They were at a blank tableau.

It was clear-cut and visible before them, like the table that stretched out at the sides for pointless feet. First it was the lawyer reading from the papers, and then it was the pattering, pelting snow on the too many windows in the room. Droning, monotonous and frightening for the little boy who was sitting on his father's lap, able to look across that space at the other boy.

A bald little boy in an exquisite suit of clothes with his fingers folded tightly in his lap and his face as unchanging as the table. And slightly less shiny.

"So, the decision is of course yours to make. You can reject Guardianship if you wish to do so, and as representatives of his estate we'll find someone suitable to whom he will be a ward." The lawyer seemed to have no interest either way, not after he'd laid out vague details about money and trust funds, and donations. The 'important' people had already left, either disgusted to find themselves given a pittance, or delighted to learn their organization had been given an abundance.

"Jonathan..." The look on the woman's face was one of sweet pleading that seemed to beg him to consider it. They had wanted a house full of them at one time, and had come to discover that they could not have children at all. The little boy on her husband's lap was a veritable miracle in so many ways that he had seemed a nearly divine gift when he had come to them.

There was little question to either of them that the way that he came to them was close to divine. A sweet little boy fell from the sky, delivered to them...

"Of course we'll take care of him." The lawyer nodded to the man's words, even though he looked half in shock as he agreed with his wife.

The formerly statue still child placed a hand on the smooth table-top, and started to stand. "I'm Alexander J. Luthor. It..." His voice faltered a fraction. "It's a pleasure to meet you both."

"Alexander." The woman's voice was warm and sweet, understanding as she stood and moved around the edge of the large conference table. "Is that what you like to be called?"

"A-Lex-Ander," the little boy said from his father's lap, beaming proudly.

"This is Clark, Alexander." Jonathan -- that was what he'd been called, the boy had noted -- started to stand, too, lifting the young boy up as he stood.

"I... they call me Lex at school." It wasn't a distinct answer, but it was an answer for the woman, moments before the lawyer moved to lay papers in front of the two adults.

"You should sign these first. I'll have Alexander taken back to the penthouse and you can go there at your leisure once these are signed. Pamela..."

"Of course." The woman who came from the nearest doorway startled them, and the little boy gave a tiny shriek. He obviously wasn't accustomed to seeing other people, in a state of excitement over all of the people he'd seen this morning.

"It's all right," the little boy's mother hurried to say. "We don't mind keeping Alexander -- Lex? -- here with us. We'll go back with you later, if you like. Are you his...?"

"I'm his nanny," Pamela said quietly. "Alex..."

The boy frowned a little, and started to sit down again. He lifted a hand to the bare nape of his neck, rubbing almost nervously. "Stay for a moment, Pam?"

"Pamela, it's a pleasure to meet you," the man told her solemnly, "even if it is under these, uh, poor circumstances." He'd make a bad public relations person, Lex decided as he watched them. Jonathan was too apologetic, and the boy in his arms was too excitable-looking.

"A-Lex-Ander!" the boy said again, pleased with himself. "Momma! A-Lex-Ander!"

"Yes, sweetheart. This is Alex. You like Alex a little better?" the redheaded woman asked him, kneeling down next to him and ignoring the waiting lawyer. "My name is Martha. Jonathan and I will be very glad to have you with us. We like children. We want to have lots of them."

She must not have thought he could speak in full coherent sentences. He glanced up to Pamela, then back to Martha. "I usually go by Lex," he reiterated firmly, and didn't explain to her why he didn't want her calling him Alex or Alexander. His mother had, Pam did... strangers and peers called him Lex, and he didn't know Martha and her family. Wasn't sure he wanted to know them, because he was being thrust at them without a choice in the matter.

"All right, Lex, then. That'll be easy for Clark to say. Clark is six, but we've only had him for about a year now. He's had a hard time learning English. It might help a lot for him to have a big brother. Do you think that's okay with you?" Martha was certainly being nice to him; but then, he had a lot of money, and they'd be getting paid to take care of him.

Where money was concerned, people were nice to him -- it had been that way at his father's funeral, and again at his mother's -- but sometimes people slipped and forgot he had so much money. Or they did things that they thought he'd never hear or see. Lex glanced at the little boy, then back to the red-haired woman who was kneeling too close. "I guess it is." It was awkward, felt awkward.

The smiling people didn't even know him. Oh, his mother had mentioned them, but mentioning a person wasn't knowing them.

"Would you like to play with Clark while we do what the nice gentleman here wants us to do? I'll bet he'd love to get to know you, and since you're going to be brothers, sort of..." The look on her face was hopeful, happy.

"Mr. Sigler isn't a nice gentleman. He's my mother's... my... lawyer." He glanced over to Pamela again, and stood up from his chair to walk around the table towards Jonathan and Clark. "But I can."

That seemed to delight the little boy, who promptly yelled with glee and moved to grab Lex's hand. He had a strong grip, and Lex almost yelped when Clark took his fingers.

"Be careful, Clark," Jonathan chided, looking at them worriedly.

"I'll go with them," Pamela decided. "Perhaps you'd like to see what's just down the hall?"

Perhaps he wanted to shake out his hand and then toss the boy -- baby? No, he was too old, even if he didn't talk properly -- right out the window. Lex just thinned his lips and nodded solemnly, tugging at the other boy's hand as he started towards the door.

It was just as well. Sigler was starting to talk about education requirements and allowances and money, and he didn't want to hear it. If he didn't hear it, maybe he was just dreaming.

"A-Lex-Ander," Clark said happily, not clutching him quite so tightly anymore. "Home?" It was babyish at best, followed by a quick spate of words that Lex didn't know, as if Clark thought he should be able to decipher them.

"I want to go home, too," Lex huffed quietly, but only once they were out in the lawyer's expansive hall. Down the way there would be the typing pool, and the paralegals' office area, and a lounge with big comfortable chairs. And wherever Pamela was leading them.

The little words came at him now and again, Clark seeming to explain things, but once he understood that Lex couldn't understand him, he heaved a low sigh and shook his head. "Home. Momma. Daddy. A-Lex-Ander."

"He understands that you'll be going with him, Alex," Pamela said gently, taking them just outside of the law office. It was high up in a building close to LuthorCorp, but Lex knew that she wouldn't take him near the window. She knew he didn't like it.

"I don't want to." He looked away from them both when he said it, because it sounded petulant, and it wasn't as kind as he was expected to sound about things. Pamela knew he didn't like heights, knew he used to have asthma... just knew everything about him, like his mother had.

"I know you don't, sweeting. I know." She knelt down beside them, pausing in the middle of the hall and looking at him. "I don't blame you at all. But they're nice people. They saved you that day last year when the rocks came down. You remember it. Your mother wanted you to have a wonderful home with kind, loving people to care for you, and you know I don't want to leave you, but..."

Lex supposed that he should've been 'playing' with Clark. But Clark was going to be there at the end of the day, and Pamela might not be. He jerked his fingers free of the little boy's hand, and flung his arms tightly around Pamela's neck. "Then don't..."

"But this is what your mother wanted for you, Alex." Her hands were gently stroking her back. "This will make you happy in the long run."

"Don't go..." It was almost a whine, certainly tired and strained when he hid his face against her hair. "Not for good. You can't."

"I won't go away forever, Alex." She pulled him close, fingers caressing over his bare scalp. "I'll always be close by when you need me."

"Alex," Clark declared solemnly, reaching out a hand to tenderly touch his cheek. "Home."

Lex nodded shakily to her words, and made himself not start crying as he hugged her for a moment more before he pulled back. If he stayed there, he'd give in to his urge to scream that it wasn't fair, that he didn't want to go live with strangers.

"I'm going to hold you to that promise."

"I promise," Pamela told him solemnly. "But you have to promise me something, Alex. You have to promise me that you'll do your best to be happy. The Kents are very nice people."

"I'll try." It sounded sullen to both of them, but it was the best that Lex was going to give her or himself in that moment. "I'm going to try. I can't do anything else, can I?" He looked back the way they'd come, then glanced over to Clark.

"Alex." It was said happily, and the other little boy moved towards him, wrapping his arms about Lex's waist as if it was the appropriate thing to do. Perhaps he thought it was, since Pam had hugged him, and allowed Lex to hug her, too. "Alex. Come home. With..." A brilliant grin crossed that face. "Clark!"

"It's no wonder your mother thinks all children talk badly. Yes, I'm going to go home with you. Now let go..." He was strong for such a little thing, but Lex was gentle in pushing him back. "C'mon. We'll get a soda. Pam, do you want one...?"

The puckered frown on Clark's face seemed to announce that the boy understood more than he spoke, and Pamela smiled slightly as she accepted Lex's offer. "Yes, sweeting. Let's go fetch something to drink, why don't we?"

"Milk," Clark declared. "Clark like milk." Apparently, he could speak. He was just a little slow about it.

"I wonder if they vend milk in a can." Lex reached to grasp Clark's hand again, to lead the way towards the little lobby area. "Pam... after this. What's going to happen?"

"Everything's going to change," his nanny told him solemnly. "But it won't be bad, Alex. You'll be loved. That's the kind of people the Kents are."

"Momma and Daddy," Clark agreed, nodding to Lex. It was becoming obvious that he understood a lot. "Nice."

Understood, but didn't speak back. Interesting, in a vague way that Lex would think more on later. "They'll make me leave Excelsior, won't they?" As horrible as it was some days, it was something that Lex had still had even when his father died, even when his mother had been so sick. He'd had school and his few friends and his many enemies, and it was familiar.

"Probably. I imagine they'd like to have you closer to them, Alex. I would, if I were entrusted with your care." They paused in front of a vending machine, one that contained various sodas and a few cans of juice. "There's no milk, Clark, but there's juice. Would you like some juice?"

"Apple." It was a firm declaration, and a small hand tugged gently at Lex. "Apple you?"

"Apple juice," Lex corrected softly, and then reached into the pocket of his neatly pressed pants to fish out a few quarters. "I'd give up Excelsior for you..."

"Apple you," Clark told him again. "Apple me, apple you. Apple Pam-e-la?"

The little laugh Lex's nanny gave was delighted. "I know, Alex. I know. And I would delight in taking you somewhere it could be just you and me, always. For now, though, I think that young mister Clark here will keep you fully occupied. I think you'll have a nice time. You'll try for me, won't you?"

He nodded again, almost smiling because she kept pressing the issue. She knew he didn't really want to try, but for her... he would. "I promise to not get on a bus back here the first chance I have," he said, mostly serious as he plopped coins into the machine and pressed the button for Clark's juice.

The younger boy cried out with delight as it dropped down, making a firm thunk as it found its way into the tray. He knelt down in front of it and poked in a hand, digging around until he had brought it out. Clark immediately stood and offered it to Lex. "Alex apple."

"Thank you, but that's your drink." Lex laid a hand on it, and pushed it gently back to Clark. "Do you need me to open it for you?" Was that right? He half-looked to Pamela for confirmation that he was doing okay.

She nodded, pleased at the interaction between the two of them. "That's just right," she said simply, watching as Clark contemplated his juice.

"Open?" he asked. "Please."

Lex dug his fingers under the edge of the tab, levered it up, and popped it open for Clark. It was easy, but then again, the little boy was just that. Little. "There. Don't cut yourself on the lip. It's pretty sharp."

Clark gave him the sweetest smile and held the can up to guzzle hungrily at his juice even as Pamela gently nudged Lex. "Get your own juice, Alex. I'm sure that Clark will be happier once you've got something to drink, as well."

Juice. Lex didn't want juice, but didn't voice his disagreement as he slipped quarters into the machine and pressed hard on the button for a root beer. It landed with a primally satisfying clunk, and he dug it out of the machine's belly before turning to Pamela. "What would you like?"

"Juice good Pamela," Clark voiced seriously. "Clark like. Mmm. Likes, Juice!"

"Well, then. I think that I shall have juice, since that seems to suit Clark," Pamela decided, smiling. "Do you suppose that's acceptable, Alex?" Her declaration brought another brilliant smile from the little boy.

It was almost nauseating how happy the boy was. Just generally upbeat, even about juice. "I don't see why it wouldn't be," Lex shrugged, and slipped two more quarters into the machine and got her a juice to match Clark's. "It's probably going to be a while, since that looked like a lot of papers to sign." Sign and sign, because they were signing away on his life. There should at least be a lot of papers to go with it.

"Perhaps if we ask nicely, the Kents would let us go to the park for a while. Would you like that?" Pamela always wanted him to have what he liked, and always made sure to ask. "We'd have to bundle up, of course..."

"Park?" It was a word that Clark obviously didn't understand.

"With trees, and a lake?" Lex half-suggested, glancing towards Pamela. "Could we? Then we could show Clark what a park is." He didn't really want to stay in that building any longer than he had to; it was too familiar, but unfamiliar, too, and distant.

"Let's go ask. There's one not more than three blocks down, I think, and I'm sure you'll both enjoy it. If you'll wait here, I'll go and make sure it's all right," Pamela replied.

"All right." He didn't like the idea of Pamela having to ask permission to go somewhere with him; but soon the... Kent family, the Kents, would be able to say 'no' as if they were his parents. Maybe they'd say no already, as if she were going to run away with him.

Lex glanced to Clark, took a sip of his root beer, and half-wished she would.

"Park?" Clark questioned again, holding out his hand to Lex and looking at him with a steady expression. "Alex unhappy...?"

He nodded to the question, and took another sip of his soda before reaching for Clark's hand to lead him towards the chairs on the lounge. "You're right, I am."

"Why?" The eyes that looked at him had gone a strange, deep and misty green, looking at him with the same sort of sorrow that Lex felt. "Clark happy. Momma and Daddy happy. A-Lex-Ander. Www. Wulll." Frustration overrode Clark's words. "Be happy?"

"Maybe." Furtive words to match Lex's own lack of knowledge over what was going to happen next, and too much knowledge over what had happened. "My mom and dad are gone, and I just want them back. And now I'm not going to have Pamela, either." He swallowed down the urge to cry, curling fingers tight around the soda can. "It's not fair."

"Not fair," Clark agreed sadly. "Happy. Momma and Daddy. Good?" He seemed to consider the matter for a moment. "Good. Love. Nice."

"I'm glad you think so." What was he doing, pouting at and taking his anger out on an almost baby? He'd already promised Pamela that he'd try, and doing that was a far cry from actually trying. "How's your juice?"

"Gooood." Clark's grin was almost sly as he offered the can to Lex. "Want juice? Apple you. Apple Alex!"

Lex sighed slowly, took the can briefly from Clark, and took a sip -- a tiny sip that only proved the juice was cold and definitely apple -- before he handed it back to Clark. "It's good juice. I still like soda better. Have you ever had soda?"

Startled blue-green eyes looked at him, and then Clark laughed. "Clark like milk. Soda... mmmmm." The word seemed to escape him, so he gave another one in that language that he seemed determined to use. It obviously meant something.

It wasn't one of the romance languages, so it could've been Slavic, or middle eastern, or possibly Native, Lex decided. He offered his root beer over to Clark. "Take a sip, it tastes good."

Smaller hands took the can, Clark gazing at it seriously before he lifted it to his mouth and guzzled a swallow. It made him laugh once the can was pulled away from him, droplets falling onto his shirt. "Mmm! Ti... TICKLE!"

"It's fizzy," he agreed gently, taking the can back to take a sip for himself. "Juice doesn't fizz unless it's gone bad." Or was alcoholic, or... Well, there were a lot of exceptions but Clark was too young to understand them. "So you like it where you live?"

The question gained him a nod, a very fervent little shake of Clark's head. "Pretty! Apples, corn, to-may-toes. Moos!" That seemed to delight the little boy. "Clark wants. Mmmm. Puuu-peee? Alex... Have?"

"No. I used to breath funny, and we live in a penthouse. A penthouse is a really beautiful, high up home." Only he hated heights, and he hated the penthouse. It felt cold and lifeless, too quiet, too many reminders. "We'll have to go there before we go to... where you live."

"Clark and Alex has puuupeee," the younger boy decided. "Not high. High. High... BAD!" Yes, and it seemed that Clark wasn't so fond of heights, either, from the sound of things. "Alex. Mmm. Talk better? Clark?"

And somehow they had a puppy? Okay. Right, he couldn't be any older than five, maybe six, so that sort of strangeness could be forgiven. "You do talk well," he granted. "Better. Can you call me 'Lex'?"

"Lex. Lex, Lex, Lex. A-Lex. Lex." Clark nodded firmly. "Lex, Clark. Has puuppeee. Momma, Daddy, ask nice? Puuuuppee?"

"You want me to ask them for a puppy?" Unless Lex was misunderstanding his babble -- which was possible -- the wide-eyed little boy was a schemer. "Why don't we wait to see if we can go to the park first. You'll like the park."

"Park happy? Puuppee park?" Apparently the little boy had difficulty letting go of a notion once he latched hold of it.

"It could be. There might be puppies there." He took another sip of his soda, then shifted to his feet. He wanted to go see what was taking so long, but he couldn't just abandon the little boy there on the couch. "Come on, let's see what's taking so long."

The wriggle as the little boy stood up was given because his legs were too short to reach the ground, and he placed his hand in Lex's while clutching his juice close to his chest. "Hand cross," Clark told him seriously. "Look twice."

"We're not crossing the street -- we're just walking down the hall." That was funny and endearing of Clark, that he was so serious but... slightly wrong. Lex tugged at his hand, mindfully dragging Clark forwards with him down the long stark hallway, to the door that was hiding the Kents and presumably Pamela.

"And sign here," a voice said, "and here, and here, and..."

"Good heavens," a woman sighed. It wasn't Pamela, so it must be Martha. "Please, do take the boys to the park. Clark's coat and mittens are in the truck, and a little hat to keep his ears warm, too. Jonathan and I will come down and meet you there if it's the one at the foot of the hill two blocks away?"

Lex pulled at the door's handle, and peeked in, Clark still in tow at his side. There wasn't a need to say anything, just his presence, he figured, would be enough to get things moving into action.

It did seem to be enough, all of the adults turning towards them expectantly.

"Alex!" Pamela said, smiling slightly. "I see you boys have come to find me, drinks in hand and everything."

"Lex," Clark declared happily, and pulled his hand loose from Lex's to guzzle a bit more of his juice, careful and two handed.

He half-wondered what they'd been talking about before he heard the bit about the park, what they'd been talking about that had taken so long. Probably him; Lex was sick of hearing people whisper about him behind his back. "And we've found you," Lex smiled a little, overtop of his instinctual frown. "Clark keeps talking about puppies for some reason."

"Puuupeeee...?" Clark coaxed hopefully. "Puuuupeeeee."

"Yes," Martha laughed, shaking her head at the lawyer to put him off for a moment. "Clark loves puppies. He wants one very badly, but he's a bit young yet, we think. Maybe now that he has a big brother, you could both have a puppy. Would you like that, Lex?"

"Maybe?" He wanted to just... figure out what was going to happen next, and settle in, not... have to make decisions or anything so soon. He was a big brother, now? They hadn't known him for, no, not even an hour. They still didn't know him.

"We'll figure that out later," Jonathan said, and Lex felt it was almost sage advice despite that the man sounded nervous. "We'll finish up here, Pamela, and meet you all down at the park."

"Of course." Pamela deferred to them the way she'd always done for Lex's mother and father, and that was a funny sort of feeling. Maybe it was even unpleasant. He was uncertain.

"Puuuppeeee paaaark," Clark declared reaching for Lex's hand again. "Look twice, hand cross."

Lex sighed, and took a sip of his soda; if Clark wasn't so bright eyed, Lex would've suspected him of being retarded somehow. They weren't even on the street yet. If a car hit them that high up in a building, there was definitely more to worry about than crossing the street. "You're very safety minded."

"Um, I was worried about Clark in such a big city," Martha admitted sheepishly to Pamela. "I'm afraid I lectured him a bit..."

"A lot."

"...on the way to Metropolis."

That made sense, but Lex couldn't stop himself from eyeing Clark a little as he tugged him back out into the hallway. "Oh. Well that's sort of good. Pam...?" Are we going, he wanted to ask, but he didn't want to seem like he was whining.

"I'm coming," she told the boys warmly. "We'll be at the nearest playground as soon as you enter the park," Pam promised the Kents, crossing towards them.

"Goodbye, Momma," Clark said clearly, and he moved along beside Lex as if he belonged there.

And maybe he did. He was a strange boy, but it didn't make Lex uncomfortable, and he was silly instead of a threat. Of course there was nothing to threaten against Lex anymore; neither of his parent's wraths or affections even existed any longer to sway.

Lex fell quiet as he started down the hall, and paused to wait for Pamela to catch up.

"Play Lex. Play Clark. Happy," Clark declared to him as Pamela slipped out of the conference room and reached for Lex's hand.

"All right, then. Everyone hold on tight, and we'll have a lovely trip down to the park. Perhaps I'll stop and get some bread for you to feed to the ducks. Since it's been snowing, they'll like to be fed. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Alex?"

"Yes." Lex clutched at her fingers when her hand was offered to him, clutched tight because she wasn't going to be there for him every hour of the day anymore. Just one more person gone from him, but at least she'd be okay. At least she might still see him sometimes, and wasn't going to be lowered down into an open cavity in the ground, wrapped up in a beautiful wooden casket like both of his parents had been. "Do you have ducks where you live, Clark?"

"Ducks," Clark agreed. "Chickens. Moos. Moooooos. Want puuuppeeee. Ducks go kvak."

"They do go quack. That's very good, Clark," Pamela said as they walked down the hallway towards the elevator. "Do you like the moos?"

"Moos.... Moos STINKY," Clark informed them.

"I bet they are." A farm. Would it be like the farm in Montana, with horses and beautiful forests, and -- well, it didn't matter if it were just like that. His mother wouldn't be there to see it with him, to make him sit still to watch a sunset and make him appreciate the lingering glow. His mother wasn't there to see anything anymore, or to talk to him, or... "Puppies can be, too."

"Puppies arf," the little boy said with a decisive nod. "Not moo stinky. Puppy stinky. Moo stinky worser. Badder?"

"Worse. Or more bad, but that sounds archaic." Lex clutched Clark's fingers as they headed into the elevator, and he looked up hopefully at Pam. "Where're you going to go?"

"I'm really quite uncertain, Alex. Your mother left me some money, and a little house in the country. I was thinking of going there. Perhaps the Kents wouldn't mind if you came to visit me during the summers..." Pam said, pushing the button to send them to the first floor. That motion obviously fascinated Clark more than the closing doors because he moved forward to peer at the lit button.

"Push?" he asked, looking hopeful. A finger poised over the button beside it.

"I'd like it if I could... I just want something to stay the same. First father, now..." He drifted off, and glanced over to Clark. "You can push it. If you push it, it'll stop at that floor."

"Two?" Clark asked politely, lifting his head to look at Lex.

"That's two. And we're going to the first floor, but it's okay if we stop at two, too," Lex sighed.

Pamela smiled and nodded. "You're going to make a wonderful big brother, Alex," she murmured, reaching down to hug him as Clark pushed the button. The little boy seemed terribly solemn as he stepped away and simply looked at the console expectantly.

The button lit up, and the elevator's steady downward decent continued.

Wonderful big brother or not, Lex leaned into Pamela, almost crying as he hugged her back. He didn't want that. He wanted everything to stay the same, he wanted to stay in the penthouse with his parents and Pamela.

"It will all feel better one day," his nanny promised him, gently stroking the skin on the back of his head. "I promise you, Lex. It will all feel better one day."

Lex nodded bravely against the fabric of her dress, and was still clinging a little when the elevator paused at the second floor before going down to the first.

He wasn't so sure about what she was saying, no matter how badly he wanted to believe her. But there wasn't anything he could do about it.

His mother had once teased him about having a smothering aura of displeasure. How when he was in a mood, he could suck the life and laughter out of the people around him with hard glares and lightly miserable almost-sneers.

She was obviously only partially right, because the cab of the cramped truck hadn't been silent during the too-long drive. A truck. He was riding in a truck, a real, real rusty truck, and it was cold outside, colder than in the city. There was just smooth snow and the sharp jut of wooden posts all around the road.

Smallville was hell. He remembered with every bare, dead-seeming plot of land when it had been crammed with stalks of corn, and the pain and fear of the sky falling down on them. His father...

His father had died because of those bare fields. Because of Lex's bare head. Father had only wanted to show him how to do business, and Lex had been more interested in crows and corn. That interest had brought him to the middle of a corn field in the center of hell and now he was being brought back. He hated it.

"Moos," Clark said solemnly. "Snow. Fence."

"That's right, pumpkin," Martha told him gently, ruffling his dark locks. "Isn't it pretty?"

Pretty? Horrible. Dante had it right about the cold in hell, the barren starkness of it that made Lex wonder if demons were soon going to creep out of the edges of his field of vision. They'd have huge teeth, and a scream like that scarecrow had, and they'd crack down on his bones, and suck him dry. Like Smallville was going to do.

He wanted to tell someone that he'd never think of anything again but business if it would just get him his family back. If it would bring his father and mother back if he were good and paid attention and didn't wander off.

"Is there a city around here at all?" he finally asked, glancing to Martha and Clark and their at least vaguely happy expressions.

"The town is off in that direction," Martha told him with a little smile, reaching to touch his hand. "We didn't think you'd want to go into town right at first, Lex."

"Lex," Clark sighed happily.

"Maybe later this week. We're trying to get Clark used to seeing more people than he's been seeing," Jonathan said, as if sensing that the idea of not being in a city, a town, a something that wasn't flat and barren was going to get to Lex. Or maybe he didn't sense it at all, and it was just lucky happenstance that he said that.

"Okay. It's just so empty here..."

"I think you'll come to like it, sweetheart. It's very different, but I'm from Metropolis, too. The countryside grows on you, especially when you learn to be happy," Martha murmured to Lex. Clark's head was laying on her shoulder now, faint slices of hazel green peering at Lex through black lashes.

"Where in Metropolis were you from?" He didn't want to talk about being happy, or about being in the countryside long enough to have it grow on him. And he didn't want those too-intelligent eyes prying at him.

"I was from the east side, sweetheart. Near the park," Martha told him, reaching out to gently touch his shoulder. "My father worked in a law office near the one your lawyers use."

"Oh." Not really his part of Metropolis. Lex had seen it in their eyes when they'd gone back to the silent penthouse for him to pack up some of his things. But at least he had verbal confirmation of it, too. "Which one?"

"Just down the block," Martha smiled. "Two buildings down. His office faced the park. He's retired now, but I remember how much I loved going to look out those windows when I was a little girl. I'll bet you liked looking out of the windows at LuthorCorp, didn't you?"

"Sometimes. I don't like heights." And LuthorCorp overlooked a lot, just like the Luthor Towers did; not all of it was scenic. Lex didn't have a smile to give back to Martha, just a twitch of his face; he'd promised Pam he was going to try, but it was hard.

"Clark doesn't like heights, either, do you, sweetheart?" The little boy shook his head against her neck, looking at Lex even as he lifted fingers up to his lips to suck on the tips. "You'll have a bedroom on the second floor at our house, Lex. Will that be all right?"

"It's fine," he said agreeably. "Heights like that are fine. Heights like.... tall buildings and helicopters aren't." Oh, but he'd give anything to have his dad screaming at him to look out a window again.

"We'll go into town tomorrow to pick out things you like. You can decorate your room the way you want. Clark likes Oscar the Grouch and the Count." Obviously Sesame Street must be a big hit for the sleepy six year old.

"So his room has a lot of that stuff?" Lex laid his head back on the padded seat, closing his eyes to the sight of the snow. "I liked how I had my room before."

Martha had seen it, and thought that it was a little impersonal. Lex had lots of historical models, but very few actual toys. "You can choose whatever you like," she reminded him gently. "Isn't that right, Jonathan?"

"Yep." Jonathan nodded, and the truck suddenly veered into a turn, past wooden gates and through more vague snow. Lex only slitted his eyes open for a moment before he closed them against more of the same old, same old. "We'd like you to feel as... comfortable here as you can."

"Okay."

Martha nodded to her husband as the young boy closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat. He had obviously run out of things to say and was going to feign sleep, if not actually manage it. That was all right for now. He certainly deserved his rest considering the terrible things he'd been through of late.

Clark didn't have to feign sleep, but it didn't matter if both of them were falling into the soundest sleeps of their lives -- soon the truck rolled to a gentle stop, and Jonathan whispered to Martha to wake the boys up while he unlocked the house and got Lex's bags.

"Come on now, sweethearts," she murmured to both of them. It required a little shake for Clark, but Lex's eyes opened slowly. "It's time to go inside. It's almost bedtime, anyway, but we'll have some quick supper before then, now that we're home."

Home. It didn't look like his home, though it was a nice enough little yellow house, with yards that looked neat beneath the faint scattering of snow that covered it and the barn. Well tended, in that down-home picture book sort of way. It wasn't run-down like that factory had been, but insides and outsides of a place could have great contrast. Lex would pass judgement after he'd actually gone inside.

Lex stretched a little, then shifted to pull open the door. "I'm not really hungry."

"Then we'll just have sandwiches," Martha decided. "They're not too heavy, and I can make some tomato soup."

"That's okay. I'll just unpack and then go to sleep," he excused himself. Then Lex slipped out of the cab of the truck, and lowered himself to the snowy ground with a light thud from the bottoms of his shoes.

He couldn't deny the worried expression on Martha's face. "Well, if you're sure, Lex..."

"I am." He looked at her, and past Clark, with serious eyes, and then darted out of her field of vision to supervise Jonathan's fetching of his bags. If he put his foot down hard enough, maybe he could have things his way most of the time. Maybe.

Somehow, he doubted that it was too terribly likely.

"Well, come along, then, son. I'll show you to your room," Jonathan told him, pulling out the two large satchels from the truck bed. Lex's other things were due to be delivered at a later date.

Not a specific later date, just a vague later date. Lex supposed it was in case he did something horrible and they decided they couldn't stand him and sent him away. Then they wouldn't be put out too much by having to pack him back up.

"What sorts of things do you do here...?" Lex asked as he tagged along behind Jonathan a good five, six steps.

"All kinds of things," the sandy blond man said seriously, a glance back revealing not only Lex, but Martha holding Clark. "We grow organic vegetables, we raise grain-fed cattle. There are chickens, too, and a few pigs. You ever seen a chicken, or gathered eggs?"

"I saw chickens the last time I was here. I've never gathered eggs." He'd kicked a chicken, but he wasn't going to say that to the farmer.

"Well, how about you and me go and gather some eggs tomorrow. Think you'd like to try?" It might be interesting to make the attempt, after all. Chickens didn't like it when their eggs were taken.

"Maybe." There was little reason to show interest in anything, let alone something as menial as gathering -- picking? -- eggs. Feeding the cold, hungry ducks at the park had been much more fun. He waited, watching while Jonathan unlocked the door.

"You can feed them, too." The man wasn't reading his mind; they'd found him and Clark with Pamela, delighting in feeding the ducks. "They like bread, but they like corn mash a little better. Come on inside. It's warmer in here."

Lex felt a flush of heat hit him when he entered the room, and it only grew stronger the further he walked into the house. So he brushed past Jonathan, glancing around at the walls and the quaint decorations. Knick-knacks and chintz, he guessed was a better word. It wasn't decorum so much as a dumping ground for stuff.

How did anyone live like that? Amidst clutter and THINGS, with pictures of English setters on the wall? It made him nervous, made him think of dust and allergies and the days when he couldn't breathe very well at all.

"Lex," Clark said sleepily. "Home."

Was it possible to drive oneself back to asthma just from the fear of it? Lex wrinkled his nose a little, suppressing an imaginary sneeze while he twisted around to look at Clark. "I... guess it is," he mumbled in reply.

"Come on, sweetheart," Martha invited, hefting Clark up more tightly on her hips. He was obviously heavy. "I'll show you your new room. It's right next to Clark's, and just down the hall from us. I'll show you where we are in case you need anything in the night, all right?"

Like a tissue. Or a ventilator, if the rest of the house were that dusty and cluttered.

Well, if they were going to let him 'decorate' -- and he somehow doubted they meant it, because people never meant things like that -- he was going to do it tidily. He could make a tidy, neat, well organized haven in all of that. "All right. I probably won't need anything, though."

"All right, Lex. Do you need to go to the bathroom first?" It would make sense to want that. It had been a good three hour trip from Metropolis, after all, and they hadn't stopped to use the facilities anywhere between there and Smallville.

With questions like that, it was easy to tell that he wasn't in Kansas anymore... or more to the point, he was too far into Kansas. Lex wanted to rally and retort that he wasn't three and could definitely find the bathroom himself, through trial and error, but merely chewed his bottom lip and nodded as he followed her up the steps. "It'd probably be good to know where it is."

"There's one downstairs just off of the kitchen," Martha told him as she began to climb the stairs. Jonathan was already lost somewhere in the house, and Lex didn't bother looking for him. "Follow me. Clark will need to go, too."

"Sleepy," the little boy in her arms protested.

Good. They were both tired, so there wasn't going to be some horribly family-style meal to suffer through when Lex least wanted anything to do with it. "Does it have a shower?" For a fleeting moment, he feared they didn't bathe. But that was ridiculous; everyone bathed, didn't they? Even the Romans bathed, but of course there had been that swathe of time called the middle ages where everyone leapt backwards a few hundred years in way of technological and social development.

"And a bathtub," Martha promised him with some amusement. She made no snide commentary concerning indoor plumbing. "The bathroom off of the kitchen is only a half bath, but it'll do for our needs, I think."

"All right." He slowed a little, looking at the walls as they passed them. The paint wasn't peeling, but it looked like it wanted to; the entire house had that feeling of decaying, of needing constant repair. "What... time should I be up tomorrow?"

"No particular time. We haven't enrolled you in school, as yet, but I'll call you and Clark in time for breakfast. Clark hasn't started school yet, either," Martha told him. The hazel-eyed little boy was peering at him again.

"I go... went to school in Metropolis. I guess I'm not going there anymore?" He didn't like that idea very much... no, not at all. "I didn't even get to say goodbye to them..."

"We can go and let you say goodbye at the end of the week if you like. I'll make cupcakes," Martha offered. "Metropolis is really a long trip, though, and Jonathan and I would like it if you went to school somewhere closer. We want the chance to know you, Lex. You seem like such a sweet boy..."

Him? Sweet? Lex's mouth thinned a little at the almost compliment -- Accusation? Expectation? -- and just rolled his lean shoulders. "I'm in advanced classes. Or was. Do they have those here?" Did they do the one-room schoolhouse thing? Unlikely, but it was so out in the middle of nowhere that it seemed horrifyingly likely.

The question seemed to amuse Martha to no end. "Yes, Lex. We have those here. If you aren't suited to an equivalent grade, I have no doubt that they'll bump you up a few if you like."

"Oh." Well, he felt stupid now, as he paused in the hallway and tried to not look at Martha. And Clark was staring at him with those wide hazel eyes. "Which room is mine?"

"This one." Martha moved forward and gently pushed open a door. The room behind it had obviously been a guest room, one meant for the occasional visitor. "It's not really what you'd like yet, but tomorrow after breakfast, we can go to town and pick up things that you want..."

"After the chickens?" Lex edged into the room a little anxiously; it felt like a tomb, with all of those cluttering little knickknacks and tasteless pictures on the walls. Jonathan had laid his suitcase on the bed for him, but the sheets beneath it looked horribly questionable.

"After the chickens," Martha promised him. "It won't take long to feed them, and you can gather eggs with Jonathan first, if you want. Just let me go lay Clark down and..."

"Noooooo!" It was whiny, sleepy protest. "Leeeex."

"I'll still be here in the morning," Lex assured him awkwardly. Pamela wasn't there to nod and tell him he was doing okay, so he'd just have to wing that. The whole arrangement felt transient for the moment, so maybe that was a lie. Nothing was sinking in and feeling solid, and it bothered Lex to notice that.

"Want stay Lex," Clark whined, reaching out his arms for the other boy.

"No, sweetheart. You have to go to sleep in your own bed," Martha told him very firmly. "Lex shouldn't have to share with you his first night somewhere new."

"I wouldn't mind," he offered hesitantly. "It feels kind of... lonely in here." Oh, and if she laughed at him for that, he was going to throw a proper fit. Lex didn't wait to see her expression, though, and turned away to open up his suitcase.

There was quiet behind him for a moment and then he felt Clark's arms wrap around his waist from behind. "Lex," he announced, satisfied with himself.

"All right. But you must come with me and put on your pajamas, Clark. Would you like to see Clark's room, Lex?"

"I... sure." And he tried very hard to not sound the least-bit sullen as he twisted around. Partially prying Clark off of him was no easy task, but he offered the little boy his hand to make up for it. "What does he like?"

"Clark like everything," the little boy said solemnly.

"Especially the Count," Martha said, leaning down to tickle him, making him squirm and giggle, hiding close to Lex. "And Oscar the Grouch!"

Lex cracked a tiny smile as he watched that; it hurt to watch, but it was like being cut -- a sharp pain, and then it felt better just because it was fading away. Clark might've been adopted, but he was so little that he couldn't remember his parents. The Kents were it, and he fit so well with them. "He likes Sesame Street, then?"

"Sesame. Street!" Clark giggled, hiding behind Lex. "Coookie. Lex likes Sesame Street?"

"I used to watch it when I was little," Lex said agreeably enough, tugging him forwards gently so they could go out into the hallway again. "I liked the... the bug things. And the alien-things. I can't remember what they were called."

"Mmmmmmm!" Clark's imitation was a good one. "Mmmmmbammmmbammmbababababababa!"

"Yes, you little munchkin," Martha laughed, herding them along in front of her now. "Clark's room is just to the right."

Lex hung back a little for Martha to reach past them, and he peered into the currently dark room in a vain attempt to pick out details. "When does Clark start school?"

"We hope he'll know enough English to start next fall," she answered, reaching in to turn on the lights. That revealed a room full of posters with stars on them, a moonlit sky spread across the small bed with a Cookie Monster doll propped up against the pillows. There were dozens of books all around the room, and a little chest full of toys at the foot of the bed. "Hopefully, knowing you will help him with it a lot."

"I'll try to help," Lex decided as he let go of Clark's hand. It was an achievable goal for him, and Martha probably had no idea of how much he was used to having a near constant companion. If it wasn't his mother, or his father, it was Pam, and Pamela was... Away. Probably all alone in the penthouse, at home, where he should've been only Lex was going to be a big boy and not think about that.

He wasn't going to cry.

A sleepy little declaration sounded as Clark hugged Lex clumsily. "Lex help Clark. Speak good Lex."

"He's learned so much in the past year. He didn't speak at all when he came to us. We hope that you'll be happy with us, too, Lex," Martha said quietly.

Lex blinked his eyes quickly, and then looked up and over at Martha, mouth twisted into a serious, flat expression. "I... promised Pamela that I'd try. So I will."

That was really all anyone could ask for, wasn't it?

"Here. Clark has some pajamas in the upper drawer. I'll help him get dressed for bed if you want to visit the bathroom, Lex. It's just down the hall, at the end."

"Thanks," he half-mumbled, ducking back out into the hallway.

The floorboards creaked disconcertingly when he walked back into his room, and grabbed the bag Pamela had carefully put his toiletries into. On the way towards the bathroom, he veered to walk close to the wall in that narrow hallway, just so the floor didn't threaten to collapse under his faint weight.

He wondered how the adults managed to walk down it without worrying about it falling from beneath them, but maybe they'd lived there so long that they knew all of the bad spots and could avoid them. Lex didn't feel that confident, and he tiptoed when he pushed open the door to the bathroom. It was dark, and it took a moment for him to find the light. When it came on, a cheery yellow room was revealed with a vinyl shower curtain that had lots of happy little yellow ducks on it. There was even a rubber ducky in a bucket beside the bath tub, and everything looked neat and clean and not nearly so cluttered. That was something of a relief, anyway.

Maybe he could live in the bathroom and sleep in the tub.

Lex closed the door behind him, and took a moment to figure out how the lock worked. It worked with a handle mechanism, and the bar of the lock didn't actually seat well into the doorjam. There was a keyhole, too, and no key for it. Probably an old skeleton key, and that was sort of a neat idea to Lex. He decided he'd ask about those after he'd washed.

He hadn't brought any of his clothes in with him, so he guessed that it would be all right if he just washed his face and hands and brushed his teeth. Maybe he'd know what to do with all of his things in the morning, and then he could have a proper bath. Just at the moment, he sort of needed to use the facilities, so that would be first. They'd had a drink on the way to Smallville, and he was starting to become a little uncomfortable.

Everything was good and well in the tidy bathroom, even the washcloth he used to clean his face and scalp, and Lex was soon putting away his toothbrush and toothpaste, and soap back into their places in the folding bag he'd had for years and years for travelling and over-nighting to places.

Good and well until he saw a silverfish skitter along the wall; then Lex's feet couldn't get him out of there fast enough, and why had he locked the door?

His hands were shaking frantically, and he didn't think he'd EVER get the door open before the bug got to him, but he finally managed it and ran out right into Martha.

"Goodness, Lex! Where are you going in such a hurry?"

"Out. There's a huge, a huge silverfish on the wall," Lex squeaked at her, bursting past her and out into the creaky floored hallway, where he promptly shook himself off as if that would help.

"Here, sweetheart. I'll take care of it," she promised, but Clark was already halfway in the bathroom and had apparently caught the thing.

"Prize?" he asked Lex.

"What? No!" Lex staggered backwards, first against the wall and then clamored down towards the now questionable refuge of his 'room'. An insect like that, in Clark's hands!

"Momma?" Clark asked in confusion, looking up at Martha as if his heart had been broken to have his gift turned away by Lex. The other boy was hovering in the doorway of the guest room, afraid to go in and afraid to get near the two of them, too.

"Can't you just put it down?" Lex heard himself whine, lingering in the doorway, his toiletries bag clutched in nervous hands. "It's not a prize, it's a bug!"

"Here, Clark," Martha soothed. "Why don't you take it and put it into the toilet, like a good boy? Then I'll let you flush it away. You like to watch it go down, don't you?" Obviously she didn't want to touch it, either.

Lex edged away from the relative safety of the doorway when Clark slipped back into the bathroom. If he didn't watch or at least try to watch Clark, he was sure that the little boy was just going to let the thing go. Where it would sneak out of the bathroom and find him in his sleep, and get him. Logical? No, but things like that happened; he'd read as much in the papers.

The dark-haired boy conscientiously pushed up the toilet seat with one hand and dropped his 'prize' into the water with a tiny little sound before reaching up to push the chrome handle. That made Lex brave enough to step inside and watch it swirl away down the bowl.

"There. It's gone," Martha pronounced solemnly. "I don't like them, either."

"It was huge," Lex sighed, calming a little as he watched it disappear. He scrubbed the back of one hand over his eyes, then turned away with far more dignified grace to his posture. "I'm going to change now. And then go to bed."

"Clark, too," the halfway pajama-clad little boy demanded. "Clark with Lex."

"ONLY after we get the rest of your pjs on, little God of Lightning," Martha scolded firmly. "Thor can't be Thor without his pajama top."

Once in his bedroom, Lex shuffled through his suitcase and started to unpack it; his favorite pair of pajamas came out last, shaken a little to snap the last of the wrinkles out of them before he put them on. Again, he mindfully closed the door before changing, but didn't bother with the lock.

After all, if there were bugs that big in the neat bathroom, who knew what lingered in the bedroom. He wanted to be able to escape quickly if it became necessary.

There was a happy squeal in the hallway, his name falling from Clark's lips. "Leeeeeex!" Pattering feet followed quickly along, and a hand scrabbled uselessly at the door. "Unnnh. Leeeex?"

"In a minute!" Lex had been trying to jerk the warm knit top down over his head, so his voice sounded muffled. Either Clark was very polite, or he couldn't figure out how to open doors yet, and that was just a strange idea. So was the possibility that he was just that polite.

"Minute done?"

"Just wait until Lex tells you," Clark's mother chided from the hallway. "Then you can go in, Clark."

"It's not a real minute. It's uh... euphemism." He tugged his pants on quickly, and then warm thick socks, before he opened the door. It wasn't surprising to find himself face to face with a superhero-pajama clad little boy.

"Lex and Clark to bed, now," Clark decided, walking swiftly past Lex to the bed and beaming at him. "Minute done!"

"There are fresh sheets on," Martha promised Lex gently. "If you need anything, just let us know. All right?"

"All right," Lex nodded. Fresh sheets. That depended on her definition of 'fresh', and her definition of 'sheets'. But he wasn't going to say anything about it just then; he'd already made enough of a fuss about the bug in the bathroom. "I probably won't, though."

"Climb into bed, then," the boys were encouraged. "And I'll turn off the light for you."

The words were enough to induce Clark to pull back the sheets and tumble in, but he waited patiently for Lex, hovering on the mattress as if waiting to see which side of the bed the other boy wanted.

Lex crawled onto the bed, choosing the side of the mattress nearest to the wall. "Good night," he hesitated, tugging sheets up to his neck once Clark settled down a little. What a horribly long day it had been, and Lex couldn't shake the awkwardness that he felt.

