Language of Love
by dogpoet
Genre: Romance/AU.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Lex/Clark
Spoilers: Through season two
Summary: Clark hates poetry. At least that's what he thinks.

Notes: The Yeats poem is "A Deep-sworn Vow." The Shakespeare Sonnet is #29. The villanelle Lex quotes is "One Art" by Elizabeth Bishop. But the rest is mine, all mine. Oh, except, ha ha, for the characters... I don't own them. I'm not making any money off of them, either. So if you're a lawyer, go away!

"Come on, Clark, it'll be fun!" Chloe gave him her sweetest, most pleading look.

"I hate poetry."

The afternoon sun shone down on them as they sprawled in the quad poring over the fall course catalogue.

"Pleeeeease." She made little kissing sounds, puckering up to him. He pulled away.

"Chloe! Stop it."

"A girl can always dream, can't she?"

"Don't bug me." He gave her a little shove and she rolled over several times, laughing.

"You know, if you want to be a journalist, poetry is excellent training. It teaches you to be concise, and how to describe things. Plus, if you don't sign up with me, I'm going to out you to the cute boy from that psych class we took."

Clark knew she wouldn't really. Briefly he wondered if she meant outing his powers, or the other thing. It was nice not to have secrets from Chloe.

"Okay, I'll do it," he sighed. "But only if you watch the Star Trek marathon with me."

"Fine." She scrambled to her feet and held a hand out to Clark. "Let's get going before all the good stuff is taken."

Twenty desks arranged in a circle greeted Clark when he got to the room. Chloe was already there, and he sat beside her.

"Tell me again how you talked me into this?"

"I threatened blackmail." She grinned.

"I'm going to dig up some dirt on you so I have leverage next time."

"At least the reading load is light. This class will be a breeze, Clark."

"I hope you're right." Not that it mattered. School had always been easy for Clark and college hadn't changed that. He watched the other students come in. Most of them were girls. And one boy who was definitely gay. The poetry crowd. Clark groaned inwardly. What had he gotten himself into?

Soon fifteen of the desks were filled. That had been the class limit. They all shifted in their seats waiting for the professor.

Clark's seat faced the door and he was the first to see Professor Luthor. All of Clark's professors so far had been obvious academic types, generally older, kind of how you'd imagine professors. Not at all like the man who took a seat directly across the circle from Clark. He moved with a strange grace and looked right at Clark as he spoke.

"Good afternoon, everyone. I'm Professor Luthor, but you can call me Lex." He withdrew a sheaf of papers from his briefcase. "I'm passing out a questionnaire that will help me get to know you better. This is a personal class. I want to know something about you before we begin."

The papers made their way around the circle. Clark tried to concentrate. Not only was Professor Luthor younger than most faculty, but he wore jeans and a black button down shirt, and it was just...wrong. Professors didn't dress like that. The clothes hugged his body and Clark couldn't stop staring. Chloe elbowed him.

"Clark?"

He realized she was waiting for her questionnaire. He took one and passed the pile to her.

Clark gazed down at the paper and blindly groped in the pocket of his backpack for a pen. A few minutes later, Professor Luthor (Clark couldn't think of him as Lex) collected the questionnaires and had them introduce themselves.

After they had all given their spiels, he said, "As you know, my name is Lex Luthor. You're probably wondering if I'm related to the Luthors of Luthorcorp. I'm not."

He passed another sheaf of papers to his right.

"I have degrees in business and chemistry, but my true passion is the written word. You may have heard it said that poetry is the language of love. It helps us express what no other art form can express. I've xeroxed a few poems for us to look at, but, after today, we'll be working exclusively on your own writing. I'll give an assignment at the end of class. All of you will complete it, and turn it in to my mailbox by Tuesday afternoon. I'll choose four people to be workshopped next time we meet. All right, then. Yeats. Will someone read it? Clark?"

Clark's head jerked up in embarrassment.

"Go ahead." Professor Luthor smiled.

"Okay." Clark knew he was blushing. He'd never read a poem aloud before. Was there a right way? Chloe smirked at him, which didn't help. He cleared his throat and read.

"Others because you did not keep
That deep sworn vow have been friends of mine; Yet always when I look death in the face, When I clamber to the heights of sleep, Or when I grow excited with wine,
Suddenly I meet your face."

"Thank you," Professor Luthor said quietly, and Clark felt a shiver course through him. Whether it was the poem or Professor Luthor's voice causing his reaction, he couldn't be sure.

Chloe sipped the foam from her cappuccino, then licked her lips. Clark preferred his coffee black. The day had turned chilly and overcast and they'd taken refuge in the coffee shop.

"So, Clark," Chloe insinuated, "how's the assignment coming?"

"What assignment?"

"Don't play dumb."

Clark rubbed his fists against his eyes and groaned.

"That great, huh? I would think you'd have plenty of motivation for getting all the homework done."

"You know, sometimes we're having a conversation and I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"I'm talking about the hot guy who teaches the class." Chloe waggled her eyebrows at him.

"He's bald."

"So, what? He's hot."

"Whatever."

"Feign to deny it, Clark, you were staring."

"I wasn't."

"Were too." Chloe chewed on a wooden stirrer.

"Have you written your poem?"

"Yup."

"Really?"

"You're a loser, Clark. Better get going, otherwise I'll seduce the professor first."

"You don't really think he's hot, do you?" Clark felt his pulse quicken as he recalled Professor Luthor's pale skin and blue eyes.

"Mmm, totally."

Clark laughed.

"But I think he'd look cuter with you."

"Will you get over this obsession with me being gay?"

"I'm just saying."

The poem was due tomorrow. Clark understood the expression about banging your head against the wall because that was exactly what he felt like doing. Except he'd break the wall.

Poetry workshop was most definitely not a gut. Clark had spent more time on his poem than he had on Astronomy. The assignment was: write a poem about where you come from. Professor Luthor had made sure to mention that this didn't necessarily mean to write about Lawrence, Kansas. It could be something less concrete. In fact, he had said they should feel free to interpret the assignment in any way they chose.

Clark briefly considered turning his Astronomy homework in for both classes, since, technically, it fulfilled the poetry assignment. His meteor report read better than the two poems he'd written. They were exactly the type of boring thing Professor Luthor didn't want. Clark worked well into the night before finally producing a poem that satisfied him.

Origins

Darkness.
It shifts around me
and the cows know I'm here. They put their whiskered faces in my hands.
I know
dawn is coming soon. And rain
today. Because the wind
moves things. Whispers.
I walk out in the tall grass
we should have hayed yesterday.
Now, we'll have to wait
another week.

Above me, the sky moves.
No, I move. The sky stays still.
The stars are up there, some of them gone before I see them. There are empty places where planets used to be.

My mother says we all wonder
where we came from. My father says
we all wonder where we're going.

My father's grandfather built this house. It creaks, but holds me
when I'm lying
in my bed. It holds us when we're sitting at the table. When we love each other.
And when we don't. It holds all of our pasts but no future.

As Clark entered the classroom, he was relieved that he hadn't been chosen to do his poem for this class. He wasn't ready. It was enough that he'd had to write the poem in the first place.

He slid into his seat beside Chloe.

"Hey."

"How'd it go? Did you find your muse?"

"My what?"

"You know, your inspiration." She flashed him a wide smile.

"I guess. What did you write about?" Chloe didn't have to go that day either. They'd both been spared.

"Just this place where I used to hang out as a kid. This park on the east side."

"I always forget you lived here before."

"Yeah. I'll take you there sometime. It has these long concrete slides. We can get some cardboard and slide down them."

"Sounds fun." They both turned toward the door. Professor Luthor took a different seat this time, a few desks away from Clark and Chloe. He wore a lavender shirt and black slacks. None of Clark's professors ever wore lavender shirts. At least not the men. In fact, Clark had never seen a man wear a lavender shirt. But he thought Professor Luthor looked nice. Refined and laid back at the same time.

"Let's begin," he said. "Justin. Would you like to start?"

While Justin read an awful poem about the ghetto (had he really been raised in a tenement?), Clark was reminded of why he hated poetry. He felt like putting his hands over his ears. He and Chloe exchanged a pained glance. Clark expected the discussion to be brutal and/or boring. But, to his amazement, Professor Luthor turned the whole thing around, wording his comments in a way that showed what the poem had going for it (even though that wasn't much) and how Justin might make it better. Three other students, whose poems weren't much better, read their work. Everyone joined in the discussion, and, all in all, the class went well.

Clark had to hand it to Professor Luthor. There was something about him--the way he talked, the soothing tone of his voice--that made everything interesting. He managed to use each of the poems to teach the class about some aspect of writing. Clark found himself leaning forward on his desk, trying to catch every word, every facial expression. He thought he caught Professor Luthor studying him now and then, but he couldn't be sure.

At four o'clock, Professor Luthor dismissed the class. Three hours. Clark was surprised that he didn't want it to end. He and Chloe gathered their things and headed for the door.

"Clark."

Clark turned around and Professor Luthor touched his elbow lightly. Clark could feel the tingle all the way up his spine.

"I liked your poem. Keep up the good work."

"Um, thanks."

"Don't be afraid to write honestly. Even if we're doing the poem in class."

Clark nodded, "Okay."

Professor Luthor smiled at him, regarding him with curiosity and something more that Clark couldn't quite identify. Then the moment was over and he and Chloe were making their way down the crowded hallway. They burst out of the double doors of Stetson Hall and into the golden sunlight.

"Oh my god, Clark, he was totally checking you out!" Chloe exclaimed, not very discreetly.

"What? Who?"

She leaned in and said in a fierce whisper, "Lex!"

"Professor Luthor?"

"You dum-dum." Chloe smacked his head. "He said to call him Lex. And, yes, are you blind?? You know, for someone with," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "superpowers," she glanced around, then went back to her normal tone, "you sure are dense."

"Maybe I'm just not obsessed like you. Maybe he was looking at you. We were standing together."

"No, Clark. No." Chloe shook her head. "He's hot for you."

"What did I do to deserve this? You never stop heckling me."

"I'm a reporter. It's my job to heckle." They were nearing the snack bar.

"He's a professor, Chloe. He's not supposed to fraternize with students."

Chloe stopped in her tracks and gave him a look that could kill.

"I hope that won't stop you."

"Stop me from what?"

"You know, going for it."

"I don't even know why I'm discussing this with you," he said impatiently.

"Because you love me? Will you treat today, I'm out of cash and I'm totally starving." Chloe hugged her books to her chest.

Clark sighed, pretending to be put out. "I will if you quit bugging me."

"I'll quit bugging you," she promised.

They resumed their walk.

"At least for this afternoon," Chloe said.

Clark had been one of the four students selected to read the following week. Which meant that he was incredibly stressed about writing the poem. It was agonizing. And the assignment was to write about something they'd lost--a thing, a person, some part of themselves. Why was it that it took three poems to get to the one poem he would turn in? Clark had crumpled two whole poems in the wastebasket in his dorm room.

Finally, he wandered outside. He lay on the lawn under a couple of gnarly maples, spinning the dry samara between his thumb and forefinger when he needed to think. Occasionally, a leaf would drift down and land on him. It was that kind of day, sort of lazy and warm in spite of a recent cold snap that had brought a blush to the trees.

Clark copied the lines onto a fresh piece of paper. He wasn't quite happy with what he'd written. He began to doodle a leaf in the margin. He could hear soft footfalls in the grass, but he ignored them. People had been passing by all afternoon.

He caught sight of a pair of brown leather shoes that had come to a stop in front of him. He looked up, arching his neck. It was Professor Luthor.

"Hi, Clark. I hope I'm not bothering you."

"Uh, hi, Professor Luthor, I was just working on my poem."

"Call me Lex."

"I forgot. I'm sorry." Clark sat up.

"No need to be. May I look at what you've written?"

Clark hesitated.

"It's perfectly all right to say no. But I like your writing. I'd love to see it a day early."

"You've only seen one poem. How can you tell?"

Lex shrugged. "May I sit?"

Clark nodded, and Lex sat beside him on the grass. Today he was wearing a white shirt, jeans, and a dark tweed jacket. The top button of the shirt was undone and Clark noted the pale skin framed by paler fabric.

Two girls walked by, giggling. "Hi, Lex," they chimed. Lex glanced up briefly and waved. The girls giggled more before moving on.

Lex's eyes met Clark's and Clark saw amusement there.

"Here," Clark said, and handed the notebook to Lex.

"Read it to me. I want to hear it in your voice."

"Okay." Then something occurred to him. "Is it okay for you to be sitting here? With me, I mean?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know." Embarrassed, Clark focussed on the poem. "It's called The Question Mark.

"Once upon a time, I was loved.
My mother held me in her arms.
Was I like any other baby?
Did I cry? Did I ask for things
I didn't know how to express?

When my mother let me go,
did she know I would never come back?

In my childhood, there was no pain.
My new mother held me in her arms.
She called me by a different name.
But she loved me just the same.

