying to feed us."

Christ, he really had to be losing his mind to think things like that. "Then we'd probably better put our stuff down somewhere. Possibly on the other side of the door?" But Lex couldn't wipe the smile from his mouth, didn't want to wipe it away as he stepped away from Clark and pushed open the guest-room door. "Did you get your bag out of the car?"

"I, um, left it by the door," Clark admitted sheepishly. He had Lex's things, but not his own, which was typically Clark. "I can pick it up on our way back after dinner."

"Hey, Clark? You see these nice solid things on my arms? They're muscles. I can honestly carry my own luggage." The sheets were plain, but clean, and the room smelled just generally fresh to Lex. Like a good quality hotel room except for the Met U Pennants that littered the sides of the walls, pulling a smile to his mouth. School spirit.

The look in Clark's eyes teased him. "Hm. Yes, I can see that about you. I'm sure you've carried lots of luggage in your day, Lex." He grinned, unabashedly delighted. "I'll even let you carry my nylon overnight bag if you want to so badly."

"You know what? I think I will." Lex quirked an eyebrow at Clark, heading back into the hallway to fetch Clark's bag from near the front door. "Go wash your hands."

Then they could clean up. He was already pushing down the urge to shower, because there just wasn't enough time; and brushing his teeth to get rid of the coffee-taste that he knew was masking bile was just stupid, if he was going to turn around and eat.

Still, Clark wouldn't make fun of him if he did, and it would only take a minute. Besides, it'd definitely make Martha's chicken and mashed potatoes taste better, wouldn't it?

"Hey," Clark called as Lex moved back towards the bedroom with Clark's bag in his hands. "I forgot to tell you the bathroom's here."

So it wasn't attached to the bedroom? Well, of course it wouldn't be, he reminded himself. Just like on the Kent's farm it hadn't been. "Right, I'll be there in a second."

A quick toss of Clark's bag onto the bed, and then he popped open his suitcase to get toothpaste and toothbrush before joining Clark in the bathroom.

"Hi." It was an easy greeting followed by a peck on the lips that seemed completely natural, at ease. "I'm going to go and get a few things out of my bag, so just head back by when you're done."

It was strange but comfortable to loop circles around each other while they went about their business. "Right." Lex had already flicked the cap off of the toothpaste, and was going through the simple routine of brushing his teeth. Run a little water, wet the brush, thirty seconds on each side, roof of his mouth, tongue -- maybe using random, slightly excessive force for that, brushing until the taste of toothpaste was threatening to make his eyes water, until his tongue hurt, but there was so much he could scrub away, the taste, the...

The fuck was he doing?

"Hey, Lex, are you... Oh, you're still brushing. Sorry," Clark apologized sheepishly. "The door was open, so I thought..."

Lex spit into the sink, blue-white froth flecked and streaked with watery reds. "It's okay," he murmured, spitting again before he pulled a little paper cup out of the stack of them, rinsing his mouth quickly. "I forgot what the hell I was doing. I..." He wiped the corners of his mouth, glancing over at Clark warily.

Those green eyes were so clear looking at him, steady and serious. "It's okay, Lex. I understand." And he did, really, except that when Clark lost his place with himself, he tended to break things instead of himself. Countertops. Doors. Furniture. "Come on. You'll enjoy the mashed potatoes."

That was something he had to sharply admire about Clark. Maybe once he got into his Penthouse again he could have a smash antiques hour; there was something refreshing about doing that, even if it didn't come to him as second nature as hurting himself. "Clark, you know damned well I'll enjoy all of it," Lex tried to chuckle, turning on the water to briefly wash his hands. "Because your mother's cooking has just that particular touch that could turn my best chefs green with envy."

"I think most people wish they had Mom's touch with cooking," Clark agreed with a smile, mouth curving upwards pleasantly. "Dad... He always used to say that it had to do with love. Maybe it does. Maybe it makes a difference when you're cooking every night for people you love." He reached out to take one of Lex's hand once he was done drying them. "Come on," he encouraged again.

It was easy to curl his fingers around Clark's, to walk beside him out into the hallway. Clark had warm, smooth hands, huge hands... little things, filed away into Lex's subconscious as it went about its task of tidying his mind.

"I think I actually buy into that theory, Clark -- because before she got sick, my mom used to make cookies that the chefs never could get right." He tossed Clark a smile as they walked into the living-room that was adjacent to the kitchen.

Small, but cozy, just like Clark's apartment.

"The plates and silverware are on the table, boys," Martha called from the kitchen, and the scents that wafted in their direction were purely heaven.

"Mmmm, Mom," Clark sighed, and his stomach rumbled slightly the way Lex remembered it doing when he was a teenager. That sheepish smile was almost enough to make him laugh when Clark cast it in his direction.

Lex just let go of his hand, the smirk on his mouth audible in his voice. "Martha, do you need help pouring the drinks?" Once he had a feel for the layout of the house, it was easy to move about as if he belonged there, keeping close to the walls with his easy, sauntering steps.

"No, it's all right, dear. I've got everything under control," Martha told him cheerfully enough, bustling in with three glasses full of ice. There was a pitcher on the table, probably already full of tea or juice, as that seemed to be the preferred drink of all Kents.

"Ooo, gravy," Clark sighed as he attempted to lay out the plates and discover what they were having for dinner.

"I suppose if I offer to help clean after dinner, you'll turn me down on that, too," Lex drawled, tongue firmly in cheek as he headed back to the table. He reached for the pitcher, pouring tea into his glass with a sense of relief. Orange juice and his mind weren't yet to be trusted together.

"Absolutely," Martha told him with a smile. "I've already got everything washed up but the things that will be on the table, and it'll only take a minute to add them into the dishwasher. One of the nice things about being away from the farm," she said with a little smile. "Though given a choice..."

Lex watched wistful nostalgia touch her face, and glanced to see the same look on Clark's features. "But you weren't given a choice, and since the choice was made for you... there ought to be a few little perks like dishwashers."

"And... grown sons to load the dishwasher for you," Clark told her firmly. "Seriously, Mom. Lex and I can clean off the table and load everything..."

"Pish tosh." The expression was silly enough to make Lex smile. "You boys shouldn't have to do that tonight, not your first night visiting. Now tomorrow morning, on the other hand..."

"Ah-ha, I knew it." Lex swirled his tea glass like it held wine, leaning into Clark just a little to whisper conspiratorially, "She has a master plan to ease us towards doing something impossible, like ripping all of the carpet up and putting down flooring. You wait."

"And we'll probably do it, too, just because she'll LOOK at us, otherwise," Clark laughed.

Martha nodded firmly, silvery-streaked red hair falling forward against her cheek. "Well, now that you mention it, I would like some roses planted in the back yard..."

Pathetically mundane, he could hear his father saying. Better things to do with his time, that voice added, and Lex bit back the 'fuck you, Dad' that stopped up at the back of his throat. Fuck you, Daddy. It was hard enough to act on almost childish urges to trust his fellow humans.

And Alien.

"If you're serious, Martha, I think Clark and I would be up to the task."

"Going to supervise, are you?" Clark teased him as they settled down in chairs, Martha returning to the kitchen for a moment. When she came back in, her arms were loaded with a huge bowl full of mashed potatoes and a gravy boat.

"I hope you boys are hungry."

There was hunger, and then there was... well, Clark would probably take care of any excess of food. "One of us must be hiding an army of hungry people in them," Lex murmured, picking up his napkin and habitually folding it into his lap.

"I have hollow legs," Clark informed him, already reaching for the mashed potato bowl. Martha smacked his knuckles with the spoon she hadn't gotten a chance to slip into them yet.

"You have hollow legs, but you also have manners," she reminded him.

"Pretend you're at Le Chateau Argent," Lex instructed, slipping a hand between Clark and the table to make him sit back in his chair. His palm on the flat of Clark's stomach could feel the seeping warmth. It was going to take concentration to pull his hand back. "Where you tripped the waiter."

"Gee, thanks. Now my mom will know I have no manners in public, either." That pout was gorgeous, and patently false.

"Well, I know you don't have any when it comes to fried chicken, dear," Martha said, and smiled at him as she sat it down next to Lex. "So that you might chance getting some," she murmured with a wicked gleam in her eyes.

"I take it this is the eat with your fingers sort...?" There was also the precariously balance fork and knife and waste a lot of time sort, which his father preferred on the odd occasion he attended a 'picnic' to boost company morale.

"There're other ways to eat good fried chicken?" Clark asked him with a grin, eyebrows rising.

"Yes, Lex. Eat it with your fingers," Martha told him warmly, laying down the last bowl full of peas and a basket full of fresh biscuits.

A cornucopia of simple fare that Lex took his time serving himself parts of. Two chicken legs, potatoes, peas, two biscuits, a liberal dash of gravy. "This is the moment that I expect some maddened media person to be peering through the windows to record this for posterity," he couldn't help but murmur with an unnerved edge to his voice.

It used to be easier, in Smallville, to escape the media.

Martha settled into her chair and looked across at him. "I think we're safe, dear. Clark planted some lovely, sharp holly around the windows here just last year, and if you like, I'm sure he'll pull the blinds, won't you, dear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Clark responded, standing automatically.

Lex would've protested, if... well, if it hadn't been reassuring to him, the simple idea of the blinds being closed. "I'm honestly not usually this paranoid," he murmured, taking a sip of tea before lifting his fork for the mashed potatoes.

"It's all right, dear. You certainly have good reason," Martha sighed, leaning closer to the table for a moment. "Honestly, Lex. Are you doing all right?" There was worry in her voice, a sweetness that made him think of his mother, and God, that hurt.

It was impossible to tell how his mother would've reacted to it all. He liked to think that she'd react like Martha would, but there was a voice chewing at the back of his mind that told him that he was probably wrong. She would've been disappointed, feigned sympathy, perhaps, or... Who knew. Who the hell knew, she was dead, and dead meant gone and useless to him as anything other than another ghost to haunt his thoughts.

"Yes, I'm doing just fine." Except for the toothbrush incident, he was doing perfectly fine. And half-waiting for Clark to slip off at some point to explain to Martha that Lex Just Isn't Right. "But thanks for asking."

He picked up a leg of chicken, and started to concentrate on carefully eating that.

"You know, Lex, it's all right if you aren't the same just yet. Maybe not ever," Martha told him solemnly as Clark sat down, beginning to quietly dip his own plate. "It wouldn't be right if you felt nothing, or if you weren't upset and having a difficult time. You always seemed to deal with those things by pushing them away..." She sighed. "On the other hand, I've always had to deal with Clark, and everything has always been written on his face... at least for his mother to see," she said, and passed him the chicken, knowing he would want it.

"That's what I've tried to tell him," Clark agreed. "It's okay to not be ready to wander straight back into everything."

Two Kents, speaking with one voice. It was easy to see Martha's imprint on Clark, even as he felt distinctly ganged up on. Did people feel that way when he and Lionel tag-teamed a business deal?

"Yes, and I understand that." Patient tones, and he still felt calm, talking only once he'd chewed and swallowed. Little things, like good warm food, Clark close beside him, he was okay, yes. "I do. But I don't see how modifying natural behavior for me could make things any more bearable."

"Well, you know, if you wanted to yell and maybe hit me and throw a few things, that might make you feel better." It was a tentative suggestion, but Clark probably knew he wouldn't do it.

"No hitting, boys. But... You might take him out to a batting range tomorrow," Martha smiled.

Batting range? It had to be safer than golf clubs. Lex quirked an eyebrow a little, but felt a smile twist to his mouth as he ate a little more.

"It certainly wouldn't be any trouble to get into one."

Clark gave him a near-smirk over a huge forkful of mashed potatoes. "Plus, no meter maids will suffer the indignity of having their little headlights bashed in."

"He had it coming to him, questioning my work that way," Lex countered easily. He was half-watching Clark eat, enjoying the food for its decidedly simple but concentrated flavors. "No meter maids in Metropolis would bring that down on themselves." No, but apparently the police didn't have any fear of him, did they?

"I'm pretty sure that the meter maids of Smallville wouldn't have the balls, either," Clark laughed.

"Clark! You're at the dinner table!"

Conversation that Lex would never be bothered by, unless they were at a charity event. He couldn't quite smother down his easy chuckle. "Oh, they wouldn't any more." Unless they'd been talking to the Metropolis PD, and then... No. Not thinking about that, he was just eating.

"Sing a song of sorrow for the Smallville meter-maids!" Clark sang, a little off-key, and then he laughed at himself. "It's been a while since I've been home, actually. Might be nice to go for a couple of days, you think?" It was an offer to Lex more than anything.

A thought that was seriously worth filing away. "Actually... that might be a good idea," Lex murmured, and then fell silent for a few bites of the chicken, and a little biscuit.

"Maybe when it's not October -- October is a pretty questionable month for you boys." Martha had that teasing voice, but it was another thought that Lex seriously filed away.

Clark laughed again and reached for the gravy. "Hm, or maybe I should drive. Just to be safe."

That was the nice thing about the Kents; they could tease him, laugh with him, and it never made him feel as if they were laughing at him. It was comfortable and easy and... and he liked it. He enjoyed it.

Conversation meandered, and Lex let himself listen more than he participated. Listen to Martha's laugh, and her stories about her 9 to 5 job and the horribly stupid things her boss did. There was a paranoid moment of wondering if his own Personal Assistants said the same about him, but even that made him smile a little.

Listen to Clark's voice, the smiles in his voice. It was hard to describe how Lex knew Clark's facial expression without having to see it, just from his voice. There were sharp, almost shark-like smirks, slow smiles, the bloom of pride at a job well done. It was all grounding to listen to, even when he'd cleaned most of his plate, and sat back in his seat, sipping cool tea and letting one hand fidget on his lap with the napkin.

"So, are you boys ready for pie?" It was enough to startle Lex out of his reverie, at least when combined with Clark's enthusiastic jolt that knocked the table.

"With ice cream?" he asked, and that boyish enthusiasm was such a delight.

"You still have room for anything?" Lex smirked over at Clark. "I think you ate a whole chicken by yourself. Martha, how ever did you manage to keep the farm going with Clark eating everything?"

"It was difficult. It involved long, arduous labor..."

"Hey!"

"Plus, he did most of the work in the garden once he was old enough, so that was certainly helpful."

"Besides, there's always room for pie," Clark told Lex. "You saved room didn't you?"

Saved room? Had room in abundance, after he'd thrown up everything else he'd eaten that day. But Lex just nodded, and gave his friend a slow smile. "Of course. I wasn't going to miss out on your mother's pie for the world..."

"Nobody in their right mind would," Clark agreed with a nod, making Martha blush.

"You boys..." She laughed and rose, heading into the kitchen with her own plate in her hand. She'd probably fetch theirs once she'd cut pie for them and dipped out ice cream.

Clark eyed the last few spoonfuls of mashed potatoes. "Hm..."

"I'm not going to watch this massacre." Lex turned his head away pointedly, smirking a little to himself as he imagined Clark doing away with those potatoes.

"It's too good to go to waste," Clark decided, dishing up those last few bites and adding gravy to them. "Ummmm... They're good, Lex."

Clark had to be doing that on purpose, a twinge of obscenity to his voice. It was so good to have his Clark back, the Real Clark who did things like that with little shame. "You'd say that about one of those mutated pudding cups in your fridge, Clark," Lex smirked, standing up smoothly. He grabbed his plate, Clark's plate, and carried them into the kitchen just for something to do.

"Hey! I wasn't done with that!" Clark called after him, and Lex couldn't help but allow his smile to widen.

"Lex, you didn't have to do that!" Martha chided, laughing at the sounds of Clark's protests. "He'd eat himself sick on mashed potatoes if he could, though, so I think it's for the best you got it away from him. I'm amazed."

"It's like taking food from a hungry dog -- it's all about the timing." Lex paused by the sink long enough to scrape the left over-blobs into the sink, then veered for what he hoped was the dishwasher, all the while mindful of where Martha was. One didn't get in the way of a chef in the kitchen, or a mother, he supposed.

"Just leave those there in the sink, Lex. I'll rinse them off later. You can dip the ice cream, if you like," Martha offered.

Dip the ice cream? Scoop, Lex hoped she meant. "Sure -- where is it?"

"In the freezer, dear. You can fetch a big spoon out of the drawer by the stove."

Little things, simple actions, he could do it. There was a half gallon of vanilla in the freezer, and he carried it -- cold in his hand, too too cold -- and the aforementioned spoon towards the counter where Martha was laying slices of hot pie onto plates. There was no way that having suddenly ice-cold fingers was making his hands shake.

"Lex? Are you all right?" Martha's eyes on him were gentle, altogether too fucking knowing, because she was a mother, somebody's mom, Clark's mom, and moms knew things. "Sweetheart." Her hands shifted, lightly touching his arms, and maybe that was what he needed. Who knew.

His muscles went tense under the fabric of his shirt, under her fingers, stilling the shake. "I'm fine, Mrs. Kent. Martha." It was easy to gently pull back, set the ice-cream on the counter, and start to serve it out onto the plates. There was no logical reason for it to bother him, because he could see his hands in front of him, see that they were fine and that coldness was only temporary.

"You know, it's all right to be upset, Lex. To cry if you have to, to need somebody else. It doesn't make you any less of a man." She was delicately serving up pie slices again, watching him from the corner of her eyes.

Heavy, knowing eyes, and Clark was probably listening in to every quiet word, but Lex couldn't deny Clark that. "I'm just having trouble with some little things. It's really not worth concern," he drawled, offering a mild smile and amused tone as he dropped a last less-than-round scoop onto the third plate, and moved to put the ice-cream back and clean the spoon.

"All right, Lex," Martha agreed simply. "If you want to take your pie and Clark's into the dining room, I'll be right there."

A 'thanks' danced on the tip of his tongue as he picked up both plates, but he wasn't sure what he was thanking her for. Not pushing? Maybe. Maybe that was it. Maybe it wasn't, and it didn't matter, because Lex was concentrating on the contrast of hot and cold that seeped through the bottom of the plates as he carried them both back towards the table. "Here, Clark -- I think this is better than eating your fork."

"Food thief," Clark sniffed, taking his pie with a smile. He got the larger slice, and he didn't quibble about taking it, either. "Mmmm, pie." That was enough to quiet him down, and he didn't mention the kitchen discussion, so maybe he hadn't been listening.

And maybe they were in an alternate universe. Lex settled down into his chair, and took an idle bite of apple and crust, letting it melt in his mouth. "Jesus, Jimmy wasn't kidding," he murmured half to himself.

"That's what you get, dear," Martha chided as she stepped back into the room with her own plate, "for abandoning me for so long. You forget the miracles that can be created with pie."

"Mmmphmmm," Clark agreed, mouth full.

"Miracles, hmn?" Lex mused around his fork, before taking a few idle bites, alternating pie and ice cream. "I'm tempted to test that theory."

"Well, the miracle of keeping Clark quiet for a little while, anyway," Martha teased.

Funny, he was quite enamored with Clark's voice. Lex just let his eyebrows go up, smirking a little, and kept eating. "I'm not sure that's a miracle, per se. Certainly an accomplishment, but I've seen a lot of things manage it."

The vibrant blush that made its way over not only Martha's cheeks but Clark's as well certainly said a lot about where their minds had wandered. "Lex!" Clark managed to get out, coughing slightly as an apple tried to go down the wrong way.

"Oh, goodness," Martha blurted.

"And people have accused me of having a dirty mind," Lex drawled, a little triumph showing in his voice. "I wasn't inferring anything of that sort." And wouldn't until he'd given Clark real reason to be speechless at his hands.

"Thank God," Clark coughed, striking his chest.

Martha shook her head, covering a cheek with her hand. "Lift your arms, son."

Watching Clark obey his mother was definitely worth a chuckle, especially since his blush hadn't faded as of yet. "Well, the way you said it...!"

"How did I say it that gave you that idea, hmn? I could've been referring to Lana, whose presence always did cut your tongue out of your head, or your editor griping at you, or..." Any one of a hundred things.

"At any rate, boys." Martha's face was still tinged faintly pink, and the amusement on her face was obvious. "Enjoy your pie."

"Martha, if I haven't already said it, it's excellent." Lex gave her a slight, genuine smile, as he scraped a little ice-cream onto some of the left-over parts of crust. Clark looked almost finished with his piece.

"And I think I'd like another piece, please?" The nearly pitiful expression on her son's face was enough to make Martha laugh.

"All right. Another piece. If you roll over tonight, Lex, do try not to push his belly. He might burst."

Lex felt his cheeks color just a little, but his mellow expression didn't waver. "I'll keep that in mind. It'd certainly be a heck of a mess to have to clean up. Mashed potatoes and pie everywhere -- a scene right out of Monty Python."

"Not to mention the results for me!" Clark protested. "I'll be all burst everywhere!" Both Kents knew it couldn't happen, and now Lex knew, too, so it was enough to make him smile.

Clark was safe from random, day to day dangers, if Monty Python mishaps could be an actual day to day danger. A twist tugged at his mouth, as he idly licked the tines of his fork clean of ice-cream and any pie remnants. "So, what do Kents usually do after dinner on a Saturday night?"

"Prop up our feet and watch a little television. It's a staid life," Martha told him, laughing as she continued eating her own pie. "You know where the kitchen is, Clark, so I'll let you get your own pie."

"Can I pick out the movie if I get my own pie?" He was such a boy with his mother.

"Don't knock staid." Lex poured himself a little more tea, which was on its way to being room-temperature soon. "If there isn't some social event, I make business calls and surf the internet. Can't get much more staid than that."

"I still want to pick the movie!" Clark called, heading into the kitchen to fetch more pie.

"Don't you think the guest should be allowed to choose what we watch, Clark?" Martha called.

The guest. It was hard to wrap his mind around being a guest in anyone's house. "It's all right. I pretty much like Clark's taste in movies," Lex murmured, starting to really feel the comfortable amusement that he was working so hard to project.

"YEEESS!!"

"You realize, of course, that you've doomed us to a night of alien invader movies, don't you, Lex?"