Maybe he never would. Maybe it would always feel like this, like being a guest when he ought to feel as if he was at home. Maybe they wouldn't ever let him see Pamela again. He missed her. It made him want to cry, and just when his sinuses began to prickle, he felt a hand reach over and grasp his own gently.

"Get better, Lex."

That didn't help the pricking in his nose, behind his eyes, and Lex hunched his shoulders to try and stave off emotion. "I'm okay," he whispered tensely, and gave the politely kind hand on his a squeeze. "Just go to sleep."

"Okay, Lex." The little boy's breath automatically eased into sleep.

It was a lot longer before Lex joined him.

"Okay, Lex. Now. We're going to go in and get the eggs. Sometimes, the chickens just lay them in the dirt, but sometimes, they lay them in the boxes over there. We'll sow some corn feed first, and then most of them will come along and it'll make getting the eggs a whole lot easier," Jonathan explained to him.

Lex only paid the explanation a little attention. There were a lot of other things to distract him; the fact that it was cold in the coop, and that there was a whole lot of clucking, and it smelled strange to him. No, the Kent farm wasn't quite like the ranch his family used to holiday at. "That doesn't sound hard," he scoffed, picking at the seam of his gloves as he surveyed the boxes.

"Not yet," the sandy-blond man agreed with a grin. "But they tend to peck when you get too close to their eggs while they're setting. If you find one of those, call me, and I'll get it for you."

"If you'll let me see the business section of the paper when we go back in. Martha wouldn't let me," Lex complained vaguely as he reached to pick up a handful of the feed. He suspected there was news about him in there, him and LuthorCorp, and he had every right to read it. And he wanted to see what the paper had dug up about whoever the new CEO was.

"Well, now, Lex, that's the thing. Miz Martha is a formidable woman. And the thing about formidable women is this; it's best to stay out of their way when they make their mind up about something." It didn't stop the man from smiling, though it was certainly rather rueful. "I suspect that paper's already found its way into the garbage can, son."

"So?" Lex peered up at him even as he flung that handful vaguely in the direction of the chickens. Jonathan Kent had an expressive, easygoing face; not at all like his own father's face, which was usually laughing but always hiding something beneath it. Always. Maybe Mr. Kent was hiding something, too. "That wouldn't stop you if she'd put the farming section in the trash. So... so don't tell me about formidable women. My mother... my mother would've owned this town if she..."

Jonathan knelt down beside him for a moment, a hand placed warmly on his arm. "I know, Lex. And you're right. There's not a lot that would stop me, but Martha has been known to win on occasion. She wouldn't have denied you if she didn't think you might get hurt by something. We don't want that, you know."

He jerked stubbornly away from Jonathan's hand, and reached for the bucket Jonathan had the feed in to throw out another handful. No hollow sympathy for Lex, no, the young boy just wasn't going to have it or accept it. "That's not realistic."

"Maybe not." Jonathan sucked air through his teeth slowly and took a deep breath. "You're a bright boy, Lex. You're smart and you've suffered a lot in the last year and more. Maybe it isn't realistic, and maybe you're right about that, but for now... Well, for now, Martha and I are responsible for you. For seeing to your best interests. For trying to help make you happy. I'd like to think we both take that responsibility very seriously. Even if it isn't exactly pragmatic to think we can keep you safe from everything."

"I can't live in a bubble. I can't just close my eyes and be scared and pretend things will go away if I don't see it." He leveled a glare at Jonathan, but Lex could see his eyes wavering in intensity before he made himself look away. Concentrate on feeding the clucking birds.

"That's true," the farmer agreed, nodding. "You can't. But Lex, you're young, yet. Your mother trusted us to protect you, and to make you happy again. I hope you'll come to trust us, too."

"My age doesn't matter. Father started to teach me about the world when I was Clark's age. I can be happy and aware." Not recently, of course, but he didn't want to think about the things, the people he wanted and couldn't have.

The man's head nodded slowly. "Mm. Yes, Lex, I'm sure you can. You're a very brave boy." One big hand strewed chicken feed out along the ground. "For now, though, maybe you could just concentrate on being a happy boy. That might be easier than being both, just for a little while. Don't you think?"

Lex grabbed another handful, and flung it loosely at the clucking birds. "Maybe." Maybe if he just agreed and smiled and nodded vacantly at them they'd stop pressing. He could just sneak around them, Lex supposed silently.

That would suit his need for information just as well.

"Here. You can gather the eggs and put them in the tin," Jonathan told him, handing Lex a big coffee tin. It was slightly rusty, the words 'Maxwell House' scratched over, almost indecipherable. "Have you ever seen chicken eggs outside of a grocery store before? They're a little dirty, so you'll need to wash your hands afterwards."

"I don't usually go into grocery stores," Lex admitted as he wandered over towards the boxes that Jonathan had first pointed out to him when they'd entered the coop. "Unless it's to get candy."

"What's your favorite candy?" Jonathan asked him, lifting another handful of feed to sow it around the chickens' feet. Most of them were ignoring Lex, and that was good. There was no need to frighten him just yet. Thank God they didn't keep geese.

"Circus peanuts. Father... couldn't stand them, but Mom and Pam liked them." Lex's mouth fell to a crippled smile, and he started to search avidly for eggs to distract himself.

"I like 'em, too," Jonathan confessed, giving a faint sound of laughter behind Lex. "Martha thinks they're disgusting, and Clark seems to view them as his own personal form of Lego blocks."

"They are sort of moldable. You can make pyramids with them," Lex observed softly. He reached for a pale object, and picked it up uncertainly. "Are they supposed to be green? Has this one gone bad?"

That definitely made Jonathan laugh. "No, no, son. It's a good egg. Some chickens lay Easter eggs, I guess you could say. They come out colored. Sometimes they're green and sometimes they're blue and sometimes they're even a pretty kind of rose color."

"There's... stuff stuck to it," Lex muttered disdainfully as he set the egg carefully in the cruddy coffee can. "Should there be stuff stuck to it?"

"Well, the chickens sort of poop them out, so there's always stuff stuck to them." The explanation was given quite seriously. "You always have to wash the eggs after they're gathered. Cool, soapy water and a scratcher gets them clean."

Lex decided he was never going to eat eggs again. He set the next egg away hastily after that, and decided he wasn't going to ask anymore questions about chickens, or eggs. No, it was just going to be picking and setting and no more questions. And he was going to have to sterilize his gloves somehow.

"After this, would you like to come and see the cows?" Jonathan offered. "Your things ought to be here later this afternoon or tomorrow morning, and I know Martha mentioned making some cupcakes..."

"That sounds fine." Lex gave a roll of his shoulders, and edged towards a sitting chicken to see if he could reach under it to get the egg it was probably hiding.

"What's your favorite kind of cake?" the farmer asked Lex, not noticing that the boy was getting a little too close to a hen that probably wanted to brood.

"Uhm... chocolate apricot," Lex replied absently, as he stretched out his hand to rustle around under the chicken. Retrospectively, it was a bad idea. He jerked his hand back, howling, "It bit ME!"

Lex had never thought a man could move so fast. Jonathan was right next to him, and the hen was flying through the air to get it away from him. Big hands took his arm carefully in hand. "She's pecked you pretty good," the man said worriedly. "You should have called me. Why don't you go in and show Martha? She'll get it cleaned and bandaged for you, all right?"

Lex stared at his forearm, the wound that the hen had left just where his coat sleeve and shirt had ridden up, beneath his glove's edge. "It bit me!"

"It pecked you. Hens don't have teeth." The correction was gently given. "Here, take the can with you and go see Martha."

"Okay..." That was more of a whimper than it was agreement. Lex headed towards the door with his arm held out in front of him, still looking at it in horror. And to make it worse, he had to walk through feeding chickens to get out.

He really wasn't sure he could make it.

"Leeeex!" Clark called him, waving frantically as he hurried down the porch steps. "Lex, Lex, Lex!" Oh, and Lex really wasn't up to this, no, not this morning.

Lex closed his eyes, and walked quickly through the chickens, hoping no more of them bit him. And maybe Clark wouldn't tackle him or hug him or start demanding something immediately. "Go back in the house, Clark..."

"Lex?" The little boy hurried to the coop, peeked through the chicken wire.

"Son, the hen pecked Lex. Go tell your mother," Jonathan called, which set Clark off at a pace that couldn't be natural, could it?

But Lex had never been a running boy, so he wasn't very sure if it were natural or not. By the time Lex got into the house, Clark was nowhere in sight. He set his coffee-tin of eggs on the table, and took off his coat gingerly.

"Lex hurt," Clark said mournfully, showing up from nowhere with a little tube. Lex could hear Martha's footsteps up above. "Momma fix."

"What's that?" Lex asked quietly, as he sat down in one of the chairs. He peeled his gloves off, and dropped them beside the tin of eggs, then shoved his sweater-sleeve up to his elbow, careful to not touch the wound.

"Sporn." It wasn't a very clear answer, but it was probably the best that Clark could do. "Clark kiss better, Lex?"

"Not that," Lex said too quickly, peering at the other boy. "A chicken bit me. It's not clean." And he ought to run it under tap water, but he wasn't sure if that were the best thing to do -- it hurt-stung, but it wasn't so bad. Other things had hurt worse.

Dark brows knit thoughtfully as Clark looked at him. "Bad chicken. Puuppee better than chicken. Lex and Clark have. Get. Um. Puppee?"

"Clark said you had an accident, Lex," Martha greeted, hurrying down the stairs and into the kitchen. "I've got band-aids and disinfectant and... Oh, I see Clark has brought the Neosporin."

Lex nodded, and started to stand up. "One of the chickens bit me," he said, and the concept was one Lex decided that he was never going to tire of saying. Because it was a chicken, and it had bit him, and that was just fascinating. One's food didn't attack one.

Martha seemed to understand, because she grinned at him even as she moved behind him to the sink. "That wasn't very nice, was it? Shall we have chicken for lunch, then, Lex? You can bite it, and maybe that will make things feel a little better."

"Mmmmmm," Clark hummed. "Chicken."

"It'd serve it right." Lex wanted to sulk, but Clark's innocence struck him as perfectly, hilariously morbid, so he kept quiet as he followed Martha to the sink. "Does everything here bite?"

"Well, I'd watch out for the calves if I were you," Martha told him, turning on the water and scooting a stool over so that Lex could stand on it. "Other than that, most things require provoking first. Well. Except the chickens."

"Maybe they're deranged chickens," Lex decided. He stepped up onto the stool, and stuck his arm under the water without prompting. "Evil chickens."

"One bit me the first time Jonathan made me gather eggs, too," she confided, using an antibacterial soap to gently wash away the blood. It wasn't much of a peck, but it had obviously hurt. "I've made him fetch the eggs ever since."

"Do the eggs really have shi-- poop on them, or was he joking?" Lex gave a glance towards Clark, wincing as she cleaned it. The cleaning hurt worse than the bite had, but he didn't want his arm to fall off because of evil chicken spit.

"They really do," Martha confessed, turning off the water and tugging a paper towel off of the roll beside the sink to gently begin blotting it dry. "That's how they come out, you know. So, you have to wash them off, but what's on the outside of the shell stays on the outside, so it's safe to eat the insides."

"Uh. I don't like eggs anymore," Lex decided in quiet horror as he let her blot at his arm. It wasn't the same as when Pam would do it if he were hurt, but... it was okay. And Okay would have to suit him for a while. Or forever. "He'll make Clark pick them, soon, too. It seems like a dangerous job."

"Oh, well, I think we'll wait a little while before Clark has to go and fetch eggs. You're right. It does seem like a dangerous job." Such solemn agreement even as Martha gently herded him back towards the table, stool and all. It wasn't a very far move, after all. "I think we'll just make Daddy gather the eggs from now on. What do you think, Clark?"

"Daddy eggs," Clark agreed. "Not Lex. Kiss it better?"

"Not yet," Martha told him, gently spraying a disinfectant over the wound and then adding an antibiotic salve. Obviously, one couldn't be too careful with chicken wounds. A quick motion, and a band-aid was placed over the bitten arm. "There we go. Now you can kiss it better."

Clark moved forward and smacked his lips gently, noisily against the band-aid. "Better!"

Lex laughed a little, nervously and in spite of himself as he stepped down from the stool. "Th... Thank you, Clark." He tacked 'enthusiastic' onto his mental list of descriptors for Clark, a list that he assumed was going to grow by leaps and bounds in the coming years. "I suppose... We clean the eggs now, Martha?"

"I think you've probably had enough of eggs this morning, Lex," Martha told him most seriously. "Maybe Clark would like to show you the other animals on the farm. I'm sure you boys can probably avoid getting bitten so long as you stay outside of the pens..."

"Yay!" Clark cheered, reaching for Lex's hand excitedly.

"Let me put my coat back on," Lex protested, and sidestepped the little boy. "It's cold outside and you ought to wear a coat." And a hat, but they made his head hurt and were an indignity to suffer. He pushed his sleeve back down, and swept up his wool coat to slip it on again. "Go get your coat, Clark."

"Not cold," Clark told him, pouting. His lower lip stuck out, and his nose scrunched up as if in distaste. "Don't want coat."

"Wear your coat," Martha chided, and went to fetch it. Clark gave a great sigh.

"You'll feel cold when you go outside," Lex informed him sternly, buttoning his way down his own coat's placket. "So you should listen to your mother."

"Don't get cooold," Clark whined, but he seemed resigned to his fate, holding out his arms when Martha came back with his jacket. "Yes, Lex. Clark wears coat like Lex."

Lex's eyes narrowed a little at Clark, but he almost smiled. "Good. So you're going to show me the cows?"

"Mooo," Clark agreed. "Make funny sounds. Smell icky. Clark..." He paused, and then frowned. "Lex. YOU. You, Lex will like the moos. I, Clark will show. You, Lex?" It was more by way of question than statement.

Lex thought. He wasn't sure if it was either, once he was done following Clark down the twisted path towards something resembling coherent grammar. So he just nodded, and glanced up at Martha with a tight smile for her. "We'll be back. C'mon, Clark..."

The little boy scurried happily towards him and clutched Lex's hand. "I Clark, You Lex. I, you. Momma I or You?"

"You," Lex assured him, and pulled open the main door before pushing open the storm door. It was much colder outside compared to the warmth he'd dashed into after the chicken had bit him. "Everyone but you -- Clark that is -- are 'you'. It's I when you talk about yourself."

"So, I Clark, you Lex, you Momma, you Daddy?" The door shut behind them, but Martha's delight was obvious as she peeked out at the boys on their way down the steps. "I Clark."

I, Claudius -- Lex tried to not snicker or laugh when the thought popped into his mind. "Yes. Only when you're talking about someone who isn't there, it's he or she or they if it's more than one. You'll learn, don't worry." Lex tried to step over a little drift-like pile of snow, but found out it was ice when he put his foot down and slipped.

Arms flailed and he yelped, and he really should have pulled Clark down with him when he fell... Except that he didn't fall. No, his eyes were squinched together and his entire body had tensed for impact, but instead... Instead of impact, he felt tiny arms holding him from hitting the ground.

"Lex," Clark said seriously. "YOU be more careful. Clark. I. Clark not let fall."

"Oh, wow," Lex exhaled shakily, staring sideways at Clark as he twisted to put a hand on Clark's back, and edged past that icy bit. Clark hadn't just snatched him still, stopped him from slipping just by catching him, had he? Clark was so little compared against Lex!

"No more fall!" That seemed to make Clark happy as he herded both of them around the patch of ice and towards the barn. "Warmer with moos."

"How'd you do that?" Lex murmured, still feeling stunned, surprised, a myriad of things that added up to mild shock; but it didn't keep him from following Clark towards the barn.

"Clark not want Lex. Um." The little boy seemed to think hard about the sentence. "I not want you get hurt. Catch you better fall, yes?"

"Yes, but..." But. But he sounded perfectly stupid pressing it, so he just tugged on the handle of the barn door. "Never mind. Is this where the cows are?"

"Moos inside. Warm inside, yes?" Well, warmer than it was OUTSIDE, anyway, and the delighted smile Clark sent him told him that Clark could tell that much, at least. "Moos milking first in morning, then out in field. Daddy not send out field yet."

"They go out in this cold? What do they eat?" Lex wondered aloud at the little boy who probably didn't have the answers to his question. Then again, Clark was just full of surprises, so maybe he was wrong.

Clark seemed to consider the question seriously. "Hay and grass and leaves and salt. Lick salt? Lick salt," Clark decided, nodding. "Not cold. Fur." Well, yes, that would protect them, wouldn't it? After all, leather came from cows, and leather was very warm.

Lex closed the door behind them, and he pulled away from Clark. The little boy was right about the smell. "Uh... are there vents in here?" It smelled like hay. And shit. And something else that he couldn't figure out, but would in time.

He decided he didn't like either eggs OR milk.

"Loft." One small hand lifted, pointing to the rickety ladder that led upstairs. "Go loft with Lex?"

"What's in the loft?" Lex asked, starting towards the ladder unsurely.

"Nice," Clark told him. "Hay. Nap. Watch Daddy. Cusses chickens, tractor." That obviously amused him, because his green eyes were snapping with humor.

"I bet he cusses out the chickens." Lex moved to hold the ladder steady for Clark. "Go on. You first."

"Lex. You. Sure?" The little boy implied somehow that he might catch Lex again, if it became necessary.

And Lex could fend for himself, he really could. First Jonathan being condescending, then Martha, and Lex was hoping that Clark wouldn't. "Very sure. You can start climbing."

The little look that darted over Clark's face was... Something. Lex couldn't tell what until the boy confessed shyly. "Clark afraid high."

"Clark afraid high?" Lex almost wanted to laugh with relief. "That's okay. I don't like heights either. I mean, I really can't stand them. I might freak out halfway up the ladder, but you won't tell anyone, will you?"

"Clark no tell. I no tell," the other boy said, giving his own pleased sigh. "Maybe no loft? Loft later. Um. Daddy take loft." Apparently, Jonathan's presence would be enough to make Clark feel secure about the matter.

"That sounds like a plan. Maybe if it had... stairs that'd be okay. But you're pretty brave to have gone up there before." Lex reached to grab Clark's hand. He wanted to head closer to the cows, maybe pet one's fur.

The compliment brought a sort of glow to Clark's face, and he happily held Lex's hand, heading towards the cows with him. "Clark brave sometimes. No like high. High bad," he decided. "Pet moos? No bite. Not like chicken."

"Yes, let's go pet the cows. Do you like the sound they make? Is that why you call them moos?" Lex pulled towards one of the gated stalls; for a barn, it was tidy, and it had to be tidy somehow. Hard work, he assumed. When he got older, when Clark got older... would they be doing more than getting pecked by chickens? It wasn't like sitting in on his father's business meetings.

"Unh," Clark agreed, mimicking the low sound of a cow. "Moooo. Mmmoooo." He laughed delightedly and tugged at the gate as a cow leaned her head close to it, peering at them with giant brown eyes that seemed much more gentle than the sharp gleam of the hen that had bitten Lex. "Mmmooo, Sheba."

"Is that her name? You're good with names," Lex praised. Then he reached his hand, tentatively, towards the cow's snout. If she bit him, he wasn't going to have a hand left for Clark to kiss better.

She didn't bite him; instead, the cow vaguely rubbed against him and allowed him to pet her. Her nose was soft, vague prickly hairs occasionally startling Lex's palm with their touch, but she seemed gentle enough. "Sheba like. Likes. Lex. You. Sheba. Likes. You," Clark decided.

"She seems to," Lex agreed softly, climbing up another rung on the gate so he could reach to scratch behind her ears like a cat or a great huge dog. "I've never seen a cow this close up before."

"Milk good," Clark murmured. "Milk sweet. Cream. Mmmmmm. Creeeaaam."

"Boys," Jonathan greeted, startling them both slightly. "I see that you've been all fixed up, Lex. That's good."

"Martha did a good job," Lex said over his shoulder, clinging tightly to the gate as he continued to pet the cow. "Clark pointed out the loft."

"Ahhh." The farmer smiled slowly. "I'll bet he wanted to go up but didn't want to go without me, did he?" Strong arms swept the little boy up, causing a fit of giggles to spill from him as Jonathan managed to displace his coat and shirt and blow a raspberry on his tummy, making Clark wriggle. "Because Clark doesn't like heights very much, do you, Clark?"

"Loft, Daddy!" Clark demanded, squirming. He wanted to reach Lex. "Lex Loft! Lex and Clark, loft!"

Lex slipped carefully down off of the gate, after giving Sheba one last gentle pat on the nose, and nodded slightly in agreement. Had his father ever done that for him? Played with him like that? He couldn't remember, and he was struck with the sudden fear that soon he'd forget everything.

"Tell you what," Jonathan offered. "If you like, I'll carry you up and then come back down for Clark." There was no denying that the man loved his son. Lex wished someone would love him that way.

"I can climb it myself," Lex protested, and it was really a token protest. "I'm eleven. I can climb a ladder. I just need someone to hold it steady."

Clark's father nodded. "I'll bet you could climb one twice as high. Doesn't mean it wouldn't be nicer if someone else climbed it with you, though. My dad used to climb up there with me until I got too heavy to carry. He gave me a telescope, and it's up there, just waiting..."

"Scope," Clark declared. "Stars. Go!" His English was much better when it was just him and Lex.

Was that on purpose, or on accident that it happened that way? Maybe it was a matter of confidence; Lex mulled over that, nodding to himself more than Jonathan's words. "You have a telescope?"

"Right up in the loft," Jonathan confided with a nod. "Maybe if you decide you like it up there, we could spend a little time building stairs once it warms up some. Clark likes it, too, but he's a little young to be spending time in the loft alone."

"I guess he's not going to be alone anymore." Lex didn't wait for a response, just started for the ladder again. Maybe if he willed himself to just start up it he'd be fine.

Strong arms lifted him up, though, turning him to face Jonathan firmly. "Wrap your legs around my waist and your arms around my neck and close your eyes," Jonathan told him with a smile, taking the last few steps towards the ladder. "I'll be right back down to get you, Clark."

Lex squeaked a little, and then closed his eyes tightly. He'd already promised himself and Pam that he'd do what he'd been told, and if clinging as if his very life depended on it was the order, then so be it.

"That's good," Jonathan told him soothingly, and he began to climb the ladder. Strong arms pressed on either side of Lex, and the man's legs brushed against him, helping to support him somewhat. It didn't seem a long trip at all with his eyes closed, because he very shortly felt his bottom pressed to the floor of the loft. "There we go. Now, just scoot back and you'll be all right, Lex. When we build the stairs, I'll put up rails, too."

Hastily, Lex scooted, opening his eyes and wobbling a little until he pulled his feet up under him and scooted much farther back. "When it gets warmer, right?" It should have gotten warmer that very second, because the loft was really high up and he was sure he was going to fall over the edge.

"First thing," Jonathan promised as he headed back down the ladder. "Over by the doors is where the telescope is. They're closed and locked, so it's safe to go and look."

"Daddy!" Clark cried demandingly from below.

"There're doors up here? Why?" Lex boggled audibly as he paced towards, yes, it looked like doors, and a telescope. It looked old, and the focal rate probably wasn't optimal, but it would certainly be better than squinting at the sky with binoculars.

The sound of Jonathan's footsteps on the ladder changed direction, and a bundle of Clark was shortly deposited in the loft, followed by Clark's father. "Well, there's a pulley just on the other side, there. With ropes, we used to pull hay up here so that we could push it down to the cows. I don't have as many as my dad had, so I've found it's a little easier to store it downstairs where it's simpler to get to. After all, there's just one of me."

"But the farm's still doing well?" Lex asked absently, picking up the telescope with careful fingers, pulling the stand a little closer. If it wasn't before, it would at least continue now; they got money for taking him in, Lex knew.

"Just fine," Jonathan reassured him. "We've decided to go organic, though, which is a little unusual in this day and time. Well, at least, a little different than things used to be."

"Lex show Clark scope?" Clark requested.

"It's cold out. You probably don't want to open the top door," Jonathan said, "but the stars will be bright and clear on these winter nights."

"... isn't it a conflict of interest to have... to be... taking me in?" Lex asked seriously after a moment, carrying the telescope closer to Clark. Or did the Kents not think on those terms? He was still the son of a man whose company made fertilizer and chemicals, even if both of his parents were dead. The company he'd one day grow into was still the opposite of what the Kents did.

"There's little consistency in the world, Lex. Taking you in is the right thing to do. Your mother was a kind woman, and a woman who wanted you to be happy. She thought we could make you happy. We hope we can make you happy. And Clark deserves a brother, someone else to love. Just like you deserve someone to love," Jonathan told him.

"Clark loves Lex."

Was there a proper response for that? It was probably to either agree or to share the same sentiment. It probably wasn't, Lex realized, the soft, "Oh. Okay," that he gave. But then it was already out of his mouth and it was too damn late. He glanced at both of them, and then edged closer to Clark with the telescope.

"Show Lex stars?" Clark asked him, pointing to the closed door.

"Maybe later tonight, buddy," Jonathan assured, ruffling his messy black locks. "There's nothing out there now but blue sky and birds."

"Later," Lex agreed, moving to carefully put the scope back down at that obvious statement. "It must turn very dark out here at night."

"Black as pitch sometimes," Jonathan agreed. "It makes it hard to sleep when you have to visit the city. It's quiet out here, nothing to hear but crickets and the cows."

"Mooo."

And the Clarks.

"Funny, after last night, I wanted to say that it was very loud here. It's not like the city at all, I couldn't hear any planes or the... there's a noise to the city. I can't hear it out here."

Jonathan settled down beside the boys, stray bits of hay still strewn over the floor. "I'll bet it was kind of difficult to sleep, since you're accustomed to more light and noise."

Once the telescope was securely settled again, Lex paced to sit down beside Clark. "It... yes." It was hard to sleep because he missed his family and was trying to not think about how much he missed them. And the noise. The noise was the afterthought.

"Martha had a hard time, too, right at first," Jonathan said, nodding at Lex. "But you get used to the quiet. You get to longing for it, really."

"I guess. Even at school, there was always noise..." He shifted, pulling his legs up against his chest to keep himself warmer. "I'll get used to it."

"I know it's hard, Lex. It's never easy when you lose people you love. We just want to help you to grow up and be happy. To help us protect Clark. Martha and I... We always wanted children. Having you and Clark, well. That's something really wonderful."

"I'm glad you think so. Nice as all of you are, I'd rather have my family back. If it weren't for this... this stupid town in the first place, I'd still have Father, and Mom..." Lex hugged at his legs, trying to not let his voice rise too high or fall too close to tight strain.

Lex felt Jonathan's hand on his shoulder more than he saw it move, the same way that he felt Clark snuggling in close to him, staying quiet. "I know, son. Smallville..." Jonathan sighed. "Smallville has suffered. You've suffered. The only thing to do about it, though, is to go forward with your best foot to the front, and try to keep life balanced. It's a good thing to remember the past, but the future and what you choose to do with it... Now that's really important."

"You sound just like everyone... everyone at the funeral," Lex bit out. "I don't want to go forwards, I want a chance to, a chance to..." To do something. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do, other than think about everything that had happened in the past year and few months.

"Yeah," Jonathan said seriously. "Yes. People have a funny way of phrasing things. Most people like to say that it'll get better, at funerals. That's not really true. It's a lie. You'll stop crying, stop feeling that your heart is breaking every time you think about them, but it never stops hurting, and it doesn't really get better. I won't lie to you like that, Lex. It's just..." He drew a deep breath. "In the end, all of the good things overcome the thoughts of death. You can enjoy the memories more. And one day, you'll know, really know, that your parents would have wanted you to be happy more than anything else on earth."

Happy. The Kents kept dwelling on that, and it was just a little strange to Lex. "I'm going to be a success one day. Just like Dad," he half-protested quietly, and hugged tighter to his knees. "I don't see what good things there are anymore."

Jonathan took that in stride, not protesting Lex's declaration, but he couldn't seem to help saying quietly, "Well, maybe we can show you a few of the good things as we go along, then."

"Lex," Clark breathed on a little sigh, one arm awkwardly patting his shoulder.

Lex was quiet for a moment, and then he bit his bottom lip tightly into his mouth, and sighed. "Sorry. I'll... be quiet now. Was there anything else you were going to show me?"

"It's a little cold for anything else, and just at a guess, I'd say Martha's probably working on some homemade vegetable soup in the kitchen. In fact, if we're really lucky," Jonathan grinned, "I'll bet she's even going to shred cheddar for us to put in it. Maybe you boys would like to go see if we can steal a little while she's not looking?"

"Milk!" Clark demanded.

"All right, and you can have some milk, too, Mister Clark Kent."

Lex started to stand up, nudging into Clark a little. "Don't just say 'milk', say that you want milk. Verbs can be fun. Don't they teach you that on Sesame Street?"

"Verb milk?" Clark seemed to think about that. "You want milk." He considered it again. "No. Clark want milk. Clark I. I want milk?"

"You're a fast study," Lex decided, edging towards the ladder and looking at Jonathan speculatively. Maybe he could get down it on his own. "Can Clark read yet, Mr. Kent?"

"Well, I know Martha's done her best to teach him his A-B-Cs," Jonathan said, "but he hasn't yet tried reading out loud to us."

"A-B-C-D-E-F-G," Clark sang, peeking over the edge and then scuttling back with a whimper.

"I'll take Clark down first and then come get you," the adult offered.

"That's a good idea," Lex agreed, and took a step backwards. "Maybe I can try reading to him? Until I'm re-enrolled in school..."

"That sounds like a really good idea," Jonathan agreed with a laugh and a faint brush of his hand over Lex's head, a motion at once soothing and strangely sentimental. "Clark likes you."

"Clark likes Lex! I... Likes... You!"

"He'll learn faster if he has someone to talk to him. That's how I've learned Greek and Latin," Lex said seriously. He wanted to brush off the ghostingly sweet touch to his head, Clark's well meant words; maybe if he just talked past them they'd go away.

"Maybe he'll learn more from you since you're both young," Jonathan said, nodding. "Come on, Clark. Down we go, and then you can have some milk."

That was certainly enough to bring that bright smile into play. "Yay! Clark. I wants milk!"

Clark was at the right age for wanting lots of things insistently, Lex decided. He'd read about that somewhere. And Piaget's stages, and something about self-recognition, self... damn, no, that wasn't it. Lex hedged closer to the ladder as he watched Jonathan go down it, and decided that he could at least devote his attention to making himself a decent big brother.

It was maybe the last bastion of family that he had.

"Are you ready?" Martha asked him, carefully holding the Tupperware container full of cupcakes. She'd let him help make them, let him decide that the icing should be purple with lots of little purple sprinkles. It had been a whole lot of fun, and they'd been very pretty when they were finished. Clark had been most impressed, and had swiped one when Lex wasn't looking. He'd laughed and given it back, but Martha had let them share it because she had made several extras.

"I think so," Lex murmured as soft reply, looking down at the Tupperware container. "I'm still not sure this was a good idea. But."

"We can always turn around, sweetheart. I'm sure your friend Pam would like to have one of your cupcakes, and I don't think she'll mind if we visit her early."

Martha was right about that; Pam would be happy to see him if he showed up on her doorstep in the middle of the night. Covered in blood or cocaine, or something just as horrifying. Lex lifted his chin a little, and finally shook his head. "No, I want to say goodbye to Bruce. And Victoria."

"All right, then, sweetheart. Let's go inside, okay? I called ahead to let your teacher know that we were coming." It probably wasn't the sort of disruption allowed at Lex's former school, unlike the nearby public school in which he'd end up enrolled in Smallville. That was okay, though. He'd been promised that his education wouldn't suffer, and Lex had already seen that it wouldn't. Martha and Jonathan had spent lots of time with him and with Clark, and Lex had spent time with Clark, too. The little boy was learning in leaps and bounds, and Lex had learned a lot of fun things, too.

So it wasn't a lecture on defining moments in American history, or Greek, but between the things he could teach himself, and the neat things he was learning on the farm, it was going to be okay. He could skip grades if he had to, when he finally enrolled, and they were supposed to look into that on Monday. So even if the cupcakes went over badly, Martha would at least be able to go down to the office and get his transcript.

"You've promised that you're going to let me handle this myself," Lex half-reminded her, half pleaded.

"I promise," Martha told him again, locking the truck as they turned to walk towards the front door of the school. "I'll walk you to the classroom and then go to fetch your transcripts. And you can handle it all by yourself. You're a big boy, and I'm sure that you know what you want." She didn't mention that if anyone hurt him, she would probably flay them alive. She wasn't his mother, not exactly, but there was no denying that Martha had a fiercely protective maternal instinct, one that certainly covered both of the boys she thought of as hers.

And Lex seemed to benefit from that mothering. Even when he protested it, he seemed to still like it; mothering him wasn't going to be easy, but Martha had a feeling that it was well worthwhile. Clark had benefitted enormously in the short time that Lex had been there, better than he'd developed in the year they'd had him before that.

Lex was quiet as they walked down the hall, toying with the edge of his coat-sleeve but walking bravely down familiar hallways; he led her towards his class's closed door, and then said, "And the administrations is back down the hall, to the main hall, and then a left."

That was a sign that he wanted to go in himself, and Martha really had little choice more than to nod and agree. "I'll be back shortly, but I promise I'll be unobtrusive." There was no need to be careful about using big words, not with Lex.

Not, in particular, since Lex had pulled the word 'effulgent' on Jonathan to describe a quality in model painting enamel that he liked best. "Thanks." Lex stiffened his back as he lingered in front of the door, and then most carefully opened it.

Thirteen pairs of eyes looked at him, the fourteenth pair still focused on the board for a moment before the teacher turned and looked down her nose at him. "Mr. Luthor. I see you have arrived."

He nodded politely, crisply to her despite the fact that he'd never liked her. Lex suppressed the urge to glance right away around the room for his good friends. "Yes, and I've brought cupcakes. Mrs. Kent made them."

"Mrs. Kent made them," someone in the back snickered, mimicking his words. It was probably Harry Osborne, who should have just stayed in New York. Even the nuns had kicked him out of the private schools there, though, so he'd come to Metropolis instead. He'd never liked Lex because Lex was different and smart and a son of Metropolis, and he'd definitely been highly voluble about it. Lex wanted to kick him. If Clark had been with them, Clark would have kicked him. Lex had discovered that Clark was really strong for a little boy, and that thought gave him quite a bit of satisfaction.

Lex gave the teacher a faint, tight smile, before slipping towards his old desk, still vacant, still beside Bruce and one up from Victoria. "Hey. I can't stay for long, but..."

"But you brought sweet little homemade cupcakes," the Lucero girl who sat two desks over from Lex sniped. "They're even purple. Wow. Surprise, surprise."

A quick, dark look from Bruce shut him up rather quickly before Bruce leaned over and pulled up the lid of the clear Tupperware. "They look really good. Like something Alfred would make."

Lex laughed, very quietly as he passed one to Bruce, and then turned around to offer Victoria one. She was all gangly limbs and a lot of pretty hair, but Lex had taken a shine to her. That was the one thing he wouldn't miss about Excelsior. He was either called a queer because he liked... admired Bruce so much, or he was being teased for his vague crush on Victoria. They needed to make up their damn minds. "I thought you said Alfred shouldn't cook..."

"I'm hoping these actually TASTE as good as they look," Bruce told him with a serious nod. "Alfred's always look great, but that doesn't mean they taste so good.

"I want second pick!" Victoria declared, leaning over. Her skirt rode up, and it didn't matter that they were only eleven. It still made Lex flush.

A silvery-blond boy in the back tilted his head, grey eyes narrowing slowly. "Why aren't they from Nas?" he demanded, looking at the purple cupcakes suspiciously. "I've never had a cupcake that came in rubber things before."

"It's Tupperware, and it's very practical," Lex informed him firmly, passing it to Victoria with a vaguely expectant smile curling his lips. "They're home-made, and Mrs. Kent is a really good cook. Better than the chef we... we had here. Much better. Go on, try it, Bruce. The frosting won't bite you."

"It's very purple," Bruce said solemnly, but amusement lurked under that statement. After all, his birthday cupcakes had been black. A mouthful later, and he was humming with pleasure. "Mmmm. They ARE good. They're better than Nas's."

"I want one!" the blond demanded, leaning closer.

Victoria smiled at him slowly. "Will you peel off the paper for me, Lex? I don't want to get purple on my fingers."

"Sure. Pass the container back, and I'll peel it," Lex smiled broadly. He reached to take her cupcake and peel the paper off carefully. "Can I write both of you here? I'm going to be going to school in Smallville soon, so I won't be coming back."

That seemed to set off a lot of excited talking (and the other kids all seemed to be fairly happy about it), but Bruce frowned sharply as Victoria handed over her cupcake. "I'll write down my home address for you. It would be far preferable."

"You know you're welcome to write," Victoria agreed. "Daddy won't put up much of a fuss."

He just put up a smile, and nodded to Victoria and Bruce, pretending he didn't hear the rest of the students saying what they were saying. Even people he did like to associate with would cave to peer pressure in a moment like that, and agree with the general idea.

"Good, so I'll write you both. It's not so far from here to Smallville, but I've got a sort-of little brother now, and he takes up a lot of time."

"A little brother?" That had made Bruce's eyebrows raise. "That must be nice. I wish I had one."

Lex handed Victoria her cupcake back dutifully, and nodded. "It's nice to have company. Clark keeps me busy a lot, too."

The opening of the classroom door caught Bruce's attention and he tilted his head to the side. "Is that your new mom?" he asked very softly, not wanting to be heard by the other students. "She looks nice. Plus, she makes great cupcakes."

"She's not... my new mom. She's Martha, she's been nice enough to take me in because she had to, and..." Lex sighed as he leaned nearer to Bruce. "They're nice. But they're not my parents."

"Nobody ever is," Bruce agreed on a whisper of a breath. "But it's good that she's nice. Alfred won't ever be my parents, but. He's Alfred. That sort of makes it okay. Maybe this will be. Plus, you have a sort-of little brother."

"I think... it's going to be okay," Lex whispered back, giving Martha a little wave -- as if she could miss him in that room -- despite that she veered to speak with his teacher. Ex-teacher. No more lessons with Mrs. Brach, at least. That was something to be happy about.

"You deserve things to be nice," Bruce declared. Victoria was ignoring them now, choosing instead to speak to the blond who'd been uncertain about the homemade cupcakes. It was just as well, because Bruce didn't have much to do with anyone but Lex. "I wish my parents had thought about something like that."

"Alfred is still pretty nice. Mom had a lot of time to think about it. She knew... it was coming." Lex twisted around a little, tracing where the container was with his eyes, before turning back to Bruce. "I bet everyone's been happy I've been gone."

Bruce gave a shrug, as if it didn't matter what the others thought. Maybe it didn't. "I'd prefer it if you were here," he said simply.

"So would I..." And he felt an ache in his chest, an odd one just like how he felt a thrill at looking at Victoria's legs. Lex bolstered up his crooked, tense smile, but his eyebrows were frowning. "I can't believe I'm going to miss anything here. But I will..."

"I'll write," Bruce promised. And maybe Alfred would let him visit, and then Lex could show him the cows, and even the biting chickens. Bruce wouldn't be afraid of the biting chickens, even if they made Lex peek through the chicken wire with no small amount of trepidation.

"And maybe you can visit? There's all sorts of... new things on the farm. It's different, and I didn't like most of it at first, but I think it's better than here in a lot of ways." Words that he just didn't have to tell anyone else, because Bruce understood what he meant; it was more than just a difference in location, it was a change in lifestyle, a jarring one.

His friend just nodded at him slowly, serious as Lex was in their discussion. "Maybe over the spring break. Alfred wants to do something different, and..."

"Alfred wants to do something different." Harry was back to being a little mimic again. Lex definitely wasn't going to miss him.

"...and I'm sure he'd find it interesting," Bruce finished, ignoring the snide boy.

"Good," Lex smiled in a twinge of relief. "I know Martha will agree, so that's no problem at all." He fell quiet for a moment, as the Tupperware container found its way back to him. Someone had scraped 'freak' rather messily into the frosting of one of the remaining cupcakes, but there were two that looked perfectly good still left. Lex eyed them to see if someone had maybe spit on them -- someone like Harry, who probably had frosting under his fingernail from scraping out 'freak' -- and picked one for himself. "What've I missed in Lessons? Anything interesting?"

"It's all been spectacularly boring," Bruce assured him flatly. They had already gone over three-fourths of the curriculum during their recess periods, and could probably spend most of their class time making fun of the teacher. It was just as well that Lex wouldn't have to deal with her again. Martha didn't seem to like her much, either.

He occasionally glanced over to them, but didn't bother to strain his ears and try to listen in. If he tried to listen in, he'd end up overhearing the background chatter of the room, and he didn't really want to pay attention to that. "I figured as much. But it's usually almost always that way."

"So you haven't lost anything important here at school, and you seem to have gained quite a lot of interesting things in your home life. Congratulations." Bruce honestly seemed to mean it, and Lex could be sure that if he said it, he did mean it.

"Thanks. The only thing I'm worried about is school. That's going to be strange, but even if it is, at least everything will be good at... at home." Home, he'd just called the farm home, catching it as he said it, but he'd meant to say it. Lex paused in wonderment for a moment, blinking as he looked at his half-licked cupcake.

Home. Home-made cupcakes. Soup with lots of cheese and it was okay to pick out the beans because he didn't like them. And Jonathan was beginning to gather lumber to build stairs to the loft with rails so that Lex and Clark would have a private place to play.

Maybe it would be home after all.

"Sweetheart? Would you like me to take the rest of them?" That was Martha, who wouldn't make him carry the Tupperware back out again.

But oh no, was it time to go already? "Could you?" Lex hesitated, a little startled by her suddenly being there and asking that. He slipped the lid over the container before she could see what Harry had written -- at least he hoped it was before she could see -- and maybe it'd end up obliterated by jostling around in the ride. "Bruce, can I get your address...?"

"Sure," Bruce agreed, dragging out paper and beginning to write the requested information down in a print so neat it could have been book-writing.

"Fairy," Harry muttered under his breath, earning himself a sharp look from Martha.

Lex just kept smiling his serious smile, and twisted around to look at Victoria. "And can I get yours? I'd rather write there than write here."

"Yes, of course," she agreed, momentarily distracted from her conversation with the blond. Her handwriting wasn't so very neat, but it was girly and loopy and big. It was very much Victoria.

Very showy, even though there wasn't much reason to be or much to back it up. Lex waited quietly for them both to write it out, and took Bruce's first, then Victoria's, and folded both of them up neatly to tuck away in his pocket when he stood up. "I'll see you both around, and I'll write," he promised, trying to not sound desperate about it. But it was probably too late.

Harry was snickering again.

Martha looked as if she wanted to smush the remaining cupcakes in his face, but Harry probably wouldn't even be able to tell. It was just a slight tightening around her eyes, a protectiveness in the way that she put her hand against his shoulder gently. Bruce would know, though, and he nodded at Lex. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Goodbye..." He waved with his right hand, the left still holding onto his half-eaten cupcake, and then turned away and started back towards the door.

"Freak," somebody muttered, but Lex didn't turn around, and Martha didn't throw her Tupperware container. Instead, they both quietly walked into the hall, and Martha shut the door behind them. She said nothing, but her hand stroked across his shoulder reassuringly.

She was a good person, just like his mother had thought. So the Kents were a little strange sometimes; they were good people, kind and open. And neither of them had called him a freak, or even alluded to it. He followed her down the hall just as silently, and it was only when they got near the front doors that he spoke.

"Did you get my transcripts?"

"I have everything that you'll need from here," she told him with a firm nod. "Would you like me to put your friends' addresses in my purse while we go and have a cup of hot chocolate with Pam? I think we can do away with the other cupcakes." Obviously she'd seen that 'freak' after all.

"I think so, too," Lex agreed quietly. His voice fell a little, and he fished into his pocket to offer her the precious slips of paper. "I'd like to go visit Pam now. And... I'm glad you didn't take too long. What did my teacher say?"

"Oh, she said that you were a little quiet in class." It was a circumspect sort of answer, probably not everything Martha had been told. "I think perhaps she wasn't challenging you enough, and considering what she's probably getting paid to teach you nothing, that's just wrong."

"Dad spent a lot of time teaching me things," Lex offered. "Supplement to the best education money could buy, he used to say. And I used to sit in the labs some days and watch the research. I don't think it's going to be any harder in Smallville."

"Then we'll have to come up with something to challenge you, won't we?" The truck door was open, his addresses hidden in her purse, and she waited for him to slide inside. "I think we can probably manage that. You have lots of interests, don't you? Maybe if you have a couple of favorites, we can go and pick out some books that will interest you before we go home."

He sat a little closer to her than he had on the way in, still munching on his cupcake. There was no reason to let a... a bastard like Henry ruin a perfectly good appetite and a perfectly good cupcake. "I'd like that. Maybe... we could go by the penthouse, and I could raid Father's library?"