In my childhood, no pain
but the carved question mark
deep inside my skin."

Clark didn't know if he was supposed to say something, or what. He kept quiet and listened to the wind in the leaves. He could hear voices far away, people walking by. It was peaceful. Finally, he ventured a glance at Lex.

Lex had a faraway look on his face. His first question surprised Clark.

"Have you ever met your birth parents?"

"I--no."

"You must always wonder about them."

Clark nodded. "It's not exactly about something I lost. Not really."

"You lost your parents."

"I was too young to remember."

"I have a theory that we hold memories in our bodies. Even if our minds have forgotten, our bodies remember. It seems like you say something similar in your poem. It's not just genetic material, it's like a physical embodiment of a certain time in your life." Lex caressed the metal of his watchband.

Clark noticed, for the first time, the scar splitting Lex's lip. That was a memory too, but probably not one Lex had forgotten. The pale line suddenly seemed incredibly beautiful to Clark.

They sat quietly for a moment.

Finally, Clark asked, "Do you think I need to fix anything?"

Lex looked surprised. "No, Clark. Don't change a thing." He stood up and dusted off his jeans. "I'll see you in class."

What did it mean that Clark thought about his conversation with Lex all day. He was so distracted at dinner that Chloe asked him if he'd discovered a new superpower or something. He finished his other homework on auto-pilot, pencilling equations without really thinking about them, scanning his Journalism 357 reading without absorbing a word. At around eleven, he couldn't stand it anymore. He turned off the light, undressed, and lay in bed even though the dorm stayed noisy until at least midnight. It was hopeless trying to sleep before then.

He'd been attracted to guys before. He'd even fooled around a bit in Metropolis that one summer, but he hadn't gone very far. So, in fact, at twenty, he was still a virgin. It was sickening, really. He'd always been afraid of losing control, of hurting the person.

It was painful to like someone but to feel you could never be with them.

That thin line on Lex's lip kept popping into Clark's head. He wondered what it felt like. What it tasted like. What had caused it. What memories lay there. Clark pushed the blankets away. He was suddenly hot, even though the windows were open and the air had cooled.

Clark rolled over onto his stomach and contemplated the glowing clock display. 11:15. Clark groaned in frustration.

Lex's body held many mysteries besides its magnetic pull on Clark... No one knew quite how Lex had lost his hair, but there were all sorts of theories--chemotherapy, AIDS. Some people even thought he shaved it every day. Speculation abounded about whether he had hair elsewhere. Clark had been tempted to use his x-ray vision to find out. But, in the end, he couldn't. It seemed, however, that he was fine with imagining it. The image had come unbidden into his mind. Lex's pale body, bare and elegant. Clark could feel himself getting hard. He shifted, rubbing against the bed. Hoping against hope that he'd be able to fall asleep.

"Fine, I admit it." Clark dropped his backpack at the foot of Chloe's bed.

"Admit what, Clark?" Chloe raised her eyebrows.

"I like him."

Chloe got it instantly. She bounced on the bed. "Ha ha. I knew it."

"Shut up."

"I knew you were attracted to him. You were practically consuming him with your gaze on the first day of class," she said dramatically.

"I was not." Clark could feel his face getting hot.

Chloe stood up and grabbed her bag. "Clark, we gotta get you moving. I know you're all worried about it, but, listen, it's time to get you laid."

Clark picked up his backpack.

"I agree." Clark sighed. "But not by a professor."

"Why not? He's sexy, experienced, hot, what more could you want? He's even single. I did a little research for you."

"You did research?"

They exited the room and Chloe locked the door.

"I also found out he is related to Lionel Luthor of Luthorcorp. He's Lionel's son. But Lionel disowned him a few years ago, so, technically, they aren't related anymore."

"Chloe, you're insane."

"I know."

"And have I mentioned obsessed?"

"I think you did mention that." Chloe skipped down the stairs ahead of Clark. "And I'm just insane enough to want to help you get laid."

During the discussion of Clark's poem, Lex had remained quiet, letting the other students comment. Occasionally, he would direct the collective thought a certain way, but mostly, he observed, took notes on his copy of the poem, and stole glances at Clark.

It wasn't just a mood because he was his usual self during the discussion of Chloe's work. Clark liked the poem. It was about Chloe's mother cooking pancakes for her when she was a little girl.

When Chloe had trouble reading the lines, Clark reached out and held her hand. She smiled gratefully at him. Most of the time Chloe was so happy and bouncy, he forgot that she could be sad. He even sometimes forgot how much she had been through in her life.

It was funny, Clark thought, how almost everyone he knew had lost a parent or a sibling. It seemed like life was so full of loss and heartache. Even while there were good things and happy times. Friendship and love.

A strange mood descended on Clark and didn't lift even when class had finished and he and Chloe had beelined to the snack bar for some nourishment.

It was almost dark when he finally headed to his room to unload his books before dinner. Chloe had a meeting for her English class, so Clark was left alone. It didn't help his mood. And neither did the drop in temperature, which somehow made the world seem lonelier.

He halted his progress in front of Wilson Hall. Lex's office was in there, he knew, and he wondered where Lex was. Whether he worked late, if he had someone to go home to. He tried to imagine Lex as just Lex, not Professor Luthor. Somehow he couldn't.

"It's kind of cold to be standing out here, don't you think?" The voice came from behind him. Clark turned.

"Hi, Profess--I mean, Lex. Sorry."

Lex smirked. Clark was glad it was nearly dark.

"Where's Chloe?"

"She had some meeting for class," Clark said, confused.

"You two are usually together," Lex said in explanation.

"We've been friends since eighth grade."

"Ah. She's not your girlfriend, then."

"No. No. I mean... just, no."

Lex laughed.

"We tried that once," Clark continued. "I don't have a girlfriend," he added lamely.

"I see."

"Well, I guess I'd better be going. Are you going to--never mind, I guess not."

"What?"

"I was going to ask you if you were going to dinner, but you actually have a house, and you don't have to eat at the... Sorry." If he kept putting his foot in his mouth, he wasn't going to be hungry for dinner.

"I am going to dinner, actually, but, yes, at my house, not at the dining hall." Lex shuffled his feet, scraping them on the pavement.

"Okay, I guess I'll see you in class. Or somewhere."

"Would you like to have dinner with me?" Clark detected a catch in Lex's voice, like he wasn't quite sure if he was allowed to ask.

Clark could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He knew that sometimes professors had meals with students in the dining hall. It was perfectly normal. Usually they had lunch, not dinner, but was it really any different?

"I'm sorry," Lex apologized. "I shouldn't have asked, maybe."

"No. I mean, yes, I would love to."

Lex seemed relieved. "We could go to Baxter. It's the closest."

"Sure. That sounds great." The dining hall. He meant the dining hall, not his house. It was perfectly normal, Clark repeated in his head. But his body felt a buzz of electricity from being near Lex. Their arms brushed against each other as they walked side by side.

Clark knew from being around Chloe so much that having crushes on professors was common practice. Chloe had a different one each semester, it seemed. And, of course, nothing ever happened. No big family drama where the professor was caught cheating on his wife. Chloe always got over it mid-term, deciding that a balding guy with glasses, no matter how smart, just couldn't hold a candle to her latest student crush. Clark found consolation in this thought, confident that this thing with Lex would wane and, eventually, disappear.

Lex interrupted his reverie. "Do you remember what you wrote on your questionnaire on the first day of class?"

"No."

"You said Chloe had coerced you into taking the class."

"Did I? I didn't mean that."

"I'm not chastising you. I find it ironic, though."

"If you knew Chloe, you'd understand."

"I meant because you're a good writer." There was a gravity to Lex's voice that Clark couldn't ignore.

"Thanks." Clark paused. "I'd never written a poem before."

"Never?"

"Maybe a couple dirty limericks when I was a kid."

Lex laughed again. Clark liked the sound of it. Liked how it made Lex's face look.

They reached the dining hall. Clark slid his card and Lex signed some sort of roster. It was rather loud inside, and Clark regretted that they wouldn't have a quiet place to talk. They both got their meals and Clark indicated a table near the far wall.

As they made their way through the maze of students and tables, Clark spotted Chloe with her study group. When she saw him, her jaw dropped. Under the table, but where he could see, she gave him the thumbs up. Clark rolled his eyes.

Chloe said something to the girls at her table, then leaped up and ran to Clark. When she got to him, she grabbed his earlobe and pulled his head down to her mouth. "Condoms," she hissed, and shoved something into his jeans pocket.

"Chloe," he grated.

But she was already gone, bobbing back toward her table. He was going to kill her later. He had that power and she knew it. Now he had to sit through dinner knowing he had a condom in his pocket. He considered crossing Chloe off his friends list.

Lex set his tray down and took off his jacket, hanging it neatly on the back of the chair. Something about the gesture made a tingle rise up Clark's neck.

It was funny, actually, seeing a professor eat his dinner off a tray. Clark bit his lip, trying not to smile.

The table was square and Clark sat so he and Lex shared a corner of the table.

For a few minutes, there was an uncomfortable silence, made all the more obvious by the noise around them. Clark's reporter's instincts kicked in, and he asked the first question that popped into his head.

"So, why didn't you ever use your other degrees?"

"I did use them. For a while."

"What did you do?"

"I worked for my father."

There was something in Lex's voice, and Clark stopped eating.

"Your father is Lionel Luthor, isn't he?"

"Yes, but I meant what I said about not being related to him. I don't consider myself part of the family and neither does my father."

"He seems..." Clark searched for the right word to describe the man who graced many a page of The Daily Planet.

"Ruthless? Vindictive? Cruel? Unscrupulous?"

Clark couldn't help laughing.

"He's all of those things, Clark. And I'm not." Their eyes met, and Clark felt that shiver again.

"No, I'm sure you're not."

"What about you? There's only so much I can gather from your poems," said Lex, quickly changing the subject.

"There's not much to say."

"I doubt that." Lex's voice was low and matter-of-fact.

"I grew up on a farm in Smallville. I've had a pretty ordinary life, I guess."

Lex studied him curiously. Clark shrugged, embarrassed by the attention.

Clark found out that Lex had always been a writer, but that his father had pushed him to do other things. When Lex had finally broken away, he had decided to do what he loved most. At first, it was difficult to get his poems published, but it wasn't long before he had a pretty good resume going. His manuscript had just been accepted by a small publisher and would come out the following year.

"I'd like to read some of it sometime," Clark said, hopeful.

"That can be arranged."

"I'm surprised... You haven't shown us any of your poems in class."

"I always hated professors who taught classes using their own work." Lex grinned. Clark had never seen anything so enchanting.

"I guess it is sort of weird."

"Besides, I prefer not to reveal my life to just anyone." He looked at Clark intently as he said it.

"I can understand that. I'm the same way."

The dining hall had emptied out. They were among the only people remaining. Time had flown. Clark realized it must be getting late, but he didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay here forever, talking to this man who managed to be both enigmatic and forthright. It wasn't just the reporter in him that made Clark want to know everything there was to know about Lex.

"I suppose we should go." Lex nodded toward a worker who had begun stacking the chairs on the tables.

They stood and placed their trays on the conveyor.

Outside, the sky was clear and dark, even with the light pollution from the city. Their breath came out in clouds. Clark felt like holding Lex's hand. He banished the thought immediately. It was silly, ridiculous even, and completely forbidden. He felt like he was in high school again, heart fluttering over Lana Lang.

At the main intersection of the academic quad, Lex stopped and turned to Clark.

"Thank you for dinner. I'm glad we had a chance to talk."

"Me, too. Can I walk you somewhere?"

"I think I can take care of myself."

Clark could see Lex's amusement even in the dim light from the lamps lining the path.

"I didn't mean..."

"I know. You're this solicitous with everyone, aren't you?"

"Habit," Clark said, grinning. "Lots of weird things happen in Smallville, so I got used to keeping an eye on my friends."

Lex nodded, a strange expression on his face. "Smallville: creamed corn capital of Kansas."

"Not anymore, it isn't."

"I know. My father changed that. But that's what the sign used to say."

"Really? I don't remember."

"You're probably too young to remember."

"Oh." Clark flushed, mortified. He didn't want to be young, not around Lex. Something occurred to him. "You've been to Smallville?"

"Once. When I was a kid."

Clark tried imagining that, but couldn't. "It's kind of a weird place."

"Yes, thanks to the meteors. I've read some of Chloe's articles on the strange phenomena in your town."

"Why would you want to read about Smallville?"

"I was there. When the meteors hit. Just call it personal interest."

"You were--"

"Goodnight, Clark." Lex took a step backward and lifted his hand in farewell.

"Goodnight."

After Lex had gone, Clark puzzled over what he had said. He had been there during the meteor shower. It was time to call Chloe. There had to be more to the story.

Clark knocked three times on Chloe's door.

"Come in," she called.

Clark opened the door and stepped inside. Chloe looked up from her homework and squinted at him through her glasses.