"Well, firstly, the aliens always lose to some pathetic plan that the last surviving humans concoct, and second, I get to nitpick the plausibility flaws." He laid his fork across the bare face of his plate, and took a sip of the tea. "Hopefully you can withstand it, Martha."

The woman sighed. "The suffering a mother must face to please her only son."

Lex's smile flickered for a bare moment, when his mind called up a burst of thoughts about the things that his mother had surely suffered for him. But it wasn't about that, it was just a simple smiling little joke at herself and not... fuck. Fuck his mind for doing that to him. Another sip of tea to mask that, and he knew he had to look like he was nursing it like a glass of whiskey. "It's still better than watching the news for hours."

"Or Lawrence Welk," Clark pointed out as he came back in, mouth already full of pie again. "Mmmm, Mom. I love your apple pie."

"Thank you, Clark. You can take the rest of it home with you when you go... Or, since you'll be here tomorrow, I doubt there will be any left," Martha smiled.

"I'll wake up if you try to sneak into the kitchen to polish it off in the middle of the night," Lex threatened vaguely, slipping to his feet. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes -- I need to check my phone to see if I've had any new messages."

A look passed between the Kents, but they let him go -- probably a trick that Martha had learned, some secret look that made Kent men snap to obey her once she decided that something was the way it was going to be.

Compared to the kitchen and the living room, the hallway that the bedrooms branched off of was unlit and silent. Lex sat on the edge of the bed for a few moments, then flipped open his phone to peer at tiny letters set on a luminescent blue-white backdrop. Secretary, secretary, blah blah, that one looked like a report...

And his father had called, and left a message on his voice mail, by the looks of it.

The tinny sound of it put Lex on edge before he ever even registered the words. "Son, this is your father. Just calling to be sure you'd gotten the package in its entirety. I thought you'd be the best judge of what should be done with the... materials I've sent to you. Let me know."

Lex laid back on the bed, swinging his legs up onto the mattress. Just one pillow, but it was fluffy under his head and comfortable despite the rough texture. Something to distract himself with when he hit speed-dial, and waited for his father to either pick up, or end up routed to voice mail.

"Luthor." The sound of Lionel's voice made Lex's teeth clench. He wondered what he'd ever done for his father to do the things to him that he did.

Probably being born was just enough. "Hi, Dad. I just got your voice mail -- the package arrived."

"Ahh, yes. Hopefully you weren't too surprised, Lex." The utter smoothness of Lionel's statement lacked anything that could be considered emotion, whether it was positive or negative. Lex wasn't sure he could even accuse his father of purposely trying to fuck with him, though God knew he was paranoid enough and had enough proof of it in the past that he'd be justified.

"Actually, I was surprised. A note of warning would've been nice, or maybe for the photographs to be wrapped. But they don't exist any longer. So what's on the tape and the CD?" Flat voice, just as emotionless as he could make it, except for the odd spikes and pitches of pain that crept into it. He wasn't going to think of what he'd looked like while being fucked, hurt, bleeding, and in such pain that the memory made him ache.

"The video is identical to the tape. I wasn't certain if you had your laptop, and I didn't know if your friend..." God, Lex could practically hear the QUOTES around that fucking word. "...would have anything that it could be played on. If you wanted to see it. Every other bit of evidence has been destroyed. You should face it, Lex. Face it and get it over with. You'll feel better."

"Yeah? Is that what you'd do?" Lex swallowed, trying to not let the strain seep into his voice. "Did watching it make you feel better?"

"No, Lex, it didn't. But I'm your father. It wasn't supposed to make me feel good, son. You, on the other hand, need to face what happened. Staying with that Kent man isn't going to help you face anything."

"How is watching that going to help me?" Lex brought his free hand up to cover his eyes, rubbing at them. "Help me follow your rationale, Dad. I'm at a loss here."

"If you can confront the fact that it happened, Lex, you can get over it! What have I always told you? Let nothing impede your progress. Let nothing hinder your advancement. Lex, that's all this will do."

A large chunk of his mind agreed with that. The part that had walked the halls of various estates in pitch darkness when his father had discovered he was afraid of the dark. The part that had looked out of helicopter windows when that fear had been faced down.

But he still had shivers in the dead dark of night, paranoid itches, and air-travel made him as tense as hell.

"Christ. Just tell me, and be honest for once, if anything like this ever happened to you."

Silence came long and low over the cell phone, Lionel drawing in a deep, slow breath. "No, son. I can honestly say that nothing like that has ever happened to me."

And for half a moment, Lex thought he'd at least be able to get some cold Luthor version of wisdom and experience from the man. But that slow breath had been as close as Lex had come, like Lionel had been about to lie and tell him 'yes' just so he'd follow his advice more readily.

He squeezed his eyes shut more tightly, rubbing a little harder to alleviate a throb in his head. "I didn't think so."

"If I had lied and told you yes, Lex, it would have cheapened what I'm telling you. What I want to do for you. Son, you need to leave those Kents and come home. You need to do what I tell you..."

"And you need to listen to me for just a fucking second," Lex cut in sharply, softly. His voice was shaking, and that was just fine for the moment. It was past his control. "I'm relaxed for the first time in days. If I 'come home', I don't know what I'll do."

"Lex..." God, his father faked emotion so well. He'd almost think that Lionel was worried if it wasn't so fucking LAUGHABLE.

"I was on my laptop earlier, and I was seriously thinking that I could level the entire city with maybe an hour of real effort. And it was so tempting, and you know what? I'd kill all the fucking cops, the good ones, the bad ones, the ones pretending to be good and hiding in plain sight, every last one of them..." Lex swallowed, dropped his voice softer. "I think it's really best that I step back from things for a little while."

The hefty breath that whispered out on Lionel's end of the phone said more than Lex thought his father had ever put into words. "Shall I tell the board you're taking an indefinite leave of absence, Lex? Someone will have to take care of things in your place."

"A week. Maybe two. I've taken longer trips to Europe than this," Lex murmured. He thought he heard a footstep near the doorway, but didn't respond to it.

"I'm sure you have the appropriate chain of command in place, then." Lionel was probably disappointed that he wouldn't get to rape Lex's company while he was 'gone'.

"And I'm probably not going to even leave the city." A warning to his father that he'd be 'gone', but not ignorant of what was going on. If something reared its head, he could be in the office in under an hour. "There's some scientific research I want to catch up on, until my head clears. I'll take a shot at that tape later... and as much as I'm going to regret asking this, keep in touch."

"Of course. And, son, if you need anything..." Someone murdered, for example. "Let me know."

"Of course." Not that he'd take him up on that offer. "Good night." He hung up before Lionel could get another word in edgewise, and dropped the phone to the floor. There was a shift near the doorway, and yes, it was hopefully Clark.

"We can skip the movie if you want." Yes, definitely Clark. "Mom won't mind, especially if you'd feel better going to bed a little early."

"Did you start to eavesdrop before or after I threatened to blow up Metropolis, Clark?" It was easy to start to sit up, opening his eyes and glancing towards Clark in the doorway.

"I came to check on you when your dad started harassing you about the stuff he sent you in the bottom of that box, Lex."

Well. That was... all of the conversation, wasn't it? Lex paused a moment as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, resting his hands on his knees. "I want to borrow the VCR later, to watch the tape. Once your mother's gone to bed. But until then, let's watch whatever movie. Because I... don't want to think right now."

It was obvious that Clark wanted to say something, but he managed to keep his tongue between his teeth, expression grim with whatever thought he had sneaking behind his eyes. "All right, Lex. Come on and we'll go watch something for a while."

Lex wished Clark would share his grim thoughts. Just to make everything easier, because he wasn't up to guessing. Once he was standing, he bent for a moment to grab the phone off of the floor, tossing it at his bag. "Whatever you're thinking, you should just say it, Clark."

"Seeing these things don't make it better, Lex." The sound of it grinding out from between his teeth didn't sound like Lex's Clark, it sounded like Superman, and God, that drove Lex crazy. "It's not going to help you face anything, it's just going to hurt you. And I..." The voice faltered, and maybe it was Lex's Clark after all. "I can't bear it when you're hurt."

For just a moment, Lex stood there, and looked back at Clark with almost wary eyes. What an odd idea, that his suffering could ever cause anyone else suffering. "Clark... I think you understand the idea behind watching the tape, and there's a morbid part of me that wants to know just what my father's seen." He licked his top lip briefly, flickering over the scar, and then grasped Clark's hand in his. "It won't make things worse."

The sheer anguish that crossed Clark's expression was startling. "You didn't see yourself laying there and bleeding with both of your shoulders out of the sockets, Lex."

"Yes, I did." Lex tugged at Clark's hand, pulling him into the hallway. "They showed me. While they were hurting me."

He'd never seen Clark's skin go white that way, so pale it was almost green, and if he could have vomited, he probably would have. "Christ. Fuck. Oh my God. Lex."

And what could he say to that, but a noise of agreement? Lex let his fingers rub idly over Clark's hand, distracting himself with warm familiar skin. Real, solid Clark. "Hey, I'm still in one piece."

Strong arms came around him, close and tight, and he felt Clark's nose press against his temple. "Lex. Lex..." Whatever he wanted to say didn't seem to want to come out of his mouth.

Not pity, Lex hoped, because Clark had never looked at him with that expression and he never wanted Clark to. Nose against his temple, lips near his cheek, soft soft breath gusting unevenly. Clark breathed like a metronome, so why uneven? It was just a little thing, but the whole world seemed to unexplainably hinge on it. "So next time Jimmy wants photos, don't even dare mention flashes. If you do, I'll find a way to... to break your jaw, or--"

His voice broke, snapped by a hitch of his chest, and then he was leaning into Clark and not not not choking down quiet sobs.

"Shh. Shh. No. No, never again. I'll break every fucking camera in Metropolis if I have to..." And that wasn't right, didn't even sound possible, but Clark would do it, Lex's Clark would do it, not Reporter Clark or Superman Clark, but Lex's Clark. "I won't ever say anything again, Lex, no flashes. No flashes."

"Jesus, just..." Something. Lex didn't know what he wanted to do, but lean into Clark and cry until everything put itself back together. It had to. He had to face what had happened, Daddy said he did, and he'd always tried to do what... what Clark wanted, what Dad wanted, what, shit--

"Boys...?" Martha's voice, closer than it should've been, and a light hand on his back. "Clark, get him seated."

Lex felt Clark pick him up, hold him close, move him to the bed, and he was in Clark's lap, he thought, with Martha standing close to them and a blanket wrapped close around him. It smelled like Clark and like Martha, like sweet floral something or other, just faint enough to be pleasantly there.

"Shhhh," Clark whispered to him, rocking him, and it felt so good. It felt so good. "Shhh, I'll make it all right. Shhh."

He was a thirty year old man, scientist, CEO and on the board of another multinational company, and he could hear his father's tsking in the back of his head. What a mess he was, what a waste of space, to need that, to want and take comfort in that. The Kents were a weakness, both of them shameless about the way they did things. The Lionel voice was snarling that he needed to cut ties with them, come home, and...

The Lionel voice sounded a little tinny, like a cellphone. Like his cellphone. Lex twisted his head, another breath hitching in his chest as he curled into Clark, cheek against the wet spots he'd left on Clark's shirt. No cell phone.

"Shhh," Clark soothed him tenderly, and maybe he could ignore the Lionel voice for a while. It would be okay if he did, because the Lionel voice wasn't real, it was just some silly imitation, and Martha was wiping his face gently with a damp cloth and offering him a Kleenex.

Lex blew his nose, and didn't want to know what she'd done with the tissue when it disappeared. He sagged against Clark, mouth curling into a sickly smile. No thoughts, just... no thoughts. "Not holding up as well as I should," he mumbled, shifting fingers that were clinging into Clark's shirt.

"There's no should or shouldn't, Lex." That was Martha, and God, that sounded so very Kent-like of her. "You've suffered a terrible trauma. You don't have to be or do anything."

"But I have a company to run, and people who depend on me, and..." Lex ducked his head down, trying to swallow down the desperate brokenness that he heard in his own voice. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Clark told him gently, still rocking slightly. "That's exactly why you just need to calm down and be for a while, Lex. You do have a company to run, and you do have people who depend on you, but if you fall apart trying to force yourself to deal with something you aren't ready for, Lionel is going to pick up all of the pieces."

That sounded like Lionel, sounded like his daddy, didn't it, and then he'd eternally be under his thumb, wouldn't he? But that wasn't a thought to have when he was supposed to be calming down. "Clark... I still... need to see it. But... yeah, maybe I should relax first, or..." Something. Getting really really drunk had a certain appeal.

"All right. All right."

"See...?" Martha asked, looking to her son worriedly. Clark shook his head, though, and watched as she stood. "I'll bring a glass of water."

Brandy, but he didn't say it. Just sighed against Clark's shirt, and lifted a hand to pull at the buttons. It was a cheap, off the rack shirt, and if he accidentally ruined it, he'd also accidentally replace it with a much nicer one. "Thanks." His voice was sounding a littler steadier. Maybe one word answers was the way to go.

Clark's lips brushed against his scalp, soft and tender. "It's all right. When she brings back the water, I want you to drink all of it, okay?"

"Yes." Simple, little, easy instructions, and they made sense. Shit, anything anyone handed to him as an idea was making sense, which meant that his own mental filters of good idea/bad idea weren't working. Lex shifted, stretching one leg out when it threatened to cramp, the fabric of his expensive wool trousers almost catching on Clark's cheaper one. "Clark, I feel all of this is really... very childish of me."

"It's not, you know." Reassurance, quiet, easy. So very Clark. "It's an honest reaction. I wouldn't expect anything less from you than that, Lex, anything less than an honest reaction. What happened isn't something most people get over in a lifetime. Fuck getting over it after being awake a handful of days. Nobody expects you to be perfect except maybe your father and you. You only expect it because he expects it, and quite frankly, your dad's a real dick, Lex."

Lex smirked a little, shakily, and pushed aside the fabric of Clark's shirt to press his cheek against warm skin. "That's an understatement, Clark. God, you're warm... I kept thinking that I'd never be anything but cold..." And that was talking about it, wasn't it? Talking about it was good, made him feel a tiny bit more his arrogant self.

"Hm." Clark didn't say what he was thinking, that he'd protect Lex, that nothing would ever hurt Lex again. He hadn't been able to keep promises like that in the past, so there was no point in tempting fate, was there? "I like keeping you warm, Lex."

"I feel like I'm wasting your talents, using you as a space heater," Lex teased very softly, very slightly. He half-heard Martha coming back, and then there were fingers on his shoulder.

"Here, you should drink it all." Lex twisted a little, and absently wondered if it was going to be drugged.

"You'll feel a little better once you drink it," Clark explained gently. "Bet your mouth is dry. Mine usually is."

"I've never seen you... cry." Lex wanted to wince at the slightly wondering note in his voice, but didn't. It was easier to concentrate on prying a hand off of Clark;'s shirt, on reaching for the glass of water to shakily bring it to his lips.

"It's not exactly something you want to do in public," Clark said, "and for the most part... Well, nobody likes to be seen crying." That was true, because it was a weakness, and Lex understood that. "But I do."

"Honestly, he does," Martha told Lex, gently taking the glass from him once he'd swallowed enough to suit her. "It's not as if you don't have excellent cause, Lex."

"I suppose." Lex swallowed, laying his head back down and slumping against Clark comfortably. He felt petulant, childish, and neither were feelings he liked to feel. Better to concentrate on Clark's warmth, Martha's soft voice... "Didn't... you want to watch a movie?" He couldn't just lay there against Clark, no matter how tempting it was. Watching a movie might prove distraction for himself, and an excuse to still settle close against Clark.

"Sure. I'll even be kind and let you pick it out," Clark began.

"Otherwise," his mother interrupted, "we'll be watching Star Trek V again."

"What, not four?" Lex chuckled that, voice still rough from crying as he tried to extricate himself from Clark with as much dignity as he could.

"I like the whales!" Clark protested, letting Lex loose reluctantly. "Plus, when Spock curses..."

Martha LOOKED at Lex. "I don't let him drink during this movie. It's dangerous. Last time, the entire television was spattered with Coke."

It helped Lex to pull his chuckle more towards something real, shifting the blanket off of his shoulders and tucking it under one arm as he gained his footing. "Super sprayer, too, Clark?"

"Only when Spock is cursing... Well, okay. When Chekhov tries to talk to the computer, too," Clark admitted, vaguely sheepish.

Same quirky, unashamed sense of humor he'd always liked about Clark. Even out of college, far past high school, Clark still bore the same look when he was sheepish. "Could be worth watching just for that," Lex suggested, trying to sound off the cuff as he reached a hand to grasp Clark's. His smile was for Martha's benefit, but it was always tried and true that smiling made him feel like smiling, made him... Yes, it was a circle, and that was a simple little thing.

"I have a better idea," Martha suggested. "How about Clue?"

"Well... That one would be good," Clark decided thoughtfully, looking at Lex. Funny, yes, and entertaining, better, and he didn't think his mom was going to say anything at all about the way Lex was holding his hand.

Tight, not the casual way that companions usually held hands, like Lex needed Clark to help ground him. Lex wouldn't admit to the truth of that flitting concept. "Sounds fine to me."

"I'll find the dvd and start some popcorn -- you boys settle onto the sofa." Martha gave them both a concerned look, and then slipped out of the guest bedroom.

"I'm glad you decided to come to bed," Clark told him later, breath gusting warmly over Lex's cheek. It was laced faintly with the cinnamon smell of toothpaste, a lingering warmth that made the bald man sigh and press more closely against him.

Clark was such a comfort, and laying beside him, partially atop him, was stoking a low fire in Lex's stomach. Shirts weren't something either had bothered with, so Lex was taking his time in idly dragging fingers over Clark's body, letting the pads of his fingers seek out any irregularity, any dip or dent in warm muscle. "How could I say no, when I knew you'd be waiting for me if I stayed?"

"Mmmm." Warm, delicious sound creeping from underneath his fingers, and Clark's hand was on his shoulder. It felt just as good, too, pulling him close and caressing slowly down his side. "Lex. About that symphony you mentioned..."

"Just let me explore you." He kept his voice to a whisper, but managed to pitch in a little of his negotiating tones. "At the least. No pressure, and if you aren't comfortable with something, we'll work up to it." When Lex's fingers skimmed over a flattish pucker of skin, he drew his fingers back to his mouth and licked two.

The unsteady whisper of Clark's sigh sounded sweet to him. "All right. Anything you want, Lex." There was no way for him to say no, to say not yet. Clark didn't think it was possible to say such things to Lex, and he wondered if he should tell him this was unfamiliar terrain. Probably not. Lex undoubtedly knew, the way Lex knew everything.

Cool damp fingers rubbed lightly at his chest, and Lex shifted to kneel over Clark. "Anything I want? I'll hold you to that," he teased, leaning down to almost kiss Clark. Almost, but not quite, because there was something alluring about the huff of warm breath against his mouth, tender affection in Clark's brilliant green eyes.

"Anything," Clark promised him, and he trembled beneath Lex's touch, eyes nearly closing in the nightlight-dim brightness of the bedroom. "Oh, that feels..." Incredible. For all that Clark's skin was invulnerable, there were plenty of sensors, nerve endings, that fed him pain and pleasure signals. These were the best he could ever remember feeling.

"I think that last night... was a little too desperate for either of us," Lex murmured, careful to not lean down the bare fraction and kiss Clark yet. His fingers traveled lazily, rubbing idly at Clark's nipples until he could feel the puckered skin perk slightly. "I overcompensated... and then forgot that you're on foreign territory."

"No one," Clark whispered to him, slowly pressing a leg over Lex's, teasing against him. "No one, Lex. No one but you." No one but Lex and now, and that was all right, and they were going to keep quiet, yes, and not startle Martha.

"No one?" But Clark had to have come close, Lex knew it as he shifted back against Clark, a slow roll of motion before he pressed a soft peck to Clark's mouth. The deeper kisses were something Lex had filed away in his mind as quite dangerous; it sapped his control, and he at least wanted Clark's baggy sweat pants off before he let his control be sucked away.

"Not Jessie?" Another soft kiss. "Or those girls in college? Lois?"

"No." Quietly spoken, serious sort of response, Clark nuzzling against Lex's mouth slowly, carefully. "Not like this. Not like you. Not..." Not ever like Lex, or even close, and while he'd nearly done it a time or four, nothing about it had ever seemed right.

Lex quieted him with a slow kiss, and broke it when he shifted backwards, downwards on the line of Clark's body. "Why not?" It was comfortable to press a soft, worshipful kiss to the line of Clark's neck, over tight muscles, while whispering to him, talking.

"Wasn't right." That wasn't right, and this was so beyond right that Clark could only sigh, shift from his side to his back, and let Lex have free reign over their motions. Clark wanted to touch him, and he did, fingers so feather light they were barely there. He wanted to do more, but everything was so nice and slow, and definitely at Lex's pace. "Didn't feel right yet. I wanted... to feel right."

"Your mom would be heartened. So... tell me if I have this right, Clark." Lex shifted down again, letting his hands caress idly over Clark's sides, hovering over one nipple. "Twenty four. Virgin. Brought up as a farmboy."

"Right." Clark wanted to moan and didn't dare. "Right. Lex..." Just the knowledge of those hands, their positioning, was enough to make Clark wild for touch.

"At the mercy of a rich businessman. I think you and I have the makings of a porn-film's plot, Clark." Now to just make the film. A long one, he hoped idly, with many sequels. And he wasn't... fuck, wasn't, was not going to think of film or cameras, or anything. Lex let his fingers pinch at Clark's nipple, squirmed downwards to press a kiss to the other one just to hide his face from Clark.

"You're beautiful." It was the only word Clark could give for him, and the way that his hand came up to cup the back of Lex's skull, trembling, said that it was meant. So gentle, Clark was so gentle, and easy, as if he was afraid of hurting Lex. "I'll..." A breathless, tiny laugh escaped. "I'll be at your mercy anytime you want. Be your own personal porn star. Oh, God, Lex!"