"Sure thing, sweetheart." It was a promise, and Martha would keep her promise. Lex was learning quickly what honesty meant to the Kents. He was learning that they were more forthright than anyone he'd ever met, except when it came to Clark and his adoption. Maybe they were even more forthright because of whatever it was about Clark, and it interested him. Maybe he and Clark would figure it out together one day. For now, though, he was entirely pleased to sit beside Martha and finish his cupcake, careful not to spill purple sprinkles over his clothes as they drove towards the coffee shop where they had arranged to meet Pam.

Clark preferred primary colors. Everyone in Smallville was going to know him as the primary colors child, because he had crisply blue jeans on, a yellow t-shirt, and a bright red bookbag that Lex hadn't been able to dissuade him from wanting. It was Clark's first day, and Lex was pleased to have his little brother attached to his hip when they boarded the same bus that morning. Since Smallville Elementary and Smallville Intermediate were side by side, he had the task of making sure Clark got home in one piece. Lex had promised Jonathan that he'd try to watch over Clark.

He pulled his baseball cap down further over his head, and thought that maybe the promises should've been the other way around. Clark blended away into the little kids, and had even started to chat happily to people on the bus. Lex had just... just been there, looking at all of the unfamiliar faces and trying to place who might be in the year he'd been placed into.

What did eighth-graders look like, anyway?

"Hey," one of the other boys said thoughtfully, peeking around blue naugahyde seat to peer back at Lex. "You're the new Kent kid. Well, not Kent, exactly, but kind of. Right? I'm Whitney. Mom says you're a couple of years older than me, and lots of grades higher, but that I should introduce myself."

"I'm Lex, and your mother probably said that either to be nice, or to eventually get something out of me," Lex noted to Whitney. "But thanks. What grade are you in? I'm going into the eighth grade."

"Wow. You're really old then, huh? I'm eight, and I'll be in the third grade." Whitney nodded. "You don't look that old, though. Have you got cancer?"

"No. I just don't have any hair, and I'd rather not talk about it," Lex replied, voice dropping a little to a whisper. He glanced over to Clark, who was in an animated conversation with -- and probably at -- another little boy. "What's school like here? Can you tell me?"

"Oh. Well, that's okay, if you don't want to say." Whitney obviously didn't believe that Lex wasn't sick. "I like P.E. best. Miz Myra teaches us, and she lets us play kick ball a lot. That's fun. Do you like kick ball?"

"No. I like fencing, but I haven't done that since... I moved. You probably don't do that here. Or languages? Or gymnastics?" Or hardly any of the random things that he realized he had really appreciated about Excelsior.

"My Dad speaks Spanish," Whitney said. "'Cause there are lots of Mexicans in town when Harvest comes. But mostly they just move in and out and go on. They're not in school or anything, much. I think the old kids learn language stuff. What's fencing? And gymnastics, that's for girls, right?"

"Gymnastics is fun," Clark declared, moving up from where he'd been sitting with a little black kid and carving out a little niche for himself to sitting beside Lex. "Boys do gymnastics. They do them for the Olympics."

"And fencing is sword-fighting. With a lot of rules, and a heavy concentration on French." And he was telling a third-grader that, and it sounded preposterous to think that he'd understand. Clark understood, though, and Lex never once thought that his 'brother' might not understand.

"Lex knows French," Clark declared. "Clark. I don't know French. But Lex is going to teach me it." Sometimes, he fell back into the funny patterns of speech that lacked 'I's and 'you's and verbs. Lex hoped he had a really good first day at school.

"But what good is French? There aren't any French people here." It honestly seemed to stump the blond little boy looking at them around the seat.

"I speak Spanish, too. French is a lot of good, because a lot of Africa speaks French. French is the language of diplomacy, and it's a sign of good breeding to speak it." No, Clark was going to have a really good day at school, he was sure. Because Clark had a really large snack packed for him in his backpack, and a new box of crayons. And that was all it took to make sure Clark was going to have a good day.

"Maybe it's an eighth grade thing," Whitney decided, and turned back around, very confused.

"I think it's a Lex thing," Clark confided in his brother with a nod, laying his head on Lex's shoulder for just a moment. Just a moment. "Like math." They'd both learned a lot of math during the several months of winter and spring and summer. Clark probably already knew everything that the other kids would learn in kindergarten, but for some reason, Martha and Jonathan wanted him to be 'normal'.

Which boggled Lex's mind, because of the things it could imply. That Clark wasn't normal, which Lex was aware of. That being not normal was possibly a bad thing, and that Lex wasn't normal either, but Clark could at least pretend it. Martha and Jonathan wanted Clark to be 'normal', and that thought was one that nagged at Lex. "Like math. Do you think you'll get homework tonight? Do they give kindergartners homework?"

"Momma says no. But she says I can share with you if I feel like I need some." That bright grin was filled with delight. "She said I could color Warrior Angel for you while you did your Bi-O-Lo-Gy."

"Biology," Lex corrected gently, smiling a little as he fidgeted with the brim of his cap. "Yeah, you can. As long as you do it in the coloring books and not the comics."

"Okay," Clark agreed. He'd colored in one of Lex's comics once, and that had been enough to teach him the difference between 'comic' and 'coloring book'. He didn't like making Lex upset. "Will you come and get me when it's time to go home?" Clark was a little worried about getting lost.

"Of course. I won't get any dinner if I don't bring you home with me," he teased softly, and winked at his little brother. "I'd never think of letting you get lost. So don't worry about it."

"I won't worry," Clark told him, giving another of those brilliant smiles. He knew that Lex wouldn't let him get lost, but still. He couldn't help fretting just a little.

"And on the way home, you can tell me all about your day. Okay? And after chores, I promise to share some of my homework. If I get any." He kept smiling, and fed a little off of Clark's bright smile to bolster his own. As long as he kept talking, he was going to seem perfectly happy and not at all worried.

That certainly seemed to excite the dark-haired little boy, who snuggled a little more closely against him and sighed. "You're the best big brother ever."

Lex laid his head back on the bus-seat, grinning to himself. "Good. I'd like a plaque or a reward that says so, but I suppose I'll have to settle for everything else I have."

"I can make you a 'ward with my crayons," Clark offered. He was very excited about his big new box of crayons, and he hoped that he would get to use them sometime during the day. It would be very nice.

"Be sure to use lots of purple." He let his eyes drift to the window, looking out of it and at all of those fields... It was hypnotic, but he imagined he could see the pockmarks in the earth. Some day he was going to buy the field where everything had started.

He was going to buy it and he was going to cut down all of the corn in it and he was going to... Well, he was going to do something. He wasn't really sure just what yet, but it would come to him.

"Okay. That's vi-o-let, right? And ro-yal," Clark declared. He wanted to pull out his box and look, but he didn't want to lose any of his crayons before he got to school.

"And lilac," Lex agreed to the reflection of Clark in the bus window. "They're very nice colors, all of them. You can use any colors you like -- you're pretty good at staying in the lines."

"That's because you showed me," Clark answered. He was ever so proud of himself, and of Lex's compliments.

"Well, all the showing in the world wouldn't do any good if you weren't such a quick learner. Remember that today if you find anything that stumps you. You're a very quick learner, and if you just try, Clark, I know you can get it." Lex turned away from the windows, and shifted in his seat. It couldn't be much longer.

The school was coming into view, so he was right about that. Clark looked both very excited and anxiously apprehensive, little face scrunching up into a tight, worried sort of expression. "I'll see you at the end of the day, right, Lex?"

"Yep. You wait outside, and I'll find you and your bright red bookbag," he assured him firmly, and reached up to tug at the brim of the cap again. It was annoying him, and even though it had seemed like a good idea, trying to cover his baldness hadn't gotten him anywhere so far. And a wig was both out of the question and stupid. Jonathan had meant well, though.

Lex had gotten used to being 'that bald kid' nearly two years ago, though.

"Okay. Even if somebody else has a bag like mine, I'll just wait right outside," Clark said.

Lex tugged at the brim one more time, and then pulled it off. "Good. Hey, do you want to keep this in your pack for me?"

"Okay." Clark was good at agreement, at least when it came to Lex. "You don't like it?"

"Not really. It was a good idea, but... retrospectively, it's silly. It's pretending, and when you meet people for a first time, you shouldn't pretend like that. Not this way, at least." He rubbed a hand over his head, over the mark the hat had dug into part of his scalp, and tried to smile ruefully for Clark.

"I like you better without the hat," Clark decided, reaching up for a moment to rub Lex's head, too. No one else got to do that. Just Clark. "The hat doesn't look like Lex. Like you."

He laughed, and lightly batted Clark's hand down. "So, I won't wear it anymore. Put it in your bag -- we're pulling into the parking lot."

"I don't want to go to school," Clark whispered to him on a frightened breath. Being on the bus had apparently not been enough to make the other boy uncertain, but having the bus stop? That seemed to be plenty of reason.

"It's okay. You'll do fine. It's just like going up into the loft with the ladder. It's really scary going up, but once you're there, it's okay." And once he started to listen to his own words, Lex decided he'd be okay, too.

"Okay, Lex." Just like that, as easy as eating a piece of Martha's apple pie. If Lex said it would be all right, Clark felt that it would be all right.

Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad day, after all.

At the end of the day, Lex was glad that he was in eighth grade instead of sixth.

The eighth graders were pretty stunningly dumb. Lex couldn't bring himself to think of how much less intelligent they'd been two years beforehand. Some of them had taken a vague shine to him because he looked ill and was so much younger, but that had been until he'd opened his mouth and revealed himself not to be some timid little sick boy. He was smart, and answered too many questions when the rest of the class went silent, and he doodled and had apparently had the nerve to look and be bored during class.

So he'd been able to palpably feel their glares on him. Their heavy, angry eyes, their envious or disgusted looks. At least at Excelsior he'd only been bored in class half of the time. The eighth grade teacher, Mrs. Green, had seemed nice enough. Until she'd called roll, and he'd answered to Alexander Luthor, and gently requested 'Lex'.

Lex hitched his bookbag higher on his shoulder, and let out a tense huff of breath as he tromped towards the doors. Clark, Clark, how could he not see Clark in that sea of lost-looking little kindergartners?

"Lee~eex!" Well, he hadn't been lost for long, that was for sure. "Lex, Lex! I had the best day!" Clark told him excitedly, managing to find his way very carefully through the other students. "We colored and sang A-B-Cs and I got this book with a purple elephant! Do you want to see?"

"Once we're on the bus," Lex advised, reaching his hand out to grasp Clark's tightly. "So you had a good day?"

"I had a really good day," Clark told him happily, sticking close to his brother. "I met a boy named Pete and he had Ninja Turtles."

Oh well. Lex was pretty sure that if Pete had owned some sticks and a piece of ribbon, Clark would've reacted with the same sort of excitement. "Really? All four of them? They probably weren't pretty happy to be shoved in his bookbag like that. Did he have the rat, too?"

"Yeah, and he let me play with them. With him. It was so much fun! You don't think Momma will be mad, do you?" he asked, turning worried hazel eyes up to look at Lex seriously. "She worries."

"She always worries, but I don't see why she'd be mad at you," Lex said quietly, ducking his head a little as he tugged Clark up the bus steps.

"I know. But I don't want her to be." They were both looking for a seat already, and finally found one only about five back from the front. That wasn't too bad. "I love Momma."

Only a kindergartner would be able to get away with saying that. Lex tugged Clark along, and let him get into the seat first that time. "She won't be mad at you. She'll be happy that you've met people you like."

"That's good. Did you meet people today that you liked?" Clark asked him, settling into the bench carefully, his backpack pressed between his back and the seat. "Did you learn something fun?"

"Sort of," Lex sighed honestly. Sort of like he was ruing that come the next day, he'd be going in again. And again. For the rest of the year, and then four more after that. It was depressing. "Sort of. I'm really glad I'm in eighth grade."

"Was it boring?" Clark leaned close and whispered in his ear, "The other kids can't read, Lex. It's really sad."

"They'll learn. They haven't had the benefit of being taught like you have." Lex turned into the soft whisper, mouth curling into a tired smile. "And yes, it was very boring. It's going to be a miserable year."

"Tell Momma." That seemed to be the SOLUTION for Clark, to tell Martha, and it might be a start. He'd learned a lot more over the summer, at his own pace, than he was ever going to learn in that classroom, even if it was called 'advanced'. "Momma will fix it."

"I'll tell her," Lex promised, "After supper tonight. Excelsior was better, at least in teaching more. I like sort of having the book thrown at me and left to learn a lot myself. These kids are used to waiting to be told every single answer. It was very dull."

Clark looked terribly sympathetic, and nodded. He'd already been told that he would have to blend in, and he'd understood that. He'd even understood why. He could pretend, because coloring was easy and fun, and Lex would show him things at home. That was good enough for him.

It wouldn't be good enough for Lex.

"Okay," he said. "Can we play in the loft then? I don't have any home-work. I want to make you a 'ward."

"That sounds good. I'll get out the telescope, since I've already finished the homework." During lunch, because no one would sit beside him. He wasn't the only person sitting by himself, though, and he had an almost desperate hope that if he were going to have to stay where he was, he could somehow bond with the other outcasts. "I'd bet that they missed having you there today, you know?"

"I'll bet they missed both of us," Clark told him firmly. There was that stubborn look, the one that Jonathan got sometimes, and his lips were pursed like Martha's, too. For being adopted, Clark had certainly picked up a lot of his parents' mannerisms.

Clark blended, though. Clark might as well have not been adopted, as much like his parents as he was. Even after a passable winter, a fun spring, and a better summer, Lex still felt on the outside looking in too often. But Clark was good at breaching that. "You're probably right. Jonathan hasn't had anyone scare the chickens today."

Lex had finally learned how to chase the chickens off and steal the eggs with minimal pecks. He still didn't like getting 'bitten' by them, but it was most rewarding to get those eggs away from the hens. Clark went with him and gathered the easy ones, sometimes, and he was learning how to milk a cow, too. Most of the time, Jonathan used a couple of machines to do it, because the milk was mostly for them, anyway, but it was something neat to learn to do. "Yuck. Chickens!"

Just one more thing that he'd taught Clark well, Lex thought a tiny bit smugly. "So, tell me about everyone else you met today. Everything. I want to hear it. Didn't you get a book?"

"Yeah, with a purple elephant and this butterfly with a purse. She's called Dot. There were girls in our room, too." Clark's face screwed into an uncomfortable sort of expression. "One of them makes me feel sick when I get near her. Are you supposed to feel sick next to girls?"

"Sometimes. Are you sure it's sick, or is it something else?" He wanted to laugh a little -- Clark's face screwed up so funnily, and the next thing he expected to come out of his mouth was the word 'cooties'.

"It was bad-feeling," Clark told him, looking pitiful. "Pete said I looked like I was going to throw-up. That's what you did last spring, isn't it?" Lex had suffered a particularly nasty bout of flu in late March, one which had required him to do little more than lay in bed with books and throw up on a regular basis.

It wasn't a fond memory; Martha had said it was as if he'd just succumbed to stress and that some nasty flu-bug had latched onto him. "Yeah. That... was being sick. I can't think of why a girl would make you sick, but who knows."

"She had on lots of pink," Clark said, most solemn. "Maybe I'm allergic to pink."

"Well. We could get out Martha's pink sweater and test that idea. The one she doesn't wear much? We'll do that later. It's very plausible..." Lex closed his eyes to have a quiet thoughtful moment, and then leaned into Clark again. There were a hundred reasons why he might react that way to a girl. "Or, her clothes detergent?"

"Maybe. It made me feel really bad," Clark said pitifully. "Yuck. I don't think I like girls, Lex. They're funny."

"Girls are funny." Lex patted his 'brother's' hair, then ruffled it with his fingers. "But I'm older than you. So when you think they're less funny, I'll help you with them."

The way that Clark's nose wrinkled implied that he'd never think very much of girls, but he accepted Lex's advice. "Okay. If you say so."

"I do. Have I ever not told you the truth? It might sound silly now, but you just wait a few years." And that was good, because maybe in a few years Lex would have more of an idea about what to do about girls himself. He glanced out the window again, then twisted to survey the bus's other noisy occupants. There was a little boy two rows up who had out Ninja Turtles, and that was probably Pete. Lex hadn't seen many black kids up close, but he looked sort of fascinating, all smooth skin and bright eyes. He could see why Clark would like Pete. There were lots of other kids Clark's age, now that he really paid attention, and one of the girls wore a lot of pink. Maybe that was the one who'd made Clark sick.

There were also a lot of older kids, and that really didn't make Lex feel very comfortable. Some of them had been in his classes, but others hadn't, and they all looked at him sort of funny.

At least at Excelsior, people had the backbone to spit out the venom they were thinking. Sure, Henry hated him and loudly, but at least Lex knew he did. They made no bones about it. He knew that people didn't like him because at least they were vocal. They ignored him, he ignored them; they didn't just stare at him.

So Lex stopped turning around, and simply peered out the window and at Clark in tired silence. "I wonder what Mo-Martha's made for dinner."

The way Clark grinned at him told him he'd been caught, and that the thought made the younger boy very happy. "Bet it's something good. I hope there's pie." Clark had an unhealthy fascination with pie.

"I hope it's cobbler. Or brownies," Lex countered almost a shade towards spiteful, but still smiling. "Or maybe peach pie. You don't seem to mind that..."

"Mmmmm." Clark obviously didn't care if it was peach pie or cobbler, because he looked really happy about it. "Do you think she still has some of the blackberries we picked?"

"She might? I mean, we picked them for weeks, and she only doles them out as treats." And it was very possible that people he'd gone to school with at Excelsior would've thrown a fit at the idea of picking fruit and ending up in high grass to do it, tromping through all sorts of stuff. Forests. Woods. Fields. Lex was liking, little by little, spending a lot of time outside.

"Maybe if we ask nice, she'll let us choose. You really like cobbler best." And Clark would be willing to forgo pie so that Lex could have his favorite.

Which, when coming from a boy who adored food, meant that Clark was offering a lot to Lex, just to be nice. "She's probably already made whatever it's going to be, Clark, but thanks for offering."

"We can ask for tomorrow, though," Clark grinned. They'd waited through a couple of stops already, and theirs was going to come up before much longer. They weren't too far off of the main road, and since they were almost last to get on, they were generally first to leave, too, even if the boys didn't know how that worked.

"You're demanding about food. You didn't, say, accidentally eat one of your fellow students during snacktime, did you?" Lex smirked.

"Le~ex!" It was a protest, slightly whined, but Clark had definitely had plenty for snack time. Martha had packed two apples, a ziplock bag full of Goldfish, and an entire peanut butter sandwich. Most kindergartners couldn't eat that over four snack times, but Clark had probably devoured it before the others could have finished a single apple.

"So, is that a yes or a no?" He felt the stares less sharply when he bantered with Clark, because that was normal, like being at home, and now they were within walking distance to home. The bus stop was soon...

"Noooo!" Clark whined, lips pouting out rather adorably. He'd never minded when Lex had teased him about it before, but he obviously didn't like it now. "A big kid saw me having my snack and said if I ate it all, I'd get fat." That confession was whispered, half of it missed in the rattle of the bus and the conversation that flowed around them.

But Lex had strained to hear Clark, and when he heard it, frowned sharply. "Don't listen to that, okay? You won't. I mean, look at you. You've always eaten like that, and look at you." Clark was a medium-sized little boy, a little taller than the other kids his age, but certainly not fat.

"I didn't like it," Clark confessed seriously. "I wish we could just stay home like last year. Except I liked Pete. And I liked Miss Carolyn." That must have been Clark's teacher.

"I'd like to stay home, too," Lex confided softly, "But I'm not sure we can. We probably can't. We have to have teachers and things like that, and take the standardized tests even if we do end up wasting our days. But you've met people. I'm sure you'll meet more." He started to stand up when the bus neared their stop, eager to get off.

Clark followed him. He wouldn't argue with Lex, wouldn't say how much he disliked the notion of most of the people he had met. Pete had been very nice, but he hadn't talked about anyone else except the girl who had made him sick.

When the bus stopped, they both hurried off, and Martha was waiting for them down the little lane to the house. She held out her arms and waited for them to hurry to her.

Lex didn't run. He merely walked a little quickly, and just to keep up with Clark's fast little legs. It was good to be back, and he didn't want to think too hard on the fact that he'd be going back to school again in just a few hours. "Hello..."

"Momma, Momma!" Clark yelled, squirming into her arms. "Momma! I met a boy named Pete and we played Ninja Turtles and I had a good snack and there was a pink girl that made me sick and...!"

It was like watching all of Clark's calmer energy explode the moment he came into contact with Martha. His mother. Yes, there was no way to deny that Martha was definitely Clark's mother. He was such a sweet kid, happy and not rude to Lex; the thought that someone hadn't wanted him was... preposterous. Well, whoever his parents were didn't deserve him, Lex was sure.

"And they gave him a book," Lex added as he joined them, standing a little off to one side. "And they colored."

"Yeah! And there's a purple elephant and a butterfly and my sandwich was really good and I want to make Lex a 'ward..."

Martha laughed, reaching out to hug Lex, too. "Come inside. I have blackberry cobbler. You can both have a bite before you go out to play."

Lex clung a little, but pulled back soon enough, and wrapped his hand around the shoulder strap of his bookbag. "You made cobbler? Great! Can we, uhm... talk later? About school...?"

Martha nodded and stood, kissing the top of his head on her way up. "Sure. We can talk about anything you want, sweetheart. You've got a letter. It came in the mail today..."

"Can I read, too, Lex?" Clark asked excitedly. Bruce always drew on the envelopes he sent, and Clark really liked that.

"Sure," Lex assured him with a twinge of a smile. "It's from Bruce, right?" Victoria wrote less often, but Lex wasn't surprised by that.

"Well, there are lots of little bats all over it," Martha teased him with a smile. "And a picture of a butler on the back." The Kents had met Alfred over the summer when he and Bruce had come to visit. Lex had been delighted.

Clark had nearly forgotten verbs, he'd been so overcome with delight.

Lex smiled a little more; writing to Bruce was always far from stressful, and he still missed him. "I'm glad it came today, because I need it. Did anything else happen that we missed?" he asked as they started to walk back towards the house.

"Well, there is something," Martha said, taking a hand from each boy once the bus was out of sight. "Why don't I show you all about it?"

Learning was fun with a book and no guidance, but it was best when the Kents showed. Not talking down to them demonstrations, but hands on things that kept both boys' attentions, albeit possibly on different levels. Lex wasn't sure some days how Clark's brain processed things to reach the ideas he sometimes did. "I'd like that." He'd like it a lot, even if it was just something about the chickens.

His fingers clutched at hers a little, loosely clinging as they walked. "Clark had a really good day. He probably has lots more to tell you."

"I sang my A-B-Cs and the other kids can't read and I really really like Pete. It's okay if I play with him, isn't it?" Clark nearly pleaded.

"Of course it's okay, sweetheart. Just be gentle," Martha told him, moving her hand to lightly caress over his hair before taking his in hers again. "Just like you'll have to be gentle with the surprise."

Now that was an interesting thing. Lex twisted to peer up at her, brows furrowing. "How come? Clark's always very careful." Lex thought he was a little rambunctious, a little frighteningly strong some... no, most days, but the Kents really put a lot of stress on being gentle.

"Well. You'll have to be gentle, too, won't you?" Martha told him, but she smiled when she did. She was leading them towards the barn, and he couldn't quite see inside until they were there.

The ladder was gone entirely. Lex had known that Jonathan was planning on building stairs, but things had gotten terribly busy during the summer, and he and Clark had kept themselves occupied playing in the back yard most of it, so they hadn't complained. Now there was a magnificent set of stairs that doubled back on itself and led up to the loft. Hammering sounds still came from up above, and Jonathan peeked over the edge as he put up the last board. "Oh, there you two are. I see you're home from school."

"DADDY!"

"Oh, wow, you put these up in one day?" Lex asked, eyes a little wide as he let go of Martha's hand and hedged towards them. Maybe that was why the Kents always cautioned Clark to be careful -- Jonathan was obviously very strong himself, to have put up a set of stairs in just one day. "This is great!"

"I had a whole lot of help," Jonathan admitted, mouth curling up in a wry smile as another man peeked over the edge and waved down to them. It was one of the men who'd been hired to help out with the farm over the busy summer season, Earl Jenkins. "Come on up, boys. The stairs are good and sturdy."

"And there's a surprise at the top," Martha whispered to Lex.

"Hello, Earl," Lex greeted, and he tossed a grin to Martha as he reached to take Clark's hand. Weren't steps enough of a surprise? "C'mon, Clark, let's go see what it could be. Although I don't think it can beat having stairs."

The younger boy was nearly speechless with excitement, his sweaty little fingers gripping Lex's with infinite care. "Lex?" he questioned, hazel eyes round, wide with a shivery sort of delight. "Hurry?"

"We're hurrying," Lex laughed quietly. But he kept a mindful hand on the handrail as they started up the stairs, and tugged Clark along with him. Those last few steps were full of surprisingly agonizing excitement, as he wanted very badly to see whatever the other surprise was.

"You boys wanna come over this way?" Earl invited them. Jonathan was laying down his hammer, and Lex could hear Martha coming up the stairs even as Clark tugged him closer towards Earl. Beside him was a cardboard box, a towel draping its way over the side, and inside. Oh, inside....

"You got us a puppy!" And Lex was going to pretend that his voice hadn't gone up a few octaves in shock and delight at seeing the furry, small... something in the box look up at them with big eyes. As if it were trying to say 'get me out of this box', which Lex was going to be all too happy to oblige.

"Puuuppeeeee!" Clark cooed gleefully, clenching his hands tightly together as if he was afraid to touch it. His breath caught as Lex picked it up and brought it close to look at it. "Puuuppeee!"

"Here..." Lex sat down on the floor beside Clark, cross-legged and gently hugging the puppy against himself. It was so warm, and soft, and just a little squirmy. "Here," he repeated, and offered the puppy carefully towards Clark. "Sit down so we won't have to worry about dropping it..." It? He or a she, and Lex wasn't even sure what the breed was. It wasn't the sort of dog his parents would've gotten him, if they would've gotten him a dog at all and if he hadn't been asthmatic for all of those years.

"It's a boy," Jonathan informed them as Clark knelt down beside Lex, his eyes yearning terribly as he peeked at the cute ball of fluff. "Mister Johnson's shepherd got out of her pen one night and now he's got puppies. We thought you boys might like one."

"You can touch it," Martha told Clark, taking his hand and ever so gently putting it on the puppy where Lex held it cradled against his chest. Clark's eyes welled with tears, the little boy's mouth trembling violently.

"Ohhhhh," he whispered. "Oh."

"I think he likes it," Lex 'whispered' to Martha, eyes darting from the puppy to Clark's face and the stunned reaction. He'd really really wanted a puppy since the very first day, since the time stringing two words together had been a challenge for him. Less than a year, but it felt like a forever to Lex. And now they had stairs for the loft, and a puppy. "He's so pretty..." There was a knot settling in his own throat, dampness glazing his eyes even as he smiled.

Martha's eyes lifted to Jonathan's face as Earl cleared his throat and stepped away, leaving the boys seated together cradling their new pet. "Now, you'll have to take good care of him," Jonathan said solemnly. "He'll be about a medium sized dog. You'll have to help feed him and make sure he's always got plenty of water."

"Puppy," Clark whimpered, and put his face down against Lex's hands and the bundle of fur.

"We'll take real good care of him," Lex promised, petting both the puppy and Clark's hair with a hand that was shaking with eagerness. If Clark didn't want to be petted, well, he'd have to move his head. "Oh, it's so soft... thank you!"

"You're very welcome," Martha murmured, smiling at them. She leaned down and kissed Clark's hair, then forward to kiss Lex's forehead. "I'll go fix a snack for you boys. You'd like that, right?"

"Momma." Clark sniffled and rubbed his face against the puppy and Lex's hand, cheek damp. "Happy."

Verbs were once again history.

"A snack is a good idea," Lex agreed solemnly. He pulled back a little, but pushed the puppy gently towards Clark. "Here, hold him, Clark. Jonathan, where should we keep him when we can't watch him?"

Clark's fingers fumbled uncertainly, but when he cradled the puppy, his touch was so light that Lex barely felt it.

"Well, I was thinking about that. He won't be a very big dog, probably. His momma's an Australian shepherd, and we think that Old Miz Farrell's weenie is the daddy, so he might be small enough to keep in the house. Do you think you could help house train him, Lex?" Jonathan watched both of them carefully, still kneeling close. "He'd make good company for Martha during the day, and I'll bet you boys would like it if he slept with you at night."

Lex nodded to all of his words, but his brain seized up at the hilarity that was the puppy's parents. How the... no, he wasn't going to ask that, even if it felt like it was written on his face as he watched Clark cradle it. "That's a good plan. I'll help house train him, and walk him, and everything. And so will Clark."

"Puppy," Clark whispered wetly, crying onto the little squirming furball. He sniffled and snuggled himself tightly against Lex. "Oh. Lex. Puuppeee."

A soft, soft laugh left Lex, and he slipped one arm around Clark's back, patting him gently. "I know, it's great, isn't it? You're going to help take good care of him, aren't you?"

"BEST care." There was no denying the fact that Clark was completely overwhelmed as they sat there together, petting their puppy. "BEST, Lex."

"I was thinking we might put a few things up here for you boys. A desk to do homework at, maybe some of your books, a radio..." Jonathan suggested. Earl was back to doing something, adding some other nuance that the men probably felt the boys needed. "For now, why don't you take your puppy and go get that snack with Martha?"

"Okay, Jonathan. Thanks... And thank you, Earl. This is all really great." Really great. Like a study just for him and Clark, like that big personal refuge that his father had. Gently, he patted Clark's back again. "You want to carry the puppy into the house? We have to come up with a name for it. We can't just keep calling it the puppy..."

"You carry," Clark decided, ever so gently handing the puppy over to him with hands that shook just a little. He seemed worried that he would hurt it, almost afraid that he would.

"If you're sure." Lex reached for the blanket from the box, then twisted to wrap the puppy lightly in it as he took it from Clark. That way if it squirmed it wasn't going to get out of his hands. "Okay, come on. I've got him settled."

Clark gave a little sigh that was pure relief, his huge eyes looking worshipfully at Lex. "You're the best, Lex," he declared solemnly.

"Hmn, why's that? All I'm doing is carrying a bookbag and a puppy," Lex murmured softly, still clutching it against his chest with both hands as he started down the new steps.

"I would hurt him," Clark decided. "I would be clumsy or fall. You wouldn't ever do that." No, not Lex who was everything elegant, who moved as though every step was pre-planned, who still wore soft silk pajamas to bed while Clark climbed in clad in soft cotton.

"You're not clumsy, Clark. Why do you think you are?" Lex frowned at him once they were on the floor properly. Had Clark picked that idea up from school, or here, with him and the Kents?

"Because I break things," Clark pointed out to him. That was the reason he had an entirely new box of crayons. When Clark had first been learning to hold them, he'd crushed them into nothing more than waxy powder. "I don't want to break our puppy."

"I haven't seen you break anything, and I don't see how you'd break a puppy," Lex countered logically. But there was a niggling reminder -- hadn't Clark caught him that time he'd tripped?

And there had been that mysteriously broken wrought iron table on the patio...

"I don't mean to. It's just accidents. I want to be careful with our puppy," Clark said most solemnly. "Do you think Momma will have ice cream for us?"

"Ice cream and cobbler? You're really expecting to be spoiled today." He was teasing, and made sure Clark knew it from the way he glanced over at him and smirked a little, careful to not jostle the puppy as they walked. "I think you're very careful, Clark."

That seemed to reassure the smaller boy. "I'll love our puppy," he promised. "Like I love you, Lex." Oh, yes, Clark could be exquisitely careful with Lex, too. Aside from the one time he had caught Lex in mid-fall, he had always been very careful not to show his real strength or subject Lex to it.

And Clark had always been affectionate towards Lex, to the point where the older boy had taken a while to adjust to it since it was so much and so... unfamiliar to him. Not many people were as overt about it as Clark was, or did it as often as Clark did it. His mother had been that open, and Pam, and clearing that hurdle was hard for Lex; but he never held it against his 'brother'. "Then it won't end up hurt. Now, let's not talk about this anymore. Let's think of a name."

"Why not Cocoa?" After all, the puppy was the slightest bit shaggy, and it SEEMED that it would be brown. Its fur was somewhere between brown and red, and Lex could see it peeking out at them from under the blanket with limpid brown eyes. "Cocoa is nice. Or Peanut Butter. I like peanut butter. I wonder what his parents were called?"

Insane dogs. Hadn't Jonathan said one was a Dachshund? He still couldn't wrap his mind around that concept just because it was so absurd. "Cocoa is a better name, I think. If he gets out, do you really want to run around calling for peanut butter?"

"Okay." That was easy enough. "Unless you want to call him something different. Like one of those big names you like, maybe Ahenobarbus or maybe Lycinius?"

"Or Titus? You're talking a lot better than you were just a few months ago, Clark," Lex praised as he paused for a moment on the porch steps.

"You say those names a lot." Well, or maybe he didn't, but Clark had definitely been reading some of Lex's books. "Hey. How do we teach the puppy to potty? You could potty when you came, and I don't remember ever not knowing how to potty."

"I suppose we'll have to ask Martha to tell us." Clark could tell Lex was smothering down a slightly laugh. He loosed one hand from holding the puppy, faintly squirming, to pull open the screen door.

"Boys, I've got cobbler and ice cream here," she said a bit loudly as they stepped into the kitchen.

"Ice cream!" Clark cheered. He hovered for a moment, debating between 'puppy' and 'ice cream', but 'ice cream' won.

Lex closed the door mindfully behind himself and Clark, and then moved to pull out a chair. Simple things, but Clark would probably never remember to properly close a door behind himself and someone had to do it. "Can I ask why you've done all of this? It's really great, and it..."

It was all enough to make him suspicious, like it was bribery, or like they'd both known he was going to have a very shitty day. Not that it mattered, since stairs and puppies were far less transient than peer torture.

Martha reached out and smoothed her hand over his head the way she would have done Clark, except she would have ruffled his tangled dark curls. "Because you're our boys, and it's your first day of school. I had to have something to look forward to, since I spent a long day all alone."

He hadn't thought of it quite like that -- that Martha would miss them all day, or that there'd even be an impact concerning them not being there. But it sort of made sense; they'd spent almost every waking moment in the shadow of one of the Kents since the day Lex had arrived. Through fits of anger and dips of depression, Clark had doggedly dragged Lex out to help with chores or to help him learn things.

"Oh. Well, now there's a puppy to keep you company through the day. You're probably going to have to teach Clark and I how to train him."

"Yes," the redheaded woman sighed. "Obviously. Because he seems to have piddled all over the towel, Lex. Give that here, and you boys wash your hands before you take a bite of cobbler. That means you, Clark," she said, and Clark put his spoon down, already full of blackberries and vanilla ice cream.

"I knew there was a reason why I wrapped him up." Lex wasn't sure if she meant 'give that here' to mean the puppy or the towel, so Lex stood and offered them both to her.

Martha took them both and carefully removed the puppy from the towel, wiping him a bit to make sure that he was more or less dry before gently depositing him on the floor. "Keep an eye on him," she warned, and then went to put the towel in the wash.

"Just one eye?" Clark asked Lex with a mischievous smile as he climbed up onto the stool in front of the sink and reached for the faucet handles.

"Maybe two. And not literally, since we're not deities and can't put them back into our heads when we're done. I don't want to walk around like Odin with a big stupid looking patch over my eye because I can't remember where I put the one I was using to watch the puppy." Lex was taller than Clark, but if he wanted to reach into the sink without leaning into it with his chest, he had to stand on the stool alongside of the other boy.

"Ew. I'll bet somebody stepped on it. Squish," Clark declared, giggling as Lex climbed up beside him. They took up the entirety of the stool together, but that was all right. Clark was done just before Lex was, and he wiped his hands on the towel that was tied to the handle of the cabinet in front of the sink.

"Probably. Or maybe he stumbled drunk into Valaskjalf one night and did it himself. So much for trading it for a drink from a wisdom well. I always wondered what good that did him if he was still fated to be eaten by a wolf." Lex talked as he washed his hands, and then twisted around to scout out for the puppy while he dried his fingers.

The little ball of fur had managed to scrabble its way beneath the kitchen table, and was seriously contemplating a chair-leg. "Wolves wouldn't eat us, right, Lex?" Clark asked him, climbing back up into his chair. He had a fat catalog to sit on that boosted him up enough so that he was more than just head and shoulders above the table, and that made him happy.

Lex dropped down onto hands and knees to better see why the puppy was contemplating the chair-leg. "Hi there, little guy. You're not going to grow up and eat us, are you? No, I don't think you will..." Lex slipped fingers and palm under its belly, and moved it out gently from under the table so he could pull his chair out. "Clark, there are no wolves to eat us in this house," he decided.

"That's good," Clark declared, giving a bright grin to Lex. "I don't think I'm ready to let something bite on me. Grrr." He made the noise as he took the first spoonful of cobbler, and giggled while he chewed.

"I think it's more likely that you'll bite it first," Lex half agreed, and he pulled his chair out for himself. And there was cobbler, warm with ice cream melting over it, all for him. It suddenly seemed to matter much less that he was alienated at school; at home, the Kents constantly tried to unalienate him.

The Kents really did like him. His mother had made a good choice, even if he had doubted it at first. Pam came to see him, and sometimes they went into Metropolis and he saw her there. He heard from Bruce, too, and Martha let him have the business section of the paper now. Even if school was bad, he was happy at home. That counted for something, didn't it?

"You're thinking hard," Clark told him around his fourth bite of cobbler. Sometimes, Clark did that -- called Lex out of his thoughts when they got too deep.

He still wasn't sure how much he liked that, but it wasn't something he was going to hold against Clark. Lex fumbled with his mouthful of cobbler, swallowed after chewing for a moment more. "A little."

"Is it something important?" The question was innocent enough. Clark probably just wanted to help him, be a sounding board.

But Martha was there. And he didn't want to sound complaining or whining, so he just shook his head as he ate another mouthful. "No, not really. It's just drifting through my mind."

"So that's okay, then. I learned how to make a turkey with my hand today. Pete showed me. Do you want a purple turkey on your 'ward?" Clark's legs were hollow. They had to be for such a little boy to put away such a large amount of cobbler.

"Sure. Pete sure did show you a lot. I'm glad you made a friend," Lex smiled a little. He twisted around briefly to look for the puppy, fork still in his hand.

"Like Bruce is your friend. Now, we both have friends," Clark said with a delighted smile. "I want to be just like you, Lex." A slight whine let Lex know where the puppy was, little scrabbling paws pushing at the cabinets.

"That's probably not a good idea. So, are we going to call it Cocoa? Or something else?" One last forkful of cobbler and ice-cream -- he'd get back to it if Clark didn't eat it while he was gone -- and he slipped down from his chair again to get to puppy. "What's in the cabinets, little guy?"

The puppy whined pitifully, wanting into the cabinet for no particular reason that Lex could tell. When he opened it up, there was nothing inside but dish washing liquid and a few other cleaning supplies.

"He can smell the mouse from yesterday," Clark explained.

Lex picked the puppy up carefully, and carried it away from the cabinet as if doing that would stop the puppy's whimpering. "I don't remember there being a mouse yesterday." Not that they would've told him, because he never had reacted well to insects or things like that.

"He just came back through and went back out again," Clark replied, reaching out to rub the puppy's nose as Lex walked past. His fingers only lightly grazed the fur, teasing at it before Clark went back to eating his cobbler. "No one really noticed it. But he can smell it."

"You noticed it, though," Lex pointed out as he sat down again, and put the puppy down at his feet. That was something he tried to not think about too long. It was like his asthma just going away, and his hair falling out. There wasn't an exactly logical reason. Maybe something like that had happened to Clark.

A little shrug of the shoulders seemed to say that it wasn't important. "I heard him. He was a little field mouse, and he was hungry last night. Squeak, squeak. He didn't find anything, though, so he snuck out to try and find some of the chickens' feed."

Now Clark was making up stories, and Lex had to smile a little more. "Good thing he's a smart mouse, or our puppy would've caught him. Martha, what do dogs eat?"

"Well, I suppose it depends on the dog," Martha said as she wandered back into the kitchen. "Some eat table scraps and some chase down rabbits or other small creatures..."

"Like mice," Clark asserted.

"Yes, like mice," Martha agreed. "But we have puppy food for this sweet boy."

"Good. I wouldn't like to have to try to catch his food every morning before school." Lex eyed the puppy for a moment more, watching him wuffling at the edge of the rug. "Hmn, next season we'll have to pick twice as many berries."

"Whycome?" Clark asked, now beginning to look at Lex's cobbler with something resembling desire.

Martha laughed and tickled him. "Because you're the sweetest greedy boy EVER!"

Clark's happy squeals had been annoying to him at first, but Lex had gotten used to them within a month. He always squealed when he was tickled, and it distracted him long enough for Lex to return to his cobbler, safely reclaiming it from the bottomless pit that was Clark's stomach.

Fleetingly, he remembered that the boy who said Clark was going to end up fat wouldn't want to run into Lex in an empty classroom.

"Momma, Momma!!" Such delighted noises, and Martha was kissing his face all over in little pecking kisses that made Clark even happier. "Oh, I love you, Momma!"

Lex could see Martha melt at those words. "I love you, too, sweetie. Why don't you play with your puppy while Lex finishes his snack?"

"I won't take much longer," Lex promised, clinking fork against his bowl to scrape up goo that had been juice before it'd been cooked thick.

"You've both made such happy bowls!" Martha declared, walking past Lex and kissing him, too, a light flutter against the top of his head. "When you're done, why don't you take your puppy outside to the back yard and play? Maybe by tomorrow, Earl and Daddy will be done in the loft, and you'll have somewhere to read and do homework."

Happy bowls. Lex was pretty sure that Martha said things like that for Clark's benefit, but he always wanted to snicker. "That'd be nice. We can do lots of reading and stargazing out there... not so much homework because it's all very easy."

"Ohhh." That seemed to tell Martha a lot, but she nodded and began washing Clark's bowl.

"Lex is going to show me what he learned today and I'm going to make him a 'ward," Clark announced proudly. "With a purple turkey. Pete showed me to make one with my hand."

Lex didn't have any 'so and so showed me' stories, except that one little bastard had shown him the bird, and he hadn't thought it was too funny. He just thinned his lips, and licked off his spoon as he got up and walked towards the sink.

"You should have Pete come over."

"And we can play Ninja Turtles? Will you play with us, Lex?" Clark asked excitedly. "You can be Splinter and everything. Or Leonardo if you want to."

"I'll stick with being Splinter. Someone has to be him," Lex said decisively. "So, we can go outside with the pup-- Cocoa now?"

"Yeah," Clark decided. "Can I hold him? You can have him back when we go down the steps. I don't want to fall and hurt him."

"Okay. I still don't think you will fall, but if it makes you feel better, I'll carry him just down the steps." Lex headed for the screen door, and gave Martha one last smile. "Thank you for the snack..."

"You're welcome, sweetheart. Have fun," Martha told them, and waved them out onto the porch.

Have fun.

Pamela had said that a lot, and his mother sometimes, and his father never, unless it was a sneering way of saying it. Martha bade them to have fun a lot, and Jonathan was the same way. It left him wondering just why he was supposed to have so much fun, but he didn't want to ask. He just trailed after Clark out of the doorway, and took the puppy so Clark wouldn't get anxious about falling and hurting it.

And once they were out in the fields, there wasn't much worry about anything, tripping or the meaning of having fun.

"Hey, Lex! Lex!" Clark was home, and he was loud. Cocoa was with him, too, barking madly as footsteps rushed up the stairs of the loft. "Lex!"

Clark, now in third grade, took a different bus home than Lex did. Lex had long since accepted that he'd have to sit in classrooms and be bored until he went to college, but once he got home, he continued his studies in things that interested him much more. The barn loft had long since filled up with a variety of books and items to help him study, and he taught Clark fun new bits of information when he learned them, too.

That was just how things were. He thought of school as being similar to working a really awful day job. Boring, plodding, full of people he detested and told as much, but when he came home, there was refuge. Chores and books and Clark. Not many ten year olds had benefit of the robust immersion in every topic known to mankind, from the stock market to mythology, like Clark did.

"What, Clark?" Lex laid his pen down carefully, setting it so it wouldn't roll off of the desk, and twisted around to see Clark's approach. Every day, he came home from school as if he hadn't seen Lex for years, and it never failed to bring a tiny smile to Lex's mouth.

"I'm home!" Clark announced unnecessarily as he reached the top of the stairs, Cocoa running to Lex to put his paws up on the older boy's legs. It was his way of begging to be petted, and it was really cute. The Australian shepherd had shown up in his long, shaggy coat, but his size was much closer to that of the dachshund who had been his father. "Can we go watch Tiny Toons?"

"Do you have homework?" Lex pressed, as he reached just a fraction to scratch Cocoa's head. "I've already finished mine, but I'll teach you some of it after dinner."

If he had to be bored in high school, his little brother was damn well going to be bored too.