"Who are you? You look like my friend Clark, but you can't be because Clark is busy getting laid by his really hot poetry professor. You must be his boring twin."

Clark sat on the bed next to Chloe. "Are back issues of the Smallville Ledger on line?"

"Okay, whoa. Tell me about the date. Details. I want details." Chloe bounced on the mattress.

"It wasn't a date. We had dinner. Students and professors do that sometimes, you know."

"Yeah, but they don't trade smoldering glances over their chicken Kiev. So what gives?"

"Chloe, he was in Smallville that day. The day of the meteor shower."

"Do you think that's why--oh." She got up and sat at her computer. "The Ledger won't have that day online, but the Planet might." She typed quickly. "I have an unlimited account with them, so we can get all the articles we want."

Clark didn't move from his seat on the bed. He was afraid to. A minute passed in silence. Clark let himself flop back onto the mattress.

"Clark?"

"Go ahead, tell me the bad news."

"He lost his hair in the meteor shower. He went into a brief coma, but then he was fine. At least that's what the paper says."

Clark sighed.

"It's all my fault, Chloe."

"Clark, we've been through this."

"He'll hate me."

"Um, Mr. Secrecy, are you planning on telling him or something?"

Clark didn't respond.

"Are you serious? You hold out on me all those years and then you know this guy for a few weeks and you're thinking of telling him?"

"No." Clark sat up. "Nothing's going to happen. I don't know why I even think about it."

"Don't be such a fatalist," Chloe retorted.

Clark extracted the plastic packet from his pocket. "Flavored? You gave me a flavored condom?"

"I call them multi-purpose condoms."

"Two flavored condoms," Clark said incredulously.

"Duh. There are two of you, Sherlock."

"Oh yeah."

"You're hopeless. Listen, don't worry about telling him. Just have sex. He wants to, I'm telling you."

Clark groaned and flopped back onto the bed.

"I'm scared." It felt good to have someone he could say that to.

"Scared of what? It'll be great."

"I've always been afraid I'll lose control and hurt someone."

"You're just rationalizing your virginity."

"What if...what if it's, like, acidic or something. Or what if it makes him sick?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Clark!" She grabbed his shoulders and tried unsuccessfully to shake some sense into him. Then, as if a light bulb had come on in her head, she said, "Wanna come in a jar and have me test it for you in Chem lab?"

"No!" Clark rolled over.

"Well, then."

God, Chloe could be so smug.

Clark let the door to his room close with a bang. He tossed his backpack in the corner, stripped, and climbed into bed. He had decided that the purest form of torture was being able to see something you wanted when you couldn't have it. Like Tantalus in the myths. The guy was doomed. He lived in the worst kind of hell ever invented.

Add to that, Clark's own personal hell of having a stupid secret that he didn't really want to keep, and life was becoming a strain.

So far, no one he had trusted with his secret had failed him. Pete and Chloe had been true to their words. Clark didn't know why, but he trusted Lex. He hoped it wasn't just his dick talking. But Lex had forsaken money, fame, status, power...all so he could teach poetry at a mid-sized university in the middle of what used to be prairie. Lex didn't want the kinds of things he could get by blackmailing Clark. The question was, what did Lex want? If Clark had to come up with something right off the bat, he'd say Lex wanted someone to trust. And Clark, more than anyone, understood that yearning.

He and Chloe had researched a little more. Lex's life read like a Dickens novel. Or a tabloid reporter's wet dream. A mother who had died when Lex was just a boy, a father whose bad side you would never want to be on, a half-brother who was known for his borderline legal business ethics, and a wife who had tried to kill him. Clark didn't blame Lex for turning his back on all of it.

Clark had never been in love. Whatever that was with Lana, it wasn't "in love." He wasn't sure what it had been. Thinking of her brought a hollow feeling to the pit of Clark's stomach. He hadn't spoken to her in months. It was too late to repair all the damage that had been done. Chloe was the only link between them.

Was this what being in love felt like, then? This kind of faith, this belief that the person would never hurt you or betray you? Was it even possible to tell this early in the game?

Clark was, and always had been, dense when it came to knowing if someone liked him. But he could tell with Lex. He could feel it now, the want. Even though Lex was clearly trying to contain it.

But Clark couldn't. He couldn't contain his want any more than he could contain his secret. It burned somewhere inside him, aching to be let out. Twenty years of training hadn't made it easier. It had just frustrated him.

What had gone wrong with Lana, he thought, was that he'd never come clean with her. He'd never treated her with the honesty she deserved. He didn't want to make the same mistake again.

Antsy, and unable to sleep, Clark turned the light on again and grabbed his notebook from the floor. The new assignment was to write a poem about a lie you'd told. How apropos, Clark thought. Then he began to scrawl.

Intact

If I'm made
of the same stuff as stars--
rock, fire, metal,

(You are so beautiful)

If I don't bleed,
If I feel no pain

(not of my kind)

If I run invisibly through the fields
and woods,
through snow and mud

Am I human at all?

I've told the same lie all my life

Pain, blood
Not mine

The morning dawned cold and foggy and Clark overslept. Outside, the air smelled like branches and damp leaves. Before going to class, Clark stopped by Lex's office. A quick scan revealed that Lex was there. Clark pulled the folded sheet of paper from his notebook and slipped it into the mailbox beside the door.

Clark sleepwalked through the rest of the morning. He ran into Chloe at lunch, but she was distracted by prepping for her chem lab. Clark knew it was his fault for co-opting her last night, so he bore her distraction patiently. He didn't tell her what he had done.

After lunch, he passed through Wilson Hall and x-rayed Lex's mailbox. The poem was gone. It was too late to take it back. Clark hurried out of the building. It was almost a week before the next class. He didn't know how he was going to survive.

Clark had the afternoon free. His mind wandered, and his attempts to get work done failed. He sat dreamily at his carrell in the library, staring out at the dampened fire of the trees. A heavy fog hovered over campus, giving Clark a faraway feeling. Like he wasn't really in Kansas anymore.

He wondered if he'd made a mistake. Not like the poem was incriminating evidence or anything, but Lex was pretty good at reading between the lines. What if he did background research and discovered all those times Clark had saved people in Smallville?

But wasn't Clark just as guilty? He had done a background check on Lex. He couldn't help it. He was vulnerable in a way that other people weren't. Even if he was invulnerable physically. Experience had taught Clark to be cautious because people would betray you to earn a buck or save their own asses. Like that jerk Phelan who had tried to expose Clark's secrets to the world.

Clark didn't see Lex that day or the next. He'd begun to feel a deep sense of regret. He'd acted in haste, instead of thinking things over. He felt like going back to when things were simple. If that time had ever existed.

A familiar rhythmic knock sounded on the door of his room.

"It's open."

Chloe flung the door open and stood glaring at him with her hands on her hips.

"What are you doing just lying here? It's Friday night." She stalked over to the bed where Clark lay on his stomach and grabbed the potato chips he was eating.

"Let's do something," she said, mouth full.

"I don't want to."

"You're just sulking because you don't have a date. But whose fault is that, huh?" She crunched more chips.

"Chloe, do you want to go home for the weekend?" he asked quietly.

"Hey, what's wrong, babe?" She gave him her serious expression. Which was marred only by potato chip crumbs. He dusted her chin.

"I don't know. I don't know what to do."

"About Lex? God, you really like him, don't you?"

Clark sighed.

"Shit. Okay, I'll come up with a plan. A plan, Sullivan," she said to herself.

"I put a poem in his mailbox."

"What kind of poem? You sent him a love poem and you didn't even tell me?!"

"No. Just our assignment. I turned it in early."

"Hand it over. I want to see it."

Clark reached for his backpack and pulled a piece of paper out of his notebook. Chloe was silent for a few minutes while she read.

"Clark?"

"Am I stupid?"

"No," Chloe said softly. "I don't know how he could not fall in love with you, that's all. When did you give this to him?"

"Yesterday morning. I put it in his mailbox."

"Have you talked to him?"

"No. Of course not."

"You need to. And I'm not driving you home. Your parents will freak if they know what you're thinking about doing."

"I can run home, Chloe."

"Well, don't. Trust me. I'm right about this."

"My parents have a reason for telling me to keep my abilities a secret."

"I'm not saying they don't. But, in the end, they aren't you. They don't have to live with it in the same way you do. It's your choice."

"What if I make the wrong choice?"

"That's always a possibility, but you can't live like this forever. I mean, think about it. Wasn't life so much better after you told Pete? And it was waaay better after you told me, right?" She grinned at him.

"Yeah, but you're my friends."

"Isn't Lex your friend?"

"How do I know I can trust him?"

"You don't. But can you trust yourself? You're dense, but not stupid, Clark. I think you'd know if someone wanted to hurt you. You've never been wrong about that. You have to have faith in your own judgment. Or at least in my judgment. And I judge Lex to be hot and trustworthy. And he's, like, in love with you. I can see it."

"Oh, God." Clark buried his face in the pillow.

Weekends were usually Clark's catch-up time. He got outside, finished his reading for the week, stayed in bed until nine... But, on this particular weekend, he couldn't sleep. Couldn't concentrate. He almost went home, but thought better of it--his parents would only ask questions he couldn't answer. And he refused to lie to them.

By Sunday night, Clark was a wreck. He found himself wandering the streets of Metropolis, something he had started doing when he needed to clear his head. During his lost summer (as he called it), he'd gotten to know the seamy underbelly of the city. The club scene, the dealers, even a couple of hookers whose services he'd declined. Revisiting the old haunts helped him focus. It reminded him of the person he never wanted to be again.

His visits to the Gage district of the city had become more frequent over the last year. He liked to prowl around at night and keep an eye on things. It was his way of making amends for all the terrible things he'd done that summer. After a taste of that life, he knew how dangerous it could be. He knew how many kids lived on the streets with no one to protect them.

Heading north on Prospect Avenue (the most misnamed street in the city, since it held none at all), he passed more homeless people than should be legal. It was one of the things that had most upset him after he'd come home from Metropolis. During the entire time he'd been wearing the red ring, he hadn't used his powers to help a single person. It was as if he'd been blinded, callous to the suffering of those around him.

He had to face the fact that he couldn't save everyone. He wasn't God. He wasn't good enough, selfless enough, or powerful enough.

For a few hours, he cruised the streets, checking on the girls who worked Salvage Boulevard. And the boys. There were some new ones, younger than Clark, too young to be doing what they were doing. It was another reason he'd been afraid to have sex. One he'd never told Chloe: he'd seen the way those boys were treated and it pained him to the core. He never wanted to feel the way they must feel--used and degraded.

After preventing a mugging and saving a kid from being beaten up by his pimp's thugs, Clark began to shake, overcome with the urge to escape. All of a sudden, he needed the comfort of his room. He needed to see Chloe. Because she always grounded him, made him feel normal. He ran not at super-speed, but at human speed. Just ran. So he could feel the air in his lungs. So he could feel the blood rushing through his veins. So he could feel human.

He tried to forget all the things he'd seen. Because, truth be told, he didn't want to feel responsible. He didn't like knowing that he could be out there all the time, helping people, but he wasn't. He wasn't.

At Liberty Avenue and Third Street, there was a subway station. Clark descended the stairs, suddenly drained. He had just enough money for a token. When he got to the platform, it was empty and quiet. Everyone else was at home where they belonged. Finally, Clark could hear the faint rumble of the train. Gusts of warm wind swept across the platform as the train neared. Clark stood at the far end and watched the cars as they flashed by. He always chose the last car, preferring it to the middle or front cars for some inexplicable reason. But something in the front car caught his eye. He ran down the platform and reached the door to the front car just as it slid open.

He'd been right. It was Lex. He sat casually in one of the sideways seats. Clark's heart sped up a little as he sat in the seat across the aisle.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi, Clark." Lex glanced around as if by doing so he might better understand why Clark was on the subway in a bad neighborhood at midnight on a Sunday night.

"You're probably wondering what I'm doing here."

"The thought had crossed my mind." Lex smiled the smallest of smiles.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"You could. And I might even answer you."

"Well...?"

Lex sat up straighter and pulled his coat protectively around him. "Sometimes I need to think. I've always found the rhythm of trains to be an aid in my meditations."

"So, what are you thinking about tonight?"

"Would it shock you if I told you I was thinking about you?"

"No," Clark answered quietly.

Lex sighed and didn't say anything more. Outside the windows of the train, the walls of the dark tunnel sped by.

After a few minutes, Lex said, "You have blood on your hands, Clark."

Clark examined his hands. There was blood on his jacket, too. How had that happened? He'd hardly touched the guy in the alley. "I know it sounds crazy, but I was beating up someone's pimp. At least I think it was his pimp."

Lex leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. "That was what we in the writing profession call a good opening line. I'm ready to hear the rest of the story."

"It's kind of a long story."

"That's okay. I'm a good listener," Lex assured him.

"I don't think I can tell you the entire thing."

"Whatever you feel comfortable with."