"Shhh." Lex pulled back for a moment to hiss that soft warning. "Unless your mother sleeps with earplugs..." Touch could convey just as well as words, strong hands touching his sensitive scalp with near reverence; and he could easily do the same for Clark, lowering his head again to nip lightly at the little upthrust of skin, sucking for a moment. Both of his hands abandoned Clark's chest, and trailed down his side to hook fingers underneath the waistband of his sweatpants.

He felt Clark's breath quicken beneath him, felt those fingers tighten momentarily. It was a stillness of motion more than pressure against him, and the beat of Clark's pulse beneath his skin was reassuring. Pale gold skin almost tasted sweet, and the sound of tiny, hitching little whines was even better. He was making Clark give those noises, making it impossible for him to keep quiet, even though Clark was obviously trying. "Lex..."

In the morning, Lex decided idly, he'd apologize to Martha for any possible noise. Because the whine that was his name was too, too damn arousing. Pale golden skin, down from Clark's nipple to the edge of his ribcage all tasted sweet, warm, and the more he kissed and nipped the longer and more needy the gestures turned. Lex shifted down, pulling Clark's pants down as he moved, his own throbbing arousal pulsing against Clark's leg when he let himself mindlessly rock against him.

"Yes..." Affirmation was so good, Clark pushing up against him, and he looked just as human there as he did everywhere else, long and thick and beautifully uncut, clear-wet need beading there that made Lex lick his lips. "Lex..." His hands were on Lex's shoulders now, stroking down over them, over his arms, fingerpads caressing at perked nipples.

Slow, comfortable touch, but there was still that heat simmering beneath it, driving them both on. It'd been a while since Lex had had a lover who'd done that to him. Or one who touched so freely; Clark's unsure participation held promise for later times. "Here, move your legs... Jesus, you're almost angelic." His hands skimmed over Clark's thighs, moving backwards a little too fast to keep the contact of hands on his skin. There were two sets of pants to be done away with.

There was no helping the soft, breathless laugh that Clark gave. "Huh. Angelic?" Lex's hands were stripping him, and Clark sat up to help get the sweat pants off by pulling at his legs. "Not like you." It was honest, the way that Clark always was. "Lex. I don't know how long I've wanted this... Forever, maybe."

"Haven't known you forever," Lex reminded, shifting up onto his knees to pull his own off. The waistband caught at the head of his erection, and gave him a frisson of sharply pleasant sensation that distracted him when he squirmed and finally tossed his pants to the floor. "And I said almost -- angels don't have mouths like yours."

"Maybe just demons," Clark assured him in a voice low and rough with want. "Would you like it? My mouth? On you?" His eyes nearly glowed green, the color of jealousy, of need.

Wasn't red supposed to be the color of need? Maybe, but Lex's world-view had been skewed since Smallville. Sharp green was a brilliant color for need, and mixed with Clark's words... Lex could barely keep an eager tremble out of his hands as he laid them on Clark's hips, thumbs stretched slightly to brush the edges of dark hair. "Yes... Damn, yes."

In seconds, he'd been rolled over beneath Clark and his head was swimming, dancing, and Clark was above him, touching him, making him dizzy. "So beautiful. No hair..." None anywhere except for his brows and lashes, implants his father had insisted upon, and Clark was looking at him as if he could eat Lex alive.

"If the two are connected, Clark, I'm afraid I don't understand how." Lex wasn't content to just ride out Clark's touches, his exploring, feeling those warm hands stroke and hot mouth kiss at him. He had to touch back, clutching at Clark's arms, then stroking down his chest, caressing without much forethought of action.

"Just are. It's all you," Clark told him, beginning to lightly suck at the skin of Lex's throat. It was warm and soft and felt so so good, tasted like salt and some kind of spice, all Lex. "Don't let me do anything you don't want," he whispered on his way down.

"Shit, I think that's impossible..." Throat, check, Clark had found that weak spot. He closed his eyes, arching and shifting beneath Clark, canting his hips to grind dick against dick. There were stars, green and white pinpricks of light, dancing amidst the swirls behind his eyelids. There was Clark's mouth, moving down and down and down, and oh, God. God. It felt so good, tongue scraping his breastbone and moving down to the well of his navel, and Clark couldn't be fucking his belly-button that way with his mouth, could he? Oh, God.

Yes, he could.

"You f-fucking tease," he laughed, panted, and above all tried to keep silent. It wasn't working, but tangling his hands into Clark's hair, petting and goading him on, was helping him at least pretend he could be quiet. Thick, strong hair that tangled comfortably under his fingers -- laser cut for his pleasure, he recalled, feeling the faint scrape of stubble on Clark's chin.

"Only for you," Clark answered, moving his mouth over the hollow of Lex's hip. He was a little too tentative, maybe, but he couldn't help it. It was all different than thinking about it or doing it yourself. "Just for you." And then his mouth was on Lex, on his dick, and it was hot and wet and maybe a little too rough, and fuck, Lex didn't care!

"Oh, yes... just like that, God, you're perfect at this, you're..." He babbled, soft words, meaningless praise as he tried to concentrate on Clark's mouth on him. There wasn't enough light in the room to watch it properly when he did open his eyes, but he could see a dark head of hair bobbing, shifting, and there were corresponding sparks of wonderful sensation. "Fuck, yes."

Fuck, yes, and Clark agreed with him, licking at the head and mostly sucking there, his hand moving to stroke the shaft beneath it. Tentative, sweet, and oh, just thinking about it was enough for Lex because he'd been thinking about it for years. "Mmmmmm..."

Hundreds of little sensations that Lex could've catalogued, tongue and lips and heat, hair under his hands, the stroke of Clark's palm, fingers, shit, fingers doing things that helped scatter Lex's mental attempt to keep track of it all. So he let the little things scatter, groaned, and let himself go. Fuck yes, Clark had a wonderful mouth, and was touching him, and wanted to suck his dick like a pro, to...

Lex slitted open his eyes at the last moment, jerking one hand up to fist against his mouth and muffle himself.

The wet spill of semen came between them, Clark coughing and spitting up the sticky, salty fluid. "Ugh. Lex. Warn me," he sputtered, sticking out his tongue slightly, nose wrinkled. If Lex could have thought, he probably would have thought it adorable. Luckily for both of them, he wasn't quite up to thought, yet.

"Sorry," he murmured, or thought he murmured, voice unsteady from the trembles of orgasm that were still drifting idly through him. Felt so good, even if he was wet. At least there wasn't hair for it to mat in. "Wasn't thinking to... do you have tissues...?"

There was movement, the faint riffing sound of kleenex being pulled from the box, and then Clark was cleaning him up and coming over him, kissing him. There was the faintest trace of Lex's taste on his lips, still some semen dotting the side of his mouth.

"So good," Lex breathed. It took no effort at all to kiss those flecks away, swallowing. His mind only flickered to those two not-Phalens for a moment, but the taste was cleaner, and Clark's mouth was pervasively present as he went back to kissing him. "My turn." He drew his leg up, foot flat on the mattress, and levered Clark to lay on his side.

"Anything you want," Clark promised him again, and Clark meant it, Clark was beautiful under him and giving him whatever he wanted. It couldn't be more perfect, Lex was pretty sure.

"You wait until I hold you to that," Lex promised back, sliding quickly down Clark's chest, pressing faint kisses. He insinuated one hand between Clark's legs, cupping his balls with idle touch. "Tell me what you like," he breathed against Clark's sternum, kissing and sucking between words. There was little hope that he'd leave a mark.

Still, there was the joy of knowing that he had Clark on edge, wasn't there? "Everything. Anything." The larger man's body twisted up wantonly beneath Lex's touch. "That. Just... that. That."

"Which part?" He pressed slow sucking kisses to Clark's stomach, and then stroked his fingers over Clark's balls like they were marbles that he expected to send rolling any moment. Finger light touch, to match his mouth, before he trailed those fingers up to wrap them around the base.

"Ohhh." It was a sound of loss as much as it was a sound of pleasure. "Your hand. There. Lower." Lex didn't think Clark would say it. "Touch me there again." He was right.

"Where?" Clark's voice was sex and hesitant innocence as it washed over his ears, drawing his eyes up to look at Clark even as he moved down, hovering over the head of Clark's dick. "Say it."

The low whine that snuck out of Clark's throat was even sexier than Lex had thought it would be. "...balls," he managed to say. "Felt so good, Lex." Yes, and teaching Clark to talk dirty would be good, too, Lex knew.

"They're really something. Heavy and very round..." Lex could halfway see Clark's intense blush as he leaned on his elbows between his legs, sliding his one hand between them to caress over Clark's balls again. His other fingers caressed over Clark's thigh. "Tell me what you want now."

"Don't know..." But oh, he did, Clark knew. "Your mouth. Your touch. Your hands. God, Lex. You. Everything. All of you." Lex, all-over-beautiful and smiling at him, touching him, every wet dream he'd ever had and then some. Because it was real and not a dream, and things were sharper and felt different than his own hands on his body.

"In time," Lex smirked softly, bending his head to kiss a brief kiss to the head of Clark's dick, a dart of his tongue slipping beneath the foreskin to tease.

"Fuck!" The sheer intensity of that exclamation was exquisite, the way that Clark's body curled up slightly as if it was too much, felt too good, as if it was all he could do not to push himself deeper into Lex's mouth. "Fuck! Lex!"

Lex REALLY hoped Martha had earplugs. But even that reasonable thought scattered, as he lost himself to his own actions. Clark tasted clean, tasted like warmth and maybe a little soap; Lex traced the hand up over Clark's leg to the indentation of his pelvis, holding his hips steady as he lowered his mouth to properly suck on him.

The heavy panting that slipped from Clark's lips more than said everything Lex needed it to say. The obvious enjoyment was there, and Lex could feel Clark's hands fisting. They came to rest against his shoulder, the other man turning his face to hide it in the pillow there, muffling soft little groans of pleasure.

Follow the rhythm of the groans, then thwart them, break the pattern with a sharp stroke, a pull at Clark's balls, pick it up again with a particularly hard suck, tongue beneath the edge of his foreskin, then twisting against the slit... It was a game, one that made Lex as breathless as it made Clark, almost eager for more again that very moment. And then that almost pattern stopped when he started to take Clark in as deep as he could, lips stretched.

"Oh. God. Fuck. Oh. God. FUCK..." The chant of it, those words barely muffled, Clark's muscles becoming tight and still, all told Lex how good it was for Clark. For his Clark, and he wanted it to be perfect. He wanted to show Clark everything, but for now, there was this, and this was so good.

Simple, a little undeniable pleasure. Lex kept a rhythm then, head bobbing smoothly as he worked himself, sucking and licking and sometimes just taking Clark's dick, intent on drawing that chanted moan to a climax.

"Lex... Lex..." His name sounded like something adored on Clark's lips. The brush of fists against his shoulders pushed ever so lightly, a faint warning. "Lex. Gonna... Uhn, oh!"

Lex wasn't going to push his own luck, jerked his head back at what could've been the last possible moment, and kept fisting fingers over Clark's precome and spit-slicked dick. His eyes drifted to watch, see muscles strain and twitch beneath the hand that really couldn't keep Clark pressed down to the mattress.

It was oddly thrilling and frightening to realize that Clark could do whatever he liked with no effort.

When Clark came, he barely managed to stifle the noises he made in the pillow. His entire body clenched, becoming pure steel, and he keened in such a soft, sweet way that it made Lex want to do it all over again even as he watched sticky, wet drops flood over his hand and over onto Clark's thighs.

Maybe it was a fraction more watery than his own had been. Thinner, a little more copious... Lex closed his eyes, and lathed the head of Clark's cock with his tongue, tasting. A fraction sweet, or maybe it was just an absence of sour. He'd think about it later; a better use for his thoughts was when he moved one hand to fumble for the box of tissues Clark had found, and gently cleaned up what he didn't want to lick.

After Clark was clean and Lex had snuggled up against his side, it was still a few more minutes before Clark spoke. "I think," he said slowly, "all of my brains just leaked out of my..." He paused. "Dick." Lex didn't need a light to know Clark was flushing, and smiling, too.

"I'll take that as a compliment. You can tell Lois that the next time you bumble something at work, you know." Their bodies were twined together comfortably, his one arm tucked behind Clark's head, the other laying idly on his chest. It had taken thought to shift the sheets and blankets atop them, but all of the resettling had been worth it.

He wasn't cold in the least.

"Mmmm. She'll just yell at me and make me tell you to stuff them back in," Clark teased, giving a lingering kiss to one of Lex's hands after pulling it up for a moment. "Sort of sleepy, now."

"Par for the course," Lex whispered. Not that it was, but the dark of night, and comfortable mellowness, and warmth all mingled to make even him verge towards sleepy. "It's late at night, and that felt damn good. Here, you'll probably want to move; I'm an active sleeper."

"You couldn't wake me with a sledgehammer," Clark promised him, brushing his fingers against Lex's skin. "Besides. I like to feel you."

"Don't say I didn't warn you if I break my hand on your jaw." A quiet, soft chuckle as he shifted nearer, letting his mouth idle kisses against Clark's neck. There was such a feeling of hope spreading through him; he could feel at his boundaries, push them slowly until he was all right. And watch that damned tape, just so he could tell his father that he'd seen it.

Soon. He wasn't going to think of what was on the tape until Clark was asleep. It was just a harmless unmarked video, and he wasn't going to taint his laptop with the disc version. Until then, there was warmth and tenderness to languish in. Trust, knowing that Clark finally trusted him. He had to be worth something for Clark to trust him finally.

Had to be.

Clark was easy enough to lull to sleep, the faint caress of Lex's fingers and the steady motion of his breathing enough to settle the younger man. Lex didn't get up just yet, though; Clark's arm was around him, and it was comforting, and pleasant, and he just couldn't bear to leave. Not yet. Not just yet. He couldn't sleep, really, but... Not yet.

Not just yet extended, and Lex wasn't sure how long he laid there, half-sleeping and concentrating on the warmth. But the urge to get up finally caught up with him full force, and he carefully worked himself out of the grasp of Clark's arm.

His pants were... down on the floor at the end of the bed, or maybe they were Clark's pants. He wasn't going to be wearing them for long, so what did it matter? He pulled them on, picked up the sweatshirt Clark had offered him earlier -- because expensive long-sleeved flannel just wasn't so warm at the moment -- and pulled it down over his head.

The tape was still in the lead box, and he quietly took it out of that before walking down the hallway towards the living room.

The house was mostly quiet -- no surprise at that time of night, but what did surprise him was the light on in the kitchen and the faint sounds of puttering that came from within. The hiss of a boiling kettle sang out softly, and he could hear Martha take it off of the stove. It had to be her, after all.

Dammit. Fuck, fuck, fuck. How could he coax her to go to bed so he could watch the tape? He could just turn around and watch the disc on his laptop, but...

No. It was his laptop, and he wasn't going to let it be... tainted. It had served him too loyally to be treated to something as dirty and horrific as he was expecting. And, he didn't want to break it if the urge struck; it was a lot easier to not break something that wasn't his.

"Martha...?"

"Come in and have a cup of tea when you're done, Lex," she said softly, looking up at him where he stood in the doorway. "Or if you'd like, I'll make you some chocolate, instead. I won't stop you taking care of whatever it is you have to do."

Not what he expected, at all. He walked into the kitchen a little, tapping the video-tape lightly against his hip. "What're you doing up so late?"

"I don't sleep so well anymore," Martha replied, gently laying a slice of lemon into her teacup. "The bed is empty, and the city is busy even now. Even here. It's different than home."

"People don't get up early in Metropolis -- they just stay up all night," Lex agreed, voice pitched soft in case Clark could hear. Somehow. In case he were awake, or... Or who knew.

"Do you mind if I take a moment to watch this tape?"

"Go right ahead. If you need them, there are earphones tucked in the cabinet beneath, and a little case to pop it into." She seemed to have some vague idea of what he was planning, but that was nothing of which to be suspicious. That was just Martha.

Headphones? She was sharp even at a quarter to two in the morning, sharper than Lex felt. He'd planned on putting the volume on low and crossing his fingers. "Thanks." He turned away quickly, before she could say or give any more insinuation that she knew what was going on.

The living room was dark, and it was in the excess light from the kitchen light that he settled down. Methodically, he pulled out the headphones, unwrapped the cord, put them on his head, and plugged them in. Then he turned on the tv, turned on the vcr, spent a moment looking for the 'tape' to put the tape into, and with luck found it.

Then it was just a matter of putting it in and pressing play. At first, there was nothing more than static, running clear until a sudden image showed up, jumping slightly on the tv as sound came to his ears.

~"Luthor,"~ a voice said from somewhere behind the camera. ~"Bet you're wondering about that kid of yours by now. Kind of old to be such a brat, still, ain't he? But we've got him. And we're gonna get him, and do worse than what you'll see if you don't give us what we want."~

It was like those times that Clark made him watch MTV; the camera jostled, showing half-familiar piles of boxes. Everything looked familiar, somehow; reality was overlapping with moments in his mind. There was the winch they'd lifted him up with when they'd twisted his arms, when they'd put the cellphone to his head and he'd screamed, begged, pleaded for his father to help him. It was almost a relief that the winch was merely hanging there, a flit of still metal at the edge of the screen, while the jostling camera walked through to the too-familiar industrial cleanup room.

They hadn't filmed that, had they? He couldn't recall, only remembered hands on him and the pain and how everything, even the water had been cold. And that his head had kept hitting the wall when... when he'd been fucked. They hadn't filmed it, had they?

Oh, God.

God.

Yeah, they had. That had been the first thing they'd filmed, from the looks of it, hands bound tightly behind his back and his head pressing hard against the concrete blocks that made up the wall. The second man wore a mask, and his pants were around his knees and he... He was...

Lex could taste bile in the back of his throat as he watched, jaw a tight line. The him that was on screen looked like a puppet, limp and unresponsive except for the most pathetic mewling protests, and then mumbling. Clark. Dad. Daddy. Clark. Clark had taken his sweet time to find him, and Daddy had said to think on the little things, and look, he could just look and see where that had gotten him.

Fucked on the floor of a shower, twisting uselessly, fucked relentlessly. He wasn't going to think, he wasn't going to look away. If he looked away, the helicopter wasn't going to land, and if it never landed he'd be stuck there forever--

No, he had to be rational. That scene had been before they'd showed him the press conference. Had his father seen... that, and then declared what he had?

Lex didn't know if he could face that. No, he knew that he couldn't, but... but Clark had come. Clark had saved him, even if Daddy hadn't, so it wasn't so bad, was it?

No, it was worse, because they changed places, the masked man fucking him moving to take up the videotape, and mewls turned to screams, and blood running relentlessly down his legs. His arms were pulled on tightly, and Lex could almost hear them popping out of the sockets.

Again. And again, and how many times had they pulled halfway back in only to be wrenched out again? Lex could feel it even then, a phantom pain, just like he could recall sharply how cold he'd been, how much everything had hurt like it was happening all over again.

~"He's screaming for you, Luthor. Do you want your son to die with your name in his mouth?"~

He was. He was, screaming for Daddy, screaming for Clark, and just hearing himself, raw and broken, made him want to scream now. The one in him came, pulling out to spew across his back, and then kneeling back with satisfaction as if trying to determine what to do to him next.

He watched in tight, horrified detachment as the one who'd just used him hauled him to his feet, washed him off briskly, and started to drag him out of the shower. He'd passed out, or at least didn't move as if he were passed out.

The camera, still mtv-approved for stability, 'cut' scenes by just turning off. And then came back on mere moments of his time later, who knew how much of then-time later.

By then, they'd gone to work on his knee, and the sight of fingers stuffed into his own flesh, in places fingers should never be, made him sick. A hot wash of saliva in his mouth was a bad sign, and he swallowed hard, trying to hold back.

He could stand to watch it all. If he had to pause it, Martha might actually leave the kitchen and see. Then again, she could be standing in the doorway watching him watch, and so could Clark, but, but dammit...

If he got up, Lex knew he'd never be able to watch it through to the end.

Skin pulled away from bone, muscles pulled loose, blood sloughing freely, made noises that no horror film could emulate. And so did his screaming. No wonder he hadn't been able to recognize his voice as his own for so long. Screaming and screaming, and screaming, and then he passed out again. Lex noted that his skin looked cold, and wrapped his own arms a little tighter around his chest.

~"I think one last thing, Mr. Luthor, will be enough to convince you to pay us the money."~

The sound of crackling electricity, his own screams coming again as if it had awakened him even from unconsciousness, and then the screen went completely black.

He was going to be so sick.

Carefully, carefully, Lex ejected the tape, fumbled it free of the 'case', ripped the headphones off of his head and forgot to change the input on the tv or put the headphones up. The kitchen had a stainless steel sink, and there had to be a lighter in there. Or something. He'd strike two rocks together if he had to.

Martha was still in the kitchen when he got there, and there was a steaming cup of hot cocoa sitting across the table from her. She took one look at him and nodded seriously. "Is there something you need, Lex?"

His voice was still caught in his throat, so it took him a moment to find an answer for her. Fuck, had she just been waiting like that the whole time? "You wouldn't have a lighter, would you?"

"There's a clicky thing in the cabinet up above the stove," Martha told him, gesturing in that direction. "You turn the wheel on the back with your thumb, and press the trigger twice, Lex."

Clicky thing. Very scientific. Very mechanically inclined terminology, oh yes... Lex wanted to laugh, as he walked over to the cabinet and found it. It probably wasn't a good idea to laugh, not when there was a thick thread of hysteria twisting around his chest.

His father had watched that. And then said he wasn't going to pay him free. They could've killed him that moment, they could've...

"I'm not keeping you up, am I?"

"No, dear. I don't sleep as well without Jonathan." She'd told him that before, hadn't she, and God, he hadn't remembered it. He couldn't think, and when he began to try to pull the tape apart to make it easier to burn the film, she simply watched him for a moment before saying, "There's a screwdriver in that cabinet, too, and some scissors."