"I did it on the bus," Clark declared. "Pete complained because he said if HE was going to do it at home, then I should have to do it, too, but it was easy. It was just spelling and multiplication. Pete calls them times tables. I didn't want to tell him that you already taught me some algebra." There were a lot of things that Clark didn't tell anyone.

Things that sometimes he didn't tell Lex, but Lex didn't explain how he could dislocate his shoulder one day and be fine the next. It just laid there between them all -- he, Clark, Martha and Jonathan -- comfortable and mostly unexplainable.

"Well, as long as you've already done it, there's no reason why we can't watch Tiny Toons..." He closed his text, and slid to his feet, gentling Cocoa back with his shins. "C'mon, you can watch them with us, too."

"Cool!" Clark dropped his bookbag down beside the desk and zipped back to the stairs. He just kept getting faster and faster, and that was another of those things that they didn't talk about. Lex knew that Clark had been found during the meteor shower, so he'd probably been exposed just like Lex had. "I wanna see Freakazoid, too, okay? Then you can show me about your homework."

"I'll watch Freakazoid as long as you don't imitate him... too loudly," Lex 'conceded', but his pace picked up as he trotted down the stairs. Watching cartoons was childish, sure, but it was also mindless and enjoyable, and the Kents never had to warn them to watch TV in moderation, since they spent evenings reading or stargazing.

"Yes!" Clark was obviously happy with that answer, because he gave a little dance once they reached the bottom of the stairs. It was disgustingly cute. Lex had to wonder why Clark wasn't more popular with the other kids at school when Lex himself liked him and he didn't like anyone.

On the other hand, Lex liked Bruce best, and nobody else saw what he did in Bruce, either. Obviously the rest of the world was highly impaired in their decision making capabilities.

They could stay impaired, because it meant that he had Bruce and Clark's utmost attention. And if they were more popular, well... they probably wouldn't need to like him as much as either one did. It was greedy of him and unkind to think, but Lex was secure in knowing that no one could ever get entirely enough into his head to understand the way he saw things.

"I fed Cocoa when I came home, Clark -- you didn't feed him again, did you?"

"Um." Clark sounded just a little sheepish. "Well, I gave him a bite of the sandwich that Mom left for me. But just a bite, Lex, I swear." They'd had the talk about feeding Cocoa from the table. Clark had lost.

"Clark, come on, he's not a human and he shouldn't eat our foods. It's not healthy for him..." Scolding tones, but Clark didn't usually get bothered by them -- Lex seldom used them on Clark. He did slow his walking a little, enough to devote a bit of his vision to glancing over Cocoa.

"I know," Clark admitted. "But it was just a bite, and I gave him the one with the most meat in it. Honest!" The dog trotted along beside them, nudging a little more towards Lex as if he expected petting.

While they were walking? Not a chance, but Lex knew the dog would get his fill of petting once they settled down for cartoons. "But that could still add up to hurt him, Clark. He already finds enough weird stuff to eat without you just offering stuff to him."

"I'm sorry." Well, Clark probably really wasn't all that sorry, but that was okay. It wasn't like it was something Lex required him to be, and it probably wouldn't hurt their dog. After all, Cocoa had eaten things much more bizarre than a bite of roast beef sandwich and it hadn't killed him yet.

It was the principle of it in Lex's opinion. Roast beef sandwich was probably better for him than the mice he sometimes caught when they were playing, but it was the principle of the thing.

And when he thought things like that, wow, the voice in his mind sounded a lot like his father's. "No, you're not," he chuckled softly.

"Okay, yeah, I'm not," Clark agreed, and he sounded altogether too happy because Lex wasn't really mad with him. "But I would be if you were really upset with me, Lex. You're my best friend."

"What about Pete? Isn't he your best friend?" Lex kicked through some of the high grass, smiling to himself as he led the way towards the house.

"Pete isn't you," Clark said, as if that explained it all. Maybe it did, in a way. In Clark's way.

The inside of Clark's mind had to look a lot like the inside of Lex's head, the older boy noted to himself often enough. Clark's way was usually queer, impossible to explain, but... but, it worked. The rules of reality as Clark saw them actually worked, so why argue? "Well, if he was me, he wouldn't have any hair and he definitely wouldn't know what to do with you when you got bored of playing with toys."

"You always know what to do with me." It was a smug declaration, as if that made Clark unbelievably happy. Having Lex for a brother and a best friend was the absolute best, even if they weren't really brothers.

Lex pulled open the screen door, and ushered both Cocoa and Clark into the house. "Well, I'd be pretty stupid if I hadn't figured it out by now. Go turn on the set -- I'm going to get a glass of milk." Code for 'try to sneak a cup of coffee', which meant either literally sneaking one, or gently wheedling one out of Martha, or neither and actually getting the cup of milk. However it turned out was okay by Lex.

"Okay," Clark agreed happily enough, hurrying into the living room. That left Lex to wander back to the kitchen, where Martha was busy starting supper. There would be chicken pot pie from the looks of things, her fingers shredding white chicken meat carefully, cans of vegetables and the ingredients for the topping scattered carefully over the table.

"Hi, Lex. I heard the bus stop and Clark came by for a sandwich. Would you like something, sweetheart?"

"Could I have coffee?" He didn't need a snack when he got home -- there just wasn't the stomach for it in him -- but he liked to have coffee, or a drink before dinner. If he snacked, well, he couldn't finish all of dinner, and Lex had found the integration between gourmet food and fresh home cooked to have been a smooth one. No snack was worth not being able to finish chicken pot pie.

Martha eyed him seriously for a moment before finally shaking her head and smiling. "I've already made a pot, so you're welcome to get a cup. One cup," she told him firmly. "I have some of those little flavored creamers in the refrigerator if you want one."

"I suppose I can't use Jonathan's cup, then?" he joked, and gestured loosely how the thing was two cups tall, and at least as big around. "Are you sure there's creamer left? I caught Clark drinking the chocolate raspberry this morning, right out of the carton," he whispered, and pulled a face to go with it.

She grinned at him, shaking her head. "YOUR cup," she told him, laughing. "And there's a fresh one. I've hidden them from him, on the off-chance that it might actually work. If Jonathan doesn't stop drinking from the carton, I don't know how I'll ever keep Clark from doing it!"

"At least he drinks milk," Lex pointed out. He moved carefully past her to get his own mug, and then towards the fridge to see if there were any untainted creamers. The bright idea of putting a piece of thread on the opening had hit him, but unfortunately, Jonathan used creamer too, so it was a useless idea.

"Yes. He'll grow up strong and tall while you stunt your growth with caffeine," Martha teased him as the kitchen door swung open and Jonathan came inside.

"Lex? Stunted? We must be having the coffee discussion again," the farmer laughed.

Lex poured creamer into his cup carefully, after inspecting the carton's edge for dried dribbles, and shook his head fractionally when he wandered over to the coffee pot. "My father used to drink coffee all of the time, and he was very tall. If I'm going to be short, then it's just unlucky genetics, not coffee," he defended logically.

Jonathan laughed. "My mother used to give me coffee that was half milk, with lots of sugar. She'd put it in one of those Tupperware cups with the lids..."

"Well, caffeine addiction at fourteen still isn't a good idea," Martha sniffed, looking up at Jonathan with an expression that said she was going to win.

If Lex didn't keep drinking at least a cup a day, or sneaking it. "I'm getting a head start for college?" Lex poured his cup as close to the edge as he dared, and turned around to flash Martha a brilliant smile.

There was no denying that Lex was more charming than any of half a dozen other boys, and no doubt that Martha was going to give in. She just laughed and shook her head at him affectionately. "Go watch cartoons with Clark!"

"Going, going..." He took a sip of his coffee while he was in there, and then turned back towards the living room.

"Clark, has it started yet?"

"Yeah," Clark told him. "Dizzy just whirled past, and Elmyra is after him like a shot."

"Not that you do that to any dog I know." Lex settled down cross legged beside his little brother. Coffee in one hand and a dog beneath the fingers of the other, and life was good.

"Uh-uh," Clark denied. It was sweetly angelic, and a complete lie. "I wouldn't do that at all. Not to any dog you know." Because to Clark's way of thinking, Cocoa probably wasn't a dog. He was probably just considered a four-legged member of the family.

Thinking about it that way, Lex supposed he should've considered himself lucky that Clark didn't take it upon himself to chase him. "Sure," he snickered quietly. "Sure you wouldn't. Just like I don't sit up late at night and read."

"With a flashlight. Under the covers. While I try to sleep." Clark bemoaned.

At least he didn't mention anything else Lex might do underneath the covers while he tried to sleep.

"You do have your own bed, you know. You could sleep there," Lex pointed out around a mouthful of coffee. "But you don't. So. It's a flashlight and the science journals."

"I don't sleep as good without you," Clark explained patiently for the nine thousandth time. "My room doesn't smell like yours, and it doesn't feel like yours, and I'm all alone. Plus, Cocoa likes sleeping with you better."

"That could be because I don't have the mess on the floor that you have in your room." It had a bit of a deja vu feeling, but Lex was sure that eventually Clark would stop sleeping in his room. Maybe.

When he went to college.

A guy could hope, right?

It wasn't anything PERSONAL. Clark was his best friend, lots more than his little 'brother', and that was the most important part. It was just that. Well. There were some things that Clark didn't understand yet.

Some of the jokes that flew over his head when watching cartoons. Usually the ones dealing with girls and the way boys felt about them.

Or anything sexual at all. He didn't understand it, and that was okay since he was young. But it would've been nice to have privacy in a place other than the bathroom. A little free time with himself, his penis, and his hand, relaxing on his bed without any little brother to bound into the room...

Pipe dreams. Maybe if things hadn't turned out the way they had, but Lex was sure he didn't want that.

"Hey, Lex?" Clark asked, looking at him seriously as a commercial came on the television. "You still love me, right? Even though I'm little and messy? You're my best friend."

Big hazel puppy eyes -- and not Cocoa's big puppy eyes -- were looking at him, and that was why he wasn't willing to complain heatedly about the lack of privacy. Because in two years, he'd be going off to college, and then there wouldn't be a lack of privacy to complain about. And there wouldn't be Clark there to give him that look.

"Of course I do -- and you're my best friend, too. Don't worry about it, Clark." He slipped his arm over Clark's shoulders, then offered him his coffee cup. "Try?"

The puppy eyes were gone, a brilliant smile in place now as Clark snuck a look into the kitchen before taking a sip of the coffee. "Mmmmmmm." He seemed to like it, and squirmed. "I like the creamer stuff better, but that's pretty good."

"You'll like it even better when you get older," Lex promised, and then he cradled the mug in both hands for a few moments. The cartoon started again, and he watched with half of his attention, the other half back to matters at hand, and tickling Cocoa with his toes.

"People turn all funny when they get older," Clark sighed over the sound of Babs and her girlfriends talking. "Like Pete. I mean, he's not older than me, even, but he's already funny about things. There's this girl, see? And he keeps chasing her around the playground. I don't get what THAT'S all about."

"If I say that you're too young to understand this one, you'll get angry," Lex teased him, smirking a little as he twisted to look at Clark instead of the tv.

"But girls are YUCKY," Clark told him. "Lana makes me sick every time I see her, and I like her best of all of them, so..."

"I still think you're allergic to her detergent," Lex prodded. "Or to her. Clark, girls aren't yucky. They're... interesting. Lots of things are interesting, aren't they?"

"Not girls," Clark disagreed. "I mean, that one girl took Pete away from me. What if some girl took you away from me one day? Then I'd be just me. All alone. Even Cocoa would leave me for a girl then."

"Nah. Cocoa's been neutered." Which Clark probably wouldn't get, but it made Lex smirk at least, and the joke really wasn't at Clark's expense. "No, but really. Some day, you'll want to go chase the other girls."

The look Clark gave him was disbelieving. "So, if Cocoa's neutered, then that means he's not going to like girls, right? Maybe I can ask to get neutered, too..."

Lex's lips twitched for a moment, and he hide his smile behind his coffee cup. "Let's ask them about that at dinner. What do you think?"

"Sure!" The sheer enthusiasm was enough to make Lex howl, really. No, he wasn't going to laugh. Really. "Maybe you can tell them you want to get neutered, too! I'll bet Bruce would want to do it if you did and then we wouldn't have to worry about nasty yucky girls."

No, not at all, only Bruce might be highly offended by the idea of being neutered, and Lex wasn't sure if he'd be able to fully enjoy himself at anything if he were neutered. So his laughter choked a little, and some coffee went halfway into his sinuses. "No, no, I'll take my risk with the girls."

"You don't always want to be with me?" Clark asked him. It was a pitiful, morose sort of question. "Oh."

"No, I'd just rather keep my parts where they belong," Lex frowned at him for a moment. "I mean, think about not having them. Just think about it for a moment, really consider what it'd be like."

"OH!" Huge hazel eyes looked at him. "You mean neutering is what." The sound of Clark's gulp was nearly audible. "What Daddy did to that steer last spring." His hands went down to cup protectively between his legs, his gaze falling on the dog. "Poor Cocoa."

"Yeah. Mom insisted, and Cocoa doesn't notice a real difference. But I know that I'd miss it, and so would Bruce, and I'm worried about you if you don't think you'd miss it at least some." Lex shifted, stretching his lean legs out in front of him as he petted the dog's fur absently.

Yep, there was nothing like a dog to pet, coffee to drink, and his little brother to bring up the topic of cutting off genitals.

"You don't think he notices a difference?" Clark was starting to sweat. "But what if dogs did it to US and said we didn't notice the difference? It wouldn't be nice." Well, that was the understatement of the year, wasn't it?

"This is why we wield the knives in the matter, and not the dogs. Anyway, they don't have opposable thumbs. We win this argument by default because we can actually hold the knives." He glanced thoughtfully at Cocoa, then added for Clark's benefit, "Unless of course the dogs were outfitted with a sharp need for vengeance and lasers."

A shiver ran through the younger boy. The introduction to Freakazoid was coming on now, but they were still ignoring the television. "If I was a dog, I'd want a laser and some vengeance," he muttered.

"It's for the best, really." Lex patted Clark's back gently, then prodded his attention back to the tv. "I promise to not have you neutered, Clark."

"Thanks. I think. Does that still mean I'll have to learn to like yucky girls?" Mmm, yes. Freakazoid. That was better than girls any day of the week.

"You might. You might like other things, too..." Lex finished off his coffee and wished for a bigger cup when he leaned away for a moment to put it aside. "Don't worry about it."

"But I am worried about it," Clark sighed. Still, it was okay to just let it drop. If Lex said not to worry about it, it was probably nothing to get excited about.

"Why?" he prodded gently. Oh, the enemy d'jour was the big floating brain thing, which always amused the hell out of Lex, but he didn't let it drop. If it was bothering Clark, then it had to be dealt with.

"Because Pete's brains have all turned to mush about girls, and he's only eight," Clark said disapprovingly. "What if I wake up one day, and my brains are all mush?"

"It might just happen. It's part of becoming a grownup, though. Different people deal with it different. You wouldn't say that Mo... Martha and Jonathan's brains are mush, would you?"

"Well, sometimes they are," Clark told him. "When we catch them kissing in the kitchen, they're kind of mushy. Why don't you just go ahead and call her Mom, Lex? I know you want to. She won't mind, you know."

No, she'd probably like it, but it was the principle... "Because I still miss my mother," Lex pointed out quietly, barely a whisper as he leaned into Clark. "It just wouldn't feel right."

Clark could understand that. He really could. "I know," he said, and he put an arm behind Lex's neck, hand petting the bald head with great care. "But your mom wouldn't mind. She'd be glad you loved somebody else and that they take good care of you. I hope my mom is, wherever she might be."

"I bet she does." Lex sighed, and leaned into Clark for a moment. "Pam would probably be glad, too."

"Maybe you should call her after supper," Clark told him, nodding. "She'd like to hear from you. She always does."

"How is it that you're more mindful of these things than I am? When I grow up, I'm going to need you to keep tabs on me so I don't forget important things like that." Lex was teasing him again, but it was gently, and just to prod him to watch TV again.

"Mmm." Clark agreed with him, apparently, or maybe the sight of that brain thing after Freakazoid was enough to distract him. It was probably the latter. "You're my best friend. My Lex. I hope I always know everything about you."

"Well, it's a good thing you're nosy." And then Lex tapped Clark gently on the nose, 'honking' it before he settled back in to watch tv.

But, everything about him? It seemed fairly impossible that he could know everything about him, but... well, Clark never meant things in the frightening overwhelming way that Lex meant them. If Lex wanted to know everything about someone, he knew everything, learned and sought out all until he realized that what he was doing scared him and definitely would've scared other people if they noticed.

"Boys!" That was Martha, calling from the kitchen. "You need to go feed the chickens next time there's a commercial!"

"Sure thing, Mom!" Clark called back, smiling at Lex. "Yeah," he said with a nod. "I'm nosy. But you wouldn't have me any other way, right?"

"Right. If you weren't nosy, and a little bossy, you wouldn't be Clark, and you know what? I'd hate to not have my little brother just the way he is." Feeding the chickens -- always a delight, like running into heavy five o'clock traffic in Metropolis on a holiday weekend.

"Anyway, who'd help me feed the chickens if you weren't here? There's no way I'd do it by my lonesome..."

"Because the chickens might bite you," Clark snickered, and then he was up and running for the door, just slow enough that Lex might catch him if he tried hard enough.

Or maybe not.

But either way, it was always going to be fun. Things with Clark always were.

"Good night, Lex," Clark whispered to him, kissing him wetly on the cheek. Cocoa had snuggled up between them, and barked slightly in protest. Kissing was his job, or so he seemed to think, because he squirmed up and licked each of them on an ear.

That was a sensation that had to be competing for the most startlingly disgusting in existence. Lex loved Cocoa, but doggie tongue flicking his ear and bald scalp gained the dog a well deserved prod.

"Goodnight, Clark..."

It was easy to flick the lamp off with the press of a little button, drowning the two of them in darkness. He could feel Clark curl up across from him, one arm looped loosely around Cocoa. Even in his sleep, Clark was infinitely careful these days. He'd only been getting stronger, after all, just as Lex had been healing even faster. It was another of those things they just didn't talk about, the lack of a need for doctors when it came to Lex. He was just as glad, though. He didn't like doctors.

Lex had suffered enough of them, and preferred to not think about what they hadn't been able to do for his father, and for his mother. All of those long hours in doctor's offices having his asthma medication tweaked and double checked. All of those long hours in hospitals, watching his mother die, and the doctors just tsking and shaking their heads... No, it was good that he was healthy at last, and it was useful that Clark was strong.

He settled back on his back for a moment, and then slowly curled away from Clark to face towards the wall for a little privacy. He could be quiet. He could be mostly still. Clark wouldn't notice if he woke up damp in the night, the way that he sometimes did, and even if he did notice... Well, Clark had never said anything about it, so Lex hoped he hadn't ever noticed.

It was just there. A strong urge and he couldn't help it; he'd do more, worse, if the opportunity presented itself properly. But since the only opportunity was his hand down the front of his pajama bottoms, he made due.

Closed his eyes loosely, and thought of Bruce.

Sometimes, he thought about Victoria instead, about the sweet slide of skirt up pale thigh, but it was never as good. It didn't make his heart beat as fast, didn't make him come as hard. And oh, it was so sweet to imagine Bruce touching him like this, like maybe he would have if they had gone on to boarding school together, the way his mother had vaguely planned. Yes. Yes, Bruce, Bruce's mouth kissing him, and his hand down Lex's pajamas.

Instead of air against his mouth, air and the edge of his pillow, and his resourceful right hand fondling the length of his dick.

Bruce was so graceful, with long hands and a smile that was so secretive and private, just for him. With lean hips, and there was something about his wrists, the bend of his elbow, his neck... Lex wished he'd paid more attention to all of it when Bruce had last visited. But if he'd stared any more, it would've been embarrassing.

Oh, but Bruce would let him touch, wouldn't he? Would caress him back, and it would all feel so much better. So much. It would be better with Bruce than anything he ever just imagined, and he'd wrap his legs around him and. Well, Lex didn't know just what, but it would be good. He was sure of that.

"You're wiggling, Lex," Clark complained sleepily, a hand pressing against his back.

Hadn't he waited long enough? Lex choked on a groan of frustration, and went still, fingers spasming as he tried to not move them anymore. If he just laid there, and didn't reply, Clark would move and go back to sleep.

Probably.

With a faint sigh from Clark, the hand against him did relax and pull away slightly, but it still left Lex nervous. It was bad enough that he was on edge, wanting, so close, but worse that Clark was almost touching him. He could almost die from the need, or maybe he couldn't, but it felt like it. He had been getting close and it just felt so good.

So he shifted just a little, just enough to test the situation. he stretched his legs out straight, spread them a little, and then curled back in on himself again. If Clark reacted, then he probably wasn't going to have opportunity to finish.

No further protestations came, so it was safe to shift again, he thought, and it wouldn't take long. Not with Bruce's dark eyes in his mind, high cheekbones, sweet mouth. It wasn't curved or full like Clark's, but more like Lex's. His upper lip was slightly more ample than the lower one, and it might feel so good to kiss. So good to just... touch a little.

"Uhm, uhnn..." Lex bit at his bottom lip, pulled it between his teeth and strained into his hand. Bruce's mouth against his, or against his dick, the sweet curve of lip where his hand was touching, and Bruce's high cheekbones under his fingertips.

The boys in his class liked to talk about that. A blow job, only there was a lot of sucking apparently involved, and Bruce probably knew the details. Maybe show the details...

"What are you doing?" Clark asked him, curiosity in his voice even though he hadn't moved again, hadn't seemed to even be awake. Oh. God.

Clark was still so little. there was no way he could explain it, and if he didn't do it to Clark's satisfaction, the little boy would definitely turn around and ask Martha. And Lex couldn't have Martha knowing what he was doing.

"I... uhn..."

"It looks like fun," Clark decided, shifting now to lay close to Lex. "Is it fun, Lex?"

Lex shuddered tensely, and bit down a moan when he spilled into his hand, trying to keep from throwing a complete squirming fit of not wanting to be touched by his little brother just then. "Clark..." he whined softly, just a little out of breath.

"What?" It was an innocent enough question, honest curiosity in Clark's voice. "Is this one of those things like girls that I'll understand 'one day'?" he asked suspiciously.

"Yes." And then he didn't dare twist back to look at his little brother, or wherever Cocoa had rolled to. It felt like he was down behind his knees. "It just... feels good. And you shouldn't do it."

"Why not?" Clark asked, and he seemed honestly confused. "If it feels good, why shouldn't you do it? What were you doing, exactly? You wiggled a lot, Lex."

"Shhh," Lex whispered, and finally he had to twist around to peer at Clark through the darkness. His hand was sticky, and still down his pants. "Can't it wait until morning?"

"I guess..." Clark sounded sort of doubtful about it. "We'll talk about it over breakfast?"

"No... you remember..." Lex took the opportunity to pull his hand out of his pants, and lifted his fingers to lick them somewhat clean. Then he gave up and half-lunged out of bed to find a tissue beneath the nightstand. "When I taught you about the French revolution? The beheadings? It's not table conversation, just like that wasn't."

"Ohhhh." Clark understood that, all right, though he hadn't at the time. Not until Martha had rushed off to the bathroom to be ill when he'd talked about all of the gore on the blade. Jonathan hadn't exactly been happy with either of them about that. "So. It's barn talk?"

"Yes. Just you and me, and I'll explain it tomorrow, okay? Since it's Saturday," he whispered. And maybe Clark would leave him alone for a few minutes when he felt boneless like that and only wanted to lay there and be sticky.

"Okay." It was agreement, at least, though Clark's hand was on his back again, rubbing as if to comfort him. "But you'll tell me first thing. Move, Cocoa..." Apparently, the dog was tangled up between Clark's knees.

And Clark's hand on his back would've been less of a bothersome presence if it hadn't been under the covers. And if Lex hadn't been squirming to try to clean himself up in his mild state of panic, slipping a hand and a tissue down the front of his pants again to try to mop things up. Somewhat.

From now on, he was going to stick to masturbating in the shower.

"Are you gonna tell me now?" Clark demanded around a piece of toast. He'd begged to be allowed to eat breakfast in the loft, which had meant that Lex was going to have to go with him. Martha had indulged them, since it was Saturday.

"It's masturbating," Lex confided after he speared a piece of bacon and chewed on the crispiest bits.

"Mast-ur-bating?" It sounded almost frighteningly like Clark had in those early days, as if he was chewing up the word in hopes of understanding it. "But what do you do? How does it work? Why do you wiggle so much?"

Lex sighed, and drank a sip of his orange juice. "It's... it's solo sex, Clark. You know I tell you everything and don't talk down to you, but I really think you're too little to understand this. If you haven't... felt the need to do it yet."

That seemed to worry the younger boy a little. "What if I don't ever feel like I need to do it? Would that mean something's wrong with me?"

"No," Lex was quick to assure. "No, because some people just... don't. I don't really know for sure, because I'm not about to ask people 'so, is this normal?' Think of how silly that'd be with all of the other stuff I do know and understand."

"Oh. So why do you do it if not everybody does it?" Clark seemed honestly curious. "I mean, what does it do, exactly?"

"It feels... really good." And that sounded so lame. How could he explain advanced physics problems to anyone who asked him for the time of day, but not explain that to his little brother? "Have you ever thought you really liked someone?"

"I really like you," Clark informed him with a decisive nod. "I like you a whole lot."

"I mean... that you wanted to kiss," Lex tried to clarify desperately. He wasn't going to think about his little brother masturbating and thinking about him, he wasn't, the thought wasn't even going to enter his mind.

Oh, God, it was too late.

"But I do like you a whole lot." Clark's mouth was beginning to pout, his brows knit. "And I kiss you all the time. And I wouldn't want to do that to Pete. Or Lana, because she's all pink and icky."

"I don't mean pecks on the cheek," Lex forged ahead, trying to not wince. It was his own fault that he was thinking that, his own fault... "I mean kissing like Ma... Mom kisses Dad."

"Ohhhhhh." That seemed to make some sense to Clark, because he drew in a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. "No, I don't think I want to kiss anyone like that," he decided. "That's icky, too."

"You'll be old enough soon where it isn't icky," Lex assured, and let out his own sigh -- a relieved one, but Clark didn't need to know that.

The look that Clark shot him seemed rather doubtful, but that was all right. Lex could live with doubtful. "Well, you can do it all you want, then, but I don't think I will. Okay?"

"That's just fine." Lex's eyes narrowed for a moment, and then he couldn't help but smile. "You know, when you're older, I'm going to tease you for this."

Clark's nose crinkled up, mouth twisting slightly. "You won't get to tease me because I won't do that. Ew."

"Sure you will. You wait. In a couple of years, you'll want to chase girls just like Pete does. And you'll be glad you aren't neutered, like Cocoa is," he added, and winked before he cut his fork through his omelet. It was relaxing to eat out in the loft, as long as the topic wasn't embarrassing and centered entirely on him.

The sheer skepticism Clark showed said a lot about his considerations on the matter. "If you say so, but Lex. Girls are still really icky. Pete used to say they had cooties." Lex had explained that cooties weren't real, of course, but Clark hadn't really believed that they weren't. "Plus. Pink. Ew."

"So the Lang girl isn't going to be at the top of your conquest sheet. She certainly wouldn't be on mine if I were your age." Lex fiddled with his juice glass. No, Victoria was alluring and troubling enough for him.

"Who do you think about?" Clark asked him. "I mean, you know. Who do you want to chase, Lex?"

"Victoria." Lex glanced down at the mostly empty plate that he had, and then back up at Clark's face. If anyone could keep a secret for him, it was Clark. And there was no one else to confide in just then. "And Bruce."

He should have known that Clark would state the obvious. "But Bruce is a boy, Lex. Are you supposed to chase boys?" One last piece of bacon made its way into Clark's mouth, and he chomped on it firmly.

"Do you want what I didn't finish?" Lex didn't even wait for Clark to give him a definitive answer, he just prodded his plate towards the other boy. "I want to chas... no, not chase him. But I do want to do things with him." To him. Both with and to Bruce at the same time.

"Like what?" Obviously Lex didn't mean that he wanted to play Ninja Turtles, or talk about Freakazoid. Clark wasn't too sure what he meant, but he was pretty clear on that part. "I don't get it."

"Like... I want to touch him, and kiss him." Simplification of the matter, but Clark wasn't at that stage age wise yet. He didn't want to push it, or get in trouble with the Kents for telling Clark things about that. There was no telling what their take on it all was.

He should probably ask them about their take.

Then again, he wasn't too sure what they would think about it. Would they still like him if he asked them that? Maybe he should ask Martha first. Martha knew all of the things that were good to know, like his mother would have.

"Oh." That seemed to throw Clark for a momentary loop. "I don't want to do that to Pete."

Pete would've flipped if it were even suggested in his direction, Lex decided. "Why would you?" Lex prodded, curious about the way Clark thought and his trains of thought. "Just because he's your best friend doesn't mean you ought to want to do that."

"But you want to do it to Bruce." So obviously certain conclusions had been drawn, parallel lines, even. "And you do it in bed with me."

Which implied to Clark, what? That Lex wanted to do it to him? "That's because you always sleep in my bed," Lex said gently. "Which is okay since you're younger than me. And I do want to do it to Bruce. I've almost always had a crush on him..." And he dropped the word 'crush' like the disdainful thing it was.

"What's a crush? Is that like when Mom says to be careful of the eggs, Clark?" It was enough to make a young man wonder if his baby brother was emotionally stunted.

He was definitely going to have to corner Martha and talk with her about everything that had to do with girls. Boys. That topic in general, and maybe hint that Clark wasn't quite cognizant about any of it. "It's when you look at someone and you feel... sort of a glow. A flutter. It's not serious, but it's there."

"You mean like your stomach's all in a knot and you get kind of hot?" Clark asked, brows knitting together. "And maybe you feel a little shaky, too?"

"Actually, that sounds like the flu, not a crush," Lex teased him. "Nervous, sometimes. And you want to touch them, or be around them a lot."

That seemed to relieve Clark a little bit. "Oh, good. Then I don't have a crush on Lana. Whew."

"I swear, you need to get mom to write a note to your teacher about her. You're allergic." Lex got to his feet, and wandered over to the window to peer out. "So, don't mention this to anyone?

"I promise, Lex." And if Clark said those words, he would definitely keep it to himself. Clark always kept his promises. "Hey. You wanna read me those stories again? About Alexander the Great? I'll go get us some apples later if you will." Masturbation was obviously not as exciting a topic as history.

Thankfully. Lex cracked a smirk for his little brother, and nodded his head as he backtracked to gather up their empty plates. "Yeah, that sounds like a great plan. I'll take these in, and I want to ask Martha a couple of things. Think you can entertain yourself for a few minutes?"

What a brilliant plan that was. If Clark stayed in the barn, he'd have a reason to escape if the conversation turned sour.

"Okay, but hurry back," Clark warned, snuggling into the hammock that Jonathan had strung up for them several summers back. "I'll be waiting, and you'll have to give me an extra story."

As if that was going to be a hassle. Lex chuckled quietly, while he started down the stairs. "Could I just bring Cocoa up instead?"

"An extra story!" Clark demanded in a yell as Lex made his way down to the bottom half of the barn. "And Cocoa, if you take too long!"

"Jawohl!" Lex mock-saluted at his little brother once he'd walked out from beneath the loft, and then he started back towards the house.

As long as he didn't pause or run into Jonathan, he wasn't going to lose his spine to talk about it. And since Jonathan was often a presence, he picked up his pace a little, just to make the odds better for him.

He managed to avoid Jonathan, slipping up onto the back porch and through the screen door. Martha was at the sink, hands buried in soapy water. "Oh, Lex. Here, just bring me the plates..."

"Here you go. Clark polished off the rest of mine, so he won't need a second helping." Lex carried the plates to her, and lifted up the forks so they wouldn't fall in the water and stick her. He'd learned the importance of not losing track of silverware after he'd gouged a chunk out of his hand with a steak-knife when washing the dishes one night.

"Thank you, sweetheart." She leaned down and kissed his temple as she took the plates and began to wash them. There was a certain look about him that she always seemed to recognize, because she nodded to the towel on the other side. "You can dry for me if you have a minute. Jonathan is busy with the tractor, and I'll bet Clark is still in the loft, isn't he?"

"Waiting for stories, and maybe Cocoa. Only I'm pretty sure Cocoa is smarter than us, and is sleeping upstairs." Lex moved to grab up the drying towel, using the delay to better work through his words. "Can I ask you a couple of things...?"

"Sure you can, sweetheart. What use am I if you can't ask me things?" Martha smiled, and it was reassuring, the way that it seemed to be just for him. Maybe it even was, in a way. Just for him and Clark and Jonathan, and that made them very special.

Still a lot of use, just because she smiled that way and was always there for them, one way or another. Lex picked up the first clean but damp dish, and started to polish it dry. "I... I want to know what exactly is normal for my age. S..." No, he wasn't going to stumble or stammer or make a little fool of himself. "Sex wise."

"Ohh." The faint flush that crept up into her cheeks said a lot. "And you want to talk about this with me instead of Jonathan?"

"Yes." He looked up at her a fraction or two, hopefully. "If I can? I mean, unless you'd rather not, which is okay..."

"Ask me whatever you need to know," Martha agreed, smiling. "Just keep in mind that I've never been a fourteen year old boy, so I'm not sure I'll be able to answer everything as well as Jonathan might be able to, okay?"

"Okay, well... there's some stuff I don't think Jonathan would be able to answer well. It's not that anything about it's bothering me, just..." Just, there were things that bothered him, so he was really lying with that sentence. And if Martha let him, he was going to circle his problems ad infinitum. Like the Gym class showers, and sure he was young but wasn't he supposed to have some hair down there? All the other boys did, and he did his fair share of looking.

"Just you have some questions. I understand." Martha handed him a damp dish and looked him firmly in the eye. "Why don't you start with the first one, and then we'll go from there?"

"Okay." And her firm look in the eye was bearable for a few moments at best, so Lex turned his head and started to dry that dish. "When, usually, do boys, uh... grow pubic hair?"

"Oh, I'd guess it would be about the time they, um, start noticing girls. Start dreaming things at night that leave the sheets damp." Oh, so maybe Martha had noticed. That was enough to make heat rise in his cheeks. "For some boys, they're eleven. Some boys are fifteen. It's similar for girls, really." She wasn't looking at him, either, concentrating instead on the dishes so that he didn't have to be even more embarrassed.

Not that it helped. Martha was giving off knowing vibes, and he could feel them even without her eyes on him. "Oh. And what if there's still nothing -- nothing anywhere -- and everything else is... sort of normal?" Sure his head was bald, but Lex wasn't quite willing to grasp that last straw of freakdom.

"Well, to be honest, sweetheart, I wouldn't say I'm very surprised if you haven't." Which meant that he probably was just a freak. She stopped washing dishes and wiped her hands, turning to him and gently pulling him close, his shoulders each held with a palm. "You don't have any hair on your legs or arms, either, Lex. I suppose, if you like, we could ask someone. I," she said. "I could ask someone."

And then everyone would know how perfectly freakish he was, not just the boys in gym who thought he was younger than he really was. Because who else in Smallville had such glaring hair problems at his age? "No, that's okay," he told her quickly, and his mouth flattened into a line as he looked back up at her.

"Honey. It doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you." Her fingers gently caressed over pale auburn brows with a loving tenderness. "It just makes you special to me, to Jonathan. To Clark. There's nothing wrong with you. I want you to understand that, no matter what anyone else might say."

Pale brows that Lex distinctly remembered having implanted. Like his eyelashes, and those had itched horribly for weeks afterwards. He dropped his eyes to look at Martha's feet instead of her face. "Do say. It isn't a might, it's a do. And it's not normal. Nothing I do is normal..." How he relished in that when it came to academics, but on sex... he wanted to be normal.

It would've been easier.

Martha's arms came around him, hugging him close against her chest. He'd gotten taller, and his head rested lightly on her shoulder. "Don't believe them," she said simply. "You're beautiful, Lex, and sweet, and smart, and we love you. You're special to us. If everyone else can't see how wonderful you are, that's their problem, and their loss."

It was good to hear words like that, and they resonated from her. It wasn't falsehood, it was the same way his mother would've said it, or Pam, or... Clark was right. It was high time that he started to stop comparing Martha. She was Martha. She wasn't his mother, but she was his mom, and she really did care about him.

He slipped his arms around her, and hugged her back. "Thanks, Mom," he whispered.

The faint tremor that rocked her told him a great deal about what that word meant to him. "You're so welcome, sweetheart. You're so welcome." The feel of her hand tenderly petting over his scalp was so good. "That's not all you're worried about, is it." Not a question so much as a quiet statement, and she was so gentle with him. So much his Mom.

He nodded to what she's said, and pulled back a little to look up at her again. "Clark asked about Pete chasing girls. And crushes, and I was trying to explain it to him..."

"Better you than me," Martha told him a little wryly, allowing him to pull away from her touch. "Did he understand?"

"Not really. And I sort of complicated things because I gave examples of people that I feel that way to, and now he..." It was dance at the subject forever, or just dive right in for it, and Lex was going to dive. Or try to.

"Now he?" his mom prompted him, waiting patiently, expectantly. How did you tell your mom, even an adoptive one, that you. You know. Were thinking the thoughts he had been thinking?

"Sort of thinks that he should want his best friend because I do, but -- I mean, I want my best friend, not his, because Pete's little and there's no way, none, that...."

"Bruce, you mean." It was an interruption, sure, but at least it got him to stop babbling. "I see. Do you only think of Bruce that way? Do you ever think about others?"

"And Victoria. And some people at school, but I don't know them so it's not... viable." And he didn't want to be laughed at. As long as they thought he was near sexless and young, he was okay.

"I see." He could hear the deep breath that Martha drew. "It's all right, you know. To think about both kinds of people that way. Boys and girls. That doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you, either. I mean, maybe one day, you'll decided that you'll like one better than the other..." And she probably hoped it was girls, but still, at least she wasn't yelling at him about being a pervert. "But it's okay to like both."

"Are you sure....?" Lex was sure he couldn't change the way he thought, but he definitely wanted at least a warning if it was extremely freakish.

"I'm sure," Martha promised. "There are a lot of people who don't believe it's so. There are people who'll say bad things because you do. But there are people who'll say bad things about you no matter what, Lex. There are people who probably say bad things about all of us, no matter what we do or no matter how nice we are. People are just funny that way."

Funny towards Luthors in particular. But Lex nodded again. "Okay. I think that's enough questions for one day, then?" he tried to joke gently. "Let me finish with the plates..."

"It's all right, sweetheart." She kissed his temple again, hugged him tightly. "You can go on back out to the loft and play with Clark, so long as you tell me if you feel a little better now?"

He quirked a smile for her, still a little nervous, but calmer. "I feel better -- thanks, Mom." And then he pulled away, after that last hug, and darted towards the door. "I'll probably have to come back and get Cocoa. Clark's being a little brat today and wants stories."

"And you told him he could have as many as you like, I suspect. Cocoa is having a nap. Just tell Clark that he'll have to do without him."

"Right. I'll do that."

And for the moment, all was calm in the Kent household. Lex raced up the stairs to grab a book, and then twisted around to get back to the barn as quickly as he could. He'd transferred his burden temporarily to Martha, and she could do with it what she wanted.

Lex had the rest of the day to spend playing.

Six days later, Lex wasn't so sure he should have been thinking about Clark and playing, after all. His little brother would be worried when he didn't show up at home, and his parents would, too, but Lex had something else to worry about right now.

The sight of Billy Farrell swaggering up to him from the navy blue Ford Ranger should have been his first clue. Honest, it should have, but Billy Farrell swaggered everywhere he went. He had a head full of frizzy mud brown hair and eyes that were really close to cowshit brown, and he'd been giving Lex a hard time for weeks despite the fact that Lex wasn't a freshman.

He really should have seen this coming.

"Hey, Luthor, ya dick licker. Where you think you're going?" Billy drawled, hands shoved in his back pockets.

"I'm going home," Lex said slowly. Slowly because he knew it sounded patronizing to Billy, every syllable carefully enunciated so he could perhaps follow the general idea.

"No, you ain't." The dull flush creeping up the football player's neck wasn't a good sign, no, no, it wasn't. "You ain't goin' nowhere 'ccept out to Riley Field."

"I think I'll pass," Lex smiled flatly. "I've seen enough of Smallville's more scenic sights, particularly Riley's field."

A place he fervently avoided because that was where it had all started, but he wasn't going to share that with the dumb cow of a jock. Not a bull, because bulls had a nobility to them. And a useful dick.

No, Billy was a heifer.

"It's a little late to go passing, Luthor." That was a whole different voice, and it didn't take much guessing to figure out that there were probably three or four other members of the football team standing behind him just WAITING to help him into the back of that truck and hold him down there.

"'Cause you're going whether you like it or not," Billy sneered.

Lex stood there for a stupid moment, deer in the headlights -- well, more like the cow in the headlights that liked to stand in the driveway when they had somewhere important to be -- and then dropped his heavy bookbag and tried to run for it.

It was a pity he wasn't as fast as Clark was.

They caught him before he got very far at all, caught up in the milling of other students who pretended that they didn't see it. Of course they did. After all, they didn't want to be the one out there in that field, and Lex knew it. He didn't want to be, either.

"Quit fightin'!" Bill snarled at him, smacking the back of his head with an open palm.

He gave a sharp hiss, and twisted towards them, or tried to. "Don't hit my head, damn you!"

"Afraid we might screw up that big brain?" one of the others sneered. Lex recognized the voice. His name was Beatty or something like that. Parker. Parker Beatty, yes.

And he wasn't about to forget a minute of this!

"Fuck you," he hissed, and tried to twist free. And his voice didn't just break, did it? No, it didn't break like he was panicking or hysterical. "Just let me go home..."

"No can do, kid. You fucked all the grades over for chemistry, see? And we just can't have that," Billy snickered. "Shove him in the back of the truck and keep him down. I'll drive."

"It's not my fault you're all stupid!" he snarled. It probably wasn't wise, but he'd dropped his bookbag somewhere along the way, and they had him by the arms; he wasn't going to go limp just to make things easier for them.

"Shit!" A hiss from somewhere around his twisting foot. "The fuckin' little bastard kicked me!"

"Well hold him tighter, idiot!" Beatty snapped as they began struggling to get him into the back of the truck.

He kicked again, just for spite, and then they slammed him down in the back of the truck. His head hit the liner bed, and he was pretty sure that he blacked out for a second, because when he blinked, the truck was moving already, and he couldn't see the edges of the trees that surrounded the school.

Damn. Damn, damn, and double damn, because when he moved a little, he realized that they had his jeans down around his knees, too. Shit.

"Bet the little fucker ain't got any hair between his legs, either," the one who'd complained about being kicked declared.

"Yeah, and I wouldn't go lookin' if I was you, you stupid faggot."

"I ain't no faggot!"

"Yeah, well, then quit talkin' about the kid's pubes, okay? You creep me out like that."

He twisted, and then decided to lock his knees together just so they wouldn't try to check. "Leave me alone! I'll have all of you arrested!"

"Oh, yeah, right." That was a shout over the wind that was picking up around them. "Like Jonathan Kent didn't do this his last year playing football!"

Had he? Lex filed that away -- along with their names and every other thing he could think of -- to look at and consider more closely later. "Fuck you, I'm a Luthor, not a Kent! I'll ruin your life, you dumb bastard!" He jerked his arms again, but whoever was holding his wrists down was strong.

He should've expected that of football players. He really should've.

"Yeah, you and your dead daddy are sure gonna do a lot, right?" Sneering bastards. He hated them, hated them, hated them, and one of them was cutting his shirt off, and he was going to burst, he hated them so much.

They were going to find out, once he got away, just what he and his dead father could do. "You're nothing, you're all just dumb jocks and no team is ever going to take you!" Insulting their intelligence wouldn't get them, but their skills? Maybe, and Lex didn't care. He just wanted them to hurt, hurt hurt hurt until they wanted to burst.

The truck started to slow, rolling to a bumpy stop, and Lex closed his eyes tightly. He didn't want to see that damned field.

"Drag 'im out," Billy yelled through the back window, opening his door and heading out through the corn. God, they were going to put him up on that cross, like that boy he'd seen five years ago. God. God. He wished more than anything for Clark's strength then. For Martha's safe arms.

And he was going to die there. It was still daylight, and his skin was going to crisp, and they were never going to find him.

If any of those bastards' parents worked at the plant, he was going to see that they were fired. Or embezzle their pensions in a couple of years. Something.

"Don't do this, don't do this...."

The one he'd kicked sneered at that. "Yeah, like we all wish you hadn't screwed our chem grades?"

"Shut up or I'll duct tape your mouth, kid," Beatty told him flatly. "The rest of you, get that rope."

"You should've studied. I didn't suck the brains out of your heads," Lex muttered, whining and he didn't care. Because they were going to rope him up, and that was illegal. They were committing kidnapping, and...