"Okay. Well... See, I ran away from home once when I was sixteen. I guess I saw a lot of things... and I wanted to fix them. Anyway, I was wandering around and I heard this guy yelling. And when I went to look, it was this pimp and he had some sort of bodyguard who was kicking this other guy--I guess he was a hooker. So I kind of intervened."

Clark could feel the intensity of Lex's gaze, but he didn't meet it.

"That's dangerous. You could get hurt."

Clark wasn't ready to give Lex the big confession. Instead, he said, "I can take care of myself."

"I think there are ways you can help people without putting yourself in danger."

"I haven't figured out how yet."

"I know you don't plan on writing poetry your whole life, but you can change things with your words. And I think you will."

"I'd like to be a reporter. An investigative journalist." Clark finally looked up.

"You'd be a good one."

"Thanks."

Lex seemed to be thinking about what he was going to say next. "I suppose you gave me your poem early for a reason."

Clark felt the heat rise to his cheeks. "There are things I want to tell you."

"You want to tell me the lie you've told your whole life?" Lex asked.

"No, I want to tell you the truth."

"Maybe I already know it."

Panic flooded Clark's gut. How could Lex have figured it out? Then he realized Lex must mean something else. He hated this type of discussion. He felt completely unable to navigate.

"I don't think you do. It's not the kind of lie anyone else tells," Clark said.

"I see. Then I guess I don't know it."

"I mean, if you think I'm gay, you're right. But that's not it."

Lex smiled and licked the scar splitting his upper lip. "I don't think you're gay, Clark. I know it."

"Good."

"Good?"

"Yeah. I wouldn't want you to have any misconceptions about me."

"If you're always honest with me, I won't." The train slowed and Lex looked out at the station. "This is my stop. I guess it's yours, too. Unless your nocturnal adventures aren't yet over."

"I think I've had enough for one night."

They stood, swaying gently as the train braked. The doors slid open and they emerged onto the platform, the only ones disembarking.

Before they parted at the top of the stairs, Lex turned to Clark and said, "I hope you'll trust me enough to tell me the rest sometime."

Clark nodded. "I'm working on it," he said.

"Okay, here's my plan," Chloe announced over lunch.

"Your plan for what?"

"For seducing him, silly."

"Chloe..."

"Don't argue with me. You've been acting like one of those lovelorn romantic heroes lately. If something doesn't happen soon I'm either going to kill you or...I don't know, go over there and tell him to get his act together and drag you into bed."

"Why does it always come down to sex with you? That's not all that's important, you know."

"Yeah, well, for you it is important. Now listen to my plan."

Clark sighed. He could guess what Chloe's plan was going to be. All through class that day, Clark could tell Lex was purposely not looking at him. But the assignment for next week had been to write a love poem.

"...and then you can give it to him," Chloe finished.

Clark had missed it, but took a wild guess that she meant the love poem.

"Okay," Clark agreed. Not just to shut her up but because he'd already planned on doing it.

"You know he picked that assignment on purpose."

"It seems like a pretty normal assignment to me."

"Clark, you're incorrigible."

"I don't even know what that means," Clark lied. "How can I be it?"

"Write the poem. Show it to me if you want. Then give it to him. But do it quick. I want to know what happens."

Clark woke with a start, his breathing rapid, his heart racing. He glanced over at the clock. It glowed 3:01, the colon blinking steadily. It had been just a dream. A very real dream.

He'd been in a strange room with Lex. Lex had been angry because Clark hadn't told him the truth. He'd said, "I would have protected you!" Clark could still hear the echo of it in his head.

Clark turned on the light. He was shaking, but he knew what he had to do.

By dawn, he had a poem. He read it over, not sure if it was right. It wasn't technically a love poem. But Clark hated that sappy stuff. This would have to do.

Before going to breakfast, he put the poem in Lex's mailbox.

Underground

The city holds secrets--
pipes and tunnels that run underground
crossing and crossing
over and under each other
while we walk above

Inside your body
are things you don't want anyone
to know

--cuts in bone,
healed, but not lost
from memory

Someone hurt you,
carved his name
into you

--shattered clavicle
cracked rib,
and things even I can't see
to heal

"Lex," Clark called across the green.

Lex stopped momentarily and glanced in Clark's direction. Clark caught up with him. Something was wrong. Lex didn't look pleased.

"Did my father hire you?"

"What?" Of all the bad reactions Lex could have had to the poem, this was one Clark hadn't even considered.

Lex kept walking, his feet moving quickly on the sidewalk.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Lex."

"My father likes to play games. He likes to ruin my life. But you can tell him I won't stand for it anymore. I refuse to be manipulated."

"I've never even met your father."

"How else could you have known those things about me? Did he provide you with my medical history? Is that it?"

"No, Lex. You're not listening to me."

"Maybe I don't want to hear what you have to say."

Clark grabbed Lex's arm. "Just give me a chance to explain."

"Let go of me." Lex's voice was icy.

Clark let go, and watched as Lex strode away, black coat billowing in the cold air.

"You let go? Are you crazy?" Chloe stretched a piece of cheese that was hanging off the edge of her slice of pizza.

"What was I going to do, hold onto him and make him listen?"

"Yes. That's totally what you should have done."

"He was so angry." Clark stared down at his untouched slice.

"Yeah, well I would be, too. I mean, people haven't exactly been nice to him in his life. He's obviously used to people lying to him. You have to prove to him that he's wrong."

"I tried to be as clear as I could. I pretty much spelled out all my powers in those poems."

"Clark, the trouble with poems is that people read them as metaphor, not fact. You need to tell him in person. You need to explain it like you did to me. Explain it until he believes you." She pawed in her backpack until she found what she was searching for. She handed Clark a scrap of paper.

"What's this?"

"His address. I thought you might need it sometime. Faculty phonebook," she added by way of explanation.

"I can't just go over there."

"Why not? It can't get any worse than it already is."

"Thanks for the reassurance."

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you. Now eat something." She pointed at the pizza.

Clark stuck his tongue out at her.

"You know you'd be lost without me."

15 Radclyffe Street looked like an average apartment building. Three stories. Two apartments to a floor. But Lex lived on the second floor, and that differentiated the building from all the other ones on the street.

Clark climbed the short flight of stairs to the alcove and rang the bell marked "Luthor." In a moment, Lex's voice came through the tinny speaker.

"Yes?"

"Lex, it's me. Please, I need to talk to you."

"I have nothing to say."

"But I do," Clark begged.

"I'm sorry, Clark. I can't do this."

The intercom clicked off.

Clark didn't want to do it, but Lex left him no choice. He broke the doorknob of the security door and climbed the stairs to the second floor. He knocked on the door to Lex's apartment.

There was no answer.

"Lex, I can break this door in, I swear. And I will if you don't at least give me a chance. All I'm asking for is ten minutes. Please."

After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened. Clark's relief was palpable. He had to get things right and he couldn't afford to mess up.

"Ten minutes," Lex said.

Clark glanced quickly around the apartment. It was tidy and the walls were lined with bookcases. He sat down on the velvety brown couch and Lex sat across from him in an armchair. Lex certainly wasn't helping him out with this. He looked like a juror waiting to deliver a verdict.

"Innocent until proven guilty," Clark said. "You have to give me a chance."

Lex softened slightly. "Okay. I'm listening."

"I don't really know where to start. Only four people in the world know my secret. My parents, my best friend Pete, and Chloe. And, all my life, I've had to lie to everyone else I've ever met. The thing is, I don't want to lie to you. I don't know what it is about you, what you said or did, but I..." Clark couldn't think of the words for what he wanted to say.

Lex watched him intently, showing no reaction.

"I know about your broken bones because I really can see through things. It's this ability I developed when I was in high school."

"Get out," Lex said quietly.

Panic clawed at Clark's chest.

"I can prove it to you." His eyes darted around the room and fell on Lex's briefcase. He focussed on it, knowing Lex was watching him. "I can see inside your briefcase. You have the workshop poems and someone's paper on Milton--James White--and then there's a letter. It's--" Clark stopped talking. He didn't want to believe it was true.

Lex had moved to the door, was holding it open. They stared at each other for a long moment.

"Why are you resigning?"

"How did you know what was in my briefcase?" There was a hard edge to Lex's voice.

"I can do other things, too." He shot beams of heat at the fireplace and the tinder ignited.

Lex recovered well from his shock. He closed the door and sat beside Clark on the couch.

"Tell me the whole story," he said.

"I came down in the meteor shower. Everything that happened that day was my fault," Clark began.

It was always such a drama, this telling of secrets. Clark was beginning to appreciate the people who knew his secret already. People to whom he didn't have to explain a thing.

Lex asked a lot of questions. A by-product of his scientific background, no doubt. But he listened. And he believed. And he told Clark that none of what happened that day was his fault.

Clark wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. Maybe that Lex would recoil, or reject him. But none of that happened. They sat together on the sofa until daylight turned to dusk, until Clark's stomach started grumbling.

"Maybe I should order some dinner," Lex suggested.

Clark glanced at his watch. "I promised Chloe I'd meet her. I didn't think I'd be here this long."

"I hope that tomorrow morning you don't regret this."

"I trust you. I know you won't hurt me." It scared Clark to say it. And scared him even more to believe it.

Lex seemed to think about that for a moment. Finally, he stood. "Clark, I know you...want certain things. And I want them, too, but we both know it's against university rules."

"It happens all the time, Lex. No one ever says anything about it. The term is over in six weeks."

Lex nodded. "I know. But I have to be more careful than other people."

"Because of your father?"

"I don't know if he's still keeping tabs on me, but I'm afraid of what he might do if he catches me making a mistake."

"Is that why you were going to resign?"

Lex didn't answer.

"You can't, you know. You're a great teacher and it would be terrible if..."

"I'll teach somewhere else, Clark. I'm not going to make a living writing poems."

"I don't think you should live a certain way because of your father. What kind of life is that?"

"It's the life I was born into, unfortunately. I've done my best to evade it, but it's always there. Maybe you can't understand that."

"Actually, I think I can," Clark said, thinking of the ship and what it had told him years ago. "But my dad--my adopted dad--says we forge our own destinies. We don't have to become what others say we'll become."

Clark stood and insinuated himself into Lex's personal space.

"There are so many reasons I shouldn't..."

"Aren't there just as many reasons you should?" Clark held his breath.

Lex took a step backward. "It's too dangerous, Clark. If my father ever found out about you--about who you are..."

"Just tell him I'm some meaningless student you had the hots for."

"My father is the type of man who would believe that, actually."

"It's much more believable than that I'm an alien." Clark could feel his argument swaying Lex. Tentatively, he reached out and put an arm around Lex's waist, pulling him closer. He felt slightly high from telling Lex his secret. It gave him courage. Lex's mouth yielded softly under his. Clark's whole body tingled from the new sensation, his heart so bound up in it, he could feel it thumping against his rib cage. Lex brought a hand up to cup Clark's jaw before pulling away.

"You're so beautiful," Lex said.

The room had gotten dark, and Clark could barely see Lex. Couldn't see his expression, but he thought he understood what he might find there.

Lex kissed him again, hungrier this time, tongue venturing out to skate along Clark's lips, teeth biting and nipping at his mouth, both hands holding his face, then smoothing over the skin of his neck.

Clark's arms circled around Lex's waist, pulling him closer and closer, until their bodies were pressed tightly against one another. Lex's sharp intakes of breath were the sexiest sounds Clark had ever heard in his life. Clark let his hands roam over Lex's back, his side, the space between his shoulder blades...

Then he felt Lex getting hard and he panicked, letting go, backing away, even though his own erection clamored for attention.

"I'm sorry. Did I...?" Lex sounded confused. It was too dark to see, and Clark was glad of the cover.

Lex disappeared for a moment, and a lamp clicked on.

"Clark?" Lex neared him again.

"I'm just not..." It was too many confessions for one day. Clark was exhausted. "I've never done this before."

"You've never kissed? I find that hard to believe," Lex teased. "Clark, I'm not going to drag you to the bedroom in two minutes. There's no need to be nervous."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize. It's okay. I mean, I'm surprised, but I don't mind."

"You don't?"

"Of course not. Did you think I'd accept the whole alien thing and then panic because you're a virgin?"

"No." Heat raced to Clark's face.

Lex ran a hand down Clark's arm, soothing him.

"You're going to be late to meet Chloe. We can finish this another day. I think that given your...special abilities, it's understandable that you're nervous."

"Most guys just go for it at the first opportunity, don't they?" Clark remembered Pete whooping and hollering the day he knew he was going to get laid finally. No panic there.

"You're not most guys."

Lex leaned in and kissed him again. Gently this time.

"Goodnight, Clark."

Clark thought he was holding it together pretty well. He made it back to campus without combusting. He stood calmly in line for his food. He played it cool while Chloe badgered him for details, which he refused to furnish until they had begun eating. He was hungry after all the day's exertions.

"I can tell something happened just by looking at your face. You can't hide anything from me, Kent."

"He wasn't mad about the meteor shower."