"Thanks, but I think I've got it..." Lex Luthor, CEO, Scientific genius, couldn't get open a fucking VHS tape. His fingers fumbled along the edges, finally finding the button that depressed and let the bottom swing open, yielding the tape for his shaking fingers to pull out.

He could feel the weight of her eyes on him, Clark's mother watching him carefully. It was mortifying and strangely comforting all at once. Lex wondered if his own mother would have sat up and watched him like this, letting him do what he needed to do. He didn't know the answer, but he hoped she would have.

After all, he knew what his father had done. Or, failed to do.

His motions were meticulous once he made himself relax, ripping the tape out and wadding it into a neat ball that he set in the center of the sink. Then the plastic shell of the tape was set aside before he torched the tape with a press of the thumbwheel and two clicks. His fingers felt cold, fumbling, but somehow, somehow he stilled them enough to do what he wanted and catch the magnetized tape on fire.

The stench was really strong, and the tape stuck on the sides of the sink, but neither Martha nor Lex allowed that to bother them. She sat and watched as he stood and paid attention to the images going down in flames. He was never going to get them out of his head, but at least he could get them out of his world.

And in the morning, the daylight morning, he'd peel the foil off of that CD. Mindless, probably pointless destruction, since Lionel would obviously have a copy. But it wouldn't be there to tempt him.

He ran the tap to chill the mess in the sink, cold water on his hands calling up unwanted memories that now had two views. From within and without.

"Don't worry about the sink, Lex. Turn off the water and come and drink your chocolate." It was the voice of a mother, a woman accustomed to midnight visits and difficult moments. "I'll help."

Something too many years unfamiliar to him. Some days he wondered if the few memories of his mother's gentle, playful words were just hallucinations. Such a long time ago, and his father, well... Daddy.

Fuck you, Daddy, for all the help he ever gave.

"You think it will?" He twisted to move to the table, the obvious mug that was awaiting him.

"It always helps Clark, even when it's been a very long night," Martha assured him gently. She didn't say anything, probably didn't know that Lex understood that Clark was Superman. "Being a reporter sometimes means seeing terrible things. It's not the same as suffering them, but I hope it will help you."

Lex wrapped his fingers around the mug, letting his thumb rub over the ceramic handle. "I know, Mrs. Kent. Who, what Clark is. I just hadn't thought of him... dropping by here late at night for a cup of cocoa." It was hard, but he tried to toss out a dry smile.

"Sometimes," she said, "when he's done, he can't sleep. He doesn't want to sleep, because if he sleeps, then he'll dream. I should have known he had told you. All things considered." He was startled when she returned his attempt at a smile with a genuine one. "I'm not surprised."

Then it was funny that Lex was surprised. He just nodded his head once, lifting the mug to his mouth to take a careful sip. Lukewarm, but still nice, not too sweet, or too weak. His stomach rebelled a little, but that wasn't surprising. "We were at the Fortress... after."

"From what Lionel was saying on the news, that would explain why you're as well as you are." She didn't say anything, make any allusions to exactly what Lionel might have said. "I expected that Clark would take you there. It hadn't been created when Jonathan... Well. And there wouldn't have been any way to get him there in time, all the same."

Here they were -- all of the odd, impolite topics that just hadn't been raised over the comfortable dinner conversations they'd had. "There might've... but that's a hell of a lot of ifs."

Martha just smiled, though. "Better not to worry about ifs, Lex. Better just to drink your chocolate and feel better. I think I understand why you felt that you had to watch it. Lionel is... really almost a force of nature, sometimes." She paused and looked at him. "But you don't have to do everything he says to be his son. You're already that. And I think somehow that it will be all right even if you don't."

He was too tired and ragged-feeling to do more than twitch an eyebrow at her in vague displeasure. "I don't do everything my father tells me to. It just seemed like a good suggestion."

"I've heard better ones," Martha told him wryly, shaking her head. "Lex, whatever was on that tape..." She paused and sighed. "If you need to talk to someone, that's what mothers are for. And if I'm not mistaken," oh, and she knew she wasn't, he could tell from the look on her face, "well. You and Clark..."

Lex cleared his throat a fraction, taking another sip of cocoa. "Yes. I'd thought we established that before dinner...?"

"And after," Martha agreed, smiling at him. "The point is, Lex, that I don't object. I can't object. And as much as I'm Clark's mother..." She paused, tilted her head to the side. "I thought you might need one, too."

And After. Clark hadn't tried very hard to be quiet, had he...? Lex's smile twitched, fading a little at her well meant offer. Too little, too late, he wanted to say, but that was bitterness talking. All of it was feeling like too little, too late, and maybe that was a sign to him that they'd been right. Clark had taken forever to trust him, Jonathan Kent had died before Martha would do more than smile and nod tight acknowledgement...

"Thanks." And it was okay that his voice broke a little when he whispered that. Too little too late, and he didn't know what to do about her words, but they were nice words.

They were such nice words.

"You should go lay down," Martha told him gently, reaching out and touching his arm. "I'm sure Clark will be waiting for you."

Would he? Or would he be saving the world when they least expected it? It was selfish of him, sure, but Lex hoped Clark was still asleep. That he could slip back into bed and pretend he hadn't bothered to get up and watch the tape. And pretend that not everyone thought he apparently asked how high when his father said jump.

"I'm really not very tired," he replied honestly.

Martha looked at him steadily. "I'm sure you can think of a way to tire yourself out a bit, Lex. And I promise. I'll be a good mother. I'll wear earplugs."

Laughter finally did bubble up, tight and tense chuckles. "Sorry. I really... we were trying to be quiet."

"He's never brought anyone else home," she told him. "Not like this. Not like he meant it. He means it, Lex." In her own way, it was a warning not to break her little boy's heart, because Clark would always be Martha's little boy. "I'll make eggs and bacon in the morning, whenever the two of you get up."

Might as well crawl back into bed with Clark, then, Lex decided, taking another sip of barely-warm cocoa. "Thank you again for opening up your home, Mrs. Kent."

Her reply was a smile and a nod. "Martha," she said, and then she got up to rinse her cup.

"Martha. I'm sorry about the sink... just leave it and I'll get it in the morning with a pocket knife." He stood, rubbing at his face. It felt oddly like a dismissal from her, the sort his father would give with unspoken signals.

Maybe all parents did it. Maybe that was the one fucking normal thing Lionel did.

"Good night."

"Good night, Lex," she told him, and let him leave the room before she picked up the stainless steel scratch pad and set to work quietly cleaning her sink. She still couldn't sleep, so she might as well take care of things while they were still a little less stuck.

Lex padded down the hallway, steps soft as he pushed open the half-closed bedroom door, and glanced towards the bed to see if Clark had been lying about that. Did he really sleep like the dead, or had that just been to get him to relax and think he could slip off?

There was Clark, sprawled out over the entirety of the bed. His eyes were shut, and the faint light spilling in from the hallway didn't seem to bother him in the least. One hand searched out vaguely as if reaching for something, but stilled when it wasn't found, and Clark rolled over onto his side, taking up a little less of the bed.

A fraction less, but that was enough space to satisfy Lex. He closed the door firmly behind him, and quickly disrobed beside the edge of the bed. Martha had a warm little house, but even that held a biting chill at such an early hour of the morning, one that hurried his motions when he pulled back the blankets and insinuated himself back into Clark's arms. A little change of position, so he had Clark's warmth at his back, fingers tightly clutching at the arm he dragged over himself along with sheets.

Maybe all of that cold was just in his head.

"Mmmmm." It was a vague sound at best, and for a moment, he thought that Clark might be awake. The other man wasn't, though, despite the arm that tightened around him and tugged him back closely against the warmth of Clark's body. Lex felt Clark's nose press against the back of his neck, felt Clark's knee slide up against the back of his thigh, and then Clark gave a satisfied sort of sigh.

Laying there awake and languishing in the comfort of sensation probably wasn't very Luthor-like. It was sensual but not at all seductive, relaxing, but he wasn't paying Clark for the pleasure of it. Lex shifted back fractionally, fingers tugging at Clark's arm to drag his hand up. Clark's sleep-relaxed fingers opened easily, and Lex laid a lingering kiss in his palm before he clutched Clark's arm to him.

He'd be okay. There wasn't a chance in hell that he was going to sleep for a few hours, and Lex was going to pointedly not think about anything but his Artificial Intelligence program, or his chemical research; but there was a comfortable, lingering feeling that... Yeah, everything was going to work out. Maybe.

Morning had always come bright and early on the farm, and Clark had long ago accustomed himself to waking up early enough for chores, even if for him, that meant half an hour before the bus arrived. This morning was particularly pleasant, one which involved someone curled warmly in his arms and sleeping heavily beside him.

Clark didn't want to open his eyes, not yet. He felt faintly lethargic, extra warm from the other body's presence in the bed, and he sighed his enjoyment slowly. No reason to move, yet. No reason to do anything more than lazily flex his hips a little and enjoy the feel of everything.

"Mmmhn?" He was shifted a little, and Clark felt fingers pulling at his hand, rubbing at his arm when firm skin pressed back against his hips. "'t can't be noon yet. Go 'way."

Clark would have laughed if he hadn't been afraid that it would wake Lex. Instead, he simply snuggled in closer and sighed. It felt very good, and he wanted more of what they'd done last night. He could wait, though.

It seemed like Lex was waking up, slowly, despite Clark's stillness. He was breathing less evenly, and shifted minutely like the active sleeper than he'd warned Clark he was. He curled his feet back to press against Clark's legs, twitching them absently. "Fuck, Daddy..."

The words sent chills of ice right down Clark's spine.

Of course, Lex could be dreaming anything. It could all just be a dream. He didn't have to go kill Lionel yet this morning.

Oh, God.

People said all sorts of stupid things in their sleep, right? Lex was pretty quiet, but even the most personally reserved could babble about fish and phones and milk in the sofa if they were incoherent enough. 'Fuck, Daddy,' probably had an explanation along those lines.

Lex exhaled a soft, slow sigh, twisting and turning as if he wanted to roll over.

"Wake up," Clark told him gently, pulling him close against his chest. "Lex. You're dreaming."

"Hmnh?" Lex sounded displeased at being bothered, shifting as if to pull out of Clark's arms. His legs tucked closer to Clark, though, trying to tangle with him for the warmth. "Nuh, don't want to."

"All right." How could Clark do anything but agree, tugging him more closely against his chest. Lex half-asleep was sweet, warm and mellow against him. It felt good, and he didn't want to let him go just yet.

"Mmm, fuck this feels good." Another shift provided sweet pointedness to Lex's words, another twist of his body bringing him so he could press his face against Clark's chest.

It did, that was true, and Clark wanted to kiss him badly. His hand cupped the back of Lex's head and gently tugged so that he could press his lips to Lex's nose, and then his mouth. "Mhm," he agreed, nuzzling lightly.

"Said to not do that..." Lex pulled back a little, pushing at Clark's chest with sleep-heavy hands, lolling back against his arms.

"All right. I won't do that." Clark wouldn't do that, but the scenarios dancing in his head were really beginning to worry him. "Go back to sleep, Lex."

Another oddly heavy sigh, and Lex tucked his head down against Clark's chest again, face turned down towards the mattress, cheek pressed against firm muscle. His breath puffed moist against Clark's skin in their burrow of blankets.

And Clark on no uncertain terms heard Lex murmur, 'Dad'.

Jesus.

He was going to have to get up, because his mind was flickering too fast, and he wanted to kill Lionel now, and he knew Lex wouldn't ever forgive him if he did, and so he had to get up, had to let Lex go. Maybe if he went out, took a cold shower, did some quick something...

But would Lex wake up if he did that? If he moved, would Lex wake up and maybe wonder where he'd gone? For the moment, his friend, his lover, was tucked close against him, legs wrapped half-way around his. Even with superspeed, he'd end up jostling Lex.

Fuck.

It wasn't a word that came to Clark often, but in this particular instance, he was pretty sure that it was applicable. His brows knit, and he lightly brushed a hand down Lex's spine. He could remain there, still. He could listen. He could do that much, let Lex rest, because he should have saved Lex long before he had.

Not that he'd known, or had enough hints to follow through on any need to find his friend. Should have and could have were in sharp, sad contrast just then, and Lex seemed content enough with how things were.

Lex sure had smiled a lot during dinner. Not PR smiles, but faint, easy expressions. And his mom probably had eight hundred little things for them to do around the house if they wanted. Mundane things that would probably get more of Lex's quirked little smiles.

Clark desperately wanted more of those smiles.

"I'll do my best to keep you safe," he whispered, nuzzling lightly, holding him close. "I'll make you smile, Lex."

Nuzzling on most people was just a touch of face to hair, but on Lex it was far more rousing, skin to skin, and a huff of breath against Clark's chest. "Morning...?"

"Yeah. 'S morning," Clark agreed with him, hands skimming over his shoulders and down his back to cup him closer. "Sleep well?"

No answer, just Lex yawning against his shoulder, arms sliding down around his waist. "Pretty much. You?"

"Mmm. Didn't roll over until a little while ago. You were talking in your sleep," Clark told him, enjoying Lex's touch.

And touch Lex did, fingers stroking at the sides of Clark's hips, ghosting to his back and then repeated it again and again. Lex's mouth curled, and there was only curiosity in his voice as he asked, "Did I say anything interesting?"

For a moment, Clark paused, not really wanting to say anything. "You sounded like you were talking to Lionel."

It was only a faction of a moment, but Lex went still, before carrying on as if everything were perfectly normal. "Why do you say that? I wasn't cursing in my sleep, was I?" Lex pushed at him a little, but it was only to get free enough to slip further beneath the bedding, kissing absently at Clark's chest.

"Actually, you were." That felt good, and Clark didn't want it to stop, but he wasn't going to lie, either. "You said, 'Fuck, Daddy'. And you said, 'Said not to do that'." He let his own hands caress over silken skin. "Tell me I don't have to go kill him, Lex."

"You don't have to kill him," Lex repeated back to Clark, hugging tight to him for a moment. "Why would you...? I mean, past the usual reasons, which aren't enough to motive a man of your moral integrity to killing him."

"It..." Clark paused, breathed deeply. "It didn't sound good, Lex. It sounded like..." Like Lionel might have done something to him the way those men had. "I won't let anyone do that to you again. Hurt you like that again. Ever."

Lex wasn't denying Clark's words, wasn't pushing him away, wasn't laughing at the idiocy of what Clark had said. He shifted slowly from snugged beneath the sheets to sit up, pulling back so he could place his hands on the mattress. "Clark... I think you and I need to talk. About feasibility."

"Okay." It was easy enough for Clark to agree as he sat up, too, running a hand through tangled dark locks of hair. "I know it's probably ridiculous, Lex. I know. It's just..." It's just that Lionel had certainly done plenty else to damage him, like wanting him to watch that tape. Clark wondered if Lex would.

The distance between them didn't remain. Lex wasted no time in shifting near, surveying Clark's face intently. "You can't protect me every waking moment, Clark, and I don't want you to. Just be there when it matters -- life gets dull without at least a little pain. Metropolis needs Superman, but I..." Hesitance for a moment, as if Lex were debating a word he wanted to use. "I need Clark."

Hands reached out for him, pulled him close, and Clark was kissing him, demanding and sweet and tempered strength. There was no denying that Clark would give him what he needed, what he wanted. "All right," Clark whispered to him. "All right."

Quiet kisses were exchanged in the too-early morning, and the pressure of mouth and hands coaxed Lex to shift. He tried to lean over Clark, dipped his tongue between full lips. "You remember all of the trouble we get, got into together?"

It was good to hear Clark laugh against his flesh, to feel Clark pulling him closer so that they were nearly hip to hip. "All kinds of trouble," Clark agreed. "Sneaking in places we shouldn't have been..."

"And frequent brushes with death and danger. I'm not going to break, Clark -- all right? I like to get my hands dirty, I like to be hip deep in the action... And you're not going to stop me any more than you did in Smallville. Just... be there." Lex leaned a fraction, looking pointedly into Clark's eyes with faintly wavering cool blue gaze; maybe he was reading something in Clark, or making a decision. "Do you remember Desiree?"

"Altogether too well," Clark replied, leaning up and brushing his mouth against Lex's.

"I meant it when I said that when something's right, you shouldn't waste time playing it safe." Mellow-voiced words, but there was a dancing spark in Lex's eyes when he kissed him back. "We've wasted enough time."

"I don't want to waste any more," Clark agreed, arm tightening around Lex's waist. "I want everything with you, Lex."

"Everything..." Lex slumped slowly against Clark, kissing against his mouth for only a moment before resting his forehead on Clark's shoulder. "Jesus, I don't know what I've done to deserve you. Even when you piss the hell out of me, you're still the best thing..."

"I'll always want to be your best thing, Lex. You've been mine for years, even when..." When things hadn't been good, when accusations had flown thick and heavy and hurtful between them. "Even when it seemed like nothing would ever be right again. I want things to be right. I want..." To touch him, to claim him, to tease him, to take him, and God, Lex was so fucking beautiful.

One of Lex's hands was skimming idly, possessively over the line of Clark's spine. It was hard to not act on everything he wanted. "Soon enough. I watched that fucking tape last night..."

"Lex..." The ache in Clark's voice was for him, all for him, love and want and pressure, but not the kind that pushed for more. Just the kind that made Lex want to have not watched it because it hurt Clark, and it hurt Clark because it hurt Lex.

He shifted again, kissing at Clark's neck with desperate slowness. There was little that Lex did without some spark of deliberation, but the press of mouth was impulsive, the tug of teeth enough to leave marks on a normal person. "It was a great idea... and a fucking horrible idea. I need to head over to LuthorCorp today to talk with my father."

"Do you want me to go with you?" Never mind that it was a Sunday; Clark knew that Luthors' work ethics led to work at all times of day and night, and never mind about weekends and holidays.

"I'd rather do it alone," Lex murmured evenly enough. "It shouldn't take long, but you can wait in the car if you'd prefer?"

"I'll wait in the car," Clark agreed, nuzzling against him. His erection was fading, but his hands on Lex felt good, and it was all right to just be this way. Close, and warm, and it was Lex. Nothing could be wrong with that.

"Sometime, you and I are going to have a conversation about how many shades of fucked up I haven't had a chance to show you yet." A low noise slipped out of Lex's throat, and he twisted to hungrily kiss the underside of Clark's chin. "C'mon, let's get up."

"Bet Mom will have eggs ready. Sausage. Mmmm, maybe pancakes..." Clark was still Clark, and he was obviously hungry after last night. "Your new security system will be in Monday, right?" he asked, thinking seriously for a moment.

"Morning, if they want to be alive on Friday night," Lex said agreeably enough, pulling back from Clark, shifting to slowly get out of the bed. There was reluctance in the way that Clark's arms let go of him, the way Clark rolled out of the bed with just as much slowness.

"I guess you'll want to spend some time back at your place, then?" Clark wasn't sure how all of that was going to work out, but he'd just have to wait and see. Ask Lex.

"It's my home." Lex gave a slight tilt of his head when he said that, standing up and stretching languidly. A little too slowly, in fact, so that Clark couldn't help but think that it was for his benefit. Despite the faint chill in the room, Lex took his time in tossing sweatpants and sweatshirt on, then headed to his suitcase to pull out clothes to wear. "I know it's not the same brisk walk through muggers alley to the Daily Planet that your apartment building is, but..."

"I'd rather you feel safe," Clark murmured, watching Lex with a slightly dazed expression. Just. Wow. There had always been something slinky about Lex, something that made his heart pound more quickly, but... Wow.

Because now that deliberate ooze of sex was for him. Not some heiress flavor of the week, not the odd dark-haired, wide eyed doctor, but him. Lex picked clothing easily, twitching a smile as he glanced at Clark. "I'm going to take a quick shower and steam the wrinkles out of these pants -- care to join me, or are you going to lay there looking pretty?"

Lay there looking pretty? Sounded like a damned fine option, under normal circumstances, but compared to the thought of showering with Lex, it didn't hold up so well. "I think I'll come with you." There was no chance of sounding anything less than intense about that.

"Glad to hear it," Lex drawled. He opened the door, not wide enough to shock Martha should she walk by, and slipped out into the hallway. His hips moved like they were greased even when he wasn't wearing expensive clothing. "I'll start it."

And Clark would so definitely finish it, he decided, managing to stand up and root around quickly for his bathrobe. He had one here as well as at home, both the same -- plaid flannel in olive and sage greens, soft and warm and very much Clark. He pulled it on and slipped out into the hallway, the faint scent of breakfast already in the air.

He walked into the bathroom at normal speed, but had to wonder if Lex had some variant of super speed. He was already in the shower, but he might've just stepped under the hot stream of water; trousers and sweater were on two of Martha's clothes hangers, incongruous to pink plastic, and hanging off of the robe hook on the wall opposite the shower.

"Close the door and get in here, Clark -- all of the heat's escaping," Lex called out over the spray of the water.

"Sybarite," Clark murmured, almost to himself. Lex and pleasure were words that went hand in hand, and he closed the door behind him, hanging his own robe before heading to slip into the shower with Lex.

Lex reached towards him, and then past him to close the glass door on the shower. A very Lex moment, concentrated but idle effort on everything he did, even trapping heat and steam into the shower. Then he twisted, slipping hands around Clark's waist to pull him close for a kiss.

It was enough to make even Clark's knees weak, his entire body trembling for a moment with need. "God," he managed to get out in a harsh whisper. It was everything he'd ever wanted and not known he wanted, perfect in bizarre ways.

The perfectness wasn't in the ways he'd always expected. Expectations were bizarre, though, and non-specifically hazy. Perfect was in things like Lex closing the shower door and pulling him close, and in the soft near-whine that the other man gave when he broke the kiss, then laughed faintly to himself. "I'll let you know when I'm up to fucking and showers again."

"I'll take you up on it the minute you tell me you're up to it," Clark promised him fervently. He couldn't help the way his fingers splayed over Lex's body possessively, wantonly.