Oh, God, maybe he should just be grateful they hadn't molested him yet. Clark would notice he was missing, soon. Martha would notice. Maybe Jonathan would realize what day it was, maybe he would come and get him...

"Over here!" Billy yelled out over the rustling of the corn.

They had Lex on his feet again, and he dragged them, closing his eyes against the corn-stalks because he didn't want to remember the feeling of stumbling through them again, choking on panic.

Choking. Could he fake an asthma attack and maybe they wouldn't do it?

No, they were going to string him up no matter what, and the memory of that other pathetic boy begging him for help rang in his head, drowning out their words, their touches, the way they were bruising him. Maybe if he just didn't think about it, pretended that he didn't feel his arms being forced over the wooden post...

"Don't do this," he asked, but didn't beg. Not yet. He wasn't going to beg, he was just going to pull with his arms and try to get free. But it was so tight that there was no way that he could break free. "I can't breathe, I can't... let me down..."

"Bullshit," Beatty snickered, and he felt it when Billy Farrell spit on him.

"Come on," Billy told the rest of them, smirking. "Let's go."

Lex lifted his head a little, looking at the rest, trying to catch their eyes pleadingly. If they left him like that, who would find him? Would they come back after a certain time, or just forget about him?

The one he'd kicked, the one who'd wanted to look beneath his boxers, paused for a moment, but a nudge from one of his teammates kept him moving. "Do they always look so fuckin' pitiful?" he heard someone ask as they walked away through the corn.

Because they didn't want to be strung up on a cross as unwilling participants in some deranged Passion Play reenactment. It wasn't right, and tradition or not, it was going to stop, once Lex got down.

If he got down. He drew a deep breath, and started to meticulously test the ropes. He was going to be sunburned no matter what, at least he could be sunburned and possibly get free.

If blood didn't start to settle in places first.

That just made him even more frantic to get away, and he pulled at the ropes until he felt blood begin to dampen them, making it difficult to pull anymore. He wanted to cry. How could he not want to cry? He hoped someone noticed him missing soon. Sometime soon...

Lex wasn't going to cry, and he didn't, not while he hung there. It was a hazy bad nightmare, and there was no wet doggie nose to nudge at him to wake him up, or Clark's little hands patting or poking him awake. He tried to keep his weight off of the ropes, but that made his muscles burn. So then he sagged anew, and the ropes cut into his skin again, and it went on like that.

He'd started to count how many times he'd done that, at first, but he quickly lost count. And the heat, a pleasant warmth when dressed head to toe, was sizzling on Lex's bare skin.

If the sun would just go down, or at least start to go down, it would help. It would help so much, even though he was afraid he'd freeze to death once it was gone. Hot in the day, cold at night, and here he was half-naked. None of it was good.

"Please." He couldn't help the whimper that finally broke loose. "Please. Help."

And wasn't that familiar to him? Scrabbling through the corn in panic and the sky falling in huge dusty balls of flame. Five years to the day that his father had died, and he was going to follow him if someone didn't find him soon.

"Please..." Begging to the corn and the crows. Lex wondered if they were going to peck his eyes out once he stopped moving. Once he stopped fighting the ropes little by little.

"Lex?" It was his name, oh, it was Clark, and God, he didn't want Clark to see him like that, did he? No, no, he didn't, but he wanted down so bad, and when had the sun moved so far in the sky that shadows were spilling down over half of him?

"Help me...?" He choked on that, licked burnt lips and tried to focus on Clark's face. Once he could find his face in the shadows of the corn. Lex wasn't going to cry, because he hadn't been hallucinating...

"Lex!" It was Clark, so excited as he burst through the corn, a barely visible whirl of speed. "Oh, Lex, no..." He sounded horrified, and unlike Lex five years ago, Clark moved forward so firmly that he probably would have frightened the football players. "We've been looking and looking for you," he said, snapping the ropes with his bare hands.

"Jocks, they..." Freed, Lex slipped down from the cross bonelessly, gracelessly. Everything hurt, but he could breath again, and it didn't matter that he was bleeding and burnt, or that he wanted to die and commit murder all at once. "You... found me. My God..."

"Lex. Oh, Lex, I'll take you to Momma and Daddy." Even though Clark hadn't called them anything so babyish in a really long time. "We've looked everywhere, and Daddy's called everybody we know." The smaller boy's hands were gentle on him, but Lex wasn't so much bigger than him that Clark couldn't lift him. Clark was strong.

Inhumanly strong, but Lex let that thought slip from his mind. They had found him, Clark had, so it didn't matter how he was going to be carried back to his parents. He tried to put his feet on the ground, shaky as he put an arm around Clark's shoulders. "So glad you found me, I..." Giddy with it, and that was almost, almost laughable.

"I ran just everywhere, Lex. Everywhere except town, because Momma and Daddy didn't want anybody to see. If you close your eyes and pick up your feet, I'll run you home," Clark promised.

Close his eyes and pretend that there wasn't something freakish about Clark. If he protested, they'd walk home, and... no. No, because the LuthorCorp fertilizer plant was nearby -- his plant -- and they'd see him. "Okay. Just..." Make it fast, he almost said, when he closed his eyes and lifted up his feet, leaning on Clark.

The whir of wind around them made his skin sting violently, made him shudder. It felt cold on his sunburn, and he was whimpering when they finally came to a stop. It hadn't really taken very long at all. "Come on, Lex," Clark soothed, toting him up the steps. "I'll help you."

Lex staggered down, jerking away from Clark for an unsteady moment before he slid an arm over Clark's little shoulders for support. "Where's Mom and Dad?" he asked shakily. Weekends weren't supposed to start that way -- and his bookbag! Where was his bookbag?

"They're in town looking for you," Clark explained patiently, as if he hadn't just told Lex that. "We can call Miss Nell and ask if she's seen them. I know how to look up the number. But first maybe we should get something on you, Lex. You're really burnt."

"I know..." Because every motion screamed pain at him, and he was probably even burned under the fabric of his boxers. "Call Miss Nell, and I... am just going to sit in the kitchen." And rest. And get something to drink, and then maybe pass out again. Because he was at least home.

"Okay. And I'll get some Solarcain, too." Clark didn't burn, but he knew that Lex did, and he knew how to take care of it.

Lex must have passed out again, because when he came to, he could feel the cold spray caressing over his back and arms and his head. It was weird, itchy, tingly relief, and it made him want to moan.

"Momma just went by Miss Nell's. Miss Nell said she'd chase her down and tell her to come home," Clark said solemnly.

Miss Nell would look pretty silly if she were actually chasing Martha, Lex decided, and he laid one aching cheek on the table-top, stretching forwards. At least if he faded out again, he wouldn't fall or hit his head. "Good... thanks, Clark. For finding me..." That was what brothers did, wasn't it? They came to each other's aid. Knowing that Clark would find him was worth putting up with Clark's sheet-stealing.

"You're my best friend, Lex. I love you," Clark explained simply. The sheeting cool sweep of numbing Solarcain felt so so good. "I'll always find you. I'll always save you. I'll bet you want something to drink," he decided, putting down the can and moving to the sink.

Only if he didn't lose the feel of that coldness, but Clark had sprayed enough they were both probably half-high from it. Lex nodded, murmured, "You're... a really great boy, Clark. Don't think you get told that enough, but you are..."

"So are you," Clark told him very seriously, handing him a glass of water full to the brim. "You're the best. If you tell me who did it to you..."

He drank the water first, drained it until he was almost choking with the decision between more water, and breathing. Breathing won, but he felt better for finishing off the water. "Doesn't matter. I'll get them..."

"I don't think you should," Clark said decisively. "It will just make you feel worse in the end. Besides. If I do a run-by egging of their car..." Funny that his baby brother could shine with such innocence while suggesting such a thing.

"'m at least going to go to the police. That... that's kidnapping, and they shouldn't get away with it..." He set the glass down, and went back to leaning heavily on the table, still peering at Clark. "But the cars... yeah. Later."

Lips pressed tenderly to the burnt curve of his skull, almost as if Clark was going to treat him egg-fragile. "Okay. I'll do that for you."

The sound of the truck roaring into the yard came clear as it turned from the road, the boys both looking outside. "I'll go and calm them down if you want."

"Thanks. I'll wash the blo..." Blood. His wrists weren't hurting anymore, or his ankles. Lex sat up quickly, hissing recrimination at himself for moving too fast, while he looked at the bloodsmears on his wrists. But there wasn't anything under them; just a little rope burn.

"I think you ought to just sit down and wait for Momma," Clark told him, eyeing him worriedly as they both heard truck doors slamming.

"Yeah." Lex nodded a little, and sagged back in the chair. He probably looked like a mess, still in his boxers, sunburnt, bruised and bloody. Hopefully they hadn't thought he was missing because he'd run away.

Oh, God, what if they had?

"Lex! LEX!" Martha was yelling, running up the steps and the screen door slammed open and she was there, wanting to put her arms around him but afraid she would hurt him worse if she did.

"He's okay, Momma," Clark pleaded. "I put on the Solarcain."

'Hi' would've been a good greeting, or 'I'm okay', or something along those lines. At least that was what Lex would've said in the theater of his overactive mind; reality was a little different. Lex looked up at her from his chair, opened his mouth, and started to cry.

"Oh, my baby," she whispered shakily. "My baby. Jonathan..."

"Find a robe for him, Clark. We're going to the hospital, and no protests," Jonathan told him, already reaching for the drawer with the kitchen towels. They were clean and soft, and they would feel good against Lex's wrists and ankles. "We'll call the police from there to take care of whoever's responsible for this."

"It was the, the football players f-from my chem class, they... they made me the scarecrow!" Lex kept crying, stammering and choking through his words, and the last one of the sentence broke with a hysterical edge as the overwhelming fear of that afternoon fell down around him.

The look on Jonathan's face was at once stunned, horrified, and vengeful. "I'll call the sheriff once we get to the hospital," he promised. "And their parents right after that. We're going to put an end to that ugliness." So grimly spoken that it made Clark pause in the doorway with his own soft cotton robe in his hands. He didn't want Lex's to get bloodied.

"Here, Momma," Clark offered, moving forward hesitantly. "Lex was thirsty...."

"Are you still thirsty, baby?" Martha asked him shakily, wiping his tears away with gentle fingers. She so obviously wanted to put arms around him, but he was burnt so badly.

Lex thought it might be worth it -- he was going to hurt no matter what, touched or not touched. "No," he said, and sniffled, lifting aching fingers to rub under his nose. If he had more water, he was going to throw up. "Clark has to come wi-with us."

"Of course," Martha promised him, reaching for Clark's robe and wrapping it around him so tenderly. "Jonathan..."

Jonathan was already moving, though, sliding his arms gently behind Lex's knees and just under his arms to lift him up. "You drive, Martha."

That hurt, and so did the slight friction of the robe on his skin. Lex closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on not healing. Or unhealing. Or something, so he wouldn't be singled out at the hospital as freakish. But he let one hand dangle, trying to catch at Clark's fingers when Jonathan walked past him.

And Clark's fingers caught his, and they didn't let go. Not on the ride to the hospital, not on their way in, not until neither of them had any other choice but to be separated.

Since man first created the wheel, there could be said to be one certainty amongst many; and the certainty was that, given mechanical problems and four of the things, there would be at least two greasy men hovering over the creature daring to be such an aggravation.

When Jonathan had first come to him with the idea, Lex had been inclined to politely say no. He didn't think much of American cars, no matter how long he'd spent on the farm. They just didn't appeal to him. He couldn't bring himself to say so and hurt Jonathan's feelings, though, not when he finally saw what his dad had found for him.

It was a '61 Corvette, Sateen Silver paint desperately in need of refurbishing, black leather seats screaming for moisture. The engine, Jonathan said, would have to be rebuilt from the ground up, but Lex didn't suggest paying somebody to do it. Not with the gleam of hope and pride in Jonathan's eye when he suggested that maybe it could be their project. Lex's special prize for when he went away to school.

That time was fast coming, much to Lex's giddy delight. But it also meant he'd be away from home, and wouldn't have so much time with any of them as he'd had since he'd arrived at the Kent Farm.

So even though it was about the car, Lex understood that it wasn't just about the car. It was about spending time with Jonathan, spending time with his dad working on something. Working on something and learning new practical skills -- because a man wasn't a man if he couldn't take at least a passing shot at fixing a problem himself -- and new ways to turn a curse word.

Especially entertaining ways to use curse words. Lex had learned three new variants just that morning when a torque wrench had slipped and Jonathan had barked his knuckles.

The faint wind that whirred around them felt good, but it wasn't natural, and Lex knew it. It was Clark.

Clark.

That was a whole different set of problems. Clark had been having a fit of sulks for whole weeks now, clinging to Lex the way moss desperately clutched at limbs to keep hold of them.

He'd wanted to go off to college with Lex. And maybe it was Lex's fault that Clark was so clinging to him, because they'd always been close. Like peanut butter and jelly on a sandwich. Or, like chocolate and marshmallows on smores. Clark was his little brother, his best friend, and... and he couldn't follow him to college.

"Clark?" Lex leaned a little, looking for his little brother. "Hey, Clark, want to help me and Dad?"

"No," Clark admitted, pausing beside Lex. "I don't want to help work on your stupid car. It's just going to take you away from me. Besides, I hurt Dad's socket wrench and he doesn't want me touching it anymore."

How could a person hurt a socket wrench? Lex glanced over to Jonathan, sharing his bewilderment before he twisted back to look at Clark properly. "Are you sure? I'm learning all sorts of neat stuff by working on this, Clark. About engines and how machinery functions."

The pout on Clark's mouth declared his lack of interest in learning anything. "But you're spending all of your time learning, Lex, and, and you're going away next month, and all you want to do is see this stupid car and not me at all!"

"Now, Clark," Jonathan began, voice stern, "we've talked about this. Just because Lex is going to school, it doesn't mean that you're not going to see him anymore..."

"But!!!"

"It just means that I won't be here all of the time," Lex explained as he edged towards his little brother. "Now don't you want to help me with the car? Then you and Dad and I could spend lots of time together."

"But you're spending all of your time with Dad and the car!" Clark protested tearfully, backing toward the steps. The terrible tremble in Clark's lower lip was nearly painful. "I don't want you to go away! I can't stand it if you go away!"

"Clark..." Lex glanced over to Jonathan, and then back to Clark. "Dad, I'm going to go up to the loft with him -- is that all right to leave you with this for a bit?"

"Go on up," Jonathan relented, eyeing his sons. "But Clark, don't make Lex feel bad about going to school, understand? Some things, a man just has to do. One day you'll go, too, and Lex will be home fairly often. That's why we're working so hard on the car."

Not that Clark would just take that and understand, no. "C'mon, Clark," Lex said as he started towards his little brother, holding his hand out for him.

With a certain care, the younger boy slid his hand into Lex's, looking up at him with big watery eyes that brought a pang to Lex's chest. "Okay," Clark agreed in a small voice, willing to follow Lex anywhere. Everywhere.

"I thought that you liked cars," Lex said quietly, as he led his little brother away from Jonathan and towards the barn. They could go up there and sit on the sofa, or... something. Maybe he could entice Clark to play. Anything to get him out of his cranky snit.

"Yeah, but not that one. I don't like that one at all," Clark said seriously as they reached the loft. "It's going to take you away, Lex. I don't want you to go away. It's so far, and I can't go with you."

"But I can't stay here on the farm forever," Lex murmured. He let go of Clark's hand, and then sat down heavily on the old sofa their dad had dragged up there for them. "I have to keep going to school. Like you go to school. The only difference is that mine's in Metropolis."

"But Metropolis is so far away," Clark fretted, beginning to pace in front of the couch, just a little too fast for normal. "It's so far away, Lex, and there's lots of stuff there, and big people, an' you were there before, and, and I..."

He hated watching Clark do that, and always had that worry that one day he'd speed up too much and burn a hole through the floor. Then the whole loft would probably collapse. "Clark. I'll be coming back, you know. Weekends when I can, and definitely on holidays."

"But it won't be every day!" Clark said, stopping in front of him. There were tears welling up in his eyes, and his mouth was trembling violently. "You'll go away and you'll be so busy and you'll learn new things without me."

"I promise to teach them to you," Lex offered a little helplessly. He reached forwards to grasp Clark's shoulders, trying to hold him still. "I can call you on the phone."

"But you'll still be gone!" Clark cried, moving to fling himself at Lex's lap. His arms went tightly around his brother's neck, holding him close. "You'll be gone an' have a car an' have lots of new friends an' I'll be without you! It's like you're already gone!"

He halfway knew what to do with a worked up Clark. Halfway, and maybe that was more than Jonathan or Martha knew when Clark got himself worked up like that. "I'm not gone yet, Clark, and I'll be coming back. I promise."

"But you gotta business, an' Bruce is in 'tropolis," Clark managed to explain wetly against Lex's shoulder. "An' I'm little, an' I wanna go with you so bad, Lex. Clark wants to go!" he wailed helplessly.

"Shhh." Lex closed his eyes, stroking his little brother's hair. It was never a good sign when Clark started to use third person on himself. "You're not that little... And I will have a business, and I might see Bruce sometimes. I'll miss you a lot, though, Clark. No one, not school or Bruce or having... stuff could replace you."

"So lonely. Clark will be so lonely." Fingers curled at the back of Lex's head, Clark's face pressed into his neck. "So lonely, Lex. Wish you wouldn't go."

"You can visit me," Lex whispered, almost pleading to get Clark to understand. "There'll be all sorts of things for you to do in the city. And you have friends here. I mean, I know it's not as good as you and me hanging out together, but... You like Pete, right?"

"Pete's okay," his baby brother sniffed. "Pete's not Lex. I can come see you? Sometimes?" That seemed to be something of a hopeful sound. "I'll miss you so bad, Lex. Come home lots."

"I will. Almost every weekend -- which is a lot of time, isn't it?" Lex offered, still petting Clark's tousled hair. "I mean, most of the week we're in school and not together anyway. Weekends really matter."

"Gonna miss you." Yes, Clark would miss him, and crying was hard. Lex could feel lashes fluttering shut against his throat, Clark's grip loosening. "Dun wan' you t'go."

"It won't be forever. And when you go to college? I'll be in Metropolis. You could go there, to Met U, and then you'd appreciate that I went there first and learned everything about the place before you got there."

"Promise?" Clark asked him sleepily, snuggling closer. It was really too hot for it in the loft, but Lex held him close all the same.

Clark would throw a fit if he didn't.

So Lex leaned his head back onto the back of the sofa, and closed his eyes as he slumped a little. "I promise, Clark. I hate being away from you, too. Who'd save me from trouble, if you weren't around?"

"I'll always save you, Lex," Clark assured him with a little smile, one that Lex could feel as much as he had those tickling eyelashes. "Always."

So sweet, even when he was jealous and scared of losing Lex. No one else in Smallville had a little brother as great as Clark was. "So. Will you save me from working on the engine alone with Dad? It could be the three of us. He'll teach you a lot of new words, like when he cussed at the cows..."

"K," Clark agreed, nodding his head. "You promise he'll teach me new words?"

"Promise -- he's been turning everything into a verb, all afternoon," Lex whispered particularly quietly.

"Can I close my eyes a little while? Before we go down, I mean."

"I think after all of your pacing?" Lex shifted a fraction, and jostled Clark a fraction closer. "Yes."

"K," Clark said again, closing his eyes and shifting against Lex until they were both comfortable, if a little bit warm.

In the end, they both dozed off together in the hot July afternoon, the sounds of Jonathan's tinkering rising up from below never interrupting their nap.

"It's so big!" Clark declared, green eyes huge as he took in the sight of the dorm where Lex would be staying. "And there are people everywhere! There aren't this many people in Smallville!"

The building was polished, the newest, nicest dorm on campus. There were the nice historical buildings, the semi industrial ones, and then there was Leary Hall. Metal and glass, and Lex bet it was nicely air-conditioned inside.

"It looks more like a hotel than a dorm," Lex approved, and he twisted to heft Clark out of his car.

Clark had gotten to ride in the 'back seat' of the old Corvette, and Jonathan had followed behind them in the truck with his things. Computer, clothes, books... Lex's room was probably going to feel barren for Clark when he went back home, but Lex was trying to not think about that.

The younger boy tugged, scrambling somewhat as Lex helped him out of the car. "That won't be any fun at all. Hotels are nice to stay in, but I wouldn't want to come home to one." He gave a disapproving frown at a girl who passed by and let her eyes linger a little too long on his big brother. "Plus, there aren't nice girls here like in Smallville, I'll bet."

"Nice girls like who?" Lex teased lightly, even as he habitually straightened out Clark's clothes for him. "Like... Lana, you mean? I think they like pink too much in Smallville for my tastes, Clark. Anyway..." He glanced to Martha, getting out of the passenger seat. "I'm here to study books, not girls, right, Mom?"

"And I'm sure you'll do brilliantly," Martha agreed with a smile. "Everything will be all right, Pumpkin. Lex isn't leaving us. He'll be home every third weekend, and I'm sure there are nice enough girls at school here. I met your father here, after all."

Clark's face was still set in a steady frown as he let Lex put him to rights. "It's still not home."

"That's true," Lex agreed, and he patted Clark's back lightly before moving away to help Jonathan pull the tailgate down. "But even if the girls aren't nice, the boys might be? I know it's not home, Clark, but I'll call every night and even help you with your homework that way, if you want."

Jonathan gave Clark a look, then, and the younger boy squirmed slightly. Lex knew they'd discussed Clark's jealousy and his apparent unhappiness at Lex's departure. Lex hadn't been a part of that talk, but he'd heard Clark cry himself to sleep later that night, when Clark thought he was sleeping and wouldn't hear him.

"Okay," Clark agreed meekly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Lex told him firmly, turning away from the truck with a suitcase in either hand. "Just take good care of Mom and Dad for me. And Cocoa."

"I'll take good care of them," Clark promised, taking a small box full of CDs and clutching them to his chest. On the way down, Martha had reminded Clark not to pick up anything very heavy, no matter how much difficulty someone else was having with it, and he had taken it to heart. He had promised not to help Lex and Jonathan move Lex's loft, even. "I'll take the best care of them!"

"I'm going to hold you to that, Clark," Lex said solemnly, starting towards the building from the parking lot. "I'm supposed to be on the eighth floor, but we have to go get the keys and check in first.'

"Here, sweetheart." Martha took one of the suitcases from him. "You go and get your keys and check in, and your dad and I will find the freight elevator so that we'll know where we need to take your things."

"Can I go with Lex, please, please, please!?" Clark begged, clutching his box excitedly. It was a miracle it didn't burst and send CDs flying everywhere.

Crushed CDs. CD dust. "C'mon, Clark -- you can come with me." After all, the parking lot was abustle with families, moms and dads with their freshmen, and older returning students and their friends. There was no reason for Clark to not tag along with Lex.

"Cool!" Clark said excitedly, nearly squashing the box again in his rapture.

"Leave your box here, young man," Martha said with mock-severity.

"Yes, Mom," Clark agreed, depositing the box carefully by the truck. "We'll be right back, right, Lex?"

"Pretty much." Lex reached for Clark's hand because they were going to cross the street and it was habit for them both. "C'mon."

"I hope you have fun," Clark declared, nodding as they hurried across the street. "I'll bet you'll learn all of the best things here, and it won't bore you half so much."

"I've already tested out of and gotten AP credit for almost all of my general education classes," Lex smirked as he led his little brother along with him. "So I get to start the interesting classes right away. Organic chemistry should be great fun."

"You'll show me, too, won't you, Lex?" Clark pleaded as they headed towards one of the smaller brick buildings. Smaller was mostly a relative term, all things considered. The building in question was only five stories tall as opposed to the thirteen that Lex's dorm was. "I want to learn fun stuff, too!"

"I promise I'll show you," he smirked at Clark. His little brother had an aptitude for science, maybe not as strong as Lex's, but it was there. No one ever questioned that Clark was just as smart as Lex, it was just that it laid in slightly different areas. And Clark wasn't half as impatient with stupidity as Lex was. "I've been writing to Dr. Kalburgi, and he's going to let me watch experiments in the lab this semester. Maybe in a year or so they'll let me join in. Maybe sooner, and then I'll have all sorts of things to show you."

"Lex." That was a familiar voice, deep and calm, one that sent shivers down his spine and damned near made his eyes cross.

"Bruce," Clark said flatly. Clark hadn't been very fond of him since that discussion they'd had a couple of years ago about boys and girls and the things Lex liked. And Lex hadn't brought it up since, not in lengthy discussion, but it was still there. Just because Lex didn't talk about it didn't mean that Lex didn't still want his best friend.

His other best friend.

"Bruce!" Lex's mouth curled into a smile as he turned to look at his friend, who... wow, had gotten a lot taller and a lot older looking since the last time he'd seen him.

"When you wrote to say that you'd be in town, I thought I'd drive over to see if I could offer a hand." Dark hair, dark eyes, the barest hint of a smile, and a gorgeous body contained within black tailored slacks and an equally well-fitted cambric shirt, the sleeves rolled back slightly. Okay, so he looked a lot older.

"He's got plenty of help," Clark replied sullenly, glaring at Bruce.

"Mom and Dad are here, but since we've disassembled the loft and put it in the truck, I think I'll take you up on your offer," Lex smiled brilliantly. Then he gestured towards the brick building with the hand that was holding Clark's. "We were just going to sign in and get the key. Care to come?"

"Sure," Bruce agreed. "Then I'll come back and help you move in. I'm sure it won't take long with all of us there to help."

"I could do it faster," Clark muttered under his breath, just low enough so that only Lex heard him.

No reaction verbally, but Lex's eyes flicked over to him, and narrowed for just a moment, halfway in disbelief. "Great, Bruce -- I can't believe you drove all the way over here to help me," Lex smirked a little, falling into pace with Bruce towards the building's doors.

"What else could I do for my best friend? Especially when he's managed to skip ahead to college and leave the rest of us behind," Bruce said seriously. His mouth didn't smile, exactly, but it did more than frown.

"You could do it, too," Lex drawled. "How much longer do you have at Excelsior again? I can drive by and pick you up on weekends..." Because he had a car, a really nice car that was more than just a nice old car. He and Jonathan had spent a lot of time working on it, and when Clark has stopped moping so much, even he'd helped.

Lex let go of Clark's hand, and pulled open the door for them.

"But you're going to come home on the weekends!" Clark protested, voice distinctly panicky.

"Of course he is," Bruce agreed. "I might come with him, though. You didn't used to mind."

Clark obviously minded now. Lex gave Bruce a vaguely apologetic glance, and then ruffled Clark's hair as he passed him into the building. "He doesn't mind now, only... I've never been away from home for long. So it's a bit to adjust to."

"I don't want him to go away," Clark confessed miserably. It didn't help any that he'd be so close to Bruce, either.

"But when you go to college, Clark, you can be in the same city as me," Lex reminded him gently. He paused in the hallway, then headed left as per the sign's instruction.

"But I won't be going for a long long time," Clark protested. "I'm just in fourth grade yet, Lex!"

"Don't worry, Clark. I doubt your brother will leave his Metropolis anytime soon," Bruce told him wryly.

"It's a beautiful city," Lex agreed circuitously, "And I've missed living here..." He smirked at Clark, "Don't be surprised when I make you help me move into the penthouse. You'll definitely be able to carry more then."

And wasn't that a frightening thought? Lex just smirked, though, and before Clark would answer, he stepped up to the window and offered the nice-seeming woman behind the desk his paperwork.

"Hi, I'd like to get the keys to my dorm. It's a single..."

She looked at him blankly, taking his paperwork before eyeing him nervously. "Lex Luthor, freshman?"

"Duh," Clark told her with a frown. "Who else would he be?"

"Sophomore, actually, but it's my first year here," Lex drawled. He moved his free hand to ruffle Clark's hair a little absently. "I assume everything is in order?"

"Of course, Mr. Luthor." He obviously made her a bit nervous, though God only knew why. "You're in room 817 in Leary Hall. The freight elevator will be very busy, so please try not to tie it up any more than necessary."

"Let's go, Lex..." Clark tugged gently at Lex's hand.

"Hold on a second, Clark -- I don't want to drop the key..." He waved a brief thanks to the woman as he turned away from the window with key in hand. "So, Bruce -- do you have any plans for later tonight?"

"I'm sure he has lots of plans," Clark said, giving Bruce a suspicious, jealous glance.

"Actually, squirt, I don't," Bruce told them both calmly. "I made sure to leave plenty of time open for you, Lex."

"Great," Lex drawled, and the wheels in his mind started to try to quickly churn out a plan. Clark and his parents were going home later that afternoon, and it was still early morning; evening was definitely open for him. Now, what to do with it? "Let's hurry back so we can put the freight elevator to use."

Clark muttered something under his breath and gave Bruce a look that would have knocked most men six feet under. Bruce Wayne was hardier than anyone gave him credit for being, though, because he just smiled. "Sounds like a great idea."

By the time the afternoon was over, Clark was sick of seeing that smile. By the time they'd hauled everything upstairs and situated it in the dorm -- and then helped Lex put his books in -- Lex was still smiling too. He was too happy to be out of Smallville, too happy to have Bruce around.

He was altogether too happy, PERIOD, especially since Clark was feeling utterly miserable.

"He doesn't love me anymore," Clark whispered shakily to Martha as she took him to try and find the men's room further down the floor. "He likes Bruce better."

"Clark, of course your brother still loves you -- he just hasn't seen his friend in a while," Martha told him, not chiding, but carefully.

"He does," was the declaration Clark gave her. "He does like Bruce better." It was terrible to see him so hurt.

"Honey, he doesn't. Now I know you're sad that he's going to school, but your older brother..." She finally found the men's room door, but didn't let Clark go in yet. "Clark, most older brothers don't spend as much time with their siblings as Lex spends with you. He really does love you a lot, but you're going to have to adjust to this change. When you're older, you'll appreciate the things he's passed up so he could come to school here in Metropolis and be near you."

"I'm going to be so sad without him," Clark said softly, head down. "I don't want to go away and leave him with Bruce. I don't want him to be excited about leaving me." No matter how old Clark really was, he'd been raised to be an eleven year old. It didn't seem illogical to him that his desires should be very important.

Martha bent down, and stroked his cheek gently, half-forcing him to lift his head. "Your brother isn't excited to be leaving you, Clark, he's excited to be doing something new."

"Yes, Momma." There were other, better things to say, maybe, but he couldn't think of any of them. "Can I go in now?"

She laughed a little, and patted his head. "Yes, Clark. Go on, I'll wait out here for you."

With a huffy sigh, he turned and hurried into the bathroom, walking over to the urinals. They were awfully high, so he scowled at them and headed for a stall, instead, swiftly taking care of his business and then washing his hands before going back out again. "Okay, Mom. Let's go find Dad and Lex. Maybe we can go to McDonald's before we have to go?" he asked hopefully.

"I'm sure we can -- would you like to ride in the front seat with your brother this time?" She slipped a hand behind the back of his head, and started to guide him back down the hallway. "We'll get you an ice cream. I know it's been a hard day for you, honey."

"An ice cream would be nice," Clark agreed. "I'm sorry to be such a baby, Mom. I just. I wish he didn't have to go. I know it's better for him, but I love Lex."

Sometimes eleven year olds were like brick walls, and Lex, for all of his maturity, sometimes wasn't any better than his little brother. "He'll be home to visit you before you know it, Clark."

"Yeah. I hope he doesn't bring Bruce, though," Clark sighed as they got closer to Lex's room. Jonathan was inside helping Lex put the mattresses up on the loft, and Bruce stood just outside the door watching.

Bruce had probably heard him.

"Move it left more, Dad -- yeah, more left, not--"

"Right!" Well, left, actually, but Jonathan seemed to have moved it the way that Lex wanted it moved, so that wasn't too bad. "There. There, just like that, that ought to have it..."

"I think we're done," Lex decided, wiping his palms on the front of his jeans. "Now it's livable."

"We just need to put your desk underneath," Jonathan agreed with a firm nod.

Clark applauded. "It'll be so NEAT sleeping up there!"

"As long as I don't fall out of it," Lex agreed, and he strained to smother a smirk of his mouth. "Clark, do you want to get the drawers for the desk? We're going to need them in a minute..."

"Okay!" Clark said excitedly, scrambling towards the cache of furniture still laying out in the hall, impeding the process of the rest of the students who were moving in.

Well, they hadn't clogged up the freight elevator for long. Lex followed after Clark, to grab his desk chair and drag it out of the hallway and into the small space he was moving into. "I think Bruce has given up on moving things. Tired already?" he teased his friend.

"Do I look brave enough to put something in the wrong place?" Bruce asked. "No. If Clark puts something in the wrong place, he can be relatively sure that you won't smack him. I don't have that certainty."

"I'd never hit you," Lex grinned, and squeezed past his friend with his chair. "And if Clark puts something in the wrong place, well... it's probably the right place. Right Clark?" It was hard to not notice that his little brother was feeling left out, so Lex was trying to carefully volley between the two.

"I would never put something somewhere Lex didn't want it," Clark said fiercely, causing a look to dart between Martha and Jonathan.

"We thought we'd run to McDonald's and have something to eat before we left you, Lex..." Martha suggested.

"Want to do that right now?" Lex asked as he set the chair down in a corner. "Once we get everything into the room and can close the door?"

"That sounds like a great idea. Bruce, will you be coming with us?" Jonathan asked politely.

"Oh, no," the dark-haired young man said, shaking his head. "I wouldn't want to intrude on your family. I'll just see Lex later on tonight. Supper, maybe?" he suggested.

"Supper sounds good -- eight or so?" By eight Lex guessed he'd have himself settled in comfortably. And there was only the heavy sort-of sofa to drag in, and that would be that.

"Eight is beautiful," Bruce agreed with a smile. "I'll bring the food and we can eat here, if you like. Get accustomed to living by yourself amongst strangers and all that."

"I wish I could go to school with Lex," Clark sighed.

"Maybe when you do come to school in Metropolis, you can live with me," Lex told him, even as he gestured to Jonathan to help him get the sofa in. His arms were starting to ache, but that was a pretty impressive accomplishment for Lex.

Clark gave another pitiful sigh. He could have moved the couch in for Lex. He could have moved it all by himself, and then Lex wouldn't have needed to be so tired, the way he was going to be later. On the other hand, if he was really tired, maybe he'd call off supper with Bruce, and that was enough to make Clark brighten. "Okay."

"And that's not really too far off, is it? Just..." Lex counted quickly in his head, as he took one side of the sofa. Bruce and Martha were out in the hallway talking, and that was all right as far as Lex was concerned. "Just seven years. It'll feel like no time at all."

"Seven years is forever," Clark disagreed. "You haven't even been with us for seven whole years, just five. That will be even longer than I've known you." He grabbed both of the sofa cushions and moved back into Lex's room.

"It's not like I'm going to stop knowing you while I'm in Metropolis," Lex reminded him, straining a little as he walked backwards. Hands hurt, arms were going to give out...

Clark's hand placed against one leg raised it easily enough, making it appear that he was walking beneath it. "Hey, cool! I have a sofabrella!" Well, it SOUNDED Like a good idea to him.

"Clark, Mom's going to kill us if I drop this on your head..." Lex gave his little brother a relieved grin, though, despite Jonathan scowling at them both as they started to set the sofa down into its spot.

"You wouldn't drop it. Not with me under it," Clark sniffed, moving out of the way. His hand lingered on it as if he could 'help' them. He was toting most of the weight of the thing, actually.

And Lex always got an odd little thrill when his brother did things like that -- part fear of their absolute freakishness, part delight that they were useful freaks. His arms jolted with the sudden weight of it again when Clark finally pulled his little hand away from it -- but then there was only an easy foot or so to lower it. "See, Bruce, it didn't take...""

Oh, and Bruce had already left.

"He said he'd be back later tonight with sushi, honey," Martha told him with a smile. "Now, why don't you lock up and we'll go get something from McDonald's?"

"Chicken nuggets!" Clark demanded, looking very hopeful.

"The fate of all chickens that bite," Lex agreed solemnly as he pulled his new keys out of his pocket. "Thanks for helping me do all of this -- it would've taken forever if you guys hadn't.... helped with everything."

Jonathan looked a little sheepish, as if he didn't know just what to say, but Martha knew, just as she always did. "You're one of our babies," she said, softly enough that no one in the hall outside would hear. "We wouldn't let you go away all by yourself."

"Thanks." Lex gave Martha a slight little smile, then settled a hand on Clark's shoulder. "C'mon, let's get you ice cream to go with your dead chicken bits."

Carefully, Bruce pushed a bit of yellow tail to the side, approaching the salmon with his chopsticks. He was teasing Lex more than anything else, because he knew how much Lex preferred the salmon. "Your baby brother is really jealous, Lex. Is he always like that?"

Eating with Bruce always took a bit of strategy, but Lex faltered in that when he thought about what Bruce had said. "Well, you've been at the house over holidays and stuff, and he's never acted like that before. He's just... he's having trouble with the idea that I'm not going to be with him every day."

Dark eyes met his solemnly. "I know jealousy when I see it," Bruce replied, allowing Lex to get the salmon despite his pause. "Victoria gets that look whenever I mention you."

Lex's mouth twitched a little over that, and then he wasted a moment -- not so subtly stalling -- to chew. "He's used to having all of my time, I think. That's normal, isn't it?"

A shrug of broad shoulders answered him. "I'm not sure," Bruce admitted. "He's a cute kid, though. You've been lucky in your family, Lex."

Lucky that his mother had chosen for him to be taken care of by them, even if he'd hated the idea at first. "Yeah. I have been. Even with everything that happened... Clark's great, and so are the Kents. So I feel kind of... stupid that I'm going to miss them while I'm here and I'm not more than a couple of hours drive away from Smallville."

"A couple of hours?" Bruce teased, choosing another small bite of fish. "That car goes faster than it should for you, doesn't it? It's a classic, really. I'm surprised you didn't go buy a new one. Mr. Kent, I presume?"

"I wanted to get a Porsche," Lex admitted sheepishly. He took another sip from his soda-- because soda and fish. It sort of worked if he didn't think about it too hard. "But Dad had his heart set on re-working an old car with me. It sort of looks like a Porsche, and now I know more about the inside of an old car than I ever thought I could learn."

The sound of Bruce's rich voice rippling in a chuckle sent shivers down Lex's skin. "I should be grateful that Alfred would prefer to show me the inner workings of polishing silver, then."

"Has he?" Lex glanced up at his friend with a toying gleam in his eyes. Bruce had to know what his laugh sounded like -- he had to! Like sex offered to him on a well-polished platter, and a little sign that said 'free sample' behind it.

It was beautiful to see that slow, sexy smile spread over his friend's mouth. "Well, now that you mention it..." Bruce murmured demurely.

Too teasing, particularly considering they were talking about Alfred, and polishing silverware. Lex chuckled, reaching for just one last piece with careful chopsticks. "So when do you start back at Excelsior?"

"Twooo weeeeks," Bruce replied in imitation of some sci fi movie they'd seen during one of their short visits together. "But I'm here a lot early so that I could spend some time with you." Maybe Bruce was flirting with him.

Maybe he wasn't.

And what if Bruce wasn't, and Lex flirted back, and there was nothing to be flirting back at? He couldn't risk that, not until he was sure. "So... where're you staying?"

"Oh, Alfred rented a house over on West Place." That was one of the very nice sections of town, and God only knows what it had cost to just rent. The Kents probably didn't make that much all year.

It wasn't as if he couldn't have afforded it, it just seemed... impossible. Implausible. Lex exhaled, and then smiled at Bruce. "I was wondering. So... I've got a week before classes start -- do you want to go do some things?"

"YES." A resounding affirmative and another look that really wasn't like anything Bruce gave to anyone else. "I've missed you, Lex. Nothing has been the same since you left."

"For better, or for worse?" Lex teased a little. "How is everyone...?"

"Boring," Bruce said, poking at a roll with his chopsticks. He picked it up and paused with it halfway between them. "Harry moved to New York. He's attending public school, if you can believe it."

Lex tapped his chopsticks lightly on Bruce's. "My god. I think that's cause for celebration -- the bastard had it coming to him, acting so much better than everyone else."

"And pretending not to have a brain cell to rub together. As if THAT made him any different," Bruce agreed, offering the roll to Lex with a smile. "It's yours. If you want it."

There were two obvious choices -- grasp it with his chopsticks, or lean down and take it with his mouth. Lex twitched his hand a moment, and then moved it aside, and leaned down -- desperately hoping he'd made the right choice.

The way Bruce's eyes lit up told him that it had been the right choice, the delicacy with which the food was laid upon his tongue ridiculously gentle. "Just like that," Bruce whispered.

And he wasn't, Lex tried to convince himself, grinning like an idiot when he pulled back from Bruce, chewing and smiling. "Just like that?" he repeated in a whisper.

"Just like that," Bruce agreed. He was leaning a little closer, eyes watching Lex with a special sort of care.

"Bruce... this is going to sound silly. I've wanted to kiss you since..." Since before his mother had died, since before he moved in with the Kents, since before his whole world changed. "For years. Can I?" he whispered, peering intensely at his friend.

"Yes." Such a definite answer, one given with a firmness that shivered right down Lex's body as Bruce leaned forward, watching Lex's every motion.

Watching him like he was something behind glass that needed to be watched. Bruce always seemed to have things going on behind his eyes, things that made Lex curious, that -- god, and he'd probably kissed lots of people. In Smallville, Lex had just never had the opportunity, had never wanted to risk it with the couple of people who sort of-kind of might not have hated his guts. "Never done this before," Lex mumbled in a rush as he tipped his head up, and leaned in to press his mouth against Bruce's.

Bruce didn't seem to mind that he wasn't very good at it. Bruce, for that matter, was obviously very good at it, parting his lips and sucking at Lex's lower one in a way that went straight to the pit of his belly and made him want to whimper. Well, okay. Maybe he was whimpering. "You taste like salmon and wasabi," Bruce whispered before darting in more closely, tongue slipping inside of Lex's mouth.

Not things Lex would've thought of as good tastes except as food, but he didn't argue. Not as long as Bruce was going to keep kissing him like that. The dart of tongue, slipping to slide against his own tongue, was perfectly foreign, but it felt good too, so Lex let himself lean into Bruce more, trying to twine his tongue against his friend's.

For a moment, Bruce let him, but the darker boy pulled away slightly. "Wow," he said. "That was...." He gave a smile, brilliant for Bruce. "I'd like to do that again, Lex."

"You would...?" He hadn't expected that, but Lex was all but gleaming back at Bruce. What a great way to end a great day. New to college, all settled in, eager for classes, and his longstanding fantasy of kissing, touching, feeling Bruce was going to come true.

"Mmmm. I don't want to push you farther than you're willing to go," Bruce added. "I get the feeling there's probably not a lot of opportunity for this sort of thing in Smallville."

"No, not a lot at all," Lex agreed mutedly. He was trying to not lean into Bruce much more than he already was. "But you're not pushing me..."

"And I won't," Bruce agreed. "I'd like to do this again... Often." He leaned in and kissed Lex, a tingling pressure.

"Maybe we shouldn't have the plates between us," Lex suggested hazily, when he pulled back a little. It felt so good, just a little kiss like that.

Bruce hummed thoughtfully, a thumb tracing the line of Lex's jaw. "Maybe not," he agreed with a throaty murmur.

Thumb on jaw just felt so good to him, because Bruce had interesting hands. A little rough, definitely strong, definitely every wet dream Lex had ever had. He squirmed to one side, moved to sit beside his friend while trying to keep his friend's touch. "So this is okay...?"

"More than okay," Bruce agreed. "I didn't know you'd be amenable, but I thought it might be worth chancing."

Lex's mouth twitched a little, and he leaned in to kiss Bruce again, a press of mouth against mouth for just a moment. "I asked if I could, didn't I?"

"Exactly why I thought you'd be amenable," Bruce agreed. One more kiss, this one stealing Lex's breath with its sheer mastery, the overwhelming surety that Bruce knew what he was doing. "Mmmm."

Lex was pretty sure that his own 'mmm' sounded more like a whine or a whimper, but oh, Bruce's mouth felt so good. "Someone," Lex panted a little, "taught you how to do this really well."

"Victoria," Bruce murmured, nuzzling against him. "The year you abandoned us for Smallville, actually. Mmm. I'd rather it had been you, though."

Lex would've rather it had been him, too. Victoria. Lucky Victoria. It wasn't any wonder that she hardly ever replied to his mails anymore. "Well, I didn't abandon you," Lex smirked a little. "It isn't as if I had a choice in the matter. And Victoria did a very good job at teaching you..."

"Mmm. Well. She's Victoria." As if that explained everything, and in some ways, it probably did.

Because she was, well, Victoria. Lex couldn't help but keep smiling, little by little, wider and wider until he felt like he was going to burst from the excitement. "I think I understand. So, now that dinner's over..."

"Now that dinner's over," Bruce said, "the polite thing to do would be for me to kiss you at the door, tell you good night, and to go home alone. And offer to come over with pizza the day after tomorrow."

Lex suddenly felt a little crestfallen, but tried to not let it show on his face as he leaned into Bruce a little more. "And if you're less than polite?"