"Duh. Did you kiss him?"

Clark didn't even have to answer.

"Oh my god. Unbelievable." She punched his arm. "I'm so excited. Did you do more than kiss him?"

"No."

"That's okay. This is progress. I have no doubt the mission will be accomplished. Soon." She bounced in her chair. In her TV reporter voice, she announced, "Clark Kent: on his way from virgin farmboy to debauched urban playboy!"

Clark glanced around nervously, but, as usual, no one was really listening to anyone else. "I'm kind of..." Clark hesitated. Sometimes Chloe's exuberance overwhelmed him. And the truth was he was scared to death.

Chloe picked up on his change in mood. Her voice softened. "I know. Don't you think I was terrified, too? But, you'll get over it. I promise. I think it's going to be great." She sipped her soda. "So, tell me more. I want to know everything you said to each other."

The best thing about Chloe was that, when it really mattered, she was able to shut up and listen. Clark grinned. And told her everything. Well, almost. Some things were meant to be kept between two people.

In the week that followed, Clark spent every day with Lex. They sat on the couch in Lex's living room, sometimes just talking, Lex telling Clark about this poet or that poet and Clark filling Lex in on the strange occurrences in his hometown. It was such a relief to be able to tell someone. To tell the real story, without fabrication. Clark felt like someone had opened a door and let him out after being cooped up all winter. With each person he told, he felt a little lighter. Like he had less weight to carry, fewer secrets to hold inside him.

More often than not, their visits led to Lex's mouth on Clark's, their tongues twisting in wordless conversation. Lex touching Clark through his clothes, hand rubbing circles on his thigh, until Clark was breathless with desire. With each foray, Clark's fear ebbed, but he always pulled back before things got out of control. If Lex was impatient, he never showed it, never pushed. Just waited for Clark to be ready, as if he knew that day would come soon.

The day did come. Because Clark woke up one morning and decided that it was the day. Pure want outweighed any fear or hesitation he might have had. As soon as he was finished with class for the day, he went over to Lex's apartment.

Clark knocked three times. Then used his x-ray vision just so he could see Lex's face before the door opened. Despite the casual occasion, Lex wore a dress shirt, sleeves cuffed neatly, top button undone. He opened the door.

"Hi," Clark said. He still felt shy whenever he crossed the threshold into Lex's living room.

"Hi." Lex kissed his cheek and pulled Clark into the room. The door closed softly behind them. "I got some take-out. I thought we could just eat in tonight."

Clark took off his coat and hung it on the hook by the door. Lex watched him, not making a move to go anywhere. Clark smiled and gathered Lex in his arms. Their lips met in a kiss, then their tongues joined in. Lex backed Clark up against the wall.

This was familiar. The feel of Lex's body against his. The taste of him. The way his tongue touched every nerve in Clark's mouth. The way he fit in Clark's arms. They'd both gotten hard from it. And Clark had gotten used to that, too. The panic had receded.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Mm..." Lex licked and sucked at Clark's jaw. "Not really. Not yet."

"It's only five o'clock."

Clark fingered one of the buttons on Lex's shirt, then slipped it out of its buttonhole. Lex didn't resist. He stood passively and let Clark have his way. A few buttons later, and Clark had to pull the rest of the shirt out of Lex's jeans. All that skin, and Clark's hand skimmed across it, reveling in the feeling. The intimacy of touching someone. Of being shown.

Lex took his hand and led him down the hall toward the bedroom. Clark's heart sped up in anticipation. He was finally going to do it. Nervousness flooded his system, but he trusted Lex. With his secret, with his body, with his heart. He knew Lex would never treat him with anything other than the utmost respect.

Once they were in the bedroom, Lex shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it on a chair. He kissed Clark again, and Clark couldn't help but smooth his hands over the span of Lex's back. Pale skin and the feel of his bones, the thrum of life just beneath the surface. It was magical, knowing someone like this. Being allowed to touch them.

Lex reached for the hem of Clark's t-shirt.

"Is this okay?" he asked.

Clark nodded and raised his arms. Lex pulled the shirt over Clark's head and let it fall to the floor. His fingers skimmed over Clark's shoulders and collarbone. Clark could feel his nipples getting hard, stimulated by Lex's soft touches. Lex rubbed his thumb over one of the nipples and goosebumps appeared on the surrounding skin. Clark shivered. The pleasure was unbearable. It didn't feel like his own hands at all. And he wasn't prepared for Lex's mouth, his tongue flicking the sensitive tissue, then licking the dip where his breastbone was.

"Lex," Clark whispered, his voice suddenly gone.

Lex bit at Clark's shoulder, sucking some of the skin between his teeth. Clark swallowed hard, trying not to let his knees buckle from the onslaught of pleasure. They weren't even having sex yet, but every inch of Clark's skin seemed to have twice as many nerve endings as normal. He wondered if it was the same for Lex, or if this was some new feature of his alien biology.

Clark kissed Lex again, wanting his mouth, the source of all his beautiful words, wanting that tongue, and those teeth, wanting to absorb every part of Lex until they were one person. One of his hands drifted down to Lex's hip and then toward his belly, fumbling for the buckle of his belt. Lex reached down to help, undoing the top button for good measure.

Suddenly, Clark felt light-headed, unsure of himself. He'd only once done this sort of thing with a girl. And that had been a long time ago. Lex smiled, as if reading his mind. Kissed his chin, then the corner of his mouth.

"You know, in ancient Greece, the poets would have written endless verse about you." Lex caressed the inside of Clark's elbow with the back of his hand.

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

"Are you sure about that?" Lex tugged at the button of Clark's jeans, then pulled the zipper-tab down all the way. He reached under the denim and squeezed Clark's cock through his boxers.

"Oh, God." Clark grabbed Lex's arm for support.

Lex sank to his knees and Clark's jeans went with him. Clark toed off his shoes and stepped out of the jeans. Lex pulled Clark's socks off and, suddenly, Clark felt...naked. Even though he still had his boxers on. Lex gazed at him hungrily and mouthed his thigh, working his way up toward the hem of Clark's boxers. He didn't stop there, but pushed the cotton aside so he could lick higher.

"Lex?"

"Yeah?" Lex pulled away and looked up at Clark.

"Were you planning on seducing me today?"

"Is it working?"

"Mmm. I think..." Clark inhaled sharply when Lex's tongue dipped into his belly-button. "I think I need to lie down," he said weakly.

Lex stood up.

"But first..." Clark took hold of Lex's jeans. "I need you out of these."

Lex didn't wait for further instructions. He shucked the jeans.

"These, too." Clark slid his finger under the elastic of Lex's boxers. They were made of a silky fabric that felt foreign under his fingers. Lex divested himself of the shorts.

He was beautiful. And sexy. Beyond anything Clark had imagined. Clark wished he could just spend the whole night looking at Lex's body. The not-quite-curves of it. The slim strength, long muscles.

All his fear disappeared. He wanted nothing more than to feel all that skin under him, over him, touching every part of him. He slipped his boxers off and guided Lex to the bed, collapsing on top of him, plundering Lex's mouth like there was no tomorrow.

Clark's cock had never in its entire life been pressed up against someone else, and the shock of it was almost too much. Clark felt like his body was on fire, like each point of contact was telegraphing an S.O.S. to his brain. But his brain was short-circuited and couldn't respond to the signal. Clark's body acted on its own, grinding against Lex while Lex wrapped arms and legs around his back and thighs.

"Clark," Lex breathed, barely able to get the word out.

"Yeah?"

Lex rolled them over and sat up, straddling Clark's waist.

"Let me take care of this."

And with that, Lex scooted down Clark's body, dipped his head down and took Clark's cock in his mouth.

It felt too good and Clark couldn't think. But some dim part of his brain remembered.

"Shouldn't we--Oh, God!" Lex's tongue moved in complicated circles, diving this way and that, driving Clark wild. "Condoms," Clark managed.

Lex came up for a moment.

"You said you don't get sick."

"But no one's ever... I mean, what if it's bad for you or something?"

Worry dug into Clark's brain.

"Don't you think your saliva would have the same effect? I've been kissing you for a week."

"I don't know."

"Well, we're going to find out." Lex returned to his task, moving his lips up and down Clark's slick shaft, tonguing the underside with pressure and finesse. Clark didn't know much about sex and he had no experience, but he had to trust Chloe's judgment on this one. Lex was good. Experience was good. Seven years more on earth was good. It was all good. Clark jerked his hips involuntarily, and felt the tip of his cock penetrate Lex's throat, sending shockwaves through him.

Meanwhile, Lex massaged Clark's balls, gently rolling them against each other. One finger slid down his crack and brushed the sensitive skin. It was too much. Clark had pretty much been ready to come when he'd walked in the door. So he finally did, shooting jets of possibly dangerous fluid into Lex's mouth. With a final swipe of his tongue, Lex let Clark slip out of his mouth. He licked his lips and the sight of that was almost enough to make Clark hard again.

Lex crawled up and kissed him.

"You taste kind of coconutty," Lex said.

"Is that normal?"

"I don't know. I'll have to conduct more trials."

Clark could feel Lex's erection pressing into his stomach. He'd survived, and even deliciously enjoyed, the first part of this latest of new experiences, but he was nervous about the rest.

"Is your mouth tingling yet?" Clark asked.

"I'll let you know, Clark." Lex thrust gently. Clark could feel his need, his desire.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Anything you want. Whatever you're comfortable with."

Clark rolled Lex over onto his back.

"I want to touch you." Clark traced his fingers down the center of Lex's chest, then down, until he was touching the soft, hairless skin of Lex's cock.

"You can touch me all you want."

"I want to taste you."

"You can taste any part you want." Lex smiled and closed his eyes.

Clark sucked gently at the skin of Lex's hip, breathed in the scent of him, dark and rich like soil or coffee. He licked a path up the length of Lex's cock, then tasted the fluid at the tip. Salty and smooth. Clark traced a path back down again and experimentally darted his tongue out to taste the textured skin of Lex's balls. Lex groaned and moved his hips. Clark continued to lick there, rolling the sacs around with his tongue. They were like delicate eggs, or fragile glass globes. Clark sucked one gently into his mouth.

"Fuck, Clark." Lex thrust again, as if to tell Clark it was time to get to his destination. Clark took the hint and closed one hand around the shaft while his mouth encircled the head. He wasn't an expert by any means, but it didn't seem to matter much. Lex thrashed around like he was having the time of his life. Clark quickly got used to the motions and, being blessed with super-dexterity, had Lex spurting into his mouth in no time.

Lex lay dazed for a minute. Clark settled beside him, enjoying the taste of Lex in his mouth.

"I haven't felt this good in years," Lex said, turning onto his side. He stroked Clark's chest and kissed his cheek.

"Me either."

"I think I'm hungry now."

"I'm starving."

Clark gathered Lex closer and they rested in silence, sated and happy. Clark had really done it. And it had even been good. Great. Fabulous. He wanted to do it again. And again. And he wanted to look at Lex's face for every one of those times.

Chloe knew the minute she saw him. Clark wondered if he really did look different or if she just had a sixth sense about these things.

"You did it. Oh my god, finally!" She leaped up from the floor where she'd been working and hugged him.

"Does it show?"

"You're grinning like an idiot. I'd take you out for a celebratory ice cream sundae except I have this huge thing due tomorrow." She gestured toward a mess of newspaper clippings and posterboard.

"That's okay. I'm kind of tired, anyway."

"Hmm..." Chloe nodded knowingly.

"Don't look at me like that."

"I'm not going to embarrass you to death by asking for details. It's just so cute! It's going to be hard to sit in class knowing that my best friend is shagging the professor."

"Don't you dare tell anyone."

"I'm very discreet when I want to be, Clark. You know that." Chloe bounced, then hugged him again. "I'm so proud of you."

"You act like I just got a job at The Planet or something."

"Can't a girl express her vicarious joy?"

"Yeah," Clark said quietly.

"Clark?"

"Nothing."

"You can't hide from me. You know that."

"It's just... I feel like I traded one secret for another. I have this great boyfriend, but I can't tell anyone. I can't walk around in public with him. It's frustrating."

"News for you, Clark. It would be that way no matter who the guy was. The fact that he's your professor doesn't really make it much worse."

Clark nodded. He understood it was part of the deal. Metropolis was a big city, but it wasn't San Francisco.

"So," he said, changing the subject, "when are you going to get your own boyfriend?"

"You know I'm destined to become the next Bridget Jones, right?"

"I hope not."

"Come on, she ends up with what's-his-face."

"A really memorable guy."

"If you can find someone, I can. Okay?"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Not that you aren't lovely Clark, but you are kind of hard to get to know."

"So is Lex."

"He should trust you, because you trusted him. Did you tell him that?"

"It's not that simple."

"Sure it is. And what kind of investigative reporter would you be if you couldn't get your own boyfriend to talk?"