"Promises, promises." Lex ran a hand over his scalp, and wiped his eyes -- which was a futile gesture, since the water was still thrumming down, turning his skin a red-pink. "Put some soap on your hands, Clark, and put them to use."

If he'd still been sixteen, Clark probably would have come then and there without any provocation. As it was, he obeyed with an alacrity most would not have suspected him capable of, spreading shower gel over his fingers and beginning to soap Lex's back. "Hmmm..."

Lex twisted around, facing the shower-wall with his hands on the tiles, and arched back to Clark's hands as he let his head loll down between his shoulders. "Fuck, that feels good. Expensive massages have nothing on something this good, this simple..."

"That's why you have me," Clark said, and he meant it down to the depths of his bones. God, how he meant it, how he wanted Lex. His fingers tightened imperceptibly, x-ray vision spilling from his lids to keep a careful watch on the amount of pressure he applied.

Lex's pulse went up a few notches, and he was exhaling in slow groans; it wasn't a really proper use of soap, and the shower-gel had already washed away under the pelting of the hot-hot water, just soapy rivulets clinging to the back of Lex's thighs, thighs Clark desperately wanted to touch, and more.

He allowed his hands to slide down, fingers careful on each group of muscles, teasing at them, working out any tension that might be residing in them. It felt good, touching Lex, beyond good, really, and when his hand slid around to the front, he found that Lex thought so, too.

Lex's dick gave a particularly eager twitch, and Lex leaned back to Clark, pushing his lean hips forwards against his fingers. "Keep doing that, don't stop."

"Just like this?" Clark murmured against his ear, pressing warm and slick against Lex's back. His hand curved, stroking in slow, heavy time with pulses of water, and that only made it feel better.

"Huh, yes. Christ, what it must be like to be your dick if it always gets such good treatment." Lex's hands slipped behind Clark, gripping at his ass to rock back against him. It wasn't a random motion, not from the way that Lex soon started to knead his hands, pressing and stroking at the muscles.

"Oh, yeah..." Yeah, yeah, yes, that felt good, and Clark couldn't help but close his eyes and press closer, sliding against Lex's slick skin. "I'll always make sure you get it, too," he moaned, muffling the sound against the back of Lex's head.

Incoherent little puffs of words left Lex, but he gave a deliberate grind of his ass back against Clark, pressing the cleft of his ass back against Clark's dick and clenching muscles. "Fuck, fuck, a little faster, Clark, just... just..."

A faintly stuttered sound came from Clark as he slid against Lex, cock pushing into that crack and rubbing firmly. "Shit!" he gasped out, hand moving more quickly, careful not to damage Lex's more tender flesh. "God!"

The fingers, hands clutching at his ass rubbed, caressed shakily and then went still. Lex's hips gave a shaky stutter into Clark's fingers, and his voice matched it. "D-damn..." The water falling over them was starting to turn cold, and washed away the pulses of semen that Clark had stroked out of Lex.

A few more twisting thrusts against Lex and Clark gave a sound that was somewhere between a croak and a groan, shuddering against him. There were no coherent words, almost as if couldn't think to get any out. "Unnnh..."

Lex leaned his head back onto Clark's shoulder, and was silent while he reigned in hard breaths. "Your turn," he mumbled, rubbing fingers over Clark's hip. "You have all that hair to wash, and the water's running cool."

"'s all right." Definitely all right. Better than all right. "Doesn't bother me. You can get out and dry off, though..."

Lex pulled away from Clark, long enough to move a hand from Clark's ass to his own, rubbing the spray of water over where Clark had released against him. "If you could find a way to make water move at super speed, I'd tell you to hurry up."

"Thanks." It was dryly spoken, but accompanied shortly by a kiss. "Go on, before it gets too cold."

Lex didn't need any more prompting, since he was already pushing open the door of the shower, slipping out, and closing it behind him. Towels were easy enough to find, hiding in a cabinet near the sink, fat, fluffy things in pale sage and sand. They felt good against his skin, and by the time he was dry, Clark was turning off the water.

"Hand me a towel?"

Lex handed Clark a sand-colored one, even while he folded his in half to toss it over the towel-rack. Everything felt good, relaxing, and Lex was taking his time rubbing his skin down with some lotion he'd brought with him. "You're gorgeous when you're wet, Clark -- I bet a lot of boys made passes at you in the locker-room."

"No, actually," Clark confessed from beneath the towel, using it to quickly dry his hair. "Although several of them made allegations that you probably had, and got them returned often. Just I finally got big enough that most of them were scared to do more than sneer."

Rubbing lotion over a bald head wasn't the same as toweling it dry, but Lex's motions were the same as Clark's. "I didn't know they said things like that. Did these guys have names?" Lex asked, voice falling to that serious tone where he wasn't sure himself if he were joking or not.

"Mostly just football players. Nothing that I couldn't take care of on my own, Lex," he pointed out with a slight smile. "They don't matter. They haven't ever really mattered," Clark decided. "That's the thing about high school. Nine times out of ten, you see the people who laughed at you or didn't like you or said nasty things to you, and you can't even remember their names. They're not very important once it's over."

Unless you held grudges, and there was nothing like the sense of closure that taking action on one's own could give. "You know, Clark, that general theory is quite applicable to things other than high school," Lex drawled, rubbing his hands together for a moment before he capped the bottle of lotion.

"Really? Such as?" Clark asked him, quickly rubbing himself down with the towel. He seemed even more gorgeous slightly damp than he did dry, and it was rather distracting.

Golden skin and beautifully constructed lines of muscle, and a mouth that bore just the faintest thoughtful smile. Clark cared when he asked questions like that, more than the polite humoring that most people offered him.

"Well, to a point, if you let them beat you down, they've won. But if you move on and past whatever they've said or done, you win by virtue of having let it go." Not that it was easy to do, or that Lex followed it well, but he wasn't going to think on that. He was going to finish slipping his underwear on and get dressed.

Clark nodded, reaching for his bathrobe. He hadn't brought clothing in with him, too eager to follow Lex to think about it. "I think you're definitely right about that," he agreed, leaning in to kiss the back of Lex's head. Just one slight brush of mouth and skin, that was all it was.

Enough to distract Lex from properly buttoning his slacks, leaning back into Clark. "Do that again, and we aren't leaving this bathroom anytime soon."

"That'd be a shame," Clark told him, hands moving around to button things for Lex. "Mom's already working on breakfast. I can smell it."

"You say that as if it's something special. You can probably smell what the neighbors are having for breakfast, too." Easy words, and Lex let Clark button his trousers, pulling away when he was done. His sweater was pale lavender, cashmere, and beautifully warm when he pulled it down over his head; a little pleasure, just like laying his hand on the side of Clark's neck. "I'm not sure your mother would hold the same appreciation of this that I do."

"Hmmmm. Maybe not." The way that Clark sighed and wrapped his arms around Lex for just a moment was wonderful. "On the other hand, breakfast with Mom is special. She makes the best eggs. I've never figured out how she does it."

"It's probably some cliched trick that all mothers learn at some point." Lex pulled back an inch or two, looking at Clark with almost smug amusement. "I do believe Superman is a cuddler."

"Mmmm, no," Clark denied. "Just me. Just Clark." Lex's Clark.

"I wonder if you're just saying that for the pleasure of correcting me." Lex twitched one pale eyebrow, but the edge of his mouth gave a matching motion when he pulled away from Clark, and sauntered towards the door. "You get dressed. I'm going to scrape burnt video-tape out of the sink."

"I'll be right behind you," Clark promised him, curious as to what Lex would be doing exactly. If he hurried, he could make the toast and find out, he supposed, so he moved back to the bedroom and dressed quickly. Jeans and a t-shirt were comfortable, and he made it to the kitchen only a few seconds behind Lex.

Clark showing off with his superspeed was going to take some getting used to, Lex noted to himself as he felt the faint breeze that he'd become half-accustomed to when Clark came to a quick stop. Once upon a time in Smallville, Clark had been a lot more free with that than he'd been since coming to Metropolis.

"Good morning, Martha," Lex greeted idly, hands in his pockets as he strode into the kitchen cum dining room. Clark was right -- he could smell the eggs cooking, and they smelled good.

"Good morning, Lex. I see Clark is right behind you. He must have smelled breakfast," the older woman teased, giving both of them a look that would probably make Clark blush.

A quick glance at Clark revealed red cheeks and a sheepish smile. "Morning, Mom."

"You want some coffee?" Lex asked over his shoulder, as he wandered into Martha's domain for the coffee pot and to see what sort of mess was left in the sink.

"Yeah, with lots of cream and sugar?" Clark requested, moving up behind to kiss his mother on the cheek. "Are all of those for me?"

"Only the first half-dozen," Martha told him, smirking. "I take it you rested well."

"I finally understand how Clark was late to school so often -- he sleeps like a slab of granite." Lex glanced to the sink on his way to the mug rack and coffee pot, eyebrows twitching upwards when he saw that it was clean. Well, clean of everything but egg-shells and the usual bits that ended up in it during cooking.

"I was tired," Clark excused, moving away from Martha to reach into the refrigerator.

"Clark..."

"I won't drink out of the bottle," he promised, pulling out a pitcher of orange juice.

Little things, little things that didn't push at Lex's mind or threaten to pull him out of joint. He poured two mugs of coffee, and on an afterthought, poured a third. "How do you like your coffee, Martha?" he asked, adding milk and sugar until it looked the color he was used to seeing Clark drink.

"Just with milk." She was doing something with the eggs, adding something Lex couldn't quite see out of the corner of his eyes.

So it was some secret mom thing, then. That made him feel a little smug.

"So, Mom. Have any big plans for the day?" Clark asked her, looking at her with a smile that Lex knew was just for Martha, just for his mother.

"I was going to do some work in the garden this morning. If you two want to help me..." She let the offer trail off in a sly polite way that Lex liked the sound of. Lionel never said things so plainly.

"Of course we'll help, Martha." Lex told her -- well, and Clark -- when he turned to hand her a coffee cup. Clark would probably say something about rich people who did farm work for fun, but it was easier than staring at papers, and dropping in to surprise his father could wait until the afternoon.

It could wait years. Lex wasn't sure he could find enough of his spine to ever be ready for everything he wanted to say.

"Especially since I'd bet anything that you have all of my favorites planted amongst the vegetables," Clark agreed, giving a faint hum of delight as he kissed her cheek and began pouring a little glass of juice for each of them, getting a much larger glass for himself.

Lex walked around the island in the kitchen, past the narrow counters, and sat down at the simple table, putting Clark's cup beside him. It was nice to take slow sips of the warm warm liquid, and just listen. He'd done that the day before, half-partaking of the normal Kent routine -- modified to fit one more person than usual -- and watched.

"It's almost too late in the season to do planting, but the first frost shouldn't be for another week or two," Martha told Clark, sliding eggs onto a waiting plate.

"Mmmmmm..." Clark was right there, waiting, and never mind that they didn't have toast made yet. Martha was flipping bacon in a pan, too, using a short fork that probably meant her hands were getting popped with the grease. Another of those mom things, Lex assumed. "Do you still want camellias?" her son asked, picking up the plate of eggs to move them to the table. "It wouldn't be hard to pick up a few bushes..."

"We were going to head downtown to do a couple of things, anyway," Lex agreed. He leaned his elbows on the table, leaning over the mug for the simple pleasure of letting steam tickle his face.

"You two are going to fit camellias in that car?" Martha asked them incredulously. She didn't even have to gesture towards where the driveway lay for Lex to know that 'that car' was his favorite Porsche.

"Well, if Lex is brave enough..." Clark began, distinctly teasing. He had lifted up a piece of bread and he was...

Toasting it?

God, there was no getting around the fact that his best friend was quite a curiosity, was there? Not that it was a bad thing, just... It took some getting used to. It was just so easy to forget that Clark was Superman -- flying, heat vision, fuck knew what else -- after he'd spent the last handful of years pointedly ignoring Clark's abilities.

"What about the truck?"

"What truck?" Clark asked him, tilting his head to the side. "We sold the old Chevy, Lex..."

"Don't tell me you've forgotten. You remember everything," Lex murmured in half-disappointment mouth at the edge of his mug to hide the smile tugging at his mouth.

"You still have it?" The awe-struck look on Clark's face was unmistakable. "I just never thought..."

"Clark, did you honestly think Lex would get rid of it just because you couldn't accept it?" Martha asked dryly. "It's probably still got less than fifty miles on it..."

"A little under 400. I let one of my staff drive it here when I relocated LexCorp." It was good to put awe on that face, after all of the awe Lex had felt shoved onto him with little warning. Turnabout. Fair play. "So, since I'm already assumed to be slumming it out here in the lovely wilds of suburbia, you and I should drive a pickup around Metropolis and pick those flowers up for your mother."

"Lex..." Clark looked like he might very well fall down at Lex's feet and worship him then and there, in the kitchen. Instead, he picked up a piece of toast and offered it to him. "I'd love to drive a pickup around Metropolis with you."

Martha started to laugh, and turned back to the stove before Lex took the toast. "Sounds like a date to me."

Indeed it did, and the flush on Clark's face said that he might enjoy thinking of it that way. "Maybe if I'm a good boy, I'll even get a real one?" he suggested.

"We've been doing it for years, in our own way. But, definitely -- if you'd like to, that is." Lex was used to the odder versions of the love game. Sleeping with someone, and then deciding on marriage. Fucking, and then finding out someone's name. Being kidnapped and having a computer confirm one of your most fervent hopes? Why not add it to the list. "Say, Thursday night?"

"Sure," Clark agreed, mouth curving upward in a slow smile before he laughed. "Just let me ask my mom."

"Clark..." Martha told him. "What have I told you about that Luthor boy?"

"That I should have asked him out before now?"

Teasing again, from the only people Lex could trust to not mean it. "It's all right, Mrs. Kent -- I'll make an honest man of Clark," he parried back, before taking a bite of the toast that was cooling in his hand. He hadn't forgotten about it, no, of course he hadn't.

"That's good to know, considering I heard you despoiling my precious baby boy last night," Martha said, peering at him in that motherly sort of way that would make a saint nervous that he hadn't washed his hands well enough.

"MOM!"

Lex choked on his toast, sloshing coffee on his fingers when he hastily dropped the damned cup onto the table. "Mrs, Mrs. Kent, Martha, we..." Fuck, Clark had crisped the stuff tree-bark dry, and he couldn't stop coughing.

"Had sex in my guest-room?" Martha asked, brows rising. "Boys. There are some things that a mother doesn't need to know the full details of, really. But it is nice that you plan on making an honest man of him." Ohh, she was teasing him, and doing a great job of it, too.

"I'm going to crawl under the table now," Clark moaned.

Between wiping his fingers off on a napkin, and taking a sip of coffee to clear his throat out, Lex had to stifle laughter. "I'd say I'd join you, Clark, but that's a pretty innuendo-laden idea."

"You beat me to that line." She was smiling, eyebrows still playing havoc with Clark's blush when she set the plate of bacon down. "Go on, both of you. Eat."

Clark didn't need any secondary encouragement, easily pulling half of the eggs from the plate Martha had made and piling them onto his own. He grinned at Lex and offered him the wooden spoon. "I guess I'll share, if you really want some." Not climbing under the table, then, but. Wow, what a thought.

Maybe he'd drop the spoon, a nice thought that Lex let flit through his mind. Hell, his desk at LexCorp would be a much better place to initiate that mental picture. Dropped pens?

He took the spoon, dropping only what he knew he'd eat onto his plate. "Your thoughtfulness never fails to surprise me, Clark."

"When it comes to food, sharing at all is a form of thoughtfulness," Martha teased them both.

"Yeah, especially when it comes to Mom's eggs." Was it just his imagination, or was Clark inhaling them? No, no, it had to be superspeed. Just like with the toast that Lex had given up on.

Superbreakfast. Little drifting thoughts that Lex let entertain him, relishing in their idle frivolity. It was a good way to ease him before he went to speak with Satan himself. "I'm suddenly seeing the Kent table as the feeding grounds for a particularly starving wolf. You know, I used to wonder where all of my food went when you visited, but..."

"Hey! I was a growing boy!" Clark protested, making his mother laugh.

"So what's your excuse now, Clark?"

"Growing reporter?" Lex asked after a bite of eggs. "Martha, are you going to join us...?"

"By the time I sit down, Clark will have polished it all off." But from what Lex could see, she was putting the last of the bacon onto a plate, and more toast for Clark to crisp.

"Even Lex's if he doesn't pay attention to it," Clark agreed, and it was obvious that he was enjoying not only his eggs, but being able to tease Lex and his mother that way. "These are great, Mom."

"I know, Clark -- you keep telling me." She sat down across from them, comfortable like any mother had ever acted. Like normal parents, Lex supposed, and he wasn't going to think about Lionel. He had lots of little things, and Clark was grinning like a fool, and he had hot coffee and everything was warm... But he did push the glass of orange juice idly away from him. "So, can I expect you two to stay the night again? I have to go in to the office tomorrow, but I know you have tomorrow off..."

"I imagine we will..." Clark paused, reaching for Lex's juice. "I mean, at least one more night. I'm pretty sure Lex will want to go home tomorrow." He looked at the bald man for confirmation.

"The security upgrade in the penthouse will be completed by then," he agreed, and he was glad to actually feel the confidence he was lacing into his words. "And I've already outlasted my personal limit of three days of staying on any one person's charity." Because what had it been? Almost a week in the fortress, two nights with Clark in his apartment, two nights with Clark and his mother... more than enough time spent away from his own home and holdings.

"Does it count as charity if it's me?" Clark asked him, uncertain altogether. It shouldn't, or at least, he didn't think it should. Obviously if it was Lex, it did.

There wasn't any smooth reply to that, or if there was, Lex couldn't find it anywhere in his jumbled head. "No, but you know what I mean, Clark," he warily replied. Because it could end up tossed back in his face, and then what would he say? Nothing? Or a quick subject change and a 'Martha, this is damn good coffee'?

"Boys," Martha said gently, "why don't you go find the truck and fetch those trees? I think it looks like you're both more or less done with breakfast." It also seemed that Clark was a little upset, and she'd always been partial to protecting her baby, and to giving him what she felt he needed.

Right now, that happened to be Lex Luthor.

"Sure thing, Mom." Clark polished off Lex's juice.

A motion Lex followed with bemusement in his eyes, while he drained his coffee. "Come on, Clark -- we can swing past the LuthorCorp building, and then we'll go find the truck in the wilds of my parking garage. Hopefully it won't have gone feral yet."

"'s probably done it out of desperation. You know, stuck in there with all those pretty, sexy cars of yours," Clark replied, and then he flushed as he noticed the sly look on his mother's face.

"Hurry along, boys. I'll have things ready for you to plant the bushes when you get home."

Dirt and shovels, trowels, maybe, and silly gloves? It was fall, but the sun was still out, so Lex would have to wear that cap that was somewhere in the back seat of his Porsche.

It was mundane, but it was also promising to be an adventure. And Clark probably wouldn't understand how it could be both. But Lex decided that once he finished speaking with his father, it'd be damn nice to pretend to be someone else.

By the time Lex reached LuthorCorp, it became obvious that Lionel had expected to see him. He was waved through easily by the weekend staff, the new security grimly nodding in his direction. Even Lionel's administrative assistant didn't flinch, only allowed him directly through.

Clark had done his best to convince Lex to allow him to go up as well, but he'd failed in that regard. Lex had no intention of allowing Clark anywhere near Lionel because he didn't want Lionel to sully him.

That's what he thought of it, anyway.

"Ah, Lex. I was expecting you," his father said, closing his laptop with a gentle click. "I assume you slept well."

Bastard. Rotten, miserable... It was easy to let a stream of constant curses flood at the back of his mind, because it gave backbone to the rage that was stewing in Lex's eyes when he looked over his father.

I assume you slept well. He expected Lex to say yes, some remark of strength -- having watched the tape and slept well in spite of it -- or having not and slept well because of that. But Lex was good at rolling over to show his soft points to the enemy, and then...

Fuck, not the train of thought he wanted just then.

"What sleep I had, I slept well. And you? How well did you sleep?"

"I've had worse nights, Lex. I assumed that you might want to see me this morning, after spending the night with the Kents."

"You're right, but I'm curious as to why you'd be making that assumption." Calm, tightly pulled together, yes, he could fake it well as he walked towards his father's desk and refused to seat himself just yet.

"You've never dealt well with familial affection, Lex." The cool way that his father smiled at him was enough to make him scream, throw things, throw things at Lionel. "And the Kents have always had an overabundance of that sort of thing."

"It's a change of pace." Lex flashed his father a crooked smile, and leaned a palm on the desk, his left hand reaching for one of his father's more expensive paperweights. "I watched the tape last night."

"I knew you would." Oh, and he didn't doubt that Lionel had known, that he'd been confident. "And still you slept. You're a Luthor to the core, my boy."

And Lionel meant that as a compliment, didn't he? Lex toyed, briefly, with changing his mind and saying he didn't sleep a wink, but the truth would probably be more traumatic for his father. "Only after a cup of hot cocoa," he corrected blandly.

"Ah, the ever present medications of Martha, I don't doubt. She's always had such a way with her, hasn't she?" Fuck. He didn't want to know about his father's little obsession. Didn't. Want. To. Know. "She always adds just a little touch of something to it. Makes it special. I would imagine she did for you, as well."

The cocoa hadn't been much in the way of soothing -- a nice afterthought in the wake of pain -- but after he'd snapped from the phone conversation... Little things. Lots and lots of little things, and then there was Clark. His rock, his friend, his... No, he wasn't going to think. Not at all, and Lex could've kicked himself for the lapse that no doubt had happened. "I don't want to hear about your obsessions, Dad."

"Of course not, son. So, while we're at it, we'll go along to yours. I'm sure that'll be a more interesting topic for you. How is little Clark, anyway? Not so little anymore, I'm sure." Lionel was purring.