"We could climb up into your loft and make out for a while," Bruce offered. He seemed very much in control of himself, of the situation.

Thankfully. Lex knew he wasn't in any semblance of control as he got to his feet, habitually brushing his lap free of any debris of their casual meal. "I've always liked it best when you were less than polite."

"Think it'll support two of us?" Bruce asked him, eyeing the loft seriously.

"I think it could suppose ten of us," Lex assured him. He paused just long enough to toe his shoes off, then he started towards the ladder. "And Clark bounced on it a little earlier. That's proof enough to me that it can handle both of us.

"Right. Because Clark is so heavy." That was good, Bruce teasing him just a little. His friend was on his heels, and Lex felt a hand fall upon his thigh, near his hip. "You have to tell me when to slow down, Lex..." Bruce sounded a little strained.

Because Bruce wouldn't slow down? That was an exciting thought, just like the vague clutch of a hand over his jeans was exciting. "I will," he promised, and started up the ladder. "I will, Bruce, just please let me touch you a little..."

"As much as you want." God, raw, beautiful promise, and Lex moved so quickly, sprawling out atop the mattress with grace even as Bruce came up over him. "You can touch me as much as you want," Bruce promised him, and then devoured him with his mouth.

Leaving Lex to tell Bruce to 'slow down' was a bad idea, Lex decided vaguely. Or maybe he only thought he decided it, because there were better things to be doing with his mind than that. Like letting it guide hands to wrap almost desperately around Bruce, to stroke down his back and bunch up the fabric of his shirt while he arched and rocked and groaned into the mouth that captured him.

"Fucking gorgeous." He'd never heard language like that from Bruce, but his friend seemed so excited. They were pressed hip to hip, and Bruce was between his legs and pushing, and it felt so good. Too good.

Erections rubbing against fabric, against each other, and Christ, Lex could feel that Bruce was hard through his trousers and pressed up to him eagerly. Too good, and his face felt like he was burning from the excitement of actually finally having Bruce and Bruce wanting him just as much.

"Wanted you so long." The words felt good to hear, exquisite against his mouth, and then Bruce was kissing his throat, and hands were wandering beneath his clothes. Nothing had ever felt so good, or so right, or so perfect.

Hands under his T-shirt, pushing it up, at the waist of his jeans, warm fingers that he'd only felt in friendship stroking over the heat in his belly, the tight need in his chest. "Oh, fuck," Lex swore raggedly. The kisses against his neck felt too good, hotter than anything else had. Was that how people spontaneously combusted? There was just enough moisture, just enough spit left to make those kisses cool when Bruce moved away, but even that gave way to more heat. "Wanted you forever..."

"Since I could think about want," Bruce agreed roughly, pulling at Lex's clothes. "God. Since I knew what it was to want something. Can I take it off, Lex?"

"Please take it off. Everything, I want to really feel you..." And if Bruce were pulling at Lex's clothes, he could help, half-sitting up and squirming his arms out of the sleeves.

So easy to be naked, bare and just as hairless as always, and the hair on Bruce felt fucking incredible as it teased at him, his friend's palms spreading down his belly. "Tell me when you want me to stop," Bruce ordered roughly, not willing to let Lex forget that he had that option.

"Not yet," Lex insisted, and he slipped a hand down to Bruce's sleek trousers and petted over his erection to goad him on. "I want to feel all of you, I want to see you..." And Bruce seemed all right with seeing him so far, though they weren't down to boxers yet. They'd have to see after that.

"Want to fuck you," Bruce informed him, mouth pressed to Lex's navel. "Want to taste you. Want to..." Oh, yes, and he was getting Lex naked, and it was so good.

Jeans and boxers being pulled down to his knees, and the mouth on his smooth stomach tickled over the puddle of heat that he was turning into. "It isn't fair... that you still have clothes on," Lex half-chuckled, half-panted.

"Don't worry," Bruce assured him huskily, and he didn't give even the faintest pause at seeing Lex's hairless flesh. "I'm sure they won't be on that much longer."

"Good, because..." Because he wanted to feel Bruce, the different interesting textures and contrasts of his skin, the fuzz and hair on it. The muscle under it, that shifted with every little motion Bruce made. It was hard to unbuckle Bruce's belt, hard to not wrap legs around Bruce's thigh and just hump him because he was tempting Lex by brushing against him.

"Yes..." Bruce murmured, and his mouth found Lex's cock, and Lex decided that maybe that was what made people spontaneously combust. Hot and hot and WET and oh, God, it felt so good!

It felt so much better than his hand felt on his cock, better than dreaming and pretending while laying in bed with Clark at his back and complaining of squirming. "Oh! Christ, Bruce!" Bruce, Bruce who knew what he was doing, and Victoria definitely didn't have a cock that he could mouth so intently as he was mouthing Lex.

Fingers caressed over his thighs, teasing him further even as Bruce mumbled something around Lex's dick. His pulse was fairly rushing there, and Lex wondered disjointedly if Bruce could feel it, if it was as strong as the beat of his heart. The way that Bruce's hands touched him everywhere was rapidly becoming much too much too much.

So fast. Maybe Bruce was going too fast, but they both wanted, and Lex felt so close to finishing already. His fingers fluttered at Bruce's back, useless and not listening to him as he rocked up against his friend's face. "Oh god, oh, god, s-so good!"

The withdrawal of Bruce's mouth was an almost physical pain. "It's okay if you cum," Bruce told him, and then sucked him down greedily as if there was nothing more that he wanted in the world.

And that better have been what Bruce wanted, because it was what he got. It was too fast for Lex, over too soon even though it had felt wondrous. He gave a staggered gasp, incoherent hitchings of breath when he rocked up tensely into Bruce's greedy lips. It was better than his hand, better than dreaming and pretending what Bruce's mouth felt like. Nothing had ever felt so warm and good, and he was IN him, coming into him, spilling into him instead of his own fingers and a tissue.

The faint slurps were almost enough to kill him, the very notion of Bruce swallowing making Lex whimper pitifully. Oh, but it was almost too much, so sensitive by the time that Bruce stopped and began to press kisses to his belly. "I've wanted to do that for a very long time," Bruce told him softly. It was a little beyond Lex's current comprehension. A very long time?

It depended how 'very long' very long was, and... no, it didn't matter because he could almost breathe again and was definitely close to finding words to speak with again. "Oh, wow." Oh wow, maybe Bruce matured quicker than he had, and he was very lucky for it. "Oh... that felt so good, better than anything else has..."

The pleased sound that Bruce gave against his belly was really unbelievable. "There are so many things that feel good, Lex. Things that feel even better than what we just did, I promise, and we'll do them all if you want..."

"I want to do everything," Lex agreed eagerly. He felt calmer, drifty enough to concentrate and drag his fingers up to curl in Bruce's soft black locks of hair. So soft, and the texture was different from Clark's hair when he ruffled it, or Cocoa's hair when he petted it.

"You shouldn't say that until you know what everything is." For anyone else, Lex would take that as very seriously meant. For Bruce, it was the closest he ever came to teasing. It didn't hurt any that the other man was fucking Lex's navel with his tongue between words, of course, but still.

He laughed a little breathlessly, and rubbed his thumb over Bruce's hairline, just behind his ear. "I trust you -- plus, you said it felt better than what you just did, which I definitely need to have proven to me. Because I don't think anything can feel better than that." He tugged at Bruce a little, head tipped so he could look at his friend's mouth.

Bruce slid up easily enough, granting him kisses that were soft and tender and nearly enough to make his head swim. "I think that's enough for one night, don't you? Wouldn't want to scare you off. Pretty far for a first date."

Bruce had a point, but Lex couldn't help but want more. But he needed time to think and plot some minor enjoyable revenge, and...

And why do everything at once? "But don't go just yet?" Lex half-asked, and he wrapped his arms a little tightly around Bruce. It wasn't fair -- he still hadn't finished getting Bruce's pants off, and his were still like manacles around his knees. Oh, but he felt so good that he could drift off, just like that.

"I won't go yet," Bruce promised him, and the faint brush of lips against Lex's forehead was tender. Bruce didn't protest that he hadn't come, or that he wanted more from Lex, and that patience was quite nice.

And it was nice to hug someone in a non-family way. To stroke and caress and feel kisses that definitely weren't the usual Kent family kisses. To just cling loosely and drift off, and...

Clark Kent hated Bruce Wayne.

Hated him.

Hated him with the fiery passion of a thousand suns.

Hated him the way Cocoa hated fleas and cats.

Hated him in a way so intensely and completely personal that the rest of his family just couldn't understand it. After all. Bruce Wayne was a nice boy. And that Mister Alfred... Well, okay, Clark didn't have anything against Alfred.

But if Bruce hadn't been sleeping in his room with his brother snuggled up against him... Well, okay, it WAS Lex's room and Clark HAD been sleeping in his own room since Lex left, but... Well. If it hadn't been for all of that, at any rate, Clark would have gone out frog catching and dumped a good dozen of them in Bruce's bed.

If the lake hadn't been frozen over, at least.

He'd hoped that things would just be normal when Lex came back. Because he had a month off, a month to spend with Clark, and Christmas was always a great holiday, and, and... and he wasn't. He had Bruce there, and it was always Bruce at Lex's side when he was around Clark. Bruce, Bruce, Bruce, making eyes with Lex and little touches that they probably thought that Clark didn't notice.

Clark did notice, though. He noticed, he noticed, he NOTICED, and he hated Bruce whole huge amounts. He'd even tried making Lex jealous by inviting Pete over, but Lex just hadn't cared. Not like he should have, and Clark had spent most of that afternoon moping once Pete had gone home. What else could he do but mope in the loft? At least if he moped in the loft, Lex couldn't sneak up there to smooch on Bruce.

Yuck.

He still hadn't figured out how to complain to Mom and Dad about it yet. Because Mister Alfred had definitely seen and pointedly ignored everything. And Mom had seemed to do the same, though he wasn't sure. It didn't matter, because Lex and Bruce were definitely behaving -- they'd even tried to get Clark into a snowball fight, but it wasn't the same playing with three people as it was with two.

Bruce went back to Excelsior after New Years, but he didn't have to hang around and ruin Christmas.

That pretty much left it for Clark to continue sulking in the loft. It wasn't like he had anything better to do, not with Lex off making googoo eyes at Bruce and offering him Clark's sugar cookies. Those were Clark's sugar cookies, dammit!

They always made sugar cookies, and Lex knew Clark liked them best, and it was as unfair as everything else. Bruce this, Bruce that, Clark wasn't surprised if Lex gave Bruce all of Clark's Christmas presents, too!

Cocoa was still loyal, for all the good that did him. Their dog whined a little, and nudged at his leg.

"You can stay with me, Cocoa," Clark told him, pulling the dog up onto the couch with him. The mutt rolled over and offered his belly, both hazel brown eyes looking at him pitifully. "Just 'cause Lex doesn't love us best anymore, we've gotta stick together, okay?"

Cocoa whimpered something, probably agreement, and licked his muzzle with a little whine. They had to stick together -- this was way worse than when Pete had started to chase girls instead of Clark in the playground.

"Hey, Clark...?"

It was Lex, and that made Clark's eyes screw up a little bit, dampen miserably. He wasn't going to cry, though. He just wasn't going to do it, because he was a BIG boy, not some baby who was going to bawl because his big brother didn't love him best anymore.

Okay, yeah, he was a baby, but he wasn't going to let Lex see him cry. "Yeah?"

Lex finished mounting the steps, and moved to settle across from Clark. "Are you going to come back into the house, or should I bring your dinner out here?"

"It's okay," Clark told him, even though it wasn't. Not really. "Not hungry."

"Then there's definitely something wrong," Lex decided solemnly. He reached a hand out to rub the other side of Cocoa's belly, peering out at his brother. "So, are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

"No," Clark decided, fingers scratching Cocoa's head gently. He was very good at being gentle. "Don't want to."

"Mmm, am I going to have to make you tell me, Clark?" Lex challenged a little, and he moved again to sit beside his little brother. "You haven't been happy."

"You don't love me anymore." It was statement more than anything else, and the sheer pathetic expression on Clark's face as it crumpled was nearly unbearable. "You even gave him my cookies. Those were just for us."

Clark hadn't cried since Lex had gone away to college, and weekend visits weren't the same as seeing his brother every single day, most of the day. And Bruce just made it worse... "But Bruce helped make them, too, and..."

Lex trailed off, and scooted closer to Clark. "You're jealous."

The pitiful way that Clark's lower lip poked out, trembled, was almost a physical pain. It was nigh on unbearable. "Am not," he denied in a voice that quaked, even though he was jealous, he was so jealous he could just burst.

"Clark..." Another scoot, and Lex ruffled Clark's hair gently. "You don't want Bruce here, do you? This is what this is about?"

"You're mine," Clark told him miserably. "And he takes you away from me, even now. You'll only be here a day or so after he goes away..."

"Two weeks," Lex countered, but Clark would go back to school just a couple of days after Bruce left, so he would see less of his little brother. "And you've spent most of the day moping up here, and that's definitely time I haven't been able to spend with you."

"You were sp-pending it with him, anyway." God. He was going to cry, and it was worse than the afternoon that Lex had taken away from working on the car with Jonathan. "You d-don't want me to b-be there. I j-just keep you from k-kissing him."

Which was true -- just the latter part, though. Lex could feel his cheeks stain red as he moved quickly and hugged Clark close. Cocoa gave an undignified startled yip at them both, because wasn't he the center of attention? "I didn't know you felt that way, Clark -- I do want you to be there! Here! Oh, you know what I mean."

"You don't," Clark sighed pitifully. "I love you, Lex. You're mine. I try not to whine and complain when you come home, because you're gone, but now you've brought him. I hate him," he confessed miserably, scrubbing at his face.

"C'mere." Lex hugged Clark closer, and he was glad that at least Clark and the dog didn't mind that it was a little chilly in the barn. "You don't hate Bruce. You used to like him a lot when he visited before."

"That was before you wanted to kiss him," Clark pointed out, snuggling against Lex. It felt good, and he'd grown a lot since Lex went to Metropolis. He was going to be as big as Lex soon.

That was a whole different level of unfairness that Lex wasn't going to speak of at any length. "Don't you remember when I explained about girls and kissing and things to you?"

"I remember, but that's not the point," Clark sulked. "I don't want to kiss girls. I don't want to kiss Bruce. I don't even want to kiss Pete!"

"You're still little," Lex teased him a little, gentle about it in the face of Clark's sullenness. "Not so little anymore, but... maybe you haven't found anyone yet."

"Have so." Those damned tears welled up again, and Clark gave a big sniff and wiped them away. "I just hate Bruce. That's all."

"Jealous," Lex corrected firmly, and he jostled Clark a little. "You're jealous, and that's not hate. And I still don't see why, because you're my family. Bruce is a... friend."

"But you're MINE," Clark insisted. "And he spends lots of time with you, and kisses you, and does other things with you that I can't do!"

"Well, that's because you're my brother," Lex laughed a little uneasily. "There's just some things brothers don't do."

"Why not?" It wasn't a belligerent question, Lex reassured himself. Clark just didn't understand. "If we love each other best, then why not?"

"Because you're my brother...?" Lex pulled back a little, peering at Clark. He never had understood people to people things too well, and that hadn't quite improved with age. "And you're... you're very young still. Way too young."

"Not always, though." The pitiful trembling in that lower lip was just awful.

Lex sighed, and hugged him a little closer. Clark felt warm even through the fabric of his coat. "Always. You're always my brother."

"No, not that. I mean, I won't always be too little. Maybe I'm not even too little now. I mean, you're going to be seventeen soon, and we only think I'm eleven, but I'm bigger than everybody else, and. And. And I won't always be too little, Lex," Clark pleaded.

"Clark..." Lex's voice sounded a little strained, but that was only because straining his voice kept his eyes from bugging out. "Are you even... you know what you're suggesting, right?"

Clark nodded, a little frightened. "I want to kiss you, Lex."

"Clark, you're my brother," Lex hissed quietly, voice falling even quieter. "Mom would kill me! Shit, Dad would hang me, or..."

Or yell at him for even saying it, because his first thought should've been that he didn't want to, not that their parents would murder him. But it hadn't been.

"I can't help it, Lex," Clark said pitifully. Cocoa was looking at them in complete and utter confusion. "I just want to. There's nobody else like you."

"Sure... sure there is, somewhere, Clark." Lex had to fend that off, because Clark had just said it. He was almost seventeen, and Clark was eleven. Well, or fourteen, because between the two of them, they'd always suspected...

"I can't help it," Clark said again, and the sheer depths of sadness hurt them both. "It's just you, Lex. There's nobody else like you," he insisted again, and God, the way those green eyes were so sad, the way he turned his head from Lex, it was unbearable.

He couldn't stand to hurt his little brother like that. Lex decided that under usual circumstances he'd have to run Cocoa down with a tractor repeatedly to get that level of unhappy out of his brother. "Clark...." Lex was whining a little, and tugged at Clark. "All right."

The faint burst of almost-smile made Lex's heart clench and melt, and then Clark's head was on his shoulder, his hand holding Lex's. "I can wait," he decided. "I mean, I can. If you're okay. But I still hate Bruce. And there's still just you."

It was absolute madness, but Lex nodded mutely and hugged Clark a little just to jostle him. Clark's head was on his shoulder, sweet ruffled hair tickling at his neck despite his jacket, fingers wrapped around his. He loved Clark; there wasn't any denying of it, but... "You're just... Too young right now. Clark, I..."

He was going to keep stumbling and staggering over words like they were land mines in his path.

"But you'll let me kiss you one day, right?" It was asked so hopefully, so sweetly, as if just the prospect was precious to Clark. "I mean. I'm still not going to like Bruce, though. I wanted to kiss you first."

"Okay. I didn't know that, Clark -- I really didn't. I'd never thought that you might... but when you're older..." Lex swallowed, and rubbed at Clark's shoulder softly. "All right? But don't tell Mom or Dad. You don't have to like Bruce, I guess. But you don't have to run off and mope. I do love you."

"All right." Clark seemed a little happier, and the way he was hugging Lex said a lot. "I guess maybe I am kinda hungry. Right, Cocoa?" The dog wagged its tail and barked at both of them, tired of not getting all of the attention.

Simple as that, Clark's torment was solved. He'd just passed it on to Lex, who couldn't do much more with it than throw it towards the back of his mind and really hope Clark outgrew it. Sure, he told Martha and Jonathan everything because he loved them, and they were calm about things, but... He wasn't going to tell them that.

Lex stood up, and clasped Clark's hand, tugging at him. "C'mon, Clark. I think there's still cookies left. You too, Cocoa. You want cookies, boy?"

'Cookies' was a magic word, making Cocoa bark frantically and run for the stairs with a speed that belied belief. Even Clark might not be as fast as Cocoa wanting cookies... Well, okay. That might be an exaggeration.

"I'm sorry I was mad about Bruce," Clark apologized as they headed down the stairs. "I was just so jealous."

"Don't be, all right?" Lex pushed down a thread of panic, and squeezed Clark's hand again. "I just wish we had figured this out sooner. That's all. And when I come home over spring break, it's not the same time Bruce has his break. So he won't come home with me then."

God, was it too ridiculous to practically feel the way that Clark lit up brightly, excited beyond belief? "Great! Yay! Lex!"

"Not that you're happy or anything," Lex drawled dryly, and he led his little brother across the threshold between barn and cold winter Kansas air.

"If I didn't think you'd drop me, I'd jump on you," Clark told him happily, holding Lex's hand with infinite care. The brightness was back in him, and Lex felt horrible that anything could dim it even a little, and that the dimming had been his fault.

"It could be worse. I might drop you on Cocoa, and Cocoa wouldn't like that..." Lex tugged at that careful hand, and soon they were on the porch. Everything was mended up again, all because he'd made promises that he shouldn't have wanted to keep. Which meant that he did want to keep them, because Clark was even more of everything than Bruce had ever been. Best friend. Brother. Confidante.

Jonathan was going to hunt him down, shoot him, and bury him out by Mr. Farrell's old bomb shelter.

Or maybe bury him in it. Jonathan had been having that longstanding dispute with Mr. Farrell about big open holes in fields like that. Maybe he'd get buried in it, and Jonathan would finally fill the thing with cement like he'd been threatening to do for years.

"Hey, mom -- I've got Clark," Lex announced, only a little shaky when he pushed open the porch's door and ducked inside after making sure Cocoa was in.

"Well, hello there, Mister Shy," Martha greeted. The entire house smelled good, like cinnamon and apple pie, and it made both of the boys take a deep whiff just because it was there.

"Not shy," Clark disagreed, but then he blushed when Alfred looked at him.

Maybe, maybe, just a little shy. Lex squeezed his little brother's hand, and then let go of it to turn Clark loose. "Where's Bruce?" Lex asked, suddenly struck by a horrible, yet possible thought -- of playing Where's Waldo with his brother and his best friend. Find one, the other goes missing, find the other, and hope Clark won't have walked off by then...

"I'm here," Bruce said, strolling in from the downstairs bathroom. He was greeted with a faint scowl from Clark, but that only made Bruce give a faint smile. Bruce already knew that Clark was jealous, after all. He just didn't know how jealous.

"Can I have some pie?" Clark whispered to Martha, looking incredibly hopeful.

"Of course you can, sweetie. Wash your hands first, and what have I told you about putting a coat on when you go outside?"

Lex smiled a little as he took his own coat off, and veered for a moment to the coat rack. Would he be able to tell Bruce how jealous Clark was? And was it worth the hassle of telling him? "Can we play video games after the news?"

"Sure," Bruce agreed as Clark sidled up to the kitchen sink and washed his hands, eyeing the milk greedily when Martha opened the refrigerator door.

"Can I have milk, too? I promise I'll take a jacket next time," he promised.

"Put it in a glass," she warned him, but let him take it out of the refrigerator.

Lex watched them, watched the happy kid that his brother had once more become, and wow, in comparison the last few days with Clark had sucked painfully. He tossed Bruce a smile, and walked over towards him. "Mom, do you need help with anything for dinner? Dad came in, didn't he?"

"He's upstairs getting a bath, sweetie."

"Indeed," Alfred said, quite stately. "He mentioned the utterly horrid state of, I believe he called it, the pig house."

Clark grinned. "We had two pigs farrow this year, so we have lots more pigs than usual." He was doing his best to pour the milk, and doing a fine job. If Jonathan hadn't taught him to drink from the jug, he'd probably be a bit better at it.

Somehow, Lex doubted that Jonathan had said it quite the way Alfred had. "I guess I know what my chores are going to look like tomorrow," Lex chuckled a little, and he moved to get plates to set the table, while Martha cut Clark a piece of pie. Right before dinner, which didn't strike Lex as too weird. It was normal, because Clark ate and could eat, a huge amount of food.

That didn't stop Bruce from looking at them askance, but he knew from experience that Lex barely ate enough to continue existing, so maybe he'd thought it was some common trait at the Kent house. Not so far as Clark was concerned, obviously, because once he had his milk and pie, he settled down to eat it as if it was something serious. "Mmmmm, Mom, it's the best," he sighed. Clark said that about every pie Martha made.

And she gave the same delighted smile every time. "Well, with you around Clark, I'll never have a piece go to waste. Alfred, would you like more coffee in your cup?"

"Thank you, madam." Bruce's guardian was almost ridiculously stately, even when he was sitting in the Kent kitchen. "It would be most appreciated."

"Bruce, grab the juice?" Lex always liked to suggest things to his friend, instead of ordering him, because he was a guest after all. But he was a friend, too, and more, so he felt like family. It was hard to find the line between polite and normal with so many other people around.

"Sure," Bruce agreed. "We'll go watch the news, see what's going on in the world."

"I want to watch the news, too!" Clark protested, and the twist of his mouth was a jealous frown.

"Sweetheart," Martha said, "why don't you just sit here and finish your pie..."

"But Momma...!"

"We're just going into the living room," Lex chided gently, and he smiled at Clark -- even though Clark was protesting at Martha with half of a mouthful of pie -- and then he started towards the living room, hoping Bruce would follow.

God, he could feel the weight of Clark's gaze on him, and he was immensely grateful when he was out of his baby brother's direct line of sight. It wasn't much more comfortable beneath Bruce's heavy gaze, though, so he turned on the tv and switched the satellite over to CNN.

"I'm glad you got him inside," Bruce told him quietly, settling onto the couch.

Lex settled close to Bruce -- because close up, he wasn't quite so easy for Bruce to look at with those heavy, all knowing eyes -- and slunk down a little until he was comfortably shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip and thigh to thigh with his friend and lover. Boyfriend. Whatever.

"I am, too," Lex whispered back. "He's just being really... moody."

"Well, you know. He's probably hitting puberty. That does a lot of weird things to the best of us," Bruce said softly, reaching down to hold Lex's hand as the news played out, something about the Salvation Army and their Christmas donations.

Yawn-worthy stuff. It was feel good news, the time of year when they swept the usual mundane murders and robberies under the carpet for a handful of days. Lex squeezed Bruce's hand a little, and then murmured, "You really have no... no idea, Bruce."

The look Bruce shot him as good as dared, 'you wanna bet?'. Well, Lex guessed that Bruce could have some idea, considering the fact that he'd known Clark was jealous before Lex even had any idea of what was going on.

It was usually a lot more fun to dare challenge Bruce's skills of observation. Lex narrowed his eyes for a moment, then shrugged, and whispered, "I'll tell you later."

"I'll bet I can guess," Bruce whispered to him, nodding towards the kitchen. Lex could hear Clark talking to their Mom, and Cocoa begging underneath the table. It sounded just like every day at the farm, except that it wasn't.

"...probably." Lex had never sounded or felt quite so defeated or guilty. He was a good kid, after all; he breezed through school, was still breezing through college, didn't do much worse socially than go to the movies or stay late at the coffee shop on campus, did all of his chores, listened to his parents when they told him something. Adored his little brother. That was the problem -- he adored Clark a little too much, and how 'too much' definitely wasn't anything the Kents had taught him.

Then again, they hadn't exactly taught it to Clark, either.

"He'll get over it," Bruce assured him quietly. "I mean, you get crushes when you're his age. And then you get over them."

Lex took a deep breath, and then nudged Bruce with his shoulder, slinking a little lower against his friend. "If you're not right, I'm going to pawn him off on you in six or seven years," he teased a little uneasily. "I had a crush on you when I was his age, and... I somehow don't think I'm over you."

There was a faint flash of panic in Bruce's eyes, but it was gone almost without notice. "Hm. Well, now that you mention it, er. I guess you can hope that he'll get over it."

"He probably will," Lex agreed in a whisper, and he lifted his eyes a little to look at the TV's screen. "Hmn, think we can get away with going to bed early tonight?"

"Maybe. If you can keep quiet." It was fun, letting Bruce tease him. Letting Bruce touch him. "It's not like we have to sit up and watch Rudolph or anything..."

Rudolph. God. Yes, he did have to sit up and watch Rudolph with Clark. It was a yearly tradition.

"Actually..." Lex's cheeks colored a little, and he tipped his head to look at Bruce with the full sheepishness of having to admit that. "You just don't question family tradition."

"Oh." Bruce said it a little blankly, blinking with surprise. "I didn't know," he admitted. "Alfred and I don't have any."

"Are you sure? Or are they just so 'normal' that you forget. Like watching those stop-motion puppets. Things you just don't think about?" Lex let his voice fall to conversationally quiet, because it wasn't anything taboo they were talking about.

"I think we just don't have them," Bruce decided, considering the matter. "We mostly come and go and... and stay quiet." And that was probably true, because quiet was Bruce's nature. He brooded. He didn't sleep. It would have been disturbing if it wasn't just so Bruce.

If Lex wasn't just so used to it, like he was used to his little brother being strong and fast, and he was used to being healthy and quick healing. Bruce brooded, and lazed in bed, and didn't sleep. "You should make some," Lex suggested quietly. "You can always come here at Christmas. I love having you here."

"I'll think about that," Bruce agreed as Jonathan's footsteps hurried down the stairs quickly. "I think your dad's done showering. Want to tell me about those pigs, Lex?"

"Well, if you've ever smelled pig shit..."

"Lex!"

His name was really excited, and so was the tongue currently slurping at his nostrils. Wait. No. Make that his ears.

"Lex, Lex! Santa came!"

The tongue definitely wasn't Bruce's. The he--

"Clark? Whas'... 's it morning?" Still too tired, too early in the morning, when his head felt stuffy and every joint protested leaving the sheets and heavy blankets.

"Santa came!" Clark said again, burrowing in between the bodies of Lex and Bruce, separating them the way that Cocoa had already started doing. If Lex had been awake enough, he would have felt bad that Bruce was getting treated to Cocoa's butt for Christmas morning.

He felt bad enough that he hadn't put his pajama bottoms back on. They were somewhere at the end of the bed, and if he fished for them with his toes... Got them. "Okay, okay... I'm getting up, I'm awake."

"Lex, are you naked?" Clark asked him, appalled. "You don't sleep with me naked!"

"God, Lex," Bruce moaned as Cocoa sat on his face. "Help!"

"You're strong, Bruce, don't let the dog win," Lex mumbled a little, and made quiet shushing noises at Clark as he leapt free of the covers -- pale ass bare for Bruce, Clark, and the dog, before he jerked his pants on. One leg, and then the other, and he wasn't going to get them tangled or trip...

Okay. Being face down on the bedroom floor wasn't the best way to start Christmas morning.

"This is all your fault," Clark decided, glaring at Bruce with pure frost in his eyes. Cocoa seemed to agree, and set about stealing Bruce's covers from him.

Lex gave a private hope that Jonathan and Martha hadn't heard the thump, and they didn't seem to have heard it, because Lex got to hands and knees, ass still out in the air, then to his feet properly, and tried his pants again. "Shhh."

"I don't want to be shhh!" Clark protested. "It's not right!" Not fair, he meant, but Lex could see Bruce tensing even as he pushed Cocoa away from his face. "Don't you push my puppy!"

Merry Christmas, Lex thought, as he pulled his pants up and tied the strings at his waist tight, then turned to Clark and the bed, "C'mon Clark, Cocoa. Let's go downstairs and let Bruce get up."

"I don't want Bruce to get up," Clark sulked, picking up his puppy. It was a good thing for Bruce that Lex and the Kents had spent so much time teaching him to control his strength, not to lose his temper. Otherwise, Bruce might be squashed.

"If it's all the same, I'll just go back to sleep," Bruce decided, eyeing Clark and then looking at Lex with his brows raised.

Leaving him to the hands of an unhappy little terror. "Sure. I'll wake you up before presents get opened, all right?" Lex leaned past Clark and Cocoa, and slid a hand into Bruce's hair before kissing his sleepy mouth. It might make up for the dog. A little.

Obviously it didn't make Clark happy, because his little brother growled in a way that Cocoa usually reserved for the most vicious of rodents, and Lex could swear that he heard Clark's fingers puncture something. Shit.

"Sounds good," Bruce agreed, laying back down without even the faintest trace of a smile. That was probably all that saved him from Clark's fingers puncturing him.

Lex moved back, and grabbed his Met U fencing sweatshirt, and then forced a smile to his mouth as he prodded Clark out of the door. He'd thought they'd talked about it, but they were going to apparently have to do more talking.

The sharp scowl that Clark was giving him was vastly unhappy. No, vastly unhappy was probably the understatement of the century. "You didn't have to do that in front of me," he muttered bitterly.

Lex waited until they were heading down the stairs. "You didn't have to whine about my pants. It didn't have to be some... some massive confrontation."

"You kissed him," Clark sulked, "and you weren't wearing your pants. And nice boys ALWAYS wear their pajamas to bed, Lex!"

"Shhh. I guess I'm not a nice boy," Lex murmured as they headed into the living room. After Jonathan and Martha put the gifts in, they always went to bed with the Christmas tree plugged in for him and Clark, and there was something nice about rounding the corner and being hit with glowing light and paper chains and familiar decorations reflecting off of bags and wrapping paper.

"You are so," Clark replied. It was a little heated, and a lot upset. "You are so nice. It's his fault, Lex, you wouldn't take them off if he was a nice boy, too."

"His fault? Clark, it... It's no one's fault, because it's a good thing," Lex whispered sourly. "I thought we worked this out last night."

"That was before he made you take your pants off," Clark said darkly. "A nice boy wouldn't do that to you, Lex. I wouldn't make you take them off."

"Make me?" Lex looked at Clark a little wide-eyed, even as he steered him towards the stockings that were hung up, and stuffed with candies and other familiar things. Even Alfred and Bruce had stockings, and that made Lex smile a little. "Why would you think he made me?"

"Because you're nice," Clark said easily. "And you know that I'm sad because he kissed you first. So all of those other things, you wouldn't want to do, because you know it would hurt my heart. So he must have made you." It was logical, even as Clark veered towards his stocking. "We should wake up Mom and Dad before we open our stockings."

"In a minute." Lex put his hands on Clark's shoulders, and twisted him around firmly to face him. "I want to talk first. Okay? Are you going to listen to me?"

"You're going to tell me something bad, aren't you?" The way those dark brows knit, the eyes shining green and wet... Damn, when had Clark learned to manipulate him like that?

Probably always. "I might be," Lex told him firmly, fingers a little tight on Clark's shoulders. "I do love you. But I'm not going to stop doing things that I want and need to do right now while I wait for you to be as old as I am."

"Then you don't love me?" Clark asked. His voice was tiny and pitiful. "You love him more." God, they'd just gone through all of that!

Lex stooped a little, and hugged Clark close. "No, no... it's not that. There's different kinds of love!"

"No. I would wait forever for you." A whisper given softly against his ear. The whole world was upside down, and it was Christmas.

It wasn't supposed to be that way. Lex closed his eyes, and hugged Clark again. "I don't know what to do, Clark. I really... I want you to be happy, but..."

"But you love him better. I understand." Well, no, Clark didn't understand, and Lex knew it just from the tense, hurt strain of Clark's frame. "I think I'll go back to bed, too. I don't want to open prizes anymore, Lex."

That wasn't supposed to be how Christmas went. They opened gifts, and spent time together, and chatted, and it was just a comfortable, happy time. Different then how it had been with his real Mother and Father, maybe not better, but he had a sharper happiness to place with the Kent way of doing it.

It wasn't supposed to go like it was. "Clark..." Lex never whined, never cried, but he hugged his little brother tighter, until he would've been hurting him if Clark wasn't Clark. "No, I do love you, it's just that you're young. I..."

"I don't mean to be young. It's all my fault, Lex." Clark thought everything was his fault. "I just. I want. I don't understand."

Clark would've blamed himself for the crucifixion if he had been alive during that time. Lex sat down on the floor in front of the cold fireplace and stockings, and tugged Clark down with him. "Okay. What do you want? Let's start there," Lex asked, "and maybe we can figure it out."

"You," Clark said simply, snuggling close to him. "I want my Lex back. You're so far away, and everybody else is boring, and I want you to show me about what you used to do at night, and I want to kiss you, because kissing Pete would be just gross, so I don't know why you want to kiss Bruce."

"Because it's good." Lex peered at his little brother in the colorful glow of the tree, the innocence on his expression. "It's okay to love more than one person, and it doesn't mean that you love one of them less."

Clark's confusion was obvious, his head tilted only slightly to look at Lex. "But I want you to love me best. I don't want you to kiss him."

"It'd... it'd be abuse if I kissed you instead, right now," Lex suggested shakily, and that was a truth that did scare him. He was almost seventeen, and there he was holding conference with his little brother when most other kids his age would've hit Clark upside the head and told him to stop whining.

"So you won't kiss me, or show me. How long do I have to wait?" Clark asked him, frowning. "I don't want to wait a long long time. And I don't want you taking off your pajamas for Bruce, either."

"Until you're my age," Lex said firmly, and hoped it sank in. Hoped that Bruce was right and Clark's intense 'crush' faded by then.

"But that's forever!" Moaned protest, Clark's lower lip sticking out sulkily. "Forever and ever, and you're going to make me pretend I really am eleven, and I don't even think I am, Lex!"

"You're acting it." That was a little harsh, and Lex followed quickly with, "And the sheriff would say you're eleven. And so would Mom and Dad."

The only thing Lex felt after Clark looked at him was a breeze, cold and nearly swift enough to pull off his pajama bottoms and t-shirt. Clark had apparently gotten faster while he was gone.

It startled him, and it struck him with cold fear and worry. Clark had probably only gone upstairs to his room... So Lex started up the stairs, with a backwards glance to where--

Ah, and he'd taken Cocoa with him.

Well, at least he wouldn't be alone while he sulked. Lex thought it might be a good idea to go crawl back into bed with Bruce and just pretend that none of this had happened, but then again... It might be a better idea to go sit in the kitchen and make coffee and try to calm down. He could do that.

He could calm down. He could pretend that he wasn't having the most horrific Christmas since the one where his mother had been smiling too much from the painkillers, and Pam had been so tense and worn, and they'd both been insisting that he enjoy himself. That had been a horrible last Christmas with his mother, and he'd cried when she wasn't looking, just before the Kents had come into his life. And Clark.

Coffee, even though he moved quietly around the kitchen to prepare the pot for everyone, wasn't going to calm his nerves after all.

"I'll make the coffee, Martha, you go wake the boys," Jonathan said, kissing her nose. "I'm surprised Clark didn't have us up and opening presents at the crack of dawn."

Martha wrapped her housecoat around herself, and smiled at her husband. "It was nice of him to let us sleep in. I'll see if he's still asleep. It could be that he woke Lex and Bruce up, and that they're downstairs playing games."

Jonathan gave a snort. "Huh. More likely he's gone off and tried to string Bruce in with one of the cows somehow. I get the feeling Clark's not good at sharing Lex, at least not as good as when he has his big brother all the time." He leaned down and kissed his wife one more time. "You get the boys."

Martha headed out into the short hallway with Jonathan, and gathering up the boys shouldn't take too long. She moved to knock gently on Clark's door. "Honey, are you up?"

The possibility that he was out trying to lure Bruce into the cows was a striking possibility.

The deep chuckle that spilled from Jonathan couldn't be helped. He headed down the stairs and into the kitchen, eyeing the half-full pot of coffee that was already made. "Hello?" he asked, frowning. "Somebody down here already?"

"Maybe...?" came a wobbly call from the laundry room of all places. It was definitely Lex's voice; Bruce's was deeper and quite Gotham in accent.

"So... MAYBE you're down here?" Jonathan asked, moving towards the small room and pushing open the door to reveal his oldest son. Lex was sitting on top of the dryer, a cup of coffee in his hands and a bottle that wasn't so very well-hidden halfway behind his back. "Lex..."

He'd either been crying, or there was a leak in the pipes, and Lex was liable to claim the impossible before he claimed the reality. He clutched at his coffee cup a little, and blinked fuzzily at Jonathan for a moment. "Hi. I was just, uh..."

"Breaking in that bottle of Jim Beam behind you?" Jonathan asked him. There was obvious disapproval in his voice, but it wasn't too finely honed. If Lex had already been crying, then Jonathan was a great deal more worried about that. "Is something wrong? Did Bruce do something to you, Lex?"

"No!" Lex didn't mean to shout that, but... fuck, so Bruce was a little bigger and dashing and they were obviously a little funny. Queer. But Jonathan knew that, and so did Martha, and Clark, so why was the first thing out of his mouth if Bruce, gentle, sweet, brooding and just a little cynical Bruce, had done something to him. "No. He, he... dammit. I don't want to talk about it. Can I not talk about it?"

"If you'll promise me that you're not hurt. And if you'll hand over that bottle, Lex. What on earth possessed you to do such a thing, though? That's all I want to know," Jonathan asked, a little exasperated.

Jonathan had every right to haul him up by his sweatshirt and beat his tipsy ass, no matter how old he was. Lex scooted a little, trying to hide the Jim Beam bottle. Maybe if Jonathan couldn't look at it, he'd forget it was there? That'd work. "Clark," he answered without quite thinking. "He's angry and I don't know what to do, and I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay. You don't have to talk about it," Jonathan sighed. "Now, give me the bottle and let's get some coffee into you. See if we can sober you up. Keep in mind that I'm not happy with you and your mom's going to be even less happy with both of us, young man. You're lucky I don't tan your hide."

Lex glanced down into his cup of coffee, and then offered it up to Jonathan with a boggling hand. "I put it in my coffee, too. I think I've had enough... Is Clark still angry? I didn't mean to upset him, and he's taken the dog."

Jonathan's irritation was covered in sympathy as he gave another deep sigh and wrapped his arm around Lex's shoulder. "Martha's gone to wake him up. I reckon he'll be in a better mood once he's awake," he said kindly. "I reckon he'll need to be, considering the trouble we're probably in, son. I ought to ground you for life."

That might be a good thing. Lex hiccoughed, and leaned into Jonathan, cup loosely clutched in his fingers. There was definitely more liquor than coffee in it, and Lex couldn't remember when he'd gone from putting a splash of drink into the cup, to a splash of coffee into the cup. "Okay. I don't care."

"Maybe we really ought to talk about whatever's bothering you, Lex..." Jonathan said worriedly. "I mean... It's affecting you..."

"Bruce... Bruce loves me, and we.... but it bothers Clark, because he loves me, too, really bothers him, and he doesn't understand that he's my brother and you'll put me in the bomb shelter and cement it over if I did that. And no... no matter what I do, they're both angry at me so I just give up. I'm tired. I want to go back to bed and start the day over again. I'm tired." It was pure babble, but that was the entire problem. Maybe it'd make as much not-sense to Jonathan as it made to Lex.

Apparently it did. "Okay, then. Tell you what. If you'll close your eyes and pretend to be asleep, maybe we can both stay out of trouble with Martha. I'll put you in Clark's room and talk to him about it, all right?"

"Okay." It was the best solution so far, and Lex was so tired and had no idea what he should do. And it was all his fault, he didn't doubt it. Somehow, it all went back to something he'd done.

Jonathan's arms went around him and the whole world went funny, swirly and full of dots. It made Lex glad that his eyes were closed, right up until Jonathan came to an abrupt halt outside of the laundry room. "Er. M-Martha."

Tap. Tap. Tap. Oh, yeah. That was Mom's foot all right.

Slipper, heel, boot, it didn't matter, the echo was the same, and Lex was glad that his eyes were closed and that the Jim Beam and the coffee cup had been left on the dryer. Erm, right where Martha could see it.

"Clark's sulking under the Christmas tree now, but he was sulking under his bed before, and I want to know what's going on!"

"Well. Er." Jonathan was SO in trouble. "I'll be honest, Martha. I haven't got the faintest clue, and Lex is too drunk to talk about it clearly." Great. Now LEX was so in trouble.

They were both in trouble, or maybe it was just Lex in trouble. Lex closed his eyes tightly.

"Too drunk? My God, Jonathan. Get him upstairs, and... we'll have to do breakfast without him." Oh, that was punishment. Christmas without him, but that was okay. Maybe Clark and Bruce would get into fisticuffs.

God help Bruce if they did.

God help Clark when he won.

Oh, hell, and God help Lex because Jonathan was toting him upstairs and was going to let him hide in Clark's room. "I expect we'll be talking about this when you're sober," Jonathan said seriously.

"'m sorry," Lex mumbled, and choked on another hiccough that sounded and felt suspiciously like a sob. It was okay if Jonathan found him, but he didn't want Martha angry at him -- he almost never did anything to make her angry.

Big hands petted his back gently. "Hush, now. It's all right. Nobody's angry with you." Maybe he'd said it aloud. "You rest. It'll all look better when you wake up. Or maybe not. Can you stay awake long enough for me to get you a glass of water?" Jonathan put him down on the bed, and when they'd gotten there, Lex couldn't guess.

At least Jonathan was being realistic because it probably wouldn't look better. Of course by now Alfred and Bruce had heard the fuss. In fact, Bruce had probably been listening in to it since Lex had staggered out of bed and fallen ass up on the floor hours before. "Okay."

"Here. Slide under the covers." And what do you know, magic covers. Clark had gotten nice bed things since he'd been gone. Mmm, magic covers. "I'll be right back with your water."

"Mm." Lex fussed with the sheets a little, just pulling them up to his shoulders and finally settling on curling up almost in a ball beneath them because it was comfortable and he had less of an urge to cry when he did that.

Maybe he didn't.

"Hush. Hush." Jonathan was back again. Maybe he'd gotten some of Clark's speed. "Drink this. I want you to take these, too, Lex."

"What're 'm?" Lex blinked at Jonathan, but lifted his head a little and sluggishly moved to sit up.

"Just Tylenol," Jonathan promised. "Trust me. Take them and drink all of the water. You'll be glad for it later."

He trusted Jonathan, and reached a hand to take them dutifully, and then shakily clutched onto the glass to drink it. Christmas wasn't supposed to go that way. Lex was so tired and fuzzy and aching, and everyone else was going to open presents and have breakfast.

It wasn't fair.

Nothing was particularly fair this morning, come to think of it.

"There you go. I'll fill up the glass again and leave it here by the bed with some more Tylenol. And Lex? Whatever it is, you know I'm here and you can talk to me," Jonathan said seriously.