Being Lex's boyfriend taught Clark something right away: how to compartmentalize. Clark had been doing it all his life. There was the Clark he was allowed to be with his parents, who knew about all of his abilities and his origins, but who didn't know about his secret crush on Keith Wilkins his senior year of high school. Then there was the Clark he was allowed to be with the general public--kind of a befuddled, somewhat academic farmboy. He could probably be most honest with Pete and Chloe, who knew his secret, and who didn't mind if he talked about his crushes.

There were two compartments for Lex. There was the person Clark was allowed to be when he was alone with Lex, and the person he was allowed to be when he was with Lex and other people. He loved the former and hated the latter.

In class, Lex virtually ignored him, speaking to him only when necessary. Clark knew it was for a good reason, but couldn't help resenting it. The three hours a week that had once given him such joy now brought him only discomfort and sadness. Not to mention distraction, since he couldn't stop thinking about Lex in bed, naked. In class, he got the Lex who wore tweed jackets and plaid wool scarves.

Even when Lex ran into him on campus, he was curt and impersonal. It was like having a schizophrenic boyfriend.

Because when they were alone...

It was a different story.

"You still haven't shown me your poems," Clark said. He lay on his stomach in Lex's bed, sleepy and content.

"Hm. I'm going to fix that. In a minute." Lex stared at him from the other side of the bed. He licked his lips.

Clark scooted over and sucked Lex's top lip into his mouth, running his tongue along the scar. He loved the feel of it. So foreign.

"How did you get this?"

Lex rolled onto his back and didn't answer.

"Please tell me," Clark pleaded. It seemed important to know.

"It was an accident, Clark. A long time ago."

"Why are you afraid to tell me these things?"

"I'm not afraid." Lex straddled Clark's back and smoothed his hands along the skin as if it were a sheet of paper. Clark reached back and stroked Lex's knee.

"Then tell me." It was a whisper.

"Do you remember that scene in Chinatown? The one where Roman Polanski's character slices Jake's nose because he's nosy?"

"Mm, no. I've never seen it."

Lex massaged the bumps of Clark's spine, paying attention to each vertebra.

"Well, it was something like that. Someone was trying to get me to shut up. There was blood everywhere." Lex leaned down and kissed the spot where fine hairs made a trail down Clark's neck. The spot the barber had to shave.

"Who was it?"

"You ask a lot of questions."

"I want to know you. I want to know everything about you." Clark shifted his body under Lex's, responding to the touch.

"That's a lot to know."

"I have a good memory. I'll remember everything you tell me."

He felt a strange prickly sensation on his shoulder blade. The tip of a pen.

"This is called a sestina," Lex said.

"A what?"

Lex ignored him. "A verse form used by wandering minstrels in the twelfth century."

Clark had to admit that Lex could make history and poetry interesting. An admirable feat.

"Did you write it?"

"I'm writing it right now. So don't distract me by turning over."

Clark smiled into the pillow. He closed his eyes and focussed on the sound of Lex's voice.

"I'm going to make a mess of it. But it's the sexiest verse form, I think. That's why I'm using it for you."

"Most people watch porn," Clark said, being snarky.

"Porn is for illiterates. I like sonnets, too, but I can't compete with Shakespeare."

Clark felt the nib of the pen moving across his skin. "Do you remember that poem we read on the first day of class? The one by Yeats?"

"I'm in love with Yeats. You should know that before we get any farther in our relationship."

Clark laughed. "Will you recite it to me?"

"I'm trying to write, if you haven't noticed."

"But I like that poem."

"Don't you fall for Yeats, too. He had two muses: wine and Maud Gonne."

In spite of their conversation, the tip of the pen continued its path across Clark's skin.

"Who was Maud Gonne?" Clark didn't need prompting.

"She was an Irish revolutionary who never loved him back. But she inspired a lot of his poetry. So, I suppose..." Lex stopped writing. "...it was worth it."

"Say it."

"Others because you did not keep that deep sworn vow..."

Lex's fingers skimmed lightly over Clark's right shoulder, then down into the hollow under of his armpit. Ticklish, he jerked away.

"...have been friends of mine."

"Someone betrayed him. Probably Maud Gonne." Clark hoisted himself up onto his elbows. "You've never told me about your wife."

"The one who tried to kill me?"

Clark turned to catch Lex's eye, but Lex was intent on the verse he'd written.

"That one."

"I don't like to talk about her."

"What made you trust her?"

"Whenever I would do something wrong, she would forgive me. And I felt lucky, like she saw past my weaknesses. But, really, my father had a big payment waiting for her."

"He paid her to kill you?"

"I'm not sure. That part of the plan might have been hers."

"Do you trust me, Lex?" Clark looked back, hoping Lex could see how much Clark wanted that.

It took Lex a moment to respond. The question froze him.

"Yes. I do." He nodded slowly. But there was hesitation in his voice.

"Because I trust you."

"I know." He kissed Clark gently, so softly, Clark almost didn't feel it. "Turn around. I'm not done writing."

"How much longer?" Clark could feel himself recovering from their earlier activities. He bounced impatiently.

"Are you rushing me?"

"Nope." Clark rubbed his arms and legs on the sheets, enjoying the friction. The touch of the pen was arousing, like being caressed by the smallest hands.

Lex began writing again.

"What about Shakespeare? Who was his muse?"

"Ah, the Dark Lady of the sonnets. Some people say she was really a man."

"Shakespeare was gay?"

"Almost all the great writers are gay, Clark."

"What's your favorite? Sonnet I mean."

"When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes..."

"I love this one."

"You do?"

"Mmm."

"I thought you hated poetry before you met me."

"I didn't hate it. But I like it better when you teach me." Clark turned over to face Lex. He was hard again. Lex stared at his erection hungrily. "Am I your muse?" Clark asked, teasing.

Lex took a sip of wine from the glass on the nightstand. Then kissed Clark, open-mouthed, tongue pushing against teeth and gums. Clark couldn't get drunk, but the taste of wine and Lex was making his mind fuzzy with need.

"Turn over." Lex's voice was husky now. "I have more to teach you... After I finish this poem."

"I'll never last until you finish writing it. What stanza are you on?"

"The fourth."

"How many are there?"

"Six. Plus the envoi."

Clark groaned and rubbed against the sheet.

"Read it to me."

"It's not done."

"I'll take half a poem. You can finish the rest later."

"Don't order me around when I'm inspired."

"Read."

"What if you hate it?" Clark almost never heard uncertainty in Lex's voice.

"Lex, you could read me the stock report and I'd probably like it."

"In your bright eyes
printed from the stars,
I wind and wind.
I wire and twine
like vines gone wild
in your hips and valleys."

Lex's hands moved lightly, the barest of touches sparking along Clark's back and sides.

"Mmm," Clark moaned. "I like that."

"Do you want more?"

"Yes. More."

Clark arched his back, lifting his hips a few inches, even though Lex's weight rested on him. Lex scooted down and traced his fingers along the small of Clark's back until he reached the cleft of Clark's ass. He didn't stop there, but explored the textures of skin and hair, touching places where Clark had rarely been touched.

"More," Clark repeated, opening himself up to Lex, moving in a slow rhythm. He felt like he couldn't have enough Lex. Wanted Lex's hands everywhere at once, all over his body. And even that wouldn't be enough. He wanted Lex inside. Inside him.

Lex ceased his foray and began reading again.

"Strike and ring in the valleys
the chime inspired by your eyes,
their expression too wild
for anything but stars.
I could forever entwine
I could forever unwind..."

Lex lifted his left knee and put it between Clark's legs. The right knee followed. Clark spread his legs accomodatingly. Lex ran his hands down the backs of Clark's thighs, stroked his thumbs along the creases at Clark's knees.

"You didn't finish," Clark mumbled.

"I'm getting there."

Clark heard the wine glass clinking against the tabletop again. Then, without warning, something slippery lit against his skin like a spark. Lex's finger sliding down his crack and circling the hole with intent. Clark felt as if a thousand things were happening all at once. His breathing quickened and he made a noise something like a growl.

Gentle kisses and Lex's tongue on the left cheek of his ass. Clark ground down, unable to control himself.

"Finish. Finish, please."

"Where was I? Do you remember?"

"Fuck."

Lex's finger pressed inside and stroked slowly.

"Lex."

"I could forever entwine
I could forever unwind

On the paths that wind
among these valleys
where the wild and bright intertwine
with the depth of your eyes
and the vastness of stars
to form a tie more wild..."

Lex added a second finger and more lube. Clark hadn't lost control of his powers in a long time, but he was about to break his dry spell.

Lex's fingers slipped out. Clark felt empty inside. Strong hands grasped his hips and pulled him to a kneeling position.

"Are you okay?" Lex whispered, draped across his back.

Clark nodded mutely.

"It might hurt."

"It won't hurt. I want you. Please."

Clark's erection hung heavy below him, swaying a little. Clark could almost hear the blood thudding through the veins. Desire.

"...more wild
than each animal most wild
that in these woods does wind."

The soft hardness of Lex pressing against him, pushing inside, defying the resistance of his body. Clark relaxed as much as he could and let Lex in.

"The secretness of stars
and all mysterious valleys
is confined within your eyes..."

Lex moved against him, the pleasure so raw and unexpected that Clark could barely hold himself up. Could barely see straight. He closed his eyes and propped himself on his elbows.

"Still okay?" Lex asked.

"Good." Clark sucked in a breath. It didn't hurt. Not at all. "It's... It feels..." He swallowed, trying to find the words.

"Shh..." Lex stroked his back, then hovered closer and snaked a slick hand around to circle his cock. Clark jerked in response, so close to coming, and yet...not. This must be what it felt like when cells were dividing, losing half of their being. Separating and tearing, creating something new.

Lex's grip steadied him, grounded him, and he regained focus. At least for a few seconds. Their bodies communicating in some ancient rhythm that had no words, no rational thought. Clark felt connected to Lex. Irrevocably.

And Clark wasn't really unbreakable, was he? Because he was about to shatter into a thousand pieces. Lex's hand jacking his cock, faster now, and Clark responded, crying out, losing himself as all Lex's words sped like a flame on a fuse and ignited something explosive inside him. He came suddenly, forcefully, emptying himself out until he was just a shell, unaware, unconscious.

When the scattered pieces had fallen together again, Clark felt Lex thrusting deep inside him, touching the untouchable, until he finally came, releasing himself into Clark's body.

Clark could hear Lex struggling for breath as he withdrew carefully. He collapsed on the bed. Clark rolled to one side and watched Lex breathe. His skin glistened with sweat and his hand was shiny with Clark's come. Clark had never seen anything so hot in his life.

"Scoot over. It's wet here," Clark said.

Lex scooted, and Clark followed, laying his arm across Lex's chest.

"I don't think I ever want to leave this room."

"I take it that didn't hurt you, then." Lex smiled, sleepy.

"I think that was the best thing I ever felt in my life."

"Me, too." Lex yawned. "You wore me out."

Clark kissed Lex on the cheek.

"Sleep, then. I'll be here when you wake up."

It was comfortable there, in Lex's bedroom. Quiet. Safe. It felt like no one would ever find them.

Clark never fully came down from the high of being with Lex. Even at school, when Lex ignored him, some part of Clark's brain was dizzy with glee, and constant want. He couldn't get enough of Lex. Couldn't get enough sex. Couldn't get enough poetry. Couldn't get enough of Lex's smooth, intoxicating voice. He felt its cadences vibrating along his skin whenever they chanced to meet.

The rest of the time, Clark suffered through the mundane tasks of life. Like eating. One day, shortly before the end of the term, he caught up with Chloe in line at the dining hall. He hadn't seen her in several days, probably the longest they'd ever gone without talking since they'd started college.

"Hey, Chloe."

"Hi, Clark." She moved on down the line, not really making a move to talk to him.

"What's going on?"

"I don't know. The usual. Maybe you'd know if you talked to me more than twice a week."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're doing the friend dump. You know, when you start dating someone new and you totally ignore your friends."

"I'm sorry, Clo." He just couldn't win.

They sat down together at a table near the window.

"Clark, I know you're happy, but... I miss you."

"I know. I miss you, too."

"Yeah, I can tell by the way you call me all the time."

"I've been meaning to call... I guess I've just been kind of caught up."

"Well, we're here. Give me the update," Chloe said.

Chloe was upset with him, but she'd never be unkind. She'd always care what was happening with him. He'd been stupid to let his friendship with her slide because of Lex.

"Things are great," he said.

"The sex is great, right? I was right about that, I know I was."

Clark stared at his food, embarrassed. "Yeah. It's better than great..."

"But...?"

"I told him my biggest secret. And you have to admit, it's huge. It's a huge secret. He knows everything about me..."

"But he doesn't say much about himself," Chloe supplied.

"I wish he would just talk to me. It's like, I know he trusts me more than he trusts anyone, but there's still this part of him that can't get over how many times people have treated him like crap."