And his jaw wasn't tight from clenching it. Not at all. "That's some rather petty innuendo even for you, isn't it?" Lex finally let himself pick up the paperweight, something to toy with in his hands as he spoke. A smooth glass ball with a flat bottom so it wouldn't roll off, and delicate fauna blown within it. Little things. If it wasn't transparent, none of the oddly quaint wonder of it could've been seen.

"I didn't say anything, now did I, Lex? And I suppose you haven't seen Superman since he so conveniently dropped you off with your... FRIEND."

"Lover," Lex corrected smoothly, passing the paperweight idly from hand to hand. He shifted his weight to rest the edge of his hip on his father's heavy desk. "And why would I have?"

"Oh, no particular reason." Lionel's smile was as viciously sharp as it had always been. "Idle curiosity. You don't seem willing to talk about what you saw, as yet."

"About what I saw where?" There was the obvious, but he was going to steer conversation towards his point for being there. And if subtle failed, then he'd fucking wrench the topic towards the tape.

"The tape that you watched, Lex. You just told me you had seen it, though I suppose that might have been a lie. Well, I suppose you wouldn't want to shock Martha or your..." Lionel sneered. "...lover."

"There's no point in discussing what was on it," Lex drawled. Left hand, right hand, cool glass and the roughness of that filed edge. "What happened... happened. Watching it can't change the course of events, can it? The course of events being that you received that tape and then made your press conference."

"I told you years ago, Lex. I will not deal with terrorists or kidnappers." Lionel's expression was strong, serious, such a lie. Such a lie! "The best thing to do was to request the aid of Superman, and you received it. You're a very lucky man, Lex."

"I had twenty four hours to live -- I suppose I should feel perfectly privileged that I spent the time between your kindly press conference and my rescue being fucked, tortured, and watching the conference on repeat." His voice went up in pitch, and there was nothing he could do to tamp it down. At least as long as Lex kept his hands moving he was sure they wouldn't shake.

"You were saved, Lex. You're free now to be the man you were before, and..."

"Fuck you."

Lex startled himself with that, and swallowed tightly as he looked down to his hands and that paperweight. There was some deep metaphor on the tip of his tongue, about transparency, and color, and flavor, but damn if it was going to form into something coherent. He let it fall to the floor.

It shattered, strangely unresistant to the hard tiles that spread like a mosaic around Lionel's desk these days. Glass skittered everywhere, beneath chairs and tables, and Lionel gave a long sigh. "Ah, yes, well. I'm sure you think you actually mean that, Lex. I wonder if you'll still mean it when your tamed Kent turns into something a bit more... alien."

No reaction to that, because Lex was half-mourning that he hadn't just whipped the paperweight at a wall instead. Walls were so much more dramatic, and the plaster and paint dented so crisply. "I think I should be more concerned about the wolf already in my door than the one outside it."

"Perhaps you should be, son, but at this point, I feel I must tell you. The truth of the matter is that one wolf may be in your door, but the other is in your bed. And there's no mysterious woodsman coming to your rescue."

"Clark isn't the wolf in my bed, Dad." Lex rubbed his palms at the bottom edge of his sweater, pretending he didn't half-feel the fragments of glass that couldn't possibly be in his skin.

"Hmm. Well. If you say so, son. I assume he's waiting for you downstairs...?"

"Actually, no." That voice nearly scared Lex to death. "I was just coming up to remind him that Mom wanted us to run an errand for her." More like he'd heard the breaking glass and the threats and had come straight up. That was much more Clark.

"I haven't forgotten, and I'll be down in a minute -- why don't you wait outside until we've finished?" Outside where Clark would no doubt sit and listen in and every word in the game Lex and his father played could come back to haunt him. Might, might not, but that it could was enough to make him tense and not quite turn around enough to look at Clark out of anything but the corner of his eyes.

"I'll be right outside." Promise and warning, both, and the look on Lionel's face was worth it just for the sheer incredulity stamped upon it even once the door was shut.

No one just invaded Lionel's private office like that, unless it was Lex or apparently a presuming young reporter named Clark Kent. Goofy glasses that didn't match jeans and a Smallville sweatshirt.

Lex let a smile filter towards his mouth when he turned his full attention back to Lionel. "Where were we, Dad?"

"Right around the woodsman knocking down your door," Lionel offered wryly. "I just hadn't exactly planned on him being the wolf in the woodsman's -- reporter's -- clothing."

"Preferable to the wolf dressed up like a kindly relative and lurking beneath the covers." Smooth retort that Lex felt oddly proud to have so readily in his mouth. "Your sympathy would be much easier to swallow if it seemed even a little sincere."

"I'll try to do a little better next time." Oh, and there was always a next time with Lex, wasn't there? Yes.

He swallowed at the bare idea, though, and his father had to see the shake in his fingers before he wadded them into a fist. Of course he saw, had to see with his eyes on Lex so sharply and studiously. "I'm sure you will. If there is a 'next time'."

"I don't doubt there will be. I hope your Sunday is as pleasant as mine will surely continue to be, Lex." Dismissal had never gotten any easier to take from Lionel.

It would've been easy to take. Take, and storm out like a pissed off rich boy. Rich man, because he was old, wasn't he? Thirty was old, or had been once upon a time, but once upon a time, parents were supposed to be vessels of love, and that was a huge crock of shit.

"I'm not done yet." He moved around the desk, looming close to his father. "You're a much better liar on the telephone. Last night, I almost bought what you were selling me. You're damn good."

"Lex..." Lionel began, but he obviously knew he wasn't going to be allowed to finish. He wouldn't want to lose his dignity so obviously; therefore, he chose to be quiet instead.

"Why? What's the point of lying? Of... of these games we play?"

"If you don't know by now, son, you never will, and I've trained you poorly on top of it all." Yes, if that were true.

"Good answer -- always answer a pointed question with another question, or an insult. Deflect and make a target of your opponent, I remember that from age six." Lex swallowed again, concentrating on not latching onto the dry raspy sensation of his throat. It had to be from proximity to his father, and the man's cologne. Nothing more, and Lex pulled back slowly, standing up still and straight. "I know you don't mean that."

"Don't I? Your lover is waiting for you, Lex," Lionel reminded him. "And I have business to attend."

"Clark can wait, and I know very well that you have no real business to attend to this very moment. Oh, and I've left my responses to what I missed with your secretary." He started to move away from the desk, though, mouth curling with disgust that wasn't false.

"What do you want me to say, Lex? 'Yes, I love you, Alexander, I am so very sorry, next time, I will pay, and the time after that, and the time after that.' Well, I won't. I won't, and you know it, Lex." Lionel's eyes narrowed, his expression set. "You're old enough to take care of your own troubles now."

Right for the gut of it, and already twisting the knife. Lionel hadn't ever lost any of his edge. "They were in your employ -- pardon me if I can't see how this qualifies under 'my own troubles'."

"It won't be a problem any longer now that you're handling your own security, will it, son? And you've even turned down my offers of help..."

"No, God dammit -- I mean they were in your employ, in this fucking building." Which left him wondering if his father hadn't been a shadowy figure behind it, but... He wasn't so sinister, was he? Not that. That crossed the last few lines of paranoia and sanity that Lex had laid down.

"And one way or another, Lex, there was nothing to be done." The way that his father rubbed his temple said that he was, at the very least, getting irritated. "Lex. I will never negotiate. Understand that, and let go of it."

It was good business sense, and Lex... could understand it. He crunched through the glass of the broken paperweight, guilt-free that he'd shattered the pretty bauble. So much for metaphors. "Fine. I can do that, but... I want to know what you were doing. Were you just going to sit there and hope I rescued myself, or that Superman showed up?"

"Why do you think I was practically begging for that freak's help at a public conference!" Well, it hadn't been begging, more like seductive suggestion, and Lex was ninety-nine percent certain that his father knew far too much about Clark Kent and Superman to have it be anything less than some sort of bizarre direct order.

"You managed it with dignity," Lex returned a bit stiffly. "So, how many copies of those photos did you have made? Shipped them off to a safe deposit box in Switzerland yet?"

"One day, Lex, your paranoia will override anything resembling good sense that you might have once had," Lionel sighed. "Not that I believe you have ever had very much of it."

"I'm the second most successful man in this city, and you're questioning my good sense," Lex let himself sigh. Turn it back on Lionel, yes... "Says quite a bit about your ego, doesn't it?"

Lionel simply looked at him and smiled. "Lex, I've been questioning your judgment for years; and with excellent reason, might I add."

"Really?" Lex felt as dubious of that as his voice sounded; he didn't have to let his father crush his self-confidence... Self-esteem? They weren't the same thing, but they were close.

"Well, your choices in the past have certainly spoken for you," Lionel murmured. God, Lex hated him in that moment, hated him, wanted his approval, wanted him to just be his daddy again, but Lionel had never been that. Not ever.

Lionel was odd, and creepy enough for Clark to jump to the conclusion that... that, well. It certainly seemed possible, but maybe if Lionel had only fucked with Lex's body then he'd be closer to normal. The mindfucks were a thousand times more disturbing to Lex than any improper touches. "Choices such as?"

"Such as the entire juvenile record which was so difficult to... put an end to," Lionel replied with a smug sort of smile. "Your judgment hasn't gained much since then."

"I've kept my nose clean." Off hand words but Lex had such pride in them. If he didn't give a fuck about anything, himself or his name, it would've been so easy to dive right back into that scene. Drugs, drinks, all of it. "There are no new skeletons in my closet for the media or my close associates to stumble across."

"Except Clark Kent."

"It's not a skeleton if I don't bother to hide it," Lex smiled, mouth curling towards smug. "There's no shame in my friendship, in my relationship with him. You now... quite the checkered recent history. It's a sad thing to see in a CEO who's so few years away from retiring."

"At least another thirty years before that, Lex." Lionel at least seemed vaguely offended at Lex's remark, the inference about his age enough to make his mouth purse.

Heavy wrinkles, greyed whiskers and all, and Lex's smug smile gained a fraction more backbone. Why the hell had he been begging Dad's help? Daddy was an old, tired man with nothing but words in his sleeves and... yeah, that was a good lie to tell himself, wasn't it, only it wasn't so comforting when he consciously noted the lie of it.

Smirk faltered a tiny fraction in the silence. "Sure, Dad. Sure."

"If it's all the same to you, Lex, why don't you go join your precious aberration of a boyfriend before he attempts to come into my office again." He'd definitely made a hit, there was no denying it. Not with that puckered, sullen expression on Lionel's face.

But dammit, he had to be a shambles if he couldn't run through a quick mental checklist to make sure he'd hit the important points. Dropping off his responses and mentioning he'd watched the video, and... if there'd been something else, it was far forgotten. "Of course. I'm sure you have work to attend to."

It was easy to turn smoothly on his heel, crunching through the bits of glass, to head to the door.

"Oh, and Lex. I'm sure I'll be seeing you at the board meeting on Tuesday."

Had not been on his plan of things to do, but Lex nodded as he laid a hand on the handle of Lionel's office door. "Of course I'll be there. I might be taking time off, but I don't want to commit financial suicide. I'll see you on Tuesday."

And he didn't give his father a chance to add anything else, opening the door and starting through it.

"Lex." Clark's expression was a little sheepish, some form of apology for coming to rescue him, Lex supposed. "Ready to go get those bushes? Mom said she'd have lunch ready when I talked to her a few minutes ago."

"That sounds great," Lex assented as he closed the door behind him. The same hand that had just physically shut out his father reached comfortably for Clark's hand, for warm fingers to twine his with. Possession and sweet control all in one seemingly simple touch, being possessed and being controlled. "Let's go to my building and get your truck."

"You know, I still can't believe you've kept it all these years." Clark's voice was really overwhelmed, slightly dreamy. There was no denying, even now, that it was a truck that was purely and completely the wet dream of every farm boy in existence.

Lex just couldn't understand it. It was, well, a truck. Sure, it had been an exceedingly nice truck when he'd bought it, but there were newer models, upgrades and updates to the design -- sentimental value was higher than market value, he guessed, giving Clark a crooked smile as they stepped into the elevator. "Why's that so unbelievable?"

"Well, I mean. It's a truck." As if the answer was obvious. "It's a truck, it's my truck, kind of. You'd never be caught dead driving it, would you, Lex?"

"No, likely not. You're driving it today, so I'm not going to be caught live driving it, either." Because it was red, and as much as Lex liked the color red, it also had white stripes on it that just... screamed that it would appeal to Clark. "How good are you with plants? Or are we going to trust the salesman to have the very best plants ready for your mother?"

"Never trust a plant salesman, Lex. There are some things you just have to do yourself," Clark told him with a smile. He wanted to kiss Lex, and it was written all over his face, but he could wait until they were out of the LuthorCorp building.

Maybe Clark could wait, but Lex didn't give a damn about Clark's kind and thoughtful consideration. "Then I'll leave it to the farmboy, and merely stand in the background and look cold and stern," Lex promised, and edged smoothly closer to Clark. It was easy to lean up that fraction to seal Clark's mouth with his. Not a light kiss, not a peck that might've been acceptable when the elevator stopped on the fifth floor because someone was waiting. It was deep because Lex wanted that, pulling Clark's bottom lip into his mouth, the almost scrape of teeth against tongue.

The startled squeak didn't really seem to faze either of them; in fact, Clark's arms tightened about Lex's waist in response to that little sound, hands coming down to press the slim length of him more tightly against his own larger frame. No point in spoiling a good kiss, especially not if Lex was willing to give it to him then and there.

Lex was only half-aware of the elevator door closing again when he pushed Clark backwards against the elevator wall. His hands were shaking when they burrowed beneath Clark's jacket, common sense keeping them from going beneath cloth to find sleek strong skin. "Fuck..." He pulled back sharply, but grinning despite his frustration when the elevator came to an air-cushioned stop at lobby level.

"Maybe some other elevator sometime," Clark promised him vaguely, his own expression just a little hazy with need. "Because, Lex. Wow." And never mind that the doors were sliding open and there were people looking at them in astonishment.

Who knew why. It might've been the sight of Lex Luthor alive and well after the ordeal that was little over a week past. Or that he was pulling back from standing too close to the man whose hand he was holding.

Well, fuck them. Lex flashed predator sharp eyes, and a tight smile as he tugged at Clark's hand, and led the way out of the elevator. The whisper of commentary behind them didn't bother him, and it obviously didn't bother Clark, either.

"So, let's go pick up those bushes, hm?" Clark smiled at him, ignoring the looks they were getting.

"Did you drop that roll of film off with, ah, Jimmy? Actually, don't answer that. I'd like to talk to Ms. Lane, if she's working today. Does she?" He stopped pulling and fell back even with Clark, but his hand shifted, restlessly, and then clutched tightly.

"Lois works every day," Clark told him dryly. "And no, I haven't given the film to Jimmy. We'll have to run by my apartment, first."

"Round and round in circles, and where we stop, nobody knows -- you're lucky I like weaving my Porsche through traffic, Clark." The VIP garage was empty of most cars and more empty of people when he led Clark out into it and towards his car. "So, why did you come up when I was talking with my dad?"

"Your dad was making certain allegations. I was kind of curious to know how far he would go. I mean, you know everything, Lex." And Lex did, so it wasn't any shock to him, but it was better to wait until they got into the car to say anything more. "But sometimes, I wonder what he knows."

Of course, the car was better, but... shit, of course. Lex nodded, tightly silent as he walked towards his Porsche. Clark's hand was only released at the last possible moment, and there was some loud part of his subconscious declaring that if he didn't drive a stick shift, he'd grab it again once he was in the car.

Since when had Lex Luthor needed anything to anchor him? Since he'd been anchored too much with the touch of flesh, since he'd been weighted down and sunk with it, and--

"He's bullshitting," Lex sighed a little tightly as he unlocked the door and ducked in.

"Maybe. Maybe not. When I was in high school, he had a file on me. Refined meteor ore, Kryptonite." He looked at Lex seriously. "It's not exactly what I'd call the best situation."

"It never has been." Lex laid his head back against the expensive padded headrest, closing his eyes tightly for a moment. "But you've been in Metropolis for six years and he hasn't moved against you. Yet."

"Yet," Clark agreed, leaning over to brush fingertips along one cheekbone. "Yet. Look, Lex. I don't want to worry you. But I did think that I should say something, to him during his talk... and to you about what he knows."

Warm fingers, with their smooth pads on strong fingertips, and Lex exhaled in a slow sigh. It felt delicious and soothing, and it was easy to concentrate on. "I know what he knows, Clark. A great, great deal. Just from conjecture, I'm sure he's linked Clark Kent to Superman."

"I had figured that much." Oh, and more, because Lionel had been so pointed in front of the entire media world, had probably even specifically requested the Lane-Kent duo for coverage or something equally irritating. "We'll have to think about what to do, but... Later is soon enough. For now, let's go run errands."

We'll think? Hah. If he could tack down a good, sharp, coherent thought on anything, Lex would've been proud. Board meeting on Tuesday, and he had to start preparing for that immediately, at least in his own head. There wasn't enough room, enough clear space for long-term planning despite that Lex needed to use it.

Sherlock Holmes would've been damn proud of what seemed to be proof of the attic of the mind theory.

"Whatever it ends up coming to, Clark... I stand behind my friends."

"You'd do a lot for a friend," Clark agreed, words Lex had murmured to him long ago. "And I'd like to think we're more than that. Lex. I'd do anything for you." Tell the truth. Save him. Put him back together.

Anything.

They weren't soothing things to see on Clark's face when Lex opened his eyes and peered over. Florescent garage lights did little justice to Clark's eyes, the color in his cheeks, but didn't distort his expressions. "I think your AI had a good word for it." His fingers fumbled for a moment, but slid the key into the ignition, and turned it gently to life.

"The AI?" Clark looked at him, curiosity rampant. "What did it say? I mean, what world did it use, for... Us? I'm assuming?"

"Trusted one." Lex could recall bits of the lengthy conversation he'd had with the AI, but Clark didn't need recounting of it. Clark didn't need to know that he and his fortresses AI had worked out his sexuality together.

A faint laugh parted Clark's lips, worrisome. "Funny. Yes. You are. I wish I'd told you everything before now." Wished he'd paid more attention. Wished he'd kept closer to Lex, wished he'd known what was going on in time to save him before he was irrevocably hurt.

"Clark, there are things I never told you, so... we're dead even. There're still things you and I need to clear up." Lex sat up straighter with a conscious effort, and twisted to back his car of the parking space.

"We'll worry about those later," Clark decided, buckling his seatbelt. "When we stop to worry about your father. For now... Well, those bushes need planting, and Jimmy wants his film."

"And I want to set up an interview with one of your colleagues," Lex agreed. One step at a time, or maybe just one heavy step on the gas pedal at a time. It was satisfying to peel out of the parking garage and onto the street in a narrow break in traffic.

"Lois," Clark decided. "Because I can bully her if we need to, and... Well, I owe her." For being so kind Saturday afternoon and for getting things worked out so that he could spend an extra few days with Lex until he was certain that Lex's security would be enough to protect him.

"I'd rather you didn't bully her, Clark -- I can honestly do that on my own." Or liked to think he could, but there was no way that he'd be able to test his self sufficiency skills or build up his confidence if Clark kept tinkering with things even well-meaningly.

"I'll let you be the bully, then," Clark agreed. "Because she'd probably just find a way to walk all over me, all the same. She, um, thinks I'm a pretty useless dork, most of the time."

"You've done a good job of acting like you are," Lex complimented, "including occasionally during our Thursday night outings."

That was enough to draw a flush into Clark's face. "Um, well, it seemed the thing to do?"

"I'm never going to let you live down the time you spilled your beer over that lapdancer's breasts, Clark. Because that wasn't an affected clumsiness." Lex flicked his eyes over to Clark, and then had them back on the road where they belonged, as he blew through a yellow light.

"She had them in my face!" Clark protested, closing his eyes. He was invulnerable, but that didn't mean that Lex was. "It's not every day there's a woman shoving her boobs in my face!"

"Yes, but it was a stripclub, Clark -- I still don't know what you were expecting them to do with their tits." Fast driving, skilled driving, dodged the Porsche through traffic, and then over to the right hand turning lane so that Lex could pull his car into the parking lot of Clark's apartment building. "I'll stay in the car, you run in and get the film. Then we'll head back to the shadow of the LuthorCorp building and the Planet."

"Right," Clark agreed, eyes turning to peer at him. He leaned over, gave Lex a quick kiss on the mouth, and then he was out of the car and running inside. He was only gone for a minute, maybe two at the most, but Lex was certain of one thing by the time Clark came back.

He really didn't like being alone.

It was as if the moment Clark left his sight, and entered the building, there were a thousand eyes watching him. Waiting for a chance to do something, so Lex didn't move his hands from the steering wheel, ready to roar off the moment he had to.

If it weren't for his driving gloves, he was sure the steering wheel would've been smeared with sweat from his fingers. "Got everything?" Lex asked when Clark got back into the car, perfectly casual. He hoped.

"Everything I need," Clark agreed, and he didn't say anything about Lex's visibly raised respiratory rate, or the pulse that he could see pounding at Lex's throat. "So, back to the Planet, then? And then we'll go get the truck..."

And get the plants, and spend the rest of the day cocooned in sweet but nonetheless frightening domesticity. Trying to be okay through the act of pretending to be okay. "Part of me is curious to see how those photographs turned out," he offered conversationally fidgeting with the heat for a moment before he pulled out of the parking lot.

"Jimmy's really young, but he's great at what he does." Clark was prone to giving compliments, but he obviously meant that one. "Plus, he's really nice."

"Yeah, I noticed that yesterday." Twice, if he cared to count what Jimmy had walked in on the bathroom. That had to be smeared all over the Planet by then, didn't it? "So you find him, and I'll corner your esteemed partner. You know that in the business world, being interviewed by her is considered something akin to firewalking."

The way that Clark snorted just intensified the realization of why Lois would think he was a dork. "She can be a little... Urm..." Intimidating. Forward. Scary. Especially when you had to correct her spelling. "Forceful," Clark chose with a grin.