"Okay." Lex laid his head down, and closed his eyes tightly. It wasn't like he was going to have a choice in telling him. Maybe they'd just let him sleep through the rest of the day, or hide in Clark's room for that long.

When Lex woke up, he still felt sluggish and groggy, like he had the flu or something. And since he hadn't actually been sick in so long, it took him a few minutes to roll out of the bed. He was hungry, within reason, and he had a headache.

Once he'd drank his water and taken two more Tylenol, Lex snuck across the hallway back towards his room. Getting dressed, even with his head throbbing, was easier than it had been when he'd first gotten up that morning. Plus, Bruce's suitcase was still there, still open on the floor -- so Bruce hadn't gone anywhere, and that was a little soothing. A little.

And the house wasn't absolutely silent. He could hear the TV set and conversation. And he could smell food. The luminous digital clock on the nightstand read 4 pm.

It seemed that everyone else had had a lovely Christmas without him.

"You're awake."

It was barely more than a whisper, Clark looking at Lex sadly from the door. "Dad said I shouldn't be mad with you about Bruce. I have to go spend the night at Pete's house tonight."

"Why?" If anyone was going to be sent out of the house for the night, it should've been him. Maybe he could just go back to Metropolis. Camp out in the dorm's lobby, or stay with the international students until he was allowed to move back in. Something. He twisted to look at Clark, even as he tugged at the bottom of his sweater.

"'Cause it's my fault you're in trouble. I didn't mean to get you in trouble, Lex," Clark confessed. "I'm sorry. I'm not a very good boy."

Oh. Then he was still in trouble. Oh no. Lex swallowed, and edged towards his little brother. "No, you are. It's just... not been a very good day. How is everyone?"

"Dunno. Momma made me stay in the barn when I wouldn't open presents without you." Ohhh, no wonder Clark was pitiful. He probably still hadn't opened any presents, knowing how stubborn Clark was.

"You didn't have to do that." Lex moved towards the door, and slipped past Clark into the hallway. It was a bit like marching towards the gallows, because he'd just demonstrated such bad behavior...

"Momma's not mad with you," Clark told him. "Just upset. She's sad. She said I shouldn't be so selfish. I'm selfish..."

And Clark was telling Lex so, what, Lex should say no, Clark wasn't? Lex slipped a hand to Clark's shoulder, and pulled at him lightly as he started towards the stairs. "We've both screwed up."

The pathetic wilt of Clark's entire body was sad. "I did worse. Badder. Um. More bad." He must be feeling really miserable if he was reverting to sentences without verbs, but he went with Lex, his arm wrapping around his brother's waist.

"C'mon," Lex coaxed quietly, before starting down the stairs. He was waiting to reach the halfway point and see Jonathan standing in front of the stairs with a shovel. It sounded like everyone was in the living room, and they'd probably already eaten or were about to eat soon...

"Momma saved you lunch," Clark told him hopefully, peeking up at Lex. "And I didn't open without you."

"And you got sent to the barn for it," Lex said mindfully as he started down the stairs with Clark glued to his side. He was in trouble, he was in such trouble, and he was going to die of embarrassment when he reached the bottom of the stairs...

He stopped when he reached the bottom, and glanced around.

"Well, young man, it's about time you got up." Martha was full of forced cheer, and Bruce was looking at him with curiosity smeared across his face. "I've saved you some ham, and some broccoli casserole..."

Lex let go of Clark, and started towards the table with a slight, equally forced smile. Best to not look at Bruce yet, because... well, just because. Because he had no idea what all he'd missed. "Thanks, Mom. I'm kind of hungry..."

"I thought you might be," she said, lips pressed together thoughtfully. "Come on into the kitchen, then, sweetheart. I'm sure you'll want something to drink, too." And was Jonathan slouching a little further into his recliner over there? Yes, yes, he was.

He'd probably gotten chewed out by her.

Only Alfred seemed immune to curiosity, sitting on the end of the sofa with a book held in one hand. Bruce was definitely curious, and Clark... well, Clark was sort of in the know. Sort of.

"Milk?" Lex requested as he edged warily into the kitchen behind her. "Did I... what did I miss?"

"Nothing too important, sweetheart. Sit down and eat, and I'll get your milk. Then you and Clark can open your presents together. He wanted to wait for you," Martha said evenly.

Not a happy sort of evenly. Not even a mildly okay with it sort of evenly. Lex sat down at the table, and glanced at the plate that she set out for him, then up to her. "Mom... I'm sorry."

"I know you are, sweetheart. It just surprises me when you disappoint us. That's all."

Oh, God. That was worse than any threatened spanking. And they just didn't understand. That Clark's jealousy had more to it, and... and, hell. Maybe that was part of her disappointment, too. Lex was looking at the table-top, and his plate, and uneasily picked up his fork. "Can I try to explain what happened?"

"Of course you can, sweetheart. We're terribly worried about you, you know," Martha sighed, sitting down across from him. "Bruce has been especially worried."

"And I was trying to tell him about Christmas traditions last night. So much for a good demonstration of them." Lex swallowed, and reached for his glass of milk. It was a good excuse to not meet her eyes. "I don't know where to start. You're going to be angry..."

"I promise I won't be angry with you, Lex," Martha promised him, sitting down beside him. "Whatever it is, we can talk about it. We'll get everything straight. We always have," she finished.

"Okay. Last night, when I had to get Clark out of the barn for dinner? We talked first. He doesn't like Bruce because he's... he's jealous." Lex glanced up for a moment while he picked up his fork, and waited to read her expression.

"Jealous," she said slowly. It wasn't a statement so much as it was encouragement for him to tell her a little bit more about what Clark was feeling.

And that prodding was what he needed to keep going. "That I don't do the things I do with Bruce with him. He... wants that."

"Well. I can certainly see why that might drive you to drink." Thank God she wasn't being sarcastic when she said that. "I'll talk to Jonathan and we'll have a talk with him. Sweetheart, I wish you had come to us about this first..."

"I thought I'd explained it to him last night." Lex could feel heat rising in his face, and he took a moment to eat some of the ham that Martha had saved for him. "This morning, he woke me and Bruce up. With Cocoa. I..."

Was ready to lie through his teeth, but Martha was already disappointed in him. She'd just be more disappointed if he lied blatantly. "I didn't have pants on, and I had to find them, and he growled at Bruce before I could finish getting dressed."

"I see." Oh, God. He'd just admitted to his Mom, to Martha Kent, that he'd been naked in bed with Bruce. If the floor opened up and swallowed him straight down to hell, he'd probably say thank you for the kindness. "Well. You might want to keep your clothes on for the next few days, Lex."

The edging of the Kent's fine holiday china was really suddenly fascinating to him, in ways it hadn't been since he'd first come there. "It gets worse. Should I just stop now?"

"Keep going, Alexander." Oh, yeah. He was in trouble. "In for a penny, in for a pound."

Because he couldn't remember the last time they called him 'Alexander', unless he was hurt or there was some emergency. In for a penny, in for a pound of flesh carved right off of his backside.

"Well, after he growled at Bruce, I herded him downstairs. And told him we could get into the stockings and look at the presents and... just the usual things. He wanted to know why I hadn't ever slept naked with him."

"I see." Oh, wow. Lex was starting to hate those two words. "And what did you tell him, sweetheart?"

"That he was too young to be saying those things. Then he said I didn't love him, and I do. He's Clark. He's my brother. I just... And then I can't remember what happened. I told him to wait until he was my age to even think of things like that, and then he said that I shouldn't do anything with Bruce, and I told him I wasn't going to stop, and it just went to hell after that. He said I didn't love him and took Cocoa off upstairs before I could say anything, and I went to make some coffee, and the... the can was empty so I got into the cupboard to get the other can, and the Jim Beam was right there..." His throat was starting to ache with almost tears again, and he really didn't want to see what 'I see' looked like on Martha's face.

"And that seemed like a good idea?" Martha asked him a little skeptically. She sighed and stood, moving around to hug him tightly. "Sweetheart. Anytime you have a problem like this, I want you to come to us. We're your parents just as much as we are Clark's, and we love you. You don't have to worry over these things by yourself. Clark doesn't... He doesn't understand things the way everyone else understands them..."

Lex dropped the fork with a quiet clatter, and twisted to hug Martha back, tightly. It could've been worse. He hadn't had to spell some things out, that he'd told Clark to wait until he was older because Lex had actually thought about it and wouldn't mind it. He hadn't had to say that, and Martha probably hadn't noticed. "What'm I going to do?"

"Well, for one thing, I suspect that you'll be sleeping on the couch with your father for the rest of Bruce's stay." Oh, and if Martha could tease him even that little bit, then it meant it was going to be okay. "For another, you and Clark are both going to open your presents and you're going to apologize to Bruce and Alfred for giving them such a strange Christmas!" She kissed the top of his head. "Clark has already apologized."

The couch wasn't so bad a fate. He and Bruce still had weekends and his nice comfortable dorm room, and the horror of having Clark snarl at people just wasn't worth the risk of late night petting. "Okay. And you're... you're going to talk to Clark, right? I can't do it, I've tried..." And he could figure out all sorts of ways to manipulate things mechanically, electronically, chemically, but not people as well as any of that.

And not Clark at all.

"I'll talk to him. Or, I'll get Jonathan to talk to him." That had always worked better for Clark, just like Martha had generally been the one to deal with Lex. "We'll do our best, Lex. You know we will. But for now, just keep in mind that when you're under your parents' roof? It's best to hold an aspirin between your knees. Even after you're married."

"I don't think it's legal anywhere." Lex picked up his glass again when she pulled away and sat down again, and he couldn't help but chuckle a little. "Hold an aspirin between your knees?"

"A much nicer way of saying keep your legs closed, isn't it?" Lex hadn't even thought he could blush any more. Martha proved him wrong with that statement.

"I guess I had to learn that sometime," Lex mumbled, and tried to not take an interest in the china again.

"Finish your lunch, sweetheart. You aren't feeling too poorly, are you?"

"Better than I should be. Dad made me drink water before I fell asleep and I had more when I got up and that helped." His oddity had helped, but Martha knew that. "Bruce probably needs therapy for this morning more than he needs an apology. Cocoa sat on his head."

That seemed to be enough to brighten Martha's day, her laughter ringing out in the kitchen. "Oh, Lex," she giggled. "I love you. My goodness. His head, you say?" That set her off on even more laughter, the kind that you just had to join.

Maybe Christmas could be salvaged.

Letters and phone calls were poor substitutes for seeing someone face to face. But he'd managed it for almost a year solid, and though it wasn't something to be proud of, what he'd done in the interim was certainly something to be proud of.

"Mr. Luthor, we'll be arriving in Smallville in ten minutes."

"Good. Thank you, Schiver. Wake me up when we land." Lex sat up slightly in the seat of the helicopter, and glanced out of the window for a fraction of a second.

Just a second. A second where he could almost imagine himself falling through the glossy clean glass and landing in a pile of bone miles and miles beneath them. Funny how a year of plane flights and jet lag hadn't shaken him of his fear of heights. He couldn't read on a flight, or check his mail or write reports, because airplane -- and helicopter -- barfbags were too small to logically be useable. They were worthless, and they probably made the mess worse.

Lex laid his head back, and returned to feigning sleep. Usually he didn't have to feign it because he was often exhausted enough to doze off, but...

Returning to Smallville after a year abroad. A year making contacts, learning techniques, planting useful investments and worming his way into technology firms; a year without seeing his family face to face because he'd been so damned busy once he finished his double-major. In another year he'd settle back in Metropolis and get his Masters. Then his Doctorate, but not until he'd proved to himself and to the business world that he deserved to sneakily seize control of LuthorCorp from the staid, mindless, unwilling to expand or take risks drones that were running it right into the ground.

It was enough to keep his mind fully occupied until they reached Smallville, and Schiver 'woke' him with a few gentle words. "We've arrived, Mr. Luthor, and there's.. Uh, there are people on the platform waiting to meet you."

Okay, that hadn't been in his plans, but then again, he couldn't possibly have expected his family to stay away. Especially Clark now that he'd turned sixteen. After all, Clark had never stopped crushing on Lex.

He'd heard it in his voice in phone calls, and read it between the lines of Clark's e-mails to him. "Yes, I'm aware Schiver," Lex drawled, forcing his mouth to quirk up into a smile as he reached for his laptop bag. "Have a good day."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Luthor." The helicopter settled fully down, and the opening door brought with it a great deal more noise.

"Lex!"

He could still hear Clark over it, though.

Eager, standing beside Martha and Jonathan, shouting his name... Christ. At least he was old enough to drink later that night. Lex smiled a little more at that, as he slipped out of the helicopter and started across the grass that the rotation of the blades was beating down. Schiver would be returning to Metropolis, and Lex... Lex was home at last.

Standing in the back lawn of a castle that he'd never previously lived in.

Before Lex was more than twelve foot away from the copter, Clark had tackled him, still so infinitely careful, but huge in a way he hadn't been when Lex had gone away. "You're home, you're home!" Yelled over the sound of the revving engine as Schiver moved carefully to take off and get away from the Smallville shenanigans.

Lucky him, Lex thought momentarily as he hugged Clark back loosely. When the hell had his little little brother shot up a few feet in both directions? Huge broad shoulders, and yeah he was finally taller than Lex. The hug threatened to crush Lex even as careful as Clark was. He patted Clark's back, then pulled away.

"I'm home, Clark -- Jesus, you've grown up while I was gone. C'mon, let's get out of here before I lose my hearing."

The appreciative grin Clark gave was gorgeous, nearly heart-stopping, and Lex had the vague suspicion of what a cow caught in the headlights might feel like. Again.

"Son!" Jonathan seemed nearly as excited as Clark did, his delight not hidden in the least.

That was what he'd kept himself cut off from for a year, and it was funny how easy it was to settle into it again. Even though he felt like a different person, a more experienced, harder person than he'd been when he'd finished university.

Lex pulled away from Clark, and approached their parents to hug both of them briefly. "Mom, Dad... God, I've missed all of you."

"We're so glad you're home, sweetheart," Martha whispered, and she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

Clark was already teasing him. "Even if you DID bring this big pile of rocks with you. Cocoa ran off to find something to pee on..."

Probably the rose-bushes instead of any one of the equally well-tended trees in the area. God, he'd even missed their dog. His and Clark's dog; it was hard to forget how Clark had carefully picked up the puppy, so scared of crushing him, happy to the point of tears to have the still unidentifiable mutt of a dog.

"Well, I owned it anyway, and it was just sitting there in Scotland gathering moss," Lex drawled, a sharp smirk as he hugged Martha back tightly. "Why don't we go inside? I've been assured that it's livable inside, and I've really missed all of you. Do you want to do dinner here tonight?"

"Of course we can, sweetheart." Martha was, as always, the best mom ever. "I even made all of your favorites," she teased. "There's a ham baking at the house, and blackberry cobbler."

"And she wouldn't let me have any," Clark sighed, faking a moroseness that wasn't in him.

"That's because you've probably eaten them most of the season, Clark. I've travelled the world, and still haven't found cobbler quite as good as Mom's." The way it was gooey and just a little crunchy and -- ah, good. The helicopter finally lifted off and started to pull away. Lex's ears were tired of being battered. "I suppose I'll give the chef the night off, then?"

"Good Lord, Lex!" That seemed to startle Jonathan. "You've, uh, gotten used to living differently while you've been gone." It didn't seem to make him upset or anything, but it did sound as if the money made him a little uncomfortable. It probably always had, but Lex had never noticed it before.

That was probably why he'd insisted on fixing up an older car with Lex, which he still had in his garage in Metropolis and kept in good condition. It probably made the money seem a little less surreal to him. Lex tried to give his father a disarming smile. "Yeah. It's kind of strange sometimes, but... The chef's really for the other on grounds staff. The people who'll keep this place well tended while I work."

And that just sounded worse. Lex chuckled a little, and started towards the back door. "It takes getting used to, but I had to show the jet-set crowd that I was one of them before they'd let me get into their companies."

"Lex is still Lex, Dad." And Clark still worshipped him, apparently, because he was looking at him with his heart in his eyes, and Martha and Jonathan were both pretending that he wasn't. "Cocoa! Cocoa, let's go see Lex!" he yelled, and the patter of dog feet came towards him fairly quickly considering the fact that Cocoa was sneaking up on ten.

Lex shifted his laptop case so it went back behind him when he stooped in the tidily trimmed grass to get on the dog's level, and Cocoa gave a few overjoyed barks as Lex pulled him close, ruffling familiar fur. "Who's a good boy? Aw, you're a good boy, Cocoa." He didn't mind slobbering dog kisses, because after a year it amazed him that Cocoa even recognized him still.

"It's good to have you back in Smallville again, Lex," Martha sighed, and she sounded happy.

"I was beginning to think you were never coming home again," Clark agreed a little wistfully. Cocoa had worked his way around to Lex's ear and was currently bathing it with his tongue for all he was worth.

"Let me get your bag, son," Jonathan offered, stepping closer.

Lex scrubbed fingers over Cocoa's ear, and started to stand up, tapping his hip so the dog would follow. "It's all right, Dad -- it's just a laptop and some files." Travelling light -- it was nice to breeze through Metropolis's Airport, knowing that his other bags would be delivered to whatever hotel or apartment he was staying in before evening came. With his other hand he dug into his pocket for the keys.

"I have absolutely no idea what this place looks like, so I guess we're all in for a surprise..."

"Um, actually, I, uh, snuck in last week," Clark admitted sheepishly, drawing all eyes to him. "Well! Those stones rolled through town forever, and there were people, and I was... REALLY, really curious." He blushed.

"Clark! You've ruined your brother's surprise!" Martha chided.

"Just for himself," Lex shrugged. "It's like peeking at someone else's Christmas gift." Which Clark had been known to do, and then get himself all hopped up and excited. Lex took his time in opening the locks of that back door. "I still haven't seen it, and neither have the two of you."

"Open the door, Lex!" Clark moaned. Ah, yes. There was that excitement, and it sent a tingle down Lex's spine that he wanted to deny.

"Be patient, son. Not all of us like to tear the wrappings off first thing," Jonathan teased Clark.

The door was new, but it was still a little sticky so Lex had to put his shoulder into popping it open once it was unlocked. The back hallway was probably going to be a good sign of what the worst of the place looked like, and...

Lex drew a slow breath as he entered, and left the door open behind him so everyone else could come in. Smooth and clean stone flooring, stone walls detailed with wood, those gorgeous windows that had been in place and made him determined that he was going to live there.

"Oh my goodness," Martha breathed, eyes wide. "Lex, this is. Oh, goodness."

"Yeah," Clark agreed. "Oh, goodness." He probably still hadn't been inside, either. Lex knew a lot had happened to his baby brother in the last year, up to and including being able to see through walls. Clark probably hadn't considered using that ability as cheating.

Clark had always been strange in his conceptions of things, though. Lex walked forwards more, reached out with a hand to touch a glossy fluted piece of wood. "I wasn't quite expecting it to be so exquisite..."

"Why? Wasn't it like this over in wherever you got it?" Clark asked him.

"Well, it was probably a little dustier," Jonathan joked. He'd always been indifferent to a little dust. Lex had always been fanatical about everything having a place and being in its place, even dust.

Dust belonged in the attic, or the outmost reaches of the barn. Not in his living space. "It needed to be renovated. The wood was rotting, it was... well, it was a neglected old castle. I told them I wanted the interior restored and just sort of... trusted the people I hired to do a good job." Lex started further down the hallway.

Forget a good job. They'd done an excellent job. He'd done well in asking Bruce for a suggestion of who to hire for interior design and restoration.

"It's gorgeous," Clark murmured softly, peeking around with a great deal of curiosity. "Wow. It didn't look this good before, when I snuck in. Must be glowing for you," he grinned.

Why had he left for a year, again? Oh yes. That was partially why. Lex's jaw twitched a moment, and he ignored the remark as he turned into the main hallway and Cocoa started to bark at one of the suits of armor.

"I think the maid just polished all of the wood. Now, I know there's supposed to be staff hiding in here somewhere..."

"Probably in the kitchen." Which meant definitely in the kitchen if Clark said so, and the faintly unhappy sound underlaying that statement didn't make Lex feel very good.

"I'm sure we'd love to see the kitchen in any case, Lex," Martha assured him, putting her hand against Clark's upper arm.

Later, he'd talk with Clark. And it would probably be as fruitful as any of their other talks, but he'd try.

Trying was the important part. Lex plastered a smile onto his face, and turned to look at his family -- all of them except the dog, who had given up on the armor and was trying to trip him up at the ankles -- with a hopeful expression. "I think there's a library or a study around here somewhere, and if you don't mind too much, I want to run up a floor and put on a change of clothes. I've just finished almost fourteen hours of plane flights today."

"Go right ahead, sweetheart," Martha told him. Jonathan was looking at him with an expression that appeared slightly worried, and Clark seemed... Well, not depressed, exactly, but uncertain. "I'm sure you'd like a bath, too. Why don't you take a quick shower? We can wait for you."

"You're the best, Mom. But, library first..." He forged ahead, and took a left turn because he remembered that in the original building there'd been a two story room on the first floor and that had to still be there. And there had damn well better be something interesting in it, or else.

Or else he'd have someone's head on a pike, and wow, Bruce would've been proud of him for thinking that. Lex opened the glossy double-doors with something akin to triumph, and let out a slow sigh as he looked into the room.

He was going to send the designer a bonus.

Red and purple glass filled the windows, letting in gorgeous streams of colored light that struck the warm chestnut glow of the leather sofa. Books were absolutely everywhere, and there was a glass desk there that probably would have made Lionel Luthor himself cry. Never mind the delicately laid parquet.

Lex was so in love.

"Wow," Clark whispered.

"Marian... is getting a bonus," Lex purred as he stalked first towards the desk and its delicately beveled edges, then the windows that he'd fallen in love with. Ancient craftsmanship, proof of a long forgotten art, and they were in his favorite colors. Violet, the color of kings.

"Mom, Dad... can you believe this?"

"Well, son," Jonathan said slowly, a little amazed, "it's certainly. Well, my goodness," he said simply, shaking his head. Lex had almost forgotten how funny Jonathan could be about money. It was probably because he let Martha handle most of their financial concerns.

"It's gorgeous. It's really you, Lex," Clark told him warmly, looking at him with such hope, such delight that he was home.

"It's a little.... lavish, honey, but..." Martha looked less stunned as she entered the room, prodding Jonathan along. Lex was abandoning the desk by then, and starting up the stairs to the second floor that edged the room and all of those books. Those were his books, books kept too long in storage that had been his father's. He could just die in that library.

"But all of it... it's built to last, Mom," Lex defended vaguely as he ran gentle fingers over the spines.

"Yeah," Clark agreed. "Yeah, it is." He seemed to delight in it at least as much as Lex did, and that fact didn't pass either of their parents by in the least. It made Jonathan smile wryly. He'd never been able to get either of them to leave a book alone for long until it was done.

"Well, I'm glad you're pleased with it," he decided, nodding as Lex's fingers lingered across the spines of several books. "Now go get a bath and change clothes, son. We're ready to have you back with us."

Lex chuckled a little, and nodded, walking down the steps and having to shoo Cocoa gently down the steps in front of him. "You said you made dinner, Mom?"

"Mhm," Martha nodded, watching Cocoa as he sniffed along the stairs. "Clark will take Cocoa out, since he's sniffing, and he can go home and fetch everything in the kitchen while he's at it."

"But Mo~om," Clark began.

"It's all right, Clark. The farm is only so far from here, and if Cocoa needs to get outside, then I'd really rather he went outside. I like the idea of having the staff like me." The maids were going to have it easy since Lex liked to tidy things up behind him, but dog pee would definitely put him on their 'gossip about behind his back' list.

Lex took a last glance around once he was on the first floor, and smiled at his parents. "Feel free to wander around and see what you can find."

"Come on, Cocoa," Clark sighed, heading for the door. The dog paused between him and Lex, looking back hopefully. "Cocoa! Let's go out!" he said sharply, and the dog skittered along towards him swiftly.

"He's a little high strung," Martha said once Clark had slipped from the room. "He's been waiting so long for you to come home."

High strung. Yeah. Sure. Lex's eyebrows went up a little, but his smile didn't falter. "So how's he been? Past the vague things you've told me from mails. How have all of you been? Everything all right here?"

Jonathan and Martha exchanged a look, and that was a little nerve-racking. "Well," Jonathan said slowly, "things here have been, uh, a little... stressful," he said delicately. "You remember Greg Arkin, right? And, er. Jodie, the little girl who was always so plump?"

"Jodie Melville?" Lex shifted his laptop case off of his shoulder, and backtracked to lay it on his desk. It was hard to shake the feeling that he was a king that finally had a kingdom to rule over. "What about her?"

"Well, you remember the meteor shower. And, well, the rocks." Both of them seemed so tentative about the matter. "They've been doing things to people. I mean, worse things than before. Clark has been caught up in a few of them. Trying to help."

"I see." Lex's mouth thinned out, and he looked at them both to see what he just might have been missing. Of course he remembered the meteor shower -- it'd killed his real father, and warped him and Clark. "Maybe we should do full disclosure later? Because I remember the meteor shower." He absently rubbed his hand over his scalp even as he started to unpack his laptop loosely.

"We didn't think you were likely to forget it," Jonathan sighed. "It's just... There are a lot of things connected, son, and Clark's having a hard time with all of it right now. We were hoping maybe we could fill you in, get your thoughts on the matter." Because if nothing else, Clark loved Lex. He loved Lex in ways that he didn't even love Martha and Jonathan, and maybe they were willing to not bury him in the back yard if he could help their other son, even if it took... THINGS.

And that it might take anything was probably partially his fault. He'd spoiled Clark when he was little, not in bad ways, but when Clark wanted something from him, he knew he'd get it. A story, playing, time, help, anything. "Absolutely, Dad. That's why I moved back to Smallville -- I missed all of you and I wanted to be a help again. In any way I can."

"We know, son. Go get cleaned up," Jonathan sighed, shifting a little uncomfortably before heading to sit on the couch.

"We'll see you when you come back down," Martha promised, moving to kiss his cheek.

Lex Luthor was, shameful as it was to admit, a momma's boy at heart. He smiled a little, and abandoned his laptop and files to lay on the desk for a few more minutes. "If you want a drink, I think there should be a mini-fridge... somewhere in there," he instructed vaguely, and then breezed through the well hinged double-doors.

"Yes, sweetheart," he heard Martha call behind him, and then heard her laugh as well, indulgent, altogether the laugh of a mother who is delighted by her son's own enjoyment.

It was good to be home again.

It took a couple of doors to find the room that was obviously his bedroom, wide and vast and opulent in all of the ways that Lex liked best. Rich carpeted floor, and there was one of his suitcases laying on the bed for him.

The servants had to be like ghosts to accomplish things so quietly. Lex headed for a door on the side first, and opened it.

His very own, private bathroom. Hotel bathrooms were crummy by definition, and at the Kents he'd never quite had a bathroom like he'd had before his parents had died. It wasn't the guest bathroom in some friend's house, no, it was his tidy, beautiful bathroom.

Lex was madly, MADLY in love with his bathroom. If it had been at all feasible, he might well have offered to marry it. There was a modern shower in one corner with more showerheads than anybody could shake a stick at, a giant claw-foot bathtub in another, and the marble vanity with the toilet so neatly beside it was a man's every dream.

The seat was probably even heated.

If it hadn't been for the silverfish scuttling around on top of the tank, it would have been heaven.

No, he hadn't seen that. Hadn't, hadn't, hadn't... Lex backtracked for a moment, and forced himself to not shiver and feel too disgusted by the sight of that abomination in his bathroom. Fucking, god-damned bugs!

"Son of a bitch. The bugs must be some God-sent 'welcome to Smallville' message," Lex muttered as he stalked out of his bathroom and towards the door he assumed was his closet.

It wasn't his closet.

It was, in fact, a door into another room, one for the lady of the castle, he assumed. Not that he'd ever have a lady of the castle, but that seemed to be its purpose. With a disgruntled wrinkle of his nose, he shut the door and moved on to the next one.

Ahhh. There was his closet.

His clothes were lined up tidily and in sections that, while he didn't quite agree with, he could understand the sense of. He'd take care of it himself later; for the moment it was just a matter of picking out a new sweater to put on, and crisp trousers. And shoes that weren't so damned worn.

Maybe if he was lucky, the silverfish would be gone when he got back. Lex especially hated those things, and had ever since he'd first seen one. Where was Clark when you really needed him to rescue you?

Lex laid his clothes out on the bed, and started to strip off on his way back into the bathroom. "I'm going to spray you with... something, bathroom freshener, you little bastard, if I see you again. Then your shell will dry up and you'll regret haunting me," Lex instructed the tidy space.

No silverfish. He was once again properly master of his domain.

He could breathe.

He could... Check under the lid of the toilet to make sure that it wasn't hiding just beneath the seat before he ever sat on it. For now, though, Lex could accept that if he didn't see it and it wasn't in his shower, it was safe to bathe.

Hot bath would've been wonderful, but a hot shower would have to suit him. And it wasn't as if he was settling for anything, not with a showerhead that wonderfully complicated and multi-sprayed.

Lex pulled open the glass shower door, and closed it behind him, then cranked up the water. Nothing like a sharp blast of cold before the warm quickly trickled to comfortable heat.

Oh, yeah. YEAH. It was heaven. It was, and Lex was pretty sure he was purring, and he definitely had a hardon. Oh, that was just the best shower he'd ever had. There were showerheads everywhere, and they sprayed in all the best parts, and he was going to move into his shower.

Bring a pillow in and cover it with plastic, and sleep there because the spray was pulsing and hot, massaging the ache right out of jetlagged muscles. Lex stood there for long moments, just letting it pelt and warm him, before he ever even bothered with soap. He was going to have to set his alarm to go off sooner in the morning if he wanted to take a shower before starting work, if he wanted to get there before noon.

It was better than any of the sex he'd had in the past year, without question. Even if it was just showerheads, and his soapy hand wrapping around the base of his cock.

"Hey, Lex... WOW, now THAT'S a bathroom."

Oh, God, fuck, his baby BROTHER was in his bathroom while he was jerking off. Lex's hands had never flown off of his flesh so fast, and he'd probably not squeaked like that in... Well, almost a year.

Cocoa's sharp bark nearly gave him another stroke. Great. His baby brother and his dog had caught him jerking off.

"Yeah, it is!" Lex called out over the sound of the shower's wondrous, lovely pulse -- and maybe he was going to propose marriage to the room after all. "Can you hang on a minute? I'm almost done."

"Sure... Oh, hey! A silverfish! Haven't seen one of those in ages!"

God DID have it in for Lex with the bugs.

His erection, rampant and as happy about a long shower as Lex was, started to wilt. "Why don't you kill it before you duck out of here?" Lex half-requested, and cracked open the shower door a little to grab a hand towel.

"Who said I was ducking out?" Clark teased him, catching the bug in a hand and dropping it in the toilet, reaching to flush it quickly. "There. You're safe from the big bad bug, Lex. Come on, Cocoa. Let's go see if Lex's bed is as comfortable as ours, okay?"

Lex wanted to tell Clark that it was a hundred time better, but that would've invited more conversation. And even though Clark closed the door behind him on his way out, Lex could almost feel eyes on him as he finished. His poor erection... "I can do this," he whispered to himself as he buffed over his skin quickly with the hand towel, getting the shower gel off his skin.

It wasn't even so bad if he didn't THINK about Clark probably watching him. Okay, maybe it was even a little kinky. Okay, maybe it was a lot kinky, and he should definitely be disturbed that this was turning him on so much.

But he'd realized he had issues way back when Clark had thrown that fit at him and he'd been caught drinking. Maybe even before that, because he did love his brother and the real revulsion was that he wanted to do that to his brother. The little boy he'd rode the school bus with and taught the proper use of verbs to, and...

And he was as big as a tree, and looked solidly muscled under his clothes, his cute face filled out with beautiful cheekbones.

Oh yeah. He could finish himself right off, hand flying and tugging faster over his erection. Lex snuck his other hand between his legs, tugged and played with his balls, and that was the last straw.

He came wildly, spunk washed away by the water, slipping down the drain. He felt limp and sleepy and very, very tired, but he also wanted to see his parents, and Clark was waiting for him in his bedroom.

Maybe he ought to jerk off one more time, or his dick seemed to think so, anyway.

Clark, and waiting for him in the bedroom wasn't supposed to quite strike that note with his cock. Lex didn't give in. He turned off the showerheads, and pushed the door open again. The bath mat under his feet was soft, fluffy beneath his wet toes, and the towels he dried himself off with were just as nice.

And his clothes were in the bedroom.

Lex was a brave man. He could walk out there in nothing but a towel. Clark wouldn't ogle him or anything...

Oh, who was he kidding? Clark would ogle him, and then Lex would probably blush like a stupid schoolgirl because his brother was getting an eyeful of parts he'd been seeing since he was six.

Grrf. It's just that when Clark was six, he hadn't quite openly lusted after him. And people lusted after Lex; he regularly laughed at them. So why couldn't he just tough it out?

Lex wrapped himself with a towel, tucked the edge into itself, and then pulled open the bathroom door and entered his room without hesitating.

"So, Clark -- Mom was telling me that there's been some weird stuff happening around here?"

Obviously that was enough to keep Clark from looking at him that way. In fact, it made green eyes lower to the floor. "Yeah," Clark agreed quietly. "The rocks. They've always made weird things happen to people, just.. they've been getting weirder."

"Mom told me you were getting mixed up in it -- helping people? I know it's nothing you could've told me in mail, so fill me in now," Lex told his brother conversationally as he moved to straighten out his clothes at the end of the bed before he dropped his towel and casually pulled his boxer-briefs on.

"It's... The rocks have been doing things. I mean, things worse than before," Clark said, watching him quietly. "Remember Greg? He turned into a bug and, um, desiccated his MOM. And Jodie Melville? You know? She started sucking people's fat out. She nearly got Pete, and he wasn't the first. There was this girl who could change shape, and a guy who could make your mind change by shaking your hand. Dad nearly lost the farm that time..." The way Clark looked seemed guilty, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It's all my fault, Lex."

The hell? Lex paused in pulling on a pair of warm, comfortable trousers, and eyed his brother as if he were every bit as insane as he sounded. "I'm not sure I'm following that. They fell from space, Clark."

"Yeah," Clark agreed, not looking at him. "They did."

"So I'm going to need a little nudge to follow your train of thought about how you're responsible for it," Lex prodded, slowing as he fidgeted his belt closed.

"You know I'm adopted." Everybody knew that. "This lady came, wanting to tell me she was, you know. My mom. Except she wasn't. I'm, uh, not from around here, Lex."

Not from around here? What was this, some kind of weird joke on Clark's part?

"Clark, this isn't funny," Lex muttered, and jerked his sweater down over his head, smoothing it down before he tucked the edges of it into his pants. "Just because I've been out of town doesn't mean that you need to beat around the bush."

"I'm not beating around the bush," Clark protested. "I just don't want you to hate me because it's all my fault, Lex. Because it is, and you will, and you haven't even come home...!"

"I'm home now, Clark. I know I've been gone for a while, but I needed to settle myself into the business world. Now, just because I've been travelling shouldn't make you think that I'm going to hate you, Clark." He toed clean shoes on, and eyed his little... no, his younger brother, sprawled out atop the duvet of his bed.

"But it's my fault," Clark groaned. "I'm trying to explain to you and you're not taking it seriously. Like when I said I loved you and didn't want you seeing Bruce!"

"No, Clark, I took you seriously then, and believe me, that was why I freaked out and drank myself sick on Christmas morning. But back to what you're saying right now..." Easy, take it easy... He sat on the bed, and reached a hand to stroke Cocoa's head, a motion that was calming by proxy. "So tell me just how you're at fault, Clark."

"I told you. I'm not from around here." His eyes pleaded with Lex to understand. "It's all my fault. All of it. I came here that day, Lex."

"You..."

Occasionally, Lex felt all the pieces of a puzzle suddenly fit themselves in his mind. Everything from Clark's multiple 'abilities' to the way he'd squealed and babbled and spoken when Lex had first met him. 'Apple you?', and how he hadn't understood either French or Spanish or anything else Lex had thrown at him that a five-year old who spoke any of that would've understood. And his mother had helped the Kents adopt Clark, hadn't she?

Lex's hand faltered on Cocoa's fur, and then he offered, "So, you're an alien, Clark?"

A slow nod was his answer, Clark's face fretful and yet so hopeful, as if he prayed Lex would understand. "Yeah. I mean. There's a pod or something, in the storm cellar. Dad, he told me not long ago because I, uh. I started floating in my sleep," he admitted, flustered.

"Any particular reason why he didn't tell you -- or me -- sooner than this?" Lex asked carefully. There was no censure in his expression as he kept stroking Cocoa's fur, looking over at Clark steadily. Clark needed his support; that had been why Lex had moved back to close, so he could help his family, and he would've been a rotten bastard if he failed in that goal.

Clark was his brother, dammit. Alien or not, Clark was... Clark was still everything to him. Whether that weirded him out or not. "C'mere. Never mind that. We can ask him ourselves after dinner."

"Okay." Clark seemed more or less relieved that Lex hadn't automatically shut him out or tried to get rid of him, but there was no denying that he was still worried. "I don't know why he didn't. I guess he just didn't want to worry us. I mean, we were kids. We're still their kids, and I think if he'd had any other choice, I still wouldn't know... But I'm glad you know, Lex."

"And at least we have an explanation why you're so multifaceted. But if you came here at the same time with the rocks, I somehow doubt that you purposefully brought them with you, to try to... mutate or whatever it is, the citizens of Smallville. So it's not your fault." Lex shifted back to sit beside Clark on the bed, and ruffled his hair with familiarity.

"But it feels like it is." God, Clark seemed to enjoy that motion of Lex's fingers at least as much as Cocoa, gratefulness shining from his green eyes. "I'm glad you don't think so, Lex." Awkwardly, he leaned forward and kissed Lex's cheek.

Just a cheek, and that was okay. There was nothing wrong with a peck on the cheek. "Mm." Later that night, Lex guessed, he'd host a full blown session of nightmares for himself, starring his newly -- no, not quite newly -- alien brother as the centerpiece. And that would probably be all it would take for his subconscious to work itself through that mild horror. "You've always had a little of a Jesus complex, Clark. You don't have to try to save the world on your shoulders."

"Saving everybody is incidental, Lex. Except for you," Clark told him, and oh, God, his mouth was puckered up slightly again and his face was way too close to Lex's for comfort.

"Hold on," Lex said firmly, bringing a hand up to put it against Clark's mouth if he had to. "Just hold on. I know... that you're old enough now. And that I said... well, you know what I said. But can't it wait until after I've had a chance to settle back into Smallville again? I think this would be..." Christ, he was going to say it and lightning would strike him. And then Jonathan and Martha would rush upstairs and find Clark, the dog, and a pile of LexAsh.

"This would be easier on Mom and Dad if you didn't act lovesick around me, Clark. There's no reason to be."

"Except that I am," Clark told him. "Tell me no, Lex. Tell me it's hopeless. Tell me you're just my brother, and I won't ever bother you with it again." Old enough to say it, even if he couldn't mean it.

"You're lying to me," Lex murmured back, thoughtful as he reached his other hand to stroke Clark's hair again. "Don't do that, and expect me to be honest with you, too. Don't start moping either. Just listen to me." And he hoped he both had Clark's attention and hoped he didn't. "I do want you."

"Then why did you stay away for so long?" Clark asked him, snuggling into his brother, enjoying the feel of fingers in his hair. "I missed you so much, Lex..."

"I needed to do things for myself, Clark. I needed to make business contacts, and let people know that I wasn't just a Luthor in name." It was so easy to settle like that in the bed, so comfortable... and Mom and Dad were downstairs waiting for him to finish 'showering'. "So cut this lovesick puppy stuff. There's no need for it anymore."

"Because you want what I want?" Clark asked him hopefully. "That is... I mean.. You know."

"I know." Knew it well, better than Clark could, but if he said that, Clark was likely to fly right off the handle. He'd never liked Bruce much once they'd started to date. "Just give me a little time to get used to Smallville again, and... we'll figure something out. But it's good to see you again. I've missed you."

"Will you let me kiss you?" Oh, God. Breathless, sweet. "Chloe kissed me once, but it was just Chloe, Lex." And how could Chloe ever hope to compete with Alexander Joseph Luthor?

"We're both crazy," Lex murmured as he leaned in towards Clark, eyes open as he studied the contours of Clark's face. Older than it had been, more beautiful, a work of sharp lines and golden skin over a smile that had beamed up at him since he'd been just a kid.

Tentatively, Lex pressed his mouth to Clark's -- half expecting lightning to strike him. But it didn't.

It didn't, unless the sharp spark of feeling that spread through him with that simple pressure of lip on lip could be termed lightning. Maybe it was in a way, electric, hot just because it was Clark, and it didn't go very far at all. Just a soft buss of lips, Clark's eyes closed, and then it was done and they were pulling apart slowly.

"Wow," Clark sighed, lashes still lowered. "Okay. Maybe I can wait a little while longer. Not much longer, please, Lex?"

"Not much longer," he confirmed quietly, and pulled away to get to his feet again. "Now, come on. Let's have dinner and play catchup. How've Mom and Dad been? I asked them that, they tell me how you've been, so..."

"Okay, mostly." Clark stood, too, Cocoa staying on the bed to look back and forth between them. "They've been really worried, what with the guy who nearly took the farm and all of the weird stuff going on. I was a little sick for a while, but we figured out that it was the meteor rocks doing it. That upset them a lot. They've been good, lately."

"You guys should've called me about the farm," Lex murmured, glancing at Cocoa. Then he tapped his hip, and called to their dog as he started towards the bedroom door. When he thought Cocoa had a better grasp of the lay of the house, he'd let him wander freely.

"You were so far from home, and Dad didn't want you to worry. He thought he could take care of it, and he did manage, it just... Required a lot of finagling. It's a really long story, Lex," Clark sighed, following along behind him. "I mean, Dad would never sell the farm, and everybody knew it, but... I ended up finding a guy who knew how he'd done it. It was a real mess."

"We've got time for a few long stories, and I'm pretty sure you guys don't want to be bored to death with my stories." Lex walked slowly down the hall, still acquainting himself with the lush architecture and decorum. His desk deserved at least as much attention as his bathroom, and he knew he had a gym somewhere in there.

"Going to let me spend the night?" Clark teased him, shaking his head and giving a little laugh. "It's just so much. I don't know where to start. Have you ever even seen a desiccated corpse? I mean, a woman that was living three days before who's just been sucked dry? I guess that's where most of the weirdness started."

"I've seen some old bats who sucked their husbands dry, but I don't think that's the same thing we're talking about," Lex admitted. "We'll share weirdness, like we always have."

"I've really missed you, Lex," Clark sighed happily as they headed towards the stairs. "It's been weird watching all of this come through town and waiting for you so long."

"I hadn't thought of the weird factor of that, I'll admit. But, hey. I'm already known in town as being a little strange. Might as well run with it." He skimmed his hand back and forth on the polished railing as he walked down the steps, enjoying the atmosphere. Part museum, part very upscale hotel, and all of it was his. Flat out, no loans, nothing.

"Did you know there are secret passages?" Clark asked him. Lex couldn't tell if he was teasing or serious. "I wonder if they were always there or if your designer put them in just to have a little fun?"

"My instructions were that the manor be replicated exactly in terms of structure, so... any 'tunnels' should still be here," Lex said agreeably as he paused in the hallway. The patter of Cocoa catching up with them caught his ears. So quiet in there. He'd have to leave a stereo on all the time or he'd go mad.

"Can you check to see if Mom and Dad are still in the study?"

Clark laughed. "Um. Dad's stretched out asleep on the couch, and Mom is eyeing your Mac. I think she's in love, Lex." His gaze slid over his brother for a moment. "Macophile."

"It's very... shiny," Lex chuckled, and started back slowly to the study. "Would you guys like one? I mean, a new one. The new ones almost fly. And sure they're not as technically fast as PCs, but I like them."

Clark gave him a knowing grin. "YOU like them because you like pretties, Lex. Plus, they have the round mouse. I know. We've got two at the Torch," he said with a nod. He considered the matter. "I think Mom's okay with the PC. If I have the urge to play with a Mac, I'll just come see you. Okay?"

"Okay. Are you sure you don't want something Sony? I couldn't help but pick up a few neat things as I traveled, and I had it all sent back here. I brought gifts for all of you, but they're not wrapped." And he would've preferred to wrap them first, but. He'd see after dinner if he wanted to wrap them or just give them.

Clark paused as they reached the study. "You know we love you even if you don't bring gifts, right, Lex? It's not like we sent you prizes. You were moving so fast that even letters just kind of chased you around and around."

"I know." Lex looked up at Clark -- something else new that he'd have to get used to -- and then he hugged his brother tightly, suddenly, and didn't open the door yet. "But I saw things and I thought of you and Dad and Mom. Little odds and ends that made me think of you, so humor me."