"I guess you just need to be patient. I mean, what would have happened if I'd given up on you?" Chloe munched on a french fry and gazed at him wide-eyed. "If Lex was just some normal guy, I'd say dump his ass. But, you know, you gotta cut him some slack. I mean, look at me. I'm totally fucked up and I even have a nice dad."

Clark laughed. "You're not fucked up."

"So how come I can't seem to get a date around here?"

"I'll go out with you." Clark grinned around his cheeseburger.

"I expect a dinner date at least twice a week. And two lunches. And definitely one weekend activity."

"You've got it. I promise."

Clark was doing a pretty good job of making it up to Chloe. He kept his promise, eating lunch and dinner with her whenever possible. And they took to studying together again, a practice they had quit long ago for productivity reasons. But now it was nice just to sit in the cafe with Chloe while they pored over their books. As they were doing today.

"Darcy is so hot." Chloe set her book down and took a sip of her cappuccino.

Clark looked up from his astronomy textbook. "Who?"

"Mister Darcy. He's giving me some serious tingles."

"Careful, Clo, you're approaching nerd territory."

"Listen, I was the first to put my flag down."

Clark laughed, but found himself distracted by the sight of Lex standing in line ordering a drink.

"Clark?" Chloe turned to see what he was staring at. "You should invite him to sit with us. It'll look like a tutorial."

"Is that okay with you?"

"Just go do it. I want to know more about this guy who has the power to do what no Lana can do, the daring to go where no Lana has gone..."

Clark ignored her. He waved to Lex. Lex simply lifted a hand in greeting, but otherwise didn't react.

"You have to fix that problem, Clark."

"I know. It's annoying, isn't it?" He got up and approached Lex.

"Professor Luthor?"

Lex couldn't hide a tiny smile at that. "Hi, Clark."

"Chloe and I got a table for our tutorial."

Lex glanced surreptitiously around the coffee shop.

"Don't worry. It's legit," Clark whispered. "Now, come on."

In a low voice, Lex said, "Are you sure she won't mind? You said--"

"Don't be silly. She wants to know if you have any hot friends she can date."

Lex laughed. When he reached the table, he sat across from Chloe. Clark sat beside him.

"So, Lex, tell me..." Chloe leaned forward eagerly, in reporter mode.

"Yes, Miss Sullivan," Lex mocked.

"Tell me some outrageous stories about growing up in Metropolis. I want all the sordid details."

"What makes you think I know any sordid stories?"

"I spent my high school years in Smallville. Anything's exciting."

"Hey," Clark interrupted, "we had some pretty crazy adventures. Kidnappings, hostage situations..."

"I'm talking about parties, Clark. Rich guys, hot women... Come on, Lex."

Lex appeared to consider her request. After a moment, he said, "Maybe some other time, I'll tell you about how this girl Samantha tricked her cheating boyfriend into sleeping with a girl she knew had gonorrhea."

Chloe laughed. "Yeah. Like that. That's the kind of story I want."

"I have lots of them. I didn't run with a very nice crowd." Lex looked at Clark out of the corner of his eye.

Clark reached out and touched Lex's leg under the table. Lex pulled away.

As if she had x-ray vision, Chloe narrowed her eyes and regarded Lex thoughtfully. "Lex?" Chloe's voice had an odd tinge to it. "I know it's not really my place, but I want you to know that I've been Clark's friend for seven years. I know everything about him. And he knows everything about me. He's the most caring person I know. I mean, he might be late, or forget to meet you for dinner, but..." she trailed off.

"Chloe, it's okay," Clark said.

"No, I have to say it." She turned to Lex again. "Don't hurt him. Or I'll hurt you. Got it?"

Lex looked around, uncomfortable.

"No one's listening. I mean it. He trusted you and you have to trust him."

Lex nodded. Clark felt like he wasn't even there.

"I'm doing my best," Lex said quietly.

"Don't do your best, just do it."

Chloe gathered her things and got up.

"I'll see you later, Clark. Lex."

"I'll come get you for dinner," Clark said.

Chloe nodded and then stalked off.

"Sorry..." Clark began.

Lex shook his head. "Don't be. I like Chloe. You know, I always thought she was a pretty good writer. But now I see she's an even better friend."

"You're not mad?"

"Of course not." Lex stared down at his drink. "But, um, I probably shouldn't be sitting here with you." His voice lowered, unsure. "Can I reserve tomorrow's dinner?"

Clark nodded.

Lex slid out of his seat and picked up his cup of coffee. He looked back once before walking away.

"Lex?"

"Hm?" Lex sounded slightly sleepy. He and Clark had just decimated a stupendous amount of take-out.

Clark got up from his slouching position on the couch and straddled Lex's lap. Lex put his hands on Clark's hips.

"What are you doing for Christmas?"

"Christmas break? Grading papers."

"Christmas day. Do you spend it with anyone?" Clark caressed Lex's shoulders, then leaned in to kiss his neck.

"Um. There's usually a faculty party I go to..." Lex answered evasively.

"I think you should come home with me. Will you?"

"Come home with you to Smallville?"

"Yeah."

"Aren't you going with Chloe?"

"I mean just Christmas. I think you should drive out and meet my family. Please." Clark sucked lightly at Lex's collarbone. He was learning to frame an argument properly.

Lex moaned, responding to Clark's touch. "I don't know. I--"

Clark bit at Lex's jaw, effectively rendering him silent. "No one from school will know. And my parents will love you," he lied. Well, his mother might. But his father...

"Have you told them about us?" Lex pulled away.

"Not yet."

Lex looked relieved.

"But I'm going to."

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"You're important. I want them to know about you. I want them to meet you."

"Don't you think you're rushing into things? It's only been a couple of months. I wouldn't want you to go through all this with your parents and then break up with me the next month."

"You think I'm going to break up with you?" Clark felt his heart pound in his chest. He wanted to take Lex by the shoulders and shake some sense into him.

"That's how it always happens with me," Lex said, staring at a spot on the far wall.

"You think life just repeats itself? That you can't change things?"

"Experience has taught me--"

"Nothing. It's taught you nothing, Lex. Can't you just believe that I..." Clark swallowed. "...That I love you? Is it so difficult?"

Clark could feel Lex's arms tightening around him, could feel the things Lex couldn't bring himself to say. He settled closer, resting his head on Lex's shoulder.

Lex was silent for a minute.

"I haven't been back to Smallville since I was a kid."

"It's okay. It'll be fine."

Lex's arms stroked his back. Clark smiled and closed his eyes. He tried to ignore the pain in his stomach when he thought about what his father would say.

Clark threw his duffel bag in the trunk and slammed it closed. He always let Chloe drive because she said if they crashed and she died, Clark wouldn't feel guilty. He didn't tell her he'd feel guilty no matter what.

"I am so glad that's over. If Devlin doesn't give me an A, I'm going to stalk him in his office and give him a good kick in the shins," Chloe said, turning the key in the ignition.

Clark stared out the window. The trees were bare and dark in the gray light.

"Don't get all mopey on me."

"Sorry." Clark turned back toward Chloe as they pulled out into the street.

"You're going to miss him, aren't you?"

"It's like part of me is missing when we're not together."

"It's only two weeks," Chloe said gently, patting his knee.

"Actually, I'm going to ask if he can come over for a couple of days."

"Wow. Your dad is going to flip out."

Clark groaned.

"Sorry. I should think positively. Your dad and Lex are so going to get along. They'll be fixing the tractor together in no time," she announced brightly.

"Chloe, what am I going to say?"

"I think the truth works. Take it from someone who's been lied to."

Clark sighed. "I can't just walk into the kitchen and say, 'Hey, Mom, I'm gay and have a boyfriend who's my professor and a Luthor and I told him my secret and he's coming over for Christmas. Can you tell Dad for me?'"

"Okay, I'd work on the delivery, but you are going to have to tell them all those things."

"Why couldn't I still be in love with Lana?"

"I think you know the answer to that, Clark."

They drove in silence for a few minutes. Then Chloe said, "So, has Lex, um, gotten a little better at telling you things?"

"He's starting to open up, but I have to work at it. I think your threats worked."

"Yeah, I totally strong-armed your boyfriend!" She thought for a minute. "Don't ask me why, but I really think you two were meant for each other. And I'll totally put in a good word with the parental units."

"You're a romantic, you know that?"

"A girl has to have her weaknesses. But don't think I'm going to be a sentimental journalist. Hard-hitting. That's me. I'm not leaving any stone unturned!"

Clark grinned. As much as he loved spending every waking moment with Lex, he was glad to be back in Chloe's universe. He hoped she'd always be a part of his life, snark and all.

It was December 21. Clark didn't have many days left before Christmas. And he knew what he had to do. Avoiding it wasn't going to make it go away. He took a deep breath and went downstairs.

Martha was baking cranberry-orange muffins. She had flour in her hair.

"Hi, Mom. Need some help?"

"Want to chop these walnuts for the next batch?" She handed him a bag of nuts.

"Sure." He washed his hands and got a knife out of the drawer. His mom liked to do things the old-fashioned way. It would have been nice being in the kitchen with her like this except that his stomach was in knots.

Martha bustled around the kitchen, gathering ingredients.

"Mom? I, um... I have something to tell you."

Martha stopped what she was doing. "What's going on?"

"I'm gay," he blurted out. There was no subtle way to say it.

Martha smiled. "That doesn't surprise me."

It wasn't the reaction he had expected. He wasn't sure if that bothered him or not.

"You knew I was gay?"

"I had my suspicions."

"And you don't mind?"

"Of course not." She put down the mixing bowl and hugged him. "I'll love you no matter what."

"There's more."

"Let me guess: you're dating someone and it's getting serious."

He must have had a funny expression on his face because Martha laughed and said, "Why else would you tell me? So, who is this young man? And when do I get to meet him?"

"I'd like it if he could come here for Christmas, actually. He doesn't have anywhere to go."

"Doesn't he have family?" She went back to measuring flour.

"Not really. He spends Christmas alone."

"That's terrible, honey. He can definitely come over. We'd love to have him."

This was good. Clark had appealed to her love of strays. Now for the rest.

"I hope you'll like him."

"I'm sure I will. Tell me more about him. What's his major?"

"Well, that's sort of... He's actually my professor. I mean, he was. He's not after this term."

"Clark." An edge crept into his mother's voice.

"Mom, he's only seven years older than me. It's not a big deal."

"You started dating him while you were in his class?"

Clark nodded. Martha sighed. "Okay... I trust your judgment. What's his name?"

"You'll really like him. He's a great writer--a poet--and he's just the nicest person you'll ever meet." Clark sounded lame even to himself.

Martha had a radar for detecting when he was lying. And her radar must have been beeping madly because she regarded him through narrowed eyes.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"Lex. His name is Lex."

It took Martha a minute to process. "Lex Luthor?"

"I know what you're going to say, but don't say it. He doesn't have anything to do with his family anymore. He disowned his father. Or whatever you call it." Clark's voice went quiet.

"Clark, you know how we feel about the Luthors in this house."

"He's not one of them. He hasn't been for over six years. I promise"

The back door banged shut letting a gust of cold air into the house.

"Let me deal with this," Martha said.

"Deal with what?" Jonathan asked, stamping his snow-caked boots on the mat.

When Clark heard the car pull into the driveway, he practically dropped the casserole tray he was putting into the oven. In less than three seconds, he was outside opening the driver's side door. He enfolded Lex in his arms and kissed him.

"I'm so happy to see you."

Lex smiled, but glanced nervously toward the house. "Maybe we shouldn't..."

"Lex."

"Sorry. I can't help it. I feel like I'm on trial or something."

"What are you talking about? Are your bags in the trunk?"

Lex leaned into the car and popped the trunk. Clark grabbed the suitcase and led Lex toward the house.

Clark had considered every angle. Sometimes life called for a little manipulative behavior. As they walked in the door, Chloe jumped up, right on cue, from her place at the kitchen counter.

"Lex!" She ran to him and threw her arms around him. After his initial surprise, Lex returned the hug with equal warmth. Clark hoped that Chloe's stamp of approval would count for something.

"Hi, Chloe." Lex released her and turned to face Jonathan and Martha. "Mr. and Mrs. Kent." He extended a hand. But Martha wasn't having any of it. She hugged him and kissed his cheek. "Thanks," he whispered in her ear.

"You're welcome," she whispered back.

Jonathan regarded Lex coldly. "So, you're Lionel Luthor's son."

"I was. But, you know the saying: friends are the family you choose. And, as far as I'm concerned, they're my only family."

Lex glanced at Clark for support. Clark smiled encouragingly.

"Clark, why don't you and Chloe and Lex go into the living room. I'll bring some cocoa and cider. Jonathan, help me out?"

"I have a combine to fix. I'll be in the barn." Jonathan headed out the door, closing it firmly behind him. Martha looked at Lex as if to say, I married a lummox.

"It's okay, Mrs. Kent."

"Give him some time to get used to the idea of you."

"He's waiting for me to mess up, isn't he?"

Reluctantly, Martha nodded.