"To put it mildly," Lex drawled, veering into another lane to avoid a pothole. "I've seen her professional side in action more than once, and my PR people have told her to piss off more than once in the past." Which meant that he'd probably get hell from that same professional side, but he could take it. Just like he could take that board meeting on Tuesday.

He was Lex Luthor, and Lex Luthor could take both of them without a problem. Up the ass and probably sobbing after it was finished, but he wasn't going to think, no, not think about that.

"I doubt she'll be too vicious, Lex." Mostly because she really was Clark's friend, and she didn't seem to want him to quit. He hoped. "Well, I hope she won't be."

"Don't say a word about it to her, Clark. I'd like it to be a genuine interview, because I want to know that I can do that." He veered again, cut off a Honda, and pulled into the Planet's parking lot.

Green eyes closed, as if that would help prevent the imminent demise of Lex's Porsche. "Right. I won't say anything," he agreed, wincing slightly at the sound of the horn blowing madly behind them. "Um. Yeah."

"Huh." Lex parked the car, smiling flatly to himself as he did it, in the nearest unmarked spot, and then killed the engine. "Drivers around here. C'mon."

Drivers. Clark bit back the urge to laugh and climbed out of the car, looking more like he was rolling out. He'd never understood Lex's urge to own cars so low to the ground that you felt every bump you hit, but Clark knew that he was just a truck man at heart. That, too, was Lex's fault. He'd never fallen out of love with that cherry red F250 with the white racing stripes. "You want me to call Lois so she can find an empty conference room or something for you?"

"If she could," Lex agreed while he locked his beautiful car. At least he'd never have to fight Clark to drive his beloved sporty cars. "I'd rather not hash this out in the main office; I think your co-workers have enough gossip material to get them through to the next century."

"Dorky Clark Kent, friends with the Famous Lex Luthor, caught in the bathroom by that Incredibly Nice Jimmy Olsen?" Clark asked dryly, pulling a cell phone from his pocket and dialing Lois.

"Headline material," Lex smirked back. Clark and cellphones -- it had taken an act of God for him to finally get one, and he hadn't even been the one to buy it. It'd been a gift one holiday, and Clark had thankfully taken the hint to join the rest of the world in the technology age. "And it wouldn't bother me to see that if we'd actually been doing something gossip worthy. Now if I'd been on my knees, fine, that wouldn't irk me."

There was that flush of color Lex remembered so well from years past, accompanied by a sputter that gained Clark sharp words on the other end of the line. "N-no! Lois, don't.. yeah, it's me. I've, um, got Lex here, and he wants to grant you an interview..."

And damn, Lex could hear her reaction from where he was at Clark's side. Super-hearing had to be a curse when someone shouted like that, and it was hard to tell whether she was telling Clark to piss off or was happy and just startled.

"Um, we're on our way up?" Another burst of words, and Clark held the phone away from his ear, wincing. "Ow...."

"Clark KENT! Get your butt up here and drag him with you! And get me a hot dog outside on your way up!"

That was Lois, all right.

"With everything," Clark agreed with a sigh and snapped the phone shut.

"And here I thought businessmen and people at the DMV were the only ones who faced irrational screamers." Lex started to veer a little, towards the main street where there were vendors. "I'm going to grab a real coffee while you get whatever she wanted. Meet you in the lobby." Of course that dictated that Clark wouldn't be coming with him and he'd have to go a few moments without his 'bodyguard'. A few moments that would be no doubt as frightening as it was going to be refreshing.

"Right," Clark agreed, keeping an eye on Lex even as he wandered off to the little hot dog stand outside the Planet. He'd never really understand Lois's addiction to junk food. He loved it, of course, who didn't? But sometimes he thought she actually existed on nothing else. He wondered if she'd ever managed to eat a vegetable in her life.

She managed to be insanely fit-looking despite her habits. Maybe she was a meteor mut-- nah. She was just borderline crazy, and probably had arteries as clogged as the cloverleaf at rush hour. After standing in a short but tedious line, he ordered her hot dog with everything, and then watched the vender slap-dash it together and put it in a wrapper.

Lex was just striding through the front doors when Clark caught up with him, a large cup of something from Mocha Joe's in his hand. Lex hadn't had to wait in a line for anything he wanted, of course.

That was just the nature of Lex, he guessed, and Clark waved the hotdog in its flimsy cardboard holder at him. "Got it," he declared. "Mom will have something a lot less likely to clog up our arteries ready when we get home."

"You mean I can't pass a cup of coffee off as lunch?" Lex asked, pausing long enough to fall into step with Clark again as they headed for the elevator. The large cup of coffee and its insulating cardboard holder would go a long way towards keeping Lex steady during the impromptu interview he'd just set himself up for.

"Mmmm, no. I don't think Mom will consider the four bites of breakfast you ate as enough so that you can do that," Clark decided, raising an eyebrow at him momentarily.

"Clark!" That was Jimmy, beaming at him as the elevator doors opened. "Hey, Lex. Nice to see you again."

Lex gave a nod and a smile that felt false but probably didn't look it. Please let Jimmy be getting off of the elevator right then. If there were a god out there somewhere, he'd be getting off of it instead of riding back up with them. "Good to see you again."

"Yeah, the pictures came out really well, and everything. Just so you know," Jimmy hurried to say. "And, um, yeah, I haven't said anything about that other thing. Oh, and Clark, did you remember my film?"

The way that Jimmy's words tripped over themselves were almost funny. "I'm not sure you'll be able to salvage anything," Clark told him, pulling the unraveled film loose from his pocket.

Jimmy's face fell a little, and it was pleasing and distracting to watch. The elevator doors started to close, and Lex swiped out with his free hand to push against one side and keep them open. "We're headed up -- are you getting off?"

"Oh... Um, yeah," Jimmy agreed distractedly, wandering out of the elevator and letting Lex and Clark onto it instead. "Hey, I'll see you guys..." The door shut behind them. "Later."

Lex glanced to Clark with slightly raised eyebrows, and a smirk on his mouth as he leaned against the inside of the elevator. "Good kid. But I really wish we'd actually been doing anything in that bathroom."

"Well, if you really want, I'm pretty sure we can make a return engagement," Clark told him with a slow smile.

"We could do it right now," Lex drawled, shifting his coffee to his right hand and idly reaching for Clark with his left. It was a shame that the Planet didn't have quite as many floors as the LuthorCorp building had. At least there was time for a good long kiss on that elevator.

"If Lois wasn't waiting for you and her hot dog," Clark agreed, leaning over to press his mouth sweetly to Lex's just for a moment.

Some amused part of Lex decided that he was going to comment, at least internally, on her manners while she ate her hot dog. The rest of him decided that pushing Clark up against the wall, feeling the hard lines of his body pressed against him, was a good idea. If his coffee didn't have a lid on it, Clark would've been wearing cappuccino by the time Lex pulled back, mouth feeling pleasantly swollen from pressure.

"Mmm," Clark declared, and swooped in to kiss him again before the ding of the elevator announced their arrival to the appropriate floor.

By the time the doors opened, they were both nearly a foot apart, but looking too well-kissed for anyone to miss it.

"Clark!" Lois yelled from down the hall. "Bring me Luthor and my hot dog!"

"She's the boss," Clark mumbled sheepishly.

"Course she is, Clark. Your glasses are crooked." Lex lifted his hand to mimic straightening a pair of nonexistent glasses, and took a sip of his coffee as he strode out into the hallway. "Did she say which room she was going to be in?"

The question was met in the form of a bustling Lois, the woman hurrying out with a cigarette in one hand and a cup of something vaguely recognizable as juice in the other. "Clark! I'm starving!" she declared, reaching for the hot dog. The two of them bumped hands and the juice splashed all over Clark's shirt, luckily avoiding the hot dog.

"Oh, sorry, Lois..." Clark mumbled, reaching to brush at the juice ineffectually.

"You've gotta be more careful, Clark..."

"Clark, here." Lex pulled his monogrammed handkerchief out of his back pocket, and pressed it against the middle of what would no doubt become a stain, wiping up what he could. Beneath Clark's sweatshirt, casual weekend wear, Lex could feel warm familiar muscles, and was using every ounce of control he had to not do more than blot up juice. "So, are you up to starting this interview immediately, Miss Lane?"

"Oh, yeah, sure, just follow me," Lois assured him happily, turning sharply on a heel and heading back towards the end of the hall.

"Watch out for her spelling, Lex. It's really bad," Clark warned.

"I heard that!"

The interview had been sometimes circular, very draining, but... but, Lex had left Lois with an overall impression of a man still on top of his world, and more than a few flattering and good quotes. Business section, probably a column on the first page, continued on the second or third. Not bad at all.

Then they'd picked up Clark's truck, and driven to get the shrubs for Martha. He'd nodded off in the passenger seat, and luckily missed the whole thing. When they'd arrived there, Martha had forced lunch on them, and now they were outside under the threat of clouds, trying to plant the troublesome things.

Domesticity had never felt so good.

"Dig it just a little deeper," Martha directed. "And Lex, if you could pull back those branches, there..."

Felt good and felt right, like being part of a family, being part of something real. Lex liked that.

"About like this, Mom?" Clark asked, looking up at her. "Seems pretty all right to me..."

"It seems like it'd take a tornado to pull out," Lex agreed, looking up at her, too, arranged in an awkward crouch beside that bush with his hands pulling back on the branches just like she'd asked.

The hopeful looks both men cast her made Martha laugh. "All right," she said, giggling. "All right, boys. Just like that is fine."

"Thank goodness!" Clark declared, fervent in his proclamation. "I was beginning to think we'd be planting in the rain!"

"I was thinking we'd be digging until you hit granite," Lex murmured seriously, letting go of his hold on the branches. "Clark, hand me that trowel. I think we've got a few minutes left to finish this."

Carefully, Clark handed over the requested item, kneeling down beside Lex and holding the bush straight as he began to use his hands to shove dirt back down into the hole around the roots. "Maybe ten, maybe fifteen," Clark agreed.

Martha seemed delighted. "And I'll go put on a pot of coffee for you boys. I'm sure by the time you come in, you'll be damp and a little cool."

Cold and wet, just what Lex didn't want to ever be again. He wondered briefly if it'd be possible to move to a dry, warm island somewhere and still be able to manage LexCorp from its security.

Clark shoveled more dirt in place with his hands, and Lex joined him with the trowel. Third one they'd planted that afternoon, and despite the chill, it was pretty satisfying work.

"I'm glad you seem happy," Clark told him as they worked, his eyes concentrating on the matter at hand. "Seems like you feel better today." Even after the interview with Lois.

Maybe Clark's eyes were concentrating there, but the rest of him didn't seem to be. "I do. It's been non-stop something all day, and... I need that." No time to sit down and think, or get mentally lost while not thinking.

"Okay." Okay, Clark could manage that. He could. "Lex. Um." There were questions Clark wanted to ask, things he needed to know. "You want to go back to your place." Statement of fact, not question. "I, um. I don't want to intrude or push myself in somewhere and I, I didn't know if you wanted me to..." To go with him. Better to ask now, he supposed, and get it out of the way. He thought Lex might want that, but Clark wasn't a man to invite himself somewhere on his own.

Lex only twitched an eyebrow at him, pressing more dirt into place with hurried hands and the flat of the trowel. "Wanted you to...?"

"...come with you." Green eyes, carefully paying attention to the last of the dirt, as if Clark didn't want to see Lex tell him no. "I mean, I don't want to just invite myself to..." To move in, to always stay close, and fuck, he'd be getting no sleep ever again at that rate because he'd end up hovering outside Lex's window every night if Lex didn't want him to stay at least now and then.

"Would you be comfortable with that?" It was a serious decision that Clark was so off-handedly suggesting, more than merely staying overnight.

After all, life with Helen had been ideal until Lex had insisted she move in. Then she'd learned his dirty secrets and things had fallen to shit.

On the other hand, Clark had been his dirty secret. His obsession. His need. The way that the alien was looking at him now, serious mien focused on him, said that he probably already knew. "I don't know," Clark admitted. "Mostly, I don't want to make you uncomfortable or force myself in where I'm not wanted."

"It's a little farther from the Planet than your apartment," Lex murmured, looking down at his hands as he gave a last press down on the dirt. It wasn't as if he hadn't been living with his obsession for years already. The possibility to really live with it was tantalizing. "But there's a balcony..."

"That would make things a little easier." Shyly spoken, not quite agreement, not quite a willingness to give up his own apartment in case Lex got tired of him, but definitely pleased. "Lois lives close to your place, kind of. I could probably just ride with her. I don't drive much, myself."

"Intimidated by crazy city drivers?" Lex leaned in, lifting his head to look Clark in the eyes. Pretty... no, beautiful green eyes, not that bluish color that Superman had. It was easy to slice them into two separate people, to forget... "Is this thing secure enough that we can go inside now?"

"I'm pretty sure it'll stay put," Clark replied, standing slowly. "Lex. Don't let me force something I want onto you, all right? I, I really don't want to do that. And I'm afraid I might do that, because I could really..." Really get used to waking up every morning beside him and doing what they'd done last night before falling asleep every night. "I just wouldn't want to do that."

"Clark, as much as a force of nature as you can occasionally be, do you really think you can force me into anything I don't want?" Lex heard the tiny simmer of flat anger in his voice, but dammit. He might've been a wreck, but that didn't mean he was a pushover for Clark.

But if Clark thought he was a pushover, then there was every possibility that he was. How could he be sure that himself as he saw himself was the same as himself as others were seeing himself. Did they see the strong businessman, or the broken victim of a kidnapping?

He stood a little abruptly, trowel still in hand, and started to pull the dirty gloves off.

Clark stood with him, and the difference in height would have been intimidating if it had been anyone other than Clark. "No, actually, I don't. I've never been able to force you to do anything, Lex, even for your own good. I know that. But regardless of where I come from or who I know or what I am, I'm a Kent at heart. I can generally bite back my pride and ask for what I want, or make provisions to get it in the best, most perfectly proper way to do it. What I want right now..." Clark shook his head. "We've been different than best friends for all of a handful of days, Lex. Just because I think I could love you for the rest of my life, maybe have since I was fifteen, or... Or I don't know how long... Just because I think that doesn't meant that you do. That you ever will. That you should have to face that from me now, or next week, or even next month if you don't want to, or you don't feel the same way. I always want to be your best friend, Lex. I don't want to lose that because I'm feeling pushy and because I don't want to be apart from you." Because Clark wanted to watch over him, keep him safe. Because that was just Clark.

Words Lex took and filed away with careful consideration -- then he started to walk towards the back door, towards the tiny shed that Martha kept her tools in. "All right. I... really would rather have this discussion inside, I know what I want, but I'd like to say it in a way that you can't misinterpret it."

That sounded reasonable enough to Clark, because God knew they'd danced around a variety of misunderstandings over the year. "Maybe Mom will have cake, too," he decided, gathering up the handful of remaining implements. "I kind of want some."

"Are you two trying to fatten me up for a ritualistic sacrifice?" He stretched for teasing tones that would help to cover the whirring of the gears of his mind.

Clark was cautioning to take things slower, and sanity said that he was right. That any decision Lex made was probably tainted by recent events. Or, would be assumed to be tainted. Clark wanted him, but wanted their friendship to remain, only things had already subtly changed. Dad cautioned restraint, cautioned any involvement at all. Dad assumed all at once that the ordeal hadn't affected him at all and had completely shattered him. All at once.

Some of those gears were probably creaking.

"Our great secret is out. Oh, woe and misfortune!" Clark wouldn't ham it up with anyone else the way that he was with Lex. Hell, Lex knew he wouldn't do ninety-five percent of the things he did with Lex with anyone else, and he'd known that forever and a day. The dark-haired man heaved a great sigh. "So much for the barbecue plans."

"You'll have to just find someone that you'll have to defoliate," Lex agreed with absent mock seriousness, dropping dirty gloves and trowel into the box.

What was probably making it hardest to find the best words was that he was sure that he loved Clark. Only 'love' was a trite thing that left a bad taste in his mind and mouth. He loved his Dad, too, in his own fucked up way, and look what their relationship was. It was safer to just like a person a great deal.

He'd seen how that worked out, too, though, and it had never done him any whole lot of good. Amanda. Helen. Half a dozen other women that he had liked but not loved, felt obligations towards, but never felt passion for, not like with Clark.

"Hmmm, well, I guess so. And hey, at least that way, we can invite you to share and fatten you up some more." So brightly spoken, so much like the Clark he'd known so long ago.

"Would Lois be passable?" It gave way to a new topic as he closed the little shed for Clark just as the sky cracked open with a depressing drizzle. "I suspect with her diet she'd appease whoever you're sacrificing for."

"True, but she'd really taste horrible later on. I mean, you know, all things considered. I don't think I've ever seen a vegetable pass her lips," Clark said over the pattering rain, holding a hand above Lex's head to protect his bald pate from the spitting wet drops. "Come on, let's go get dry and clean and get some coffee!"

Thoughtful of Clark to bother, and essentially useless because Lex broke into an easy jog to the back door and swung it open to duck inside. He paused just inside the tiny hallway to pull his borrowed sneakers off. "Your mother makes better coffee than Lana could dream of making."

"Well..." Okay, so there wasn't much of any way to defend Lana's coffee. Some days, it had been great, and some days... Well, some days, you could tell Lana was suffering greatly from PMS. Clark had noticed the same strange correspondence between Lois's good and bad coffee days, so he didn't think that he was imagining that possibility. "Yeah, yes, she does," he sighed as he stood and began kicking off his own shoes next to Lex's.

"Go take a bath!" Martha yelled at them from the kitchen. "And strip off those wet, dirty clothes right there. I promise I won't look if you won't string and strew dirt through the house."

Lex chuckled quietly, and started to pull his borrowed sweatshirt up over his head. He should have thought to pack more dirt-ready clothes; something to keep in mind next time he spent time at Martha Kent's abode. "I swear I heard my nanny say those exact words when I was all of eight."

Clark snickered and shimmied out of his own jeans. "I'm pretty sure that I've heard them off and on all my life. And I've been threatened with death if I wore 'THOSE' boots in the house 'one more time, Clark Jerome Kent'."

"Clark Jerome Kent! Don't make fun of your mother!"

"'Those boots' wouldn't be the ones that you wore when you were flinging cowshit around with a shovel, would they?" Lex snorted, and worked his way out of jeans that were too long in the leg for him.

The innocent shrug of wide shoulders came his way. "Well. Maybe." More like definitely from the look on Clark's face. "Anyway, I've got an extra pair of sweats and a t-shirt, Lex..."

"Trying to keep me dressed like I'm in college again?" Lex folded the dirty clothes haphazardly, suppressing a shiver. "I'll meet you in the bathroom. Martha, would you like us to leave these here or in the laundry?"

"Leave them there, boys," Martha called. "I'll take care of them."

"And we'll go shower and get clean, Mom," Clark yelled back. "Give us... What, ten minutes?" he asked Lex.

"Or so," Lex agreed slyly, pausing for a moment to make sure that Martha was securely in the kitchen before he headed to the bathroom. Chin up a mere fraction, and if he walked fast enough he could out-speed the cold that was nipping at his skin.

Ten minutes in the shower? Maybe it was possible. Maybe.

Clark caught up with him as he slipped into the bathroom, their clothing in his hands. "The shower will warm you up," he declared, pleased at the thought. It was obvious that Lex was cold, his fingertips faintly purple, tinged with the feel of the wind that had started nipping at them on their way inside the house.

"That superspeed certainly has its everyday uses." Closed the door behind them, walking towards the shower-stall with a hand reaching back for Clark. "You're gorgeous even when you do need a shower, Clark."

"Not ever the way you are." That was an incredibly honest response, Clark taking his fingers and moving with him. It seemed their previous evening had already created a certain association, because Lex noticed Clark's heated flesh pressing against him when the taller man leaned down to kiss him.

That was an association he was going to have to encourage, slow kisses and sensual presses. "Really? I find that hard to believe..." He reached into the shower, turning the water on but leaving it to run until it turned hot enough. And stayed close enough to Clark to lean in and nip at his neck. "Tell me what you want."

"You, Lex." That was all, it seemed. Lex, Clark wanted Lex. "You, here, close, always..." Always, and Clark pulled him closer, lips brushing across the top of Lex's head.

Ha. Hadn't Clark just been urging caution? It was comforting to know that he wasn't the only one with a disconnect between his rational mind, and the lizard part of his brain. The instincts that said it was good, better than good, perfect...

"Always," Lex sighed, twisting away to pull Clark into the shower with him.

Wetness and heat and kisses, and obviously neither of them had working higher brain function just then, not with the way Clark was holding him again the moment they were beneath the sting of the shower spray. Not with the way Clark thrust against him, groaning his delight. "Lex. Lex..."

Clark was holding still for him, and the spray of water droplets only added to the luxury of touch. He pulled out of Clark's arms, only enough to fall to his knees in front of Clark, pressing idle open-mouthed kisses just above the bobbing of one very hard erection.

"Oh, God, Lex..." Reverent sort of whisper, Clark's fingers curling into the palms of his hands so that they wouldn't grip too tightly into Martha's tiles. "Lex, Lex, Lex." A blessing. A consecration.

A benediction all for him. It was easy to let his arms wrap tight around Clark's waist, palms spreading across the cheeks of Clark's wet ass. It was intense to touch him intimately, to let higher thought slide away moments before he lowered his head to mouth along the tempting dick that bobbed in front of his face.

If Clark had been anything other than alien, he knew that his knees would have buckled and spilled him to the floor. "Jesus!" he swore, whimpering at the feel of it spreading through him, creeping all over his skin. Too good, too much, the way everything always was with Lex.

"Like that?" Lex glanced up at Clark, eyes half-closed to shield against the steady spray of water. He didn't stop when he asked Clark, no, that would've been too easy. He lifted his mouth, lips a loose circle as he sucked the head of Clark's dick into his mouth, eyes on Clark all the while.

Did he like that? Oh, fuck, yes, he liked that, and the strangled sound that escaped from his lips was the best he could do to tell Lex that he loved it. He wanted more of it. Clark was fairly certain that anything resembling rational thought had leaked down to his crotch and was currently feeding itself to Lex.