"Clark, you and Chloe go ahead. I'm going out to talk to your dad." Lex wound his scarf around his neck and buttoned his coat.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Clark had a fleeting vision of his dad getting the shotgun out.

"He expects me to be a Luthor. I'm going to prove to him that I'm not." Lex opened the door and stepped out into the cold.

"Okay, Lex, you have to tell me everything." Clark shut the door of his bedroom. "What the hell did you do to my dad?"

Lex sat on the bed, exhausted.

"I did the exact opposite of what my father would have done."

Clark sat beside Lex on the bed and pulled him close, breathing in his familiar scent. It was strange having Lex in his room. On his very small bed. Clark had promised to sleep on the couch, but all he wanted to do was climb under the covers with Lex.

"First, I asked him what was wrong with the combine. I held the flashlight so he could look at the engine. I told him I had befriended my dad's mechanic when I was a kid and I'd learned to fix a few things because it pissed my dad off. We got talking from there."

"Are you serious?"

"I told him my dad and my ex-wife conspired to kill me and that I had since sworn off relationships because no one had ever done anything besides betray me in my life. But you convinced me it was worth trying again."

"You told my dad all that stuff and you won't even talk about it with me?" He gave Lex a playful shove that laid him flat on the mattress.

"Clark, it may sound strange, but it's more important that your dad knows these things about me than it is for you to know them."

"I think we're equally important." He lay beside Lex and looked into his eyes. They shone dark and deep in the lamplight.

"I told him I'd slept with you."

"Oh, no." Clark cringed. He could just see his father's face. How embarrassing.

"I told him that every time we say goodbye, it feels like someone's tearing my insides out."

"Lex..." It was just a whisper. How did Lex know it felt that way?

"I told him I'd made a lot of mistakes in life, but I didn't think you were one of them. And I asked him please not to think you had made a mistake because I didn't want the one right thing in my life to be taken away from me."

"What did he say?"

"He said he knew the feeling."

Clark smiled and touched his lips to Lex's. "I can't believe he listened to you while you said all that."

"I held one of his gaskets hostage. Told him I'd fix the combine if he heard me out. So I have my work cut out for me tomorrow."

"I can't believe you know how to fix a combine."

"Well, I've never actually fixed one. But I'm pretty sure I can do it." Lex grinned sheepishly.

"I'll help you."

"I know. I figured you would."

Clark kissed Lex again, more deeply this time. His tongue flicking against the roof of Lex's mouth.

"Hey. Don't get me started. I have to sleep alone tonight."

Clark glanced around the room. "It feels weird being here with you. Like my two worlds just collided."

"I like this room," Lex said. "It feels like home."

"It is."

Later that night, Clark lay on the couch vacantly staring at the television. He clicked the remote, trying to get his mind off of Lex. Who lay upstairs in his bed.

"Hey."

Clark turned to see Lex hovering at the doorway. He sat up. "What are you doing? Can't you sleep?"

"No. It feels lonely without you."

"Come here." Clark moved to make room for Lex on the couch.

Lex approached and sat beside Clark. "What are you watching?"

"I don't know." Clark clicked again. The Royal Tenenbaums came on.

"I like this movie," Lex said.

"Me, too." Clark settled back. "We've never gone to the movies together."

"Do you want to?"

"Yes. Let's go tomorrow."

Lex leaned into Clark and Clark's arm naturally pulled Lex closer. Lex yawned and burrowed.

"Here." Clark lifted the blanket. "Get under."

"I don't think your parents are going to be happy about this."

"We're not doing anything. I promise to be good."

"I like your parents. I wouldn't want to get on their bad side."

"You won't." Clark kissed Lex's forehead. "Are you glad you came?"

"Mm. Much better than my apartment."

"Told you."

Lex reached for Clark's hand. "Clark?"

"Yeah?"

The silence was so long that Clark started to think Lex had fallen asleep.

"I'm lucky to have you."

Clark smiled. It was the most he'd ever heard Lex confess.

"I love you, too, Lex." He gathered the blanket around them.

Clark woke to the sound of kitchen noises. Breakfast noises. Which meant his mom was awake. Which meant she'd walked through the living room. And Lex was still in his arms. He was going to be in trouble. Even though, dammit, he was an adult, and he hadn't done anything.

Lex stirred, nestling closer to Clark. During the night, they'd sprawled on the sofa. Lex's weight on him felt so right. Everything was warm and comfortable. He didn't want to move. No matter what anyone gave him for Christmas, this was the best present ever: waking up with Lex in his arms, safe in his house. The smell of coffee permeating the air. His mom seething away in the kitchen...

Well, she'd have to deal with it, that was all.

Lex opened his eyes.

"Merry Christmas," Clark whispered.

Lex smiled and propped himself up on his elbow. "Good morning." He kissed Clark lightly. "Are we grounded?"

"I don't know." Clark grinned.

"I'd hate to miss our big movie excursion just because I was too lazy to go back upstairs."

"Maybe we should make a run for it," Clark suggested.

They untangled their bodies and sat up. Just then, Martha appeared with two mugs of coffee.

"I thought I heard you two. Merry Christmas." She set the cups down on the table and kissed Clark's forehead. "Merry Christmas, Lex." To Clark's (and Lex's) surprise, she kissed him, too.

"You'd better eat a good breakfast," she said to Lex. "I heard you're fixing some machinery today." She winked before heading back to the kitchen.

"Good mood," whispered Clark.

Lex smiled sleepily and collapsed back on the couch, taking Clark with him.

Clark opened yet another present from his mother. Leave it to Mom to get all the practical stuff, he thought, as he unwrapped a package of socks.

"Thanks, Mom."

"Don't look at me like that. You needed them."

"I know." He grinned at her. She looked beautiful and happy. Clark leaned into Lex. "Open your present from me."

The day was going better than Clark had anticipated. Lex had given Dad a tractor part he needed. How Lex had known was a mystery. Jonathan loved practical gifts, and the part saved him a trip to Grandville. Martha had gotten an orchid plant that Lex promised would live if she kept it in the kitchen and misted it frequently. It seemed like Lex was doing all the right things. It made Clark love him even more.

Lex fingered the ribbon on the present.

"I'll open yours at the same time." Clark reached for a small gift under the tree. The living room was a mess of wrapping paper and ribbon.

Lex still hesitated.

"Don't worry," Clark whispered in his ear.

They both unwrapped their presents. Lex was quiet as he read what was written inside the cover of the small book Clark had made. Clark peeked over and read the words with Lex: "For Lex, because you inspired them. Love, Clark."

"This girl Kelly from my dorm helped me make it. She's in a bookmaking class. It's all my poems."

Lex rubbed his nose and didn't say anything for a minute as he read the neatly handwritten words.

"Thank you."

Clark took Lex's hand and examined his gift.

"Lex?" Clark looked at Lex for confirmation. "You're giving me your watch?"

"I never told you the story... My mother gave it to me, before she died because she said I was the most important person in her life, and she wanted me always to remember that. Even when she wasn't around to tell me."

Clark slid the watch onto his wrist and fastened it. Then he leaned over and kissed Lex. He didn't care if his parents saw. He'd kiss Lex in front of anyone. Anyone at all.

Early on Christmas morning, more snow had fallen, dusting the farm with a fine, white powder. The sky arched blue and endless above Clark and Lex as they walked through the pasture. They had spent the day stuffing themselves with Martha's cooking. Then they'd all four gone to the movies with Chloe and Lana. And Gabe, who had told enough bad jokes to last them until the next visit home. It had been fun. Now it was afternoon, and the sky was beginning to get that color to it, like the light was slowly being leached out.

"Did you know I married Helen after knowing her for only three months." Lex paused, squinting at the sky. "I feel like my life since then has been spent trying not to make mistakes."

"If you don't ever take chances, nothing bad will happen, but probably nothing good will, either."

They walked on in silence. The world was dead and quiet, buried under layers of snow. Clark linked his arm in Lex's.

"Lex?"

Lex stopped walking and regarded Clark with clear blue eyes.

"Take a chance on me," Clark asked, like it was a question.

Instead of answering, Lex stepped into Clark's arms and settled his face against Clark's neck.

"Your ears are cold," Clark said. He kissed one pink shell, then brought a hand up to cup Lex's other ear.

"I don't want to lose you," Lex said in a small voice.

"I'm not like Helen. Or your father. Or anyone else."

"I know."

Clark tilted Lex's chin up and kissed him.

"The art of losing isn't hard to master..." Lex said.

"Lex?"

"So many things seem filled with the intent to be lost..."

Clark rolled his eyes. "You know, in a year, when we're still together, I'll probably laugh at this moment. But, right now, I just want you to shut up."

"Their loss is no disaster." Lex smiled and began walking back toward the house. But he stopped and held his hand out for Clark. They laced their gloved fingers together clumsily.

"Lose something everyday."

Clark sighed.

"It's a villanelle, Clark. Pay attention."

"I don't like where it's going. Pick a different one."

"But it's a good poem. She messes with the form--"

"You're not wearing a hat, so if I wrestle you to the ground, your head is going to get cold."

"Accept the fluster of lost door keys--whoa!"

Clark pulled Lex down to the ground, arranging their bodies so Lex fell on top of him.

"Jesus, Clark. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. It doesn't hurt me."

"You could break your neck."

"No."

Lex ran his fingers through Clark's hair, his knee resting in the cold snow.

"Still, I worry. Don't do that." Lex's voice was serious.

"Okay, I'll stop. I promise." He lay, back pressed into the snow. He stared at the blue expanse above him. He was happy.

"Are we going to lie here forever? It's nice, but kind of cold."

"I'll keep you warm." Clark tightened his embrace and felt Lex relax on top of him.

"In that case, forever's good."

"Forever?"

Lex stilled. "How about as far as I can see?"

"How far can you see?"

Soon it would be dark enough to see the stars. Clark wondered if he'd someday develop the ability to see them during the day. If he'd be able to pick them out, even though they were invisible to everyone else. They were still there in the sky, in different shades of light.

Lex didn't answer right away. Clark lay listening to the rhythm of their breathing.

"Far," Lex said, finally. "A long way away."

Clark felt Lex shiver.

"Are you cold?"

"No. Not anymore."

FIVE YEARS LATER:

"I love you in those glasses."

"Do you?"

"Mmm." Lex pulled Clark closer and kissed him.

"They get in the way when I'm kissing you."

"Do you know what today is?" Lex asked.

"Of course. How could I forget?"

Lex mouthed Clark's jaw.

"Lex. I have to go to work. And you have to get ready."

"You can be late."

"I'm late because of this same reason almost every day."

"I don't have class until ten. They should change your work hours to accommodate me."

Clark kissed Lex again. "I wish they would. But I'll see you tonight. Don't be late." He pressed Lex against the kitchen counter. "And don't fall in love with any of your new students. I'll get mad."

"Are you really worried about that?"

"No. I just like to tease you."

"Maybe you can write me some poetry and I can pretend you're my student again."

"I already did, Professor Luthor." Clark took a folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket. Lex handled the paper reverently.

"I have something for you, too." He handed Clark an envelope that had been sitting on the counter. "Don't read it yet."

"Okay." Clark leaned in for a last kiss before heading out the door. Once he was on the elevator, he used his x-ray vision to have an extra minute with Lex. He did this every day when he was leaving for work. But today, he really wanted to see Lex's face as he read the words.

Faith

I knew you
before the day I was born.
When I was only an idea
in a place that doesn't exist.

I circled in space,
lost and alone,
protected only by metal
and velocity.

As the days passed,
I grew
closer to you
though we still hadn't met.

The sun filled my bones
with strength
and the air taught me
happiness
so I could give these things to you.

Even before I could see you,
before I could touch you,
I always had faith
you were there,

waiting.

Clark could see Lex rubbing his nose. That's what he did when he was trying not to cry. Clark smiled, wishing the day was over so he could walk in the door to see Lex again. Five years hadn't dulled the pleasure of that.

Clark left the building and the crisp fall air filled his lungs. The sky above the city was clear and blue. He enjoyed walking to work on days like this. He stopped, setting his briefcase on the sidewalk, and opened the envelope from Lex. Glancing back at the apartment, he confirmed what he suspected. Lex stood at the window, drinking his coffee, gazing down at the street. Clark unfolded the paper and read.

Stars

you came from stars
electric fiery stars
stars once cold but, no
you and your breath, your life--

still light
speeding darkness--
i tried to outrun
everything strange
and dangerous--
shock of metal on me, in me
so many needles
and so much they took
near deaths
i tried to finish
(i tasted only dust, bitterness, blood
my blood
fanning from my veins)

you came from stars
but not cold, no
you breathed life
into me
gave me faith
and trust--
things i'd never known

Clark folded the paper slowly and put it back in the envelope. He tucked the envelope safely into his pocket, and picked up his briefcase. Then he looked up at the window, walking backwards so he could watch Lex for as long as he possibly could.

The End. The schmoopy, schmoopy end.

Feedback is like the flights of angels...