Slow sucking that had to be sending a frisson through Clark, not enough to drive him to orgasm -- yet. Lex pulled back a fraction, and swirled his tongue over the dome of the head, teased it over Clark's pulled back foreskin. Tasted good, clean, and as long as he had control everything was perfect. He unwrapped one arm from around Clark's hips, slipping his hand between his legs to stroke himself.

"Lex. So beautiful." So fucking gorgeous, Clark could see him touching himself, and he wanted to be just like that with Lex forever, until the rest of the world died around them, and he wouldn't care. He wouldn't go if they called, wouldn't even hear them because there was him and there was Lex and nothing could be so important as that. "You're so. Oh. Ohhh..."

As long as Clark kept up his stream of banter, steady as the water that was pelting the back of Lex's head, pelting over his back, everything was going to be wonderful. Lex stroked himself in the rhythm of his sucking, still staring up at Clark's face when he twitched his other hand to press fingers down the cleft of his perfect ass.

"Lex, are you going to... oh. OH..." OH was about right, and it was really the best that Clark could come up with. He didn't know that he could say the fuck that he wanted to in his mother's shower, but he did his best to let Lex know that he liked it, legs spreading, entire body turning to nothing more than melted butter. "Leeex."

Legs spreading were the best message he could give, because Lex slid one finger down to tease and press at the crinkled muscle between his cheeks. And lowered his head to see if he could deep throat Clark, eyes falling to look at the ripples of muscle on his best friend's stomach.

"Fuck." Apparently, he could say that word in his mother's house. "Fuck, fuck. Lex. Oh, fuck." He could say it a lot. With the faint, wet pressure teasing at him and the heady suction that Lex was giving him, no other word could be appropriate.

Faint damp teasing gave way to pressure, gave way to a tickling push into him, one well-manicured finger teasing just inside him, in and out, in and out, just like his dick was going into Lex's eager mouth and throat.

It was quick sex, dirty because they didn't have enough time to properly savor the moment, and Lex was loving it. It felt almost normal, Lex had a fleeting hope that Clark was close to the edge, because the quick jerking of his hand over himself, sparks of sensation sharply spiking through him, wasn't going to pause.

The gasp came at almost the same moment that a flood entered his mouth, Clark's entire body stiffening as he came. It was sweet, it was everything, it was things Lex had never dreamed he'd be allowed to have. Clark was vulnerable against him, trembling, eyes closed, and it was beautiful.

A few quick strokes finished Lex off, swallowing the last of Clark and pulling back. It was better to not chomp Clark in half when his jaw clenched around a moan. Vulnerable Clark, easy to sag against under the pelting of the water that was turning just a shade too hot. "Fuck yes."

"Guuh." Obviously Clark hadn't mastered the art of 'orgasm' and 'words' simultaneously as yet, though his fingers were petting over Lex's skull with a tenderness and adoration that was undeniable.

His knees were starting to twinge at him, but Lex merely shifted both hands to wrap them around Clark's waist, laying his cheek on Clark's hip. "I'll take it that you liked that," Lex remarked slowly. Martha, he noted quietly, had probably heard more gay sex than she'd ever thought of in the last few days.

"Mmmm." Agreement, and Clark's hands were on him, pulling him up so that Clark could kiss him. Deep, sharp enthusiasm in that motion, in the way that Clark held him, and the way that the water rained down around them felt too fucking good.

Full body against full body, long limbed arms wrapped around him... it was easy to respond to Clark's kisses, breaking them only long enough to say, "I could get used to doing this every morning."

"Uh-huh." Oh, two syllables. Clark could almost laugh at himself, if he wasn't still high off of Lex's touch, his entire being. "Um. Yes." Every morning, every night. "God, Lex."

"Such skill with language." They'd been under the water long enough that Lex gathered soap wasn't needed, not at that point, and so he started to tug at Clark out of the shower. "So they pay for you to write...?"

"Not a lot," Clark told him, reaching out to turn off the water as they moved onto the bath mat, dripping all over the tile floor. "Um, I mean, they don't pay me a lot. Yeah. Right."

"Certainly they shouldn't unless the quality improves," Lex teased lightly, and then pulled back from Clark. "I'd pay you for the pleasure of hearing you jabber like that..."

"Okay." So Clark's brain wasn't entirely back in his head, and it was obvious from the glazed expression in his eyes. "Wow. Lex." He shook his head slightly, wetting the bald man a little more with droplets shaken out of his hair. "I'm pretty sure my entire brain got sucked right out."

"I think I'll agree with you." Lex let himself laugh, not that near hysterical laugh that had been lurking at the back of his throat for days, but a soft, easy chuckle while he retrieved towels. "So that would make me a zombie?"

"You're too gorgeous to be a zombie. And way too good with your mouth." Clark's eyes were still a little dazed, but he was getting back to normal, and he took the towel with a certain ease and grace that made Lex sigh. "Mmm."

"Has that been ten minutes, or is your mother going to be standing outside of the door waiting for us?"

The mere threat of Martha was enough to get Clark moving in a blur, and Lex found himself dried off in what felt more like wind than towel, with Clark fully dressed beside him and handing over Lex's clothes. "She'll be looking for us in..."

A knock sounded on the door. "Boys! Coffee!"

"Just a moment," Lex called back. He started to tug his clothes on, and glanced sideways at Clark. "Your mother's timing is impeccable, Clark. So, are you ready to... talk?"

"I think I can at least pretend to be verbal," Clark agreed, taking a deep breath. "She's an incredible woman. My mom."

Lex nodded mildly as he pulled the sweatshirt down over his head, and then padded towards the door. She was particularly incredible when compared against a parent like his father. "It sounds like it's raining pretty badly. This house isn't susceptible to losing power, is it?"

That seemed enough to doom them, the lights flickering off and then back on again. "It's like any other house in Kansas in the middle of a storm," Clark told him. "But don't worry. I'm here. I might even be kind of coherent in another ten, fifteen minutes."

"I'm keeping this in mind as a tactic to soften you up to an idea." Superman, weak to orgasms, Kryptonite and kisses. No one would believe him which made it a good thing that he wasn't going to tell anyone.

The urge to leer something back at Lex about being softened up was resisted, mostly because Martha was coming towards them with a flashlight. "Come along, boys. You can even have a nap when you've had your coffee and cake. And none of that, Clark. At least, please, not where your mother can see and hear it."

Lex shielded his eyes with a sharp motion, turning his head away. Like flashbulbs, only it didn't blink off again, and Lex didn't know what to think of that because he was pointedly not thinking again. "I'm suddenly feeling all of three again, Mrs. Kent, and I'm not sure whether I should thank you, or run."

"I think we should just have cake," Clark declared, smiling at him a little and taking the flashlight from his mother, turning it off with a click.

"But Clark, if the lights go out..."

"We'll be fine for a while," he answered.

"They haven't gone out yet," Lex reminded as he started down the hall and gave Martha a smile. "So are the bushes planted to your satisfaction?"

"They're planted perfectly," Martha smiled. "I never doubted that you boys were capable of doing it just the way I wanted."

That brought a look of sheer happiness to Clark's face. "You're welcome, Mom."

"So you miss the farm, Martha...? Not... I mean, I know you miss life there, but do you miss the actual getting up at four to milk the cows aspect?" There was something rewarding about shoveling hay or dirt, and Lex knew it, but he didn't even miss it from those few times he'd done it.

"Well, not the getting up at four bit, no," Clark's mother reassured him, a wry smile creeping across her face. "And not the bit about keeping Clark from drinking out of the milk jug, either, since I still have to... Clark!"

Somehow, Clark had slipped to the refrigerator once they'd gotten into the kitchen and was currently lifting the milk to his lips without benefit of a glass. "...oops?"

"There're worse sins to indulge in," Lex drawled as he moved to get his cup of coffee. Backwash couldn't be worse than what he'd just recently had in his mouth, and that thought made him smirk wickedly.

"Yes," Martha agreed, "but it's my milk he's destroying!"

"Um. I'll get my own next time?" Clark offered, lifting the jug again with a shrug.

"Clark, have you thought that maybe, oh... people might want to add it to their coffee?" He almost, almost said something about the places where Clark's mouth had been, but, no, he liked Martha too much to say it. So it danced temptingly on the tip of his tongue.

"No," Clark admitted, and drank from the jug again, giving Lex a beatific smile.

"Martha, you don't want milk in your coffee, do you?" Lex asked, setting his own cup down. He didn't wait for her to answer, instead lunged for Clark and the plastic jug to steal it from him.

"Not anymore," she decided as Lex, Clark and the milk jug all ended up in a tangle on the floor, laughing. Clark managed to keep from spilling the milk, but he wasn't letting Lex get it, either.

"MY milk!"

"You bastard." Lex sat back a little, not bothering to be mindful on the knee that was close to Clark's oh so invulnerable crotch. And he hadn't just thought about testing that invulnerability. "You're not getting coffee until you trade milk for it."

"Sadist!" It was a gasped sort of laugh, full of teasing and mockery, but Clark did give up the milk. That was a victory in and of itself.

"Hmmm." Martha shook her head. "Maybe I should be glad I only raised one boy instead of two."

"I'm not known as a ruthless businessman for nothing, I'll have you know." He rose from his knees, and once he was standing offered the jug to Martha. "Milk?"

"Thank you, dear," Martha told him sweetly. "I appreciate it."

"Milk thief," Clark bemoaned from the floor. "Where is Superman when you need him?"

"I think we left him back in the bathroom." Lex uncapped it, poured milk first into his coffee, then into Martha's. "You want any, Clark? Or have you had enough milk for one day?"

"Maybe I can just have the jug back?"

Martha shook her head. "Only if you promise to buy me more milk, Clark!"

Lex felt his mouth twitch as he dangled the milk jug off of two fingers in Clark's general direction. Maybe domesticity was poisonous at a certain level of exposure, or poisonous to his world-view. "You keep playing with milk, Clark, and I'm going to take my weirded-out self and go research stocks online. Don't tempt me."

As if he actually could or would leave the enveloping warm feeling of Martha Kent's kitchen, the sweet bready smell of cake fresh baked.

"I swear I'll be good and resist the urge to blow bubbles," Clark swore, standing up off of the floor with a smile. "So long as I get some cake to go with it."

"Martha, do you trust him with cake?" Lex picked up his cup, and turned smoothly to glance at her. He handed Clark the milk, all poise and coolness despite that he'd moments before tackled his lover -- friend? Lover. That was going to be an endless mental debate -- for the milk jug.

"Clark would do a lot for cake..." Martha began thoughtfully.

"I'll be good," Clark promised again, giving them both a winsome sort of smile. It was enough to win over almost anyone, Lex was sure. "I'll drink my milk and eat my cake."

"I wonder if I can be criminally charged for corrupting an obviously young mind. Martha, do you think they'd bother...?" He wasn't going to think of the fucking Metropolis Police. He was going to sit down in his chair, did sit down, and take a long sip of coffee that stung his tongue. And didn't think of killing police, not even passingly.

"No, dear, I think it's reached the point where he's much too old for anyone to charge you with anything." Martha was cutting cake for them both and putting them on plates, being sure to cut big pieces for both of them. She'd always liked trying to fatten Lex up a bit.

There was, frankly, little harm in her trying, and Lex wasn't going to discourage her. He merely sat there, taking smaller sips of coffee, watching them both. Watching Clark, watching Martha helped him empty his head of any thoughts, good or bad.

"So," Clark said, picking up the fork that Martha gave him and digging into his cake. "Not much talking earlier. Um. But, anyway, Mom. You've got my cell number. I'll be staying at Lex's for a while."

"It's not so far from the Planet," Lex chipped in after a moment, sneaking a glance up at Martha to gauge her reaction. He had a sneaking feeling that he needed the opportunity to talk with Martha alone, somehow, and do the same with Clark. Somehow. The dynamic was different with both of them in the room.

Relaxed. Perhaps a little silly.

"Hm. No, I suppose it isn't," Clark's mother said with careful inflection. "We do want you to be safe, Lex." And more than safe, or at least Clark did, though the words went unspoken.

"And it's refreshing to know that." He picked his fork up, and schooled himself to not fiddle with it. Much. "My father claims that he's cleaned up LuthorCorp's security, and mine will be taken care of as well by now."

"Well, by tomorrow morning, anyway," Clark agreed. "But still. Better to be safe than sorry for at least a little while."

Better safe than sorry? What a fine proverb book Jonathan Kent must have pulled that one from. He could prove the veracity of that idiotic little jewel with far too little effort. He still hadn't gotten around to mutilating that disc, had he? "I'm sorry, I don't think I followed that."

"I mean, I want to be sure you're safe and your security's okay before I leave you in the penthouse alone," Clark said.

Martha's voice was stern when she spoke to him. "Clark. Lex can take care of himself, you know."

"Apparently I can't," Lex murmured, and the sarcastic bite of his words wasn't as sharp as it should have been. Because Clark didn't think he could, and he certainly hadn't proved that he could.

"I didn't say he couldn't, or that you can't," Clark protested, looking at both of them helplessly. "It's just, I, I don't want anything bad to happen, and I can make sure it doesn't. I can make sure of it..."

"Jesus." Lex twisted in his chair to glare sharply at Clark, setting his fork down with a click on the plate. Clark looked like a kicked or kickable puppy, but Lex reminded himself once more that Clark was as helpless as a rabid mastiff. "Clark, are you listening to yourself?"

The sullen pout on his alien's mouth was fucking adorable. Dammit. "Yes," Clark sulked. "But I can make sure!"

"We know you can, dear, but we've talked about this." Martha was stern, looking straight across at him. "We talked about this when your father died. You can't be everywhere, Clark. You can't do everything. And while wanting to protect the people you love is an admirable, beautiful desire, you need to let us protect ourselves sometimes."

Nail on the head, but Lex wasn't going to become Martha's personal cheering section. He just nodded to her before looking at Clark again. "Part of being a fragile human is knowing that any day you can break and die. And appreciate life because of it, Clark. You'll burn yourself out if you try to do and save everything, and neither of us wants that to happen to you." He sounded like the voice of reason, Lex noted to himself.

It was beautifully ironic.

"I just..." Clark's eyes closed and he sighed. "All right. All right." He seemed to give in, even though it was obvious that he didn't want to do so. Maybe he even meant it.

"Good." He wasn't going to pry at Clark's decision, not since he liked it. "Later, we'll figure out the matter of the penthouse." And a lot of other things, but Clark's mother was there and he wasn't sure he could handle the oddness factor of that just yet.

Martha nodded firmly. "You boys do that. Now, eat your cake, Lex, and if the two of you like, I'll figure out something that you'll both like for supper."

The pitiful expression on Clark's face was really a sort of chastisement. It was also very likely to get him what he wanted for supper. "Pizza?" he asked hopefully.

No one would ever guess that he was at least a quarter century old. Neither would they mistake him for Superman. Just as well.

Murderers would be throwing Papa John's boxes at him in hope of distracting him. Or Pizza Hut with a side-order of Marva maid milk and cake. "Not that he has an affinity for pizza. Or that the people at that place downtown don't know him by name."

Food, food and food -- was that what normal families did? Sat around and ate? Lex wasn't sure he could stand being fed quite so regularly.

"Hey! I like Mangia's!" Clark protested, looking a bit sheepish. "It's nice, and Mrs. Mangia always gives me extra lasagna!"

"That's my son," Martha said to herself, shaking her head. "Lex, why don't the two of you go watch a bit of television? I'll do something about supper. NO pizza," was sternly decided.

At least he wasn't expected to eat all of that cake. But it would probably find its way back to him. Not that it wasn't good, but...

"Don't let me watch the news," Lex prefaced as he started to stand up, intent on carrying his coffee with him. It was less than a day before that he'd sat down in front of that same TV and watched himself, heard himself, and... He was glad that his borrowed sweatshirt was warm and smelled like Clark, even though he had Clark right at his side, too.

"Nah. I think they're having some kind of Disney special on somewhere or other today. You know, Sound of Music, Swiss Family Robinson..." Clark looked delighted at the thought. It was actually a little frightening. "I love Swiss Family Robinson. That whole thing with the snake..."

"This could be blackmail material, you know. I've read the book, naturally, but I don't think I've seen however Disney butchered it -- you've got my morbid curiosity piqued." He sat down on the sofa, folding himself comfortably and seated just so that he was obviously leaving his right side open for Clark. Not subtle, no, but subtle was a waste of time with his friend. Arm over the back of the sofa, coffee firmly in left hand, and a slightly arched eyebrow would do the trick, Lex hoped.

He wasn't wrong, either, because Clark settled in and pulled Lex in close to his side with one hand even while he reached for the remote with the other. It was obvious that Clark felt the remote belonged to him from the way his fingers curved around it. "Hey! It was good," he protested, flicking past a channel full of fishing and another with some stock car race, vehicles flying around and around in frantic little circles.

Nascar. Not, in Lex's opinion, as interesting a sport to watch as football or basketball. But the crashes, oh, those fiery crashes with smoke and flipping cars...

"I didn't say it wasn't good. I merely said that compared to the book, it was probably butchered." Lex let his arm drop into place over Clark's shoulders. The most comfortable position he could find was to lean into Clark, and let his hand dangle at the back of Clark's neck, and sort of half-watch the TV. Because as much as TV was going to give him mindless background noise, the foreground noise of his mind was going on about smooth skin and warmth, and savoring Clark like he were expensive cake.

"Are you warm enough?" Clark asked him, clicking once more and finding the Disney special. "You can snuggle. I like it when you snuggle," he offered, reaching for a soft cotton throw on the back of the couch just in case Lex might be.

"How about we don't use that word any more?" It just gave a stab at Lex's ego, and made him want to get up and flex to prove that he was manly. Manly and strong, and not pressing closer into his friend and lover.

Fuck machismo -- he had lilac shirts and good sex.

"It's lounging. We'll do it on the leather sofa in the penthouse, and I'll prove that."

"Ah. Lounging. I'll bet you have some kind of silk blankets up there, right?" The way Clark teased him made him smile despite everything, even as the throw ended up over both of them, Clark putting off enough heat to keep them warm in a snow storm.

"Satin. And very expensive fleece." That snowstorm theory would have to be tested, but it certainly had some weight behind it. Clark had carried Lex through the Antarctic twice and he still had all of his fingers and toes. "Shhh, we're supposed to be watching this, aren't we?"

"Right," Clark agreed, though it was obvious that he really planned on snuggling with Lex a little more. "We're watching this. Big snake. All that."

"Grainy film and semi-pathetic costuming... whole nine yards." And then Lex went silent, trying to seriously watch the television. And seriously relax into Clark, too, letting his fingers stroke at the back of his neck, and idle over his chest through the fabric of his shirt.

He guessed that was what normal people did on weekends, instead of half-doing work.

"It's a part of the Disney experience," Clark explained. His hand was placed lightly against Lex's arm, and it felt really, really good. "Can't be a grownup without it, Lex."

"Oh, you can't?" It was decently mind-numbing, and Lex could appreciate that. "Someone should've told me that before I grew up..."

"How are you boys?" Martha's voice was pitched so carefully that it didn't startle him; he twisted his head a little, laying it on Clark's shoulder at the same time, to see her coming into the living room with a towel in her hands, drying them.

"We're good, Mom," Clark told her, not turning away from the movie. "What's for dinner?"

"Lasagna, and it's already baking." She moved to sit down in the lazy-boy that was nearby. "You two aren't doing anything inappropriate under that blanket, are you?"

Lex closed his eyes for a moment -- the idea hadn't crossed his mind until she said it. "Martha..."

"Mmm, lasagna. Mom's is even better than Mrs. Mangia's," Clark declared, almost foggy-eyed. It was no wonder that Martha might make certain assumptions.

"Clark..."

Oh, no, she was laughing at them. Lex sighed, mouth twitching of it's own will. "He's just oblivious, Mrs. Kent."

"Hey, she mentioned food," Clark protested. "And you're supposed to be watching Swiss Family Robinson!"

"I'm watching." Watching the rise and fall of Clark's chest, while he toyed with the idea of whether or not Clark actually needed to breath. Listening was more than enough.

"Well, you boys just keep being good, then," Martha said, putting her feet up with the pull of a lever. "And I promise you'll be fed just as soon as the movie's over."

No need to reply to that, so Lex relaxed again. It was easy to let himself drift, watching Clark's chest with intensity in his eyes. Part of him wondered what Clark's DNA, his very molecules looked like; the other part of him wanted that damned sweatshirt off and to be doing something very inappropriate to Clark.

Neither were to happen in those moments, because Lex dozed peaceably off to sleep. It was just one of those things people did on a Sunday evening.

Dozing off on the couch might be one of those things people did on a Sunday evening, but yelling furious curses at the paper probably wasn't something most people did Monday morning.

"Lex," Clark soothed frantically, glad that his mother had gone in to work. "Lex, it's all right, we can..."

"Fuck 'we', Clark -- that, that cold-blooded Bastard! That fucking rotten, goddamned--" Lex felt his shoulder threaten to come out of its socket when he hurled the 'entertainment' section of the Metropolis Star at the most undecorated wall of the house.

The next time he saw his father, he was going to bust his nose in, or snap the horns off of Lionel's head that he so obviously spent too much time sharpening.

"Fuck!"

"Throwing things isn't going to help, Lex. Especially if somebody sees you throwing things. That's just going to make his denial of your... What was it he said? Ah. Right. 'Current emotional status' seem even more real." Clark knew Lex wasn't his usual self, but neither was he having such intense problems as Lionel had implied.

Clark could just imagine the plummet of LexCorp stock this morning.

There was every chance that the interview he'd given Lois would override the damage. But it wasn't supposed to override some unforseen damage, it was supposed to bolster his stock. His company.

Lex stared at the little dent he'd put in the wall, and stood still as he concentrated on calming down, or pretending to calm down. "That bastard, Clark -- that fucking... he's going to rip my throat out with a toothy smile!"