His baby brother laughed and shook his head. "So long as it's not, like... Oh, you know, the deed to the Eiffel Tower or anything, I think we're all good, Lex. Mom will probably make a shadowbox for the living room, you know. 'Things My Son Lex Brought Home From Europe'. But she'll probably title it 'Lextopia' or something really weird."

"Europe and Japan," Lex corrected teasingly, and he pulled away to pull open the study doors again. "Does Mom still put your As up on the fridge?"

"Every last one," Clark agreed, laughing as Martha nearly jumped out of her chair.

"Good heavens, boys! Give a woman more warning than that!" she laughed, one hand up to her heart. "I didn't hear the two of you out there."

"I'll knock first?" Lex offered, and edged towards the sofa to shake Jonathan awake. If Cocoa didn't make noise to give him away first. "Clark was telling me some of the things that've gone on. Sounds like I've missed some fun."

"Oh, goodness. Lots of fun," Martha sighed, shaking his head as Jonathan's snore woke him before Lex's hand could. "Your dad snoring in his chair every night, and swearing that he wasn't sleeping..."

"...and that yes, we do have to keep watching CNN, Clark..."

"...except when the Westerns channel is playing John Wayne," Martha finished with a grin.

"Sounds like the same old same old," Lex smiled a little. He still felt a little... alienated -- hah, funny time to think of that -- a little cut off from his family, but after a year, what could he expect? It would take time to get back into the pace of having them around all the time. "So, has there been anything interesting going on on CNN?"

Clark seemed to seriously consider the matter. "No," he said succinctly, and then grinned as Jonathan sat up, his hair all ruffled in the back, his eyes barely opened.

"There's lots of interesting things on CNN, son. I wasn't sleeping," he protested to Martha.

"Sure you weren't, Dad." Lex perched on the arm of the expensive sofa, and even put a foot on the cushion. "So, who from our government visited Tokyo last week?"

"Er..." Jonathan hedged. "I, uh, must have missed that one."

"Snoring," Clark coughed.

"Sure you did." Lex moved off of the sofa, restless to explore his new environment and to bask in his family again. "You took the food to the kitchen, right, Clark? Did you see any of the staff, or are they all ghosts?"

"I took the food to the kitchens. There was a really nice lady in there I didn't know, but she smiled and told me where to put everything. She said she'd set the table for us," Clark said with a nod. "Do we get a tour after we eat? Can we look for secret passageways?"

"I thought you'd done that already?" Lex winked as he finally carried his restless frame over to the desk again, and sat down in his chair. Comfortable, curved nicely to his back, leaned a little when he sat back, and didn't creak. He could propose marriage to the chair, too. "So what do you all think of this? Past the initial shock, I mean."

"Well... It's a little big, son," Jonathan said. "But I really, really like the couch."

"And I love the stained glass," Martha added. "Is it original to the castle?"

"Every last piece of it." He glanced over to them, and the light that was starting to fade but still gleamed in through them. "There's some more intricate examples of it in other parts of the manor. I shouldn't call it a castle, but it's sort of a hybrid between a manor and a castle. I phased out when the architect was explaining it to me."

"She must have been terribly boring, then," Martha decided. "I've never seen you or Clark give up when something was interesting, heaven knows."

"If it's interesting, they're generally on top of it for days on end," Jonathan agreed. "I'm sure we can find something that would let us know more about it and keep our boys interested. Er... Not that we want to treat you like you're still twelve or anything."

Ah, but they were parents, and they still wanted to at least think of their boys with their best interests at heart.

Lex's mouth twitched upwards as he hooked his laptop into the subtle power supply on the desk. He and Clark would probably always be twelve to their parents. "The architect was a guy, somewhere in his seventies, and I was jet lagged at the time he was so patiently explaining it to me." Not the best mixture if someone was trying to get him to pay attention, but he didn't need to say that. "I believe it's dependent on the size."

"And not the secret passages? Wow. I'm disappointed, Lex," Clark snickered. "Is there a dungeon?"

Martha rolled her eyes. "Yes, probably filled with rats and silverfish just to keep you and Cocoa occupied catching them."

"I want to put a lab down there..." Lex tried to log onto the Luthorcorp network briefly, but. He'd have to set up the network himself, and he wasn't up to it at the moment. "The silverfish, though? You're not joking. I had one greet me in the bathroom. I'm now sure that the bugs in Smallville must be sentient."

"Son, I think the silverfish are just out to get you personally," Jonathan joked, shaking his head. Silverfish always seemed to know where Lex was, and Clark always seemed to come along behind and find them.

Clark had snuck into his bathroom and taken care of that one for him, too. But he didn't need to tell their parents that. "I'm doomed if they ever get into the meteor rocks," he chuckled, and started to shut down his lovely computer. "I'm going to see if the dining room is set yet."

"I'm sure it is," Clark told him. "We could all just go together, Lex. We've really missed you." He was trying hard not to give Lex the puppy eyes that made his brother's heart wobble impatiently.

For the moment, it just made Lex smile as he moved out from behind his desk again, glancing at their parents. "Shall we?"

"Let's go," Martha said with a smile as Jonathan rose from the sofa. "After all, cobbler waits for no man."

"Especially not me," Clark laughed, and they all walked out of the study towards the dinner Martha had made.

Thomas Wolfe had said 'you can't go home again'. And he was right, and he was wrong, and Lex was turning both parts of that thought around in his mind as he laid in his bed.

He was home. He was home in Smallville, but he was home in the old Penthouse where he'd first grown up, where he'd been with Pam and his mother had died, and... so many things. Pam was dead, too, and he'd flown in for her funeral before jetting back out across the world. It felt like he was reclaiming a life he hadn't been consciously aware of ever having left, and there was something tiring about that.

Something tiring about all of it. Maybe too many straight hours on a plane had gotten to his brain -- lack of oxygen? -- and muddled him. At least Jonathan hadn't freaked too badly about some of the gifts he'd brought home. The knickknacks, Dad had liked. The odds and ends, the ugly hand-crafted resin troll he'd picked up in Norway.

The fact that anybody could like that ugly troll was great. Also, very amusing in its own way, and Lex turned over, sprawling out in his giant bed with a sigh that loosened every tense muscle in his body. He was going to marry his bed, first. Love, honor, cherish, all of that good stuff, yeeeees.

The faint sound of a footstep nearly scared him right out of the sheets, the feel of a knee placed on the mattress making him jerk upright. "It's just me, Lex," a voice said quietly.

"Jesus, Clark -- you startled me. Is something wrong?" He shifted on the sea of bed, and pushed pillows back so he could sit up without actually having to use strained back muscles.

"Nothing in particular," Clark admitted, and Lex could see the outline of him as he crawled into the bed. "Just. You're here, and I thought, well, it would be sad to be here all by yourself on your first night home, so Cocoa and I thought we'd come... I guess you'd call it a visit."

"I don't hear Cocoa...?" Probably found a corner to lay in, or a sofa to abuse, and he hoped Cocoa didn't lift a leg on any of the suits of armor. Lex sat up a little more, rubbing at his eyes. "Mom know you're here?"

"Left a note on the kitchen table," Clark said, squirming his way into the bed. "Lay back down. Cocoa went under the bed, but he'll whine to get up when he's ready."

"Right, right... It's so tempting to not get up in the morning. Money can't buy happiness, but it can buy a bed that I want to be buried in." Lex shifted, only a little uneasy, and laid down again, still comfortably sprawled out on the mattress.

"You've gone and promised the bed your hand in matrimony if it will never leave you, haven't you?" Teasing, yes, but Clark knew him altogether too well, and the broad hands that wrapped around him and pulled him close were a little nerve wracking.

Clark wasn't his brother. Clark wasn't even human. Did that make it bestiality instead of incest? Only Lex had the feeling that humans would be the beasts compared to... whatever it was that his brother was. "That was the plan. All I expect is eternal firmness, and..."

"Hey, Clark? Just a warning but I'm sleeping nude."

"So maybe I should be the one expecting eternal firmness?" Clark asked him with a snicker. There were pajama pants, yes, and cold feet, those, too, but bare chest. God. Clark. Bare. Chest.

Now Clark could expect firmness. Lex closed his eyes tightly for a moment, then twisted in his brother's loose grasp, pressing him down on the mattress. Bare chest, with muscles that were laid out just perfectly under Lex's fingers. "Maybe."

"Oh," Clark whispered. He seemed a little surprised, but not unpleasantly so. "Maybe I'd like that."

"Would you? Are you sure you would, or are you just saying it?" He looked down at his brother in the faint light that came in through the windows. No, not brother. Damn, he needed to stop doing that to himself.

"Considering some of the dreams I've had about you? I'd say it's pretty definite, Lex," Clark murmured, rocking up slightly to show him that it was a certainty.

Lex had been the one to stress to Clark when he'd been little that it was always better to show something than tell it, because there were benefits to be had from drawing one's own conclusion. There was only one conclusion to be drawn from an erection that rubbed cloth up against his bare hip. "Why? I'm your brother, Clark, and you could have anyone..."

"Why would I want anyone else?" Clark asked, rocking slightly to enhance the feel of Lex against him. It was a question that didn't seem to have any answer. "You're smart and beautiful and it doesn't bother you that I'm a freak. You're my everything. You've always been my everything. Now, it's just a little more so."

"Mom and Dad shouldn't have let us sleep together all of those years," Lex sighed, shifting to properly kneel over Clark, his knees on either side of Clark's thighs. "I still remember the trauma of you catching me masturbating."

"Didn't stop you from doing it," Clark reminded him, arms looping low on his waist, pressing their bodies tightly together. "I used to stay awake and listen. Wait. Hope to hear you..."

"Why?" Again, why. He just had to know, had to make himself understand somehow why things had turned out the way they did. Clark wasn't chasing girls, no, he'd been chasing his older brother, and was that his fault or just something that was built into what Clark was?

"Don't you know, Lex?" Simple question. The hardest kind of all. "I've loved you ever since I can remember. Always."

"If I ask 'why' again, I think you'll hit me." Lex's teasing voice was strained as he leaned down to Clark's mouth, almost kissing him. Almost. For the moment, the slow puffs of breath against his mouth were enough. "I do love you. I've wanted to do this for years."

"Then do it." God. So close. It was torture, but it was a good torture after so long. "Kiss me. Fuck me. Do whatever you want with me, Lex, I'll never hit you or leave you or abandon you."

Like Bruce had, and Lex could almost hear that riding beneath Clark's words. But Bruce hadn't abandoned him, they'd merely drifted in separate directions.

Loudly.

"I don't want to do too much at once," Lex whispered, leaning down for a slow soft kiss. "It makes it hard to digest."

Clark let out a sigh against his mouth, lips clinging faintly against Lex's even when he spoke. "Whatever you want." The motion tickled, teased, and the faint pressure of Clark pushing against him made it even better somehow.

It would've been too easy to just give in and let Clark fumble through things, because every little touch felt perfect. But he had the experience, with both men and women, and he was older. Lex wasn't going to just let Clark's insistence mow him over. "We'll see how things develop. You deserve a chance to explore and learn instead of being instructed. Makes all the difference in the world..."

Clinging lips gained themselves another kiss, and Lex pulled far enough back to look at Clark's face as he stroked a hand through his hair.

"All I want is you," Clark whispered, so earnest it almost hurt. Still, he wasn't demanding more, just rubbing faintly against Lex as if that was enough for now. Maybe it was, considering how long they had both waited.

They had waited so long, so long that it was a wonder that Clark didn't just pop, or Lex didn't just freak and pass out. Lex chuckled a little, nuzzling against Clark's cheek. "So you've only ever kissed Chloe before? How was it?"

"She snuck up on me behind the gym and stuck her tongue in my mouth last year! It was..." The little shudder Clark gave felt really good. "It was really kind of weird and squirmy," he decided.

"Does that mean you're not amiable to the idea?" Lex let his eyes close lazily, turned his head a little to brush lip to lip with his brother again. The slow rubbing of body against body, the almost touching of their chests -- stopped only by Lex's tense arms holding him above Clark -- should've been maddeningly distracting.

"Only if it's not Chloe," Clark whined, head dropping back slightly. "Oh. Lex. If you, if you keep it, keep doing that..." Just the faint brush and rub was almost enough for Clark.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Lex purred, letting his voice drop low and soft. Clark's head looked so pretty on the fabric of his pillowcase, deep violet framing black hair and warm tanned skin. He brushed lip to lip with Clark's mouth again, then snuck his tongue out to track over Clark's smooth bottom lip.

It drew a faint gasp from his brother's lips, made him tremble and rock up against him. "Lex. Oh. Love you, Lex, love you, Lex," Clark managed to murmur, finally allowing his mouth to part. His own tongue slid out tentatively, and touched, just barely. "Mmm."

Just barely, and a twisted part of Lex wanted to see what Clark's tongue looked like. He knew, but watching Clark lick stamps with a curious pink tongue, or ice-cream, was different than sex. Or it had been until he'd let that thought wander into his mind.

"Just like that," Lex coaxed, and pressed again, his own mouth loose and relaxed as he slid his tongue searchingly over Clark's lips. It was almost as maddening as the scrape of fabric against his erection.

The words gained him more access, Clark opening to him freely, back arching as if to press himself more tightly against Lex, as if nothing could be so good as touching him. Hands moved up, hovered over Lex's hips. He could almost feel Clark reaching for him, even though they didn't clutch.

They should've clutched. It would've been better if they had, but he understood that Clark was being careful and... later he'd work that problem out of his little brother. Later. It was all so tender, and even when Clark arched against him he still kept his hands in Clark's hair, guiding the kiss gently as he stroked his tongue against Clark's, sucked at the full lower lip that had been pouting at him for years.

"Lex..." His name was a fragile sort of whine that fell between their mouths, and he knew Clark was close just from what they'd been doing. He was too inexperienced, and too on edge.

All the more reason to not push it farther than what they were already doing. Sex with a best friend required a certain amount of mindfulness. Sex with a best friend who was family and everything else required a hell of a lot more mindfulness.

But it was worth it. Lex rocked his hips just a little firmer, a fraction faster, and broke the kiss to mouth and suck along the edge of Clark's strong jaw. "C'mon... it feel so good, doesn't it? Like you're going to explode all over."

"Le-ex." Broken sound, disjointed name, cracked whimper as Clark shuddered on edge. His hands balled into fists and came to lay ever so carefully at the small of Lex's back, his head tilting up as a shiver rippled through him. "Lex."

There wasn't the feel of wet against his skin that Lex was used to as a cue. He kept rubbing and pressing bare skin against pajama pants, and finally felt the seeping damp that Clark had left on them, and slowed. He'd take care of it himself. Or something creative. Or pretend he wasn't still hard. Bruce had done that for him a few times, and it was good to do for the inexperienced and overwhelmed.

"Easy..." Lex kissed slowly at the underside of Clark's chin, still breathing a little hard. "You're so beautiful. It figures that you're not from around here."

"Love you, Lex." So dazed, so sweetly pleased and sleepy. "Love you, love you. Oh. So good." No, not from around here by any means, but obviously all higher functions were shut off when it came time for orgasm. "Lex." And then a word, one of those words from when Clark had barely been more than a big toddler, one he probably didn't even understand anymore.

Alien tongues. Lex shifted to lay beside Clark and against him. He'd have to wonder at that, and the idea that there was a pod, and everything else later. Once he'd done some work at the plant and gotten it turned around. But that would start the next day, and for the moment, Lex was well awake.

It was so nice to just idle against a lover, stroking exploring fingers over Clark's stomach and chest. "Here. Let me help you get your pants off before they dry. Rest a while."

"Kiss me again," Clark pleaded, squirming to raise his hips slightly as Lex's hands skimmed down, pushing away the soft cotton flannel. "Kiss me again, and let me..." A hand trailed over Lex's own thigh, teasing its way towards his cock.

Lex groaned a little, but leaned in towards Clark's pleading lips. "Are you sure? If you don't want to, Clark, I can finish it off..."

Whispered reassurance danced across Lex's lips. "I want to. I've wanted to since the first time I heard you doing it for yourself." Oh, and that broad hand closed around him and stroked, tugging in the best way, just the way Lex liked it.

And it was even better because it wasn't Lex's hand. It was Clark's fingers, strong and oddly not-callused, his huge hands that could still move delicately enough to make Lex moan desperately and rock into him. "Ohh, that feels so much better..."

"Yeah," Clark whispered against his ear, pressing kisses over the faint ridge of skull there. "Oh, yeah. Lex. You're so soft and so hard and so different..." Different because Clark didn't pay any attention to what other boys had, just Lex, and they weren't the same.

And wow, his brother's sex babble needed a translator. But what Clark's hand was saying was all perfectly straightforward, the way he palmed Lex's tight balls more than enough to start pushing him right towards the edge. "There, there, almost...!" Lex twisted his hips sharply, trying to get the perfect touch rub squeeze that Clark was almost giving.

There, it was right there, and Lex was coming, oh, fuck, yes, coming and pushing against Clark and Clark was cupping his palm and catching jizz in it and licking it away by the time that Lex opened his eyes, hazy and fuzzy with pleasure. That somehow made it all even better, and a little weird, too.

He stretched against Clark, feeling sated, and oddly cat-like as he shifted a hand up to stroke through Clark's hair again. "Yeah... this was worth waiting for."

"Think you can sleep?" It was obvious that Clark was on the verge of dozing himself, and a faint scrabble at the bed announced that Cocoa was ready to climb up and wiggle between them.

"Now I can." And they hadn't done that in years, slept curled close against each other. Not since Lex had gone off to college, and six years had wrought some wonderful changes in Clark. He shifted, and slipped a leg between Clark's, pushed pajama bottoms a little further down.

There was no way that the dog was going to get between them.

"When do you have to be home?"

"Gather eggs," Clark muttered, and it passed for an answer. In time for chores, then, which meant he'd probably need to get out of bed when Lex did because... Well, it was Clark. Chores didn't take long for him.

The alarm was already set for half to six, which would be plenty of time. Time for Lex to make love to his shower fixtures, and get a good breakfast, and be awake, and hopefully ready to face the citizens of Smallville again.

It was good that he wasn't coming home to the same one he'd left, because if he had, Clark definitely wouldn't be in his bed muttering sleepily to himself.

A 'yuff' of air announced Cocoa's presence on the bed, and he chose the last space just behind Lex's legs, curling up there and dropping his head onto Lex's thigh warmly.

Lex didn't like the LuthorCorp logo much. It was blocky and pretentious and not something that he personally would have chosen. Still, it was his, just as much as the plant was, and he parked his Porsche out front before slithering out of it to stand and eye the place momentarily.

Smallville. Home. And his business.

Proving grounds, more than anything else.

He owned more than that one plant, but he had to prove himself first. Prove to those bastards that Lex Luthor was just as good a leader as the last generation of Luthors. So he stood a moment more, surveying the details of the building, and finally the entrance. There was the front entrance, and then there was the winding back entrance... Oh yes. They knew he was coming, but he didn't have to make a grand entrance.

It would be so much better to just stroll in and surprise all of them, anyway.

With a little smile, Lex headed towards the back entrance, hands in his jacket pockets. It had been a nice morning so far. The alarm had gone off, Cocoa had tried to get under the covers, and Clark had rolled over and mumbled something about toast and five more minutes.

Lex had shoved him out of the bed.

Clark had floated.

It definitely seemed to be random, and when Clark did wake up, he fell with a resounding thud to the floor. But he'd been all right, and Lex had basked in the oddity of it all. Sleeping with Clark again, and kissing him, and the floating.

He had to wonder how much time he had before their parents realized something was 'up'. Or maybe they'd just turn a blind eye towards it. Maybe...

He was still relaxed, and hunched a little more comfortably into his jacket as he started down the sloped back entrance into the plant. If he recalled the floor-plans properly, it would take him right into the loading dock, and the manager's office was off of the loading dock.

Gabe Sullivan was Chloe's father. He'd do his best not to immediately demand that the man have her spayed, because no one was allowed to kiss Clark but Lex. Hm, had he been that possessive of Bruce? Maybe, while they were together. He hadn't cared who'd kissed Bruce before, or at least not as much.

Of course, he hadn't asked. Bruce had been the same age as him, but he was older, better schooled in those things while Lex had laid into his books heavily and helped on the farm before he'd gone to college. Maybe Bruce was that obsessive of him.

Maybe that was how normally intense relationships went.

Not going to have the Sullivan girls spayed, going to raise productivity by cutting overhead, keep morale high, he could do it. Lex skirted the edge of the dock, scanning over the workers there. There wasn't much of a dress code in effect there, but why did there need to be? The 'questionable' CEO had suggested that as an option, but Lex saw it as glossing over the important things.

How the hell was making a worker pay for specific work-clothes, new and out of pocket, going to increase production? The man was, as Lex was fond of telling people, like something archaic and fresh-cut from a Dilbert Cartoon.

Conversation caught the edge of his hearing from somewhere close by, a voice that seemed almost familiar. "...Luthor kid back again," a voice murmured worriedly. "We shouldn't have ever strung him up like that. Told you he was pitiful."

"Oh, fuck all," someone answered. "He's just a bald freak. He ain't even gonna remember you, so don't worry about it."

Lex loved being underestimated by people. If only people would underestimate him more often, he would've had even more chances to show them up. He veered his surveying walk a little, to circle back behind the men who were either not on the clock yet, or lolling around before the work-day got hectic. Bad, cheap coffee had a sort-of familiar smell from too many nights in the lab in college and pure desperation driving him to drink... what was it? Folgers or Maxwell House.

Nasty stuff.

"Good morning," he greeted them flatly, smiling like a shark as he stood there with his hands tucked into his trouser pockets. Pathetic seven or so years ago, yes -- pathetic any longer? No. "Have you seen your manager this morning?"

It was easy to recognize both of them -- Billy Farrell and Chad Roberts. The latter was the one who'd voiced doubts, the only one who'd had the least compunction about leaving him there. He was the one who'd cracked beneath the sheriff's words and cried when they'd shown him pictures of what they'd done. Lex could almost feel sorry for him.

Okay. Not really.

"He ain't down here," Billy grunted even as Chad faded back a little.

"I think I seen him going into his office a while back," came the tentative declaration. "'s over there."

"Thanks." Vague, and not quite as sincere a thanks as he would've given someone who was a perfect stranger. Clark had been right -- he didn't have to do anything to them, just by virtue of comparing their lives. He was happy, accomplished and growing more so, and they... they were losers, just like he'd guessed they would be.

Losers who worked for him. "Your lunch break is going to start a little sooner today. There are going to be changes announced for this plant, starting today. Pass the word on to your co-workers if you can -- it'll speed things along."

"Yes, sir," Chad said softly, still melting back from him. Farrell looked as if he'd like to knock his teeth down his throat, which only made the urge to smirk worse.

Life was so good to Lex Luthor.

"Have a good day." The best part was that he was taking the moral high ground when he walked past them, not having acknowledged that he still knew who they were. He didn't have to gloat or threaten them.

For a man faced with the grim task of raising a plant out of its own mire, Lex was surprisingly mellow and pleased when he knocked on Gabe Sullivan's office door.

"Come in," a voice bade him, and he did, opening the door and walking in easily enough. The man looked up and smiled at him, something people in Metropolis did only nervously. Gabe Sullivan knew the Kents, though, and undoubtedly that made a difference. "Mr. Luthor! It's good to see you. I wasn't expecting you just yet..."

"Why not? It's eight a.m. The plant's been open for an hour." Lex invited himself to sit down in the chair across from Gabe's desk, and settled back. "Not that I could actually tell that when I walked the floors out there."

The way that his manager's shoulders slumped said a lot. "May I be completely honest with you?"

"I'd prefer if you were," Lex goaded firmly. No, he wasn't going o hear good news from Gabe's mouth, but the Smallville Plant had a problem to solve.

"Morale's low. There are a few troublemakers who cause a lot of difficulties and the foremen pay more attention to them than they do to me. I'm from Metropolis originally, so I guess they think it's okay to ignore the city guy," Gabe started. "The guy that was managing up until last year was completely incompetent and the accounting department couldn't make it to twenty without pulling off their shoes. I've managed to hire a few people who are qualified, but... There's been a lot of resistance from the head office, Mr. Luthor. They'd rather cash out than get things right."

"I want names," Lex decided. "Right now. No one is going to just 'cash in' anymore. They're wasting my company, my property, and they're going to find themselves either working with us, or unemployed."

That seemed to please Gabe immensely. "I have a file worked up with all of the people who've been reprimanded often enough to be outright fired. I have another full of folks who are close, and another with people who'll do better if they're given proper motivation."

Lex arched an eyebrow at Gabe, then cleared his throat and leaned forwards ever so slightly. "I'm glad you're organized, but is there any particular reason why you've just been sitting on that information?"

"Because the Metropolis office refused to allow me to do anything with it," Gabe answered grimly.

"God dammit." And Lex had told himself that he wasn't going to let anything spark him into a fury, but he let that snarl slip free. "This... THAT is why that showboating idiot of a CEO needs to go. Christ. I'll call an investor meeting in three months, Gabe, and you're going to be there with your notes. You have it documented every time you've tried to contact the Metropolis office?"

Gabe seemed a little smug as he pulled out a folder that was nearly as fat as the first one he'd shown. "Religiously," he noted. Obviously Chloe had gotten her urge for documentation honest.

"You're just the kind of worker I love to deal with," Lex decided in a near purr as he reached for that folder. "Give me the names of workers who need to be fired. We'll start there."

"With any luck, I've ruined you for all others who might come after me," Gabe declared dramatically, and laid the folder in Lex's hands.

Laid the best opportunity to grasp at his future right into Lex's hands. He already had a rousing, ominous speech ready in his head, and as he started to go over the hard numbers and the cold reality that the plant faced, he tweaked it, morphed it little by little.

Lex wasn't going to let Smallville collapse from lack of industry, and he wasn't going to let people run things that belonged to him any longer.

"Clark. Hey. Earth to Clark. Mars must be really nice this time of year," Pete observed to Chloe with a sigh.

Chloe eyed Clark for a moment, skeptical. "It must be filled with bare-breasted hula girls from all the space Clark's in," she grumbled. "He got called on three times in Geometry and never even knew it."

"Clark, man..." Pete punched him playfully in the arm, his last resort. "Clark! Hey, hi, how's the weather on Mars?"

"Huh?" Clark asked, shaken out of his reverie. "What, Mars? What are you talking about?"

"We're talking about all that deep space you've been dawdling in today, Clark. Christ," Chloe snorted, "I'd almost think you got laid or something."

"Oh-ho..." Pete smirked brightly at Chloe as they walked down the sidewalk. With Clark semi-coherent, but following them doggedly, they'd decided that it was a good day to hang out downtown. "Maybe he did."

"What? No!" Clark blurted, embarrassed. He could feel the heat rising in his face, his eyes becoming huge in his face. It was the worst denial he'd ever given in his life.

"Oh. My. GOD," Chloe said, stopping dead in her tracks. "You DID! You DID get laid!"

"No!" Clark denied again, but it didn't do much good when his face was burning brighter than the traffic light just down the way.

"Oh, oh, man!" And no matter how many times Pete talked about first base, second base, third base, striking out, batting foul, and whiffing the air with his bat, he was probably still a virgin. And too gleeful that one of his friends just might just have joined the elite 'non-virgins' of Smallville High. "Who, Clark? C'mon, spill it! Or we'll make you say it when we get to the Beanery."

"Nobody! You're taking it all wrong!" Clark groaned, blushing even more brightly. "Come on, guys. Stop teasing! I swear, I'm not... YOU know!"

Well, they hadn't gone ALL The way. Just a little rub and push. Yeah.

"Then why are you out in left field, space cadet?" Chloe chided.

"Maybe you might get laid...?" Pete had a one-track mind, like a dog on the hunt when he thought he had a scrap of something. "Or just, I don't know, a date?"

Clark's eyes rolled and he shook his head. "Lex is home, you morons," he groaned. "I'm just. You know. Excited."

"Ohhh, LEX Is home." Chloe gave Pete a LOOK. "We're going to be abandoned. Especially now that his brother has moved into that big pile of rocks."

"Man, I thought it was something exciting," Pete sighed, and prodded Clark again as they trudged alone. "But nope. Nope, it's just Weirdo Clark and his weirdo brother. You're not going to just disappear now that he's back in down?"

Clark had the sense to look at least a little guilty. "Well, I've really missed him. I mean, he's been gone five whole years and he just came home on weekends..."

"I swear, that's unhealthy," Chloe mourned.

"Yeah," Clark continued obliviously. "He should have come home more!"

"Chloe, unhealthy is the sheer... Cleaverness of the Kent family some days. They never argued like I have to do with my siblings" -- and now Pete started to tick his points off on his fingers -- "they always did their chores before having friends over, or going over to a friend's; and for a couple of years, I was willing to bet that they were some time-delayed set of siamese twins."

That drew an outright snicker from the blond. "Well, this IS Smallville," she suggested slyly.

"Everybody's a comedian," Clark grumbled. "Speaking of chores, I need to head home anyway. Dad's gotten used to having someone else gather the eggs," he admitted with a wry little smile.

"Oh, c'mon Clark -- you don't want me to tell Chloe about how your brother used to swear the chickens bit? Man, Chloe, have you ever seen a chicken with teeth?" Pete snickered. "Do you have to go right home?"

"Yes. Otherwise, Dad'll sic the biting chickens on Lex when he gets home, and I'd just as soon let him deal with slopping the pigs if I have a choice," Clark decided. Not that he'd let Lex do that, but there was no reason to admit that.

"The things I don't need to know about Dad's new boss," Chloe remarked.

"What? You mean he's not just in town to be rich and freakish? Hey, Clark, hold your presses -- why didn't you tell me that your brother was actually going to be doing something?"

"Because you just said he was in town being rich and freakish?" Clark's glare was damned near deadly, and his pout was at least that bad.

"Clark..." Pete sighed, and scuffed the sidewalk with his shoe. "You know what I meant. Like his friend, the guy who used to come visit over the holidays? Bruce something? Just sort of had money, never seemed the kind of guy to bother working."

"Yeah, well, Bruce isn't Lex. I think he's off learning something in Japan right now, actually. He's probably one of those people who'll spend their whole life studying something, I guess," Clark decided. "But Lex wants to put things to use. You know. DO something."

"A side effect of being raised by the Kents," Chloe decided most solemnly.

"Not that that's a bad thing, since Clark's got a great work ethic when he's not off in la-la land. Is this going to be a permanent change, Clark? You could do a story on it, Chloe -- Family Reunion Lobotomizes Smallville Teen?"

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Going home now. To biting chickens," Clark announced.

"We'll see you tomorrow," Chloe told him, smiling brightly.

"I'll update Chloe on your brother for you so you can dodge twenty questions -- see you later, Clark!" Pete waved to his friend as he started to pull away from them.

"That boy's got his head so far in the clouds today it's a wonder he hasn't tripped over paper yet," Chloe sighed as Clark hurried away from him. "Does his brother always affect him like this?"

Pete started to walk again, but sighed and nodded to Chloe. "Always. You didn't move here until Lex had gone off to college, and you missed a lot of the 'fun' stuff."

The look Chloe slanted him was distinctly suspicious. "Define 'fun' for me, Pete."

"It's kind of hard to describe. Clark's been my best friend since kindergarten, you know? I remember it well. I had Ninja Turtles, on the bus, and across from me was Clark -- didn't know him at the time -- and this other kid who looked like he was right out of those... A Make-A-Wish Foundation commercial. Big ball cap on his head, slouched down. He and Clark were almost always holding hands then, one of them dragging the other somewhere." Pete veered a little, heading for the door of the beanery. "And man, you're just going to get random regurgitation out of me. Ask specific questions, there's so much weirdness that fights for space out of my head."

"They dragged each other around holding hands? That's... actually sweet in a bizarre, Kent-esque kind of way," Chloe decided. "Let's go on to the Beanery. You can tell me all about it."

"Don't forget Bruce, too. Lex is, you know, that way, and he had a long-time boyfriend, I guess, and Clark hated the guy's guts... Nose wrinkles up every time the guy gets mentioned..." Pete was a pit of information, just ready for Chloe to poke at.

Chloe was certainly ready to give Pete a few pokes.

"Mom!" Clark yelled, dropping his bookbag by the door. "I'm home! I'm going out to get the eggs, okay!?"

"Your father already did them, Clark," Martha called back to him from the living room. It smelled like there was dinner in the oven, and his mom had her personal accounting notebooks out for glancing over, and a well chewed ballpoint pen to go with them. "Why don't you come and sit down for a moment, honey?"

Hm. Come and sit. That either meant that his mom had been lonely all day or that she wanted to talk to him about something serious. Clark hoped it wasn't about him going to stay with Lex last night. "Sure thing, Mom. Hey, are there cookies?" He scrounged for a glass for milk, so that she wouldn't fuss at him for drinking from the jug.

"There should be some in the tin on the shelf, if you haven't eaten them all already." Lonely was always an option, if Clark wanted to hold out and be hopeful. His mother had her feet tucked up under her, and she looked a little tired and bored the way she always did after double-checking everything.

"The white chocolate ones?" he asked, rummaging for them. Oh, yeah, there were still some left. Mmmm. Cookies.

"If you're going to keep eating them like that, I'm going to have to send you down to the store to get more chips, Clark," she warned him. "Those were the last from that bag."

"If it means more cookies..." Clark trailed off, kissed her cheek as he settled down beside her with his snack. He was hungry, but he'd already had a lot of Nekot cookies at the Torch. Three packs, actually. "Dad's been busy, I guess, if he's already got the eggs. Need 'em washed?"

"Of course, but finish your snack first. Are you in a hurry...?" That was teasing, but Clark could read a little probing under it. Gentle probing, but definitely there and directed at him.

"I have some homework, and Lex is coming over for dinner. He's missed your cooking," Clark answered indirectly.

"He's coming home later," Martha pointed out gently to Clark. "Something about wanting to firebomb the plant, but doing the next best thing." She shifted, twisting to look at him more intently. "Clark. I know you're happy that your brother is home..."

Ooo. Trepidation made Clark quiver just a little. It was never good when your mom started out with sentences like that. "Well, he's been gone for a long time..." he hedged.

"I know. And I know the two of you were always close, however. I just want you to remember that things and people change with time." And she was giving him the mom-eye, the one that was subtly ordering him to spill the beans.

The one that Lex seemed to have no resistance at all to.

Clark was not Lex. But then, Lex had always been something of a momma's boy, and Clark had always really been closer to their dad. "Yes, ma'am. He's still Lex. It'll be all right, Mom."

"And..." And there she hesitated a little. "And there's certain expectations of behavior for people, Clark, as they get older."

What was that supposed to mean? "Er... Mom?" he asked, frowning. "I don't understand?"

"I know, sweetie -- that's part of the problem. The note you left for me last night? 'Gone to sleep with Lex - think he needs company.'"

"He did need company," Clark declared, frowning. "I took Cocoa and he hasn't been so happy in years. Cocoa, I mean. Lex, too, I guess, and me. I've really missed him," he finished with wistful tone.

"Clark, that's just part of the problem," she said coaxingly, still frowning at him. "You and your brother are far too old to be sleeping together any longer. Far too old."

The steady rise of color in his face told her that he understood, that he possibly more than understood. "Mom..." Oh, he so didn't want to talk about this with his mother. Lex was the one who could make Mom understand these things, not him. "Ah. Urm. I think I'll go find Dad."

"Oh, no, young man," Martha protested, eyebrows drawn together. "You're going to stay sitting down and we're going to finish our talk."

"Mo~om." Clark moaned, putting his head on the table. "I can't talk about this with you. I can talk about this with Dad. Lex is the one who can talk about things like this with you."

"All right, then I'm asking your brother about it. But I want you to go find your father right now, because he has the same questions that I've been trying to ask you." She looked... angry, maybe tired, mostly worried as she reached to pet his back soothingly for a moment. "We love you, honey. No matter what."

No matter that he was sleeping with his brother?

"I know." And he did know, he did. They loved him despite everything, despite the fact that he was alien, despite the fact that he drew trouble the way flames drew moths. "I'll go find Dad right now. I promise."

"Okay -- take your snack with you, though!" Waste not, want not, but Martha didn't say it -- she smiled it as she sat back, still almost touching him. "Go on."

He paused as he stood, looking at her seriously. "You know I really love you, right, Mom?"

"I know." It was in her eyes, in the curve of her mouth as she looked up at him. "I love you, too, Clark."

A quick kiss to Martha's cheek and he escaped, running out the back door and into the barn. It was a relief to get away from his mother when she was asking questions like that, because he couldn't answer them. Not to his MOM. "Dad?"

It was funny how Lex worked the other way around. He'd always been good at avoiding answering questions like that to Dad, in favor of talking to Mom. At least that way both parents got equal opportunity to stress and freak out over their boys.

"Up in the loft, Clark -- you've got a loose floorboard here."

It was a quick enough trip, even at a normal human speed. Clark's milk and cookies were safer if he didn't hurry, and so long as he wasn't escaping from his mom, that wasn't necessary. "It's not too bad, is it?"

"Nah, just needs to be hammered down again." He had the hammer, and the nails were already tidily positioned. "C'mere son. I kind of noticed that you weren't at home last night. Going to tell me what that's about?" And he sounded a little worried, because sometimes Clark did go out late at night when there was a problem with the local 'wildlife'.

"Cocoa and I went to stay at Lex's. He's back, and I've really missed him. Think I upset Mom some with my note, though," Clark admitted, flopping down beside Jonathan.

Jonathan twisted a little to better look at Clark, still comfortably sitting on the floor. "You have to admit that it doesn't read very well, Clark." He had a different sort of knowing gaze than Martha did, quieter and trying to read at motives instead of the actions themselves. "I know you and Lex have always been close."

"I love him," Clark answered simply, and for Jonathan, maybe that was enough. "I've always loved him. Just Lex. I mean, you and Mom, too, but not that way. You're you and Mom. Lex is different."

Jonathan nodded a little, and didn't answer Clark as he turned back to re-securing the old floorboard. Once he'd pounded two nails in precise place, he gave his attention back to Clark, words apparently gathered. "Have you always... loved him like that, Clark?"

"Maybe." Clark paused, took a deep breath. "There's something about Lex. Something different. Something special. It's... Okay, this is corny, but it's like there's a connection there that's always been. He's so much of everything, Dad. I know that it's probably not what either of you would choose, but Lex has my heart. He's got my secrets. I don't know that there ever could be anyone else."

And Jonathan watched him while he talked. Watched and listened, and didn't have an answer for him right away. "Your mother and I have always wanted you to have a normal life, Clark. But we really want you to be happy. And if you're happy..." Jonathan trailed off, clearing his throat. "It's always been hard on Lex, you know. He's more... attuned to social expectations than you are, son."

"Because he had parents before you," Clark agreed, reaching for a nail and carefully pushing it through the board with his thumb. It was easier for both of them that way. "I know. Sometimes, I worry about him because of it. I think it will be okay, maybe. When I'm older. When we're not in Smallville anymore, maybe. Not that I want to leave you," he hurried to admit. "Just, I think it's inevitable that we'll both leave here someday. I think we can keep it quiet until then. As long as Lex wants me to. Just, I couldn't keep it from you."

"That's okay, son. I appreciate your honesty." Jonathan looked at the board Clark had just 'hammered', and shook his head a little, smiling. "Your mother and I both expect you to go on and do great things. Things that don't necessarily involve a farm, but I hope you take the things you learned here with you when you do leave the nest." And as he started to get to his feet, gathering up his hammer and the extra nails, did his eyes look just a little misty?

"I won't ever leave you behind, Dad." Either of them. Both of them. "Neither of us would. We love you too much for that."

Jonathan clucked at him a little, and he dashed a hand across his eyes like there was dust in the air. "I know, son. And that's why it's important that you're all happy. Jut... don't leave any more notes about 'going over to sleep with' your brother? I think your mother nearly had a coronary when she got up this morning. Not quite as bad as the time he got into the whiskey, but you know what I mean, Clark."

"I'll, uh, try to be more circumspect," Clark mumbled. "Spend the night may be a better sort of terminology, huh?" He so wasn't going to talk about sex with Lex with his dad.

But his dad was probably going to inch around it cautiously. "Probably. And you, ah, know about safe sex, right? And condoms?"

Now they were both blushing. "Yeah. And if I didn't, I figure Lex probably would."

"Right." Jonathan leaned in, and patted his back briefly before heading to the stairs. "I'm glad you told me, son. I'll leave you alone to finish your snack and homework. Your mother will call you for dinner."

"Thanks, Dad." God, Clark loved his dad. He was the best. "You need any help with anything?"

Jonathan paused, and smirked at him a little. "Well, if you're willing to go lay down some extra hay..."

"Yes, sir. I can do that," Clark laughed, and he was gone, and everything was all right with them.

The sun was starting to drift low in the sky when Lex finally left the plant and sped back to the farm. He was tired, drained, and headachy, but he'd made his speech and it had gone as well as he could've expected.

Then he'd personally handed out some rather hastily prepared pink slips. Two week notice, termination for documented offenses. Others were given vague warnings that if they continued their behavior, they could find employment elsewhere because they were being watched. And the rest, Lex made an effort to personally talk to, in clusters or otherwise. The good employees deserved to be told they were good, and assured that the people fired would be replaced, so their workload wouldn't go up.

It had been wearing to spend the better part of a day swinging between snarling at people, growling at them, and smiling and patting them on the back. LuthorCorp employed over two thousand people at the plant. Lex had probably personally spoken to at least half of them, and his throat was raw from giving different variations of the same assuring words over and over and over.

But a couple of people had waved to him on his way back to his car, and his car had actually started up, two facts that had made the day perk up. LuthorCorp was getting its sense of direction and destiny back.

Some days he wished his father was still alive, his mother was still alive. If they'd been alive, the company wouldn't be faltering so badly. Then again, he wouldn't have met his family. Martha and Jonathan and Clark, and they were why he'd driven back to the farm instead of the manor. Home.

Lex parked his car beside the old truck, and slipped out of it with a sense of relief. There were absolutely no worried employees to accost him.

There was, on the other hand, one hot, sweaty Clark, full of smiles and quick kisses as he appeared out of nowhere. "Mom's going to corner you. Got to go finish with the hay. Hiding from her. Talked to Dad. Bye."

And gone again, leaving just the salty scent of Clark behind, and one very startled brother.

Clark was hiding from Mom, and... she was going to corner him? Lex licked his lips, and glanced shakily around for a moment -- but there wasn't even evidence that Clark had been there.

He should've been courteous enough to leave a dust-cloud or something.

"Lex? Sweetheart? Is that you?" Martha called out of the kitchen screen door, wiping her hands on a towel. "Ah, there you are. There's coffee inside if you want some before dinner. I've got chicken pot pie cooking..."

It wasn't hard to mingle feeling shaken and looking tired into one expression, and Lex knew he probably carried the whole mess of emotions well as he opened the familiar screen door. "Thanks. How was your day?"

"Oh, busy. You know how things are with Clark in school," Martha told him, turning to pour him a cup of coffee. "It's a farm. There's always something to do. He's gotten so strong lately that he does the work of the usual two farm hands, so that's something of a relief."

"Those orders you get from Metropolis help, right?" Lex slipped his suit jacket off, and draped it casually over the back of his chair. It was hard to remember just how much he'd missed being able to sit in the chair that was his, to be in the mostly unchanged house again.

"Greatly, sweetheart." A kiss was dropped against his cheek as Martha sat down his coffee and moved to the refrigerator to pull out a carton of Lex's favorite flavored creamer. "How was your day? Everything go the way you'd hoped?"

It was as if time had stopped in Smallville during the time he hadn't lived there. "Yes and no," he told her honestly, and she could tell by the hoarseness of voice that he had. "The plant was in worse shape than I'd hoped."

"Want to tell me about it after you've had a little time to let your throat rest? I promise I won't ask any of the questions I have until you can at least talk to me," his mom assured.

"I can talk," he assured, and twisted to gently take the creamer from her. "As long as I don't have to assure you that the plant isn't closing and you're a good employee and you're not going to suffer actual cutbacks, I'm up to talking."

"I don't think you have to reassure me about any of that," Martha decided, sitting down across from him with her own cup of coffee. "But I might need some reassurance about whatever's going on between you and Clark, sweetheart."

"Ah." Trap laid with good creamer, coffee, and the promise of comfort, and Lex had leapt right into it. Martha hadn't lost her touch. "I'm not sure what there is to reassure, Mom."

Martha shook her head. When had those red strands gotten so light? "I don't need reassurance, sweetheart. I just really want you to be straight with me about it. Clark turned almost purple and refused to say anything about it. In fact, he ran for your dad the first opportunity I gave him."

"I'm not surprised..." The little chicken. Lex cradled his cup in both hands, and lifted his head, but couldn't quite meet her eyes. "He's in love with me."

"I wouldn't exactly call that news, Lex." His mom seemed so calm considering the situation. "He's been saying he was in love with you since he was eleven. I know what that Christmas morning was about. You don't think your father can keep secrets from me, do you?"

"No," Lex admitted after a moment. Martha should've gotten mugs with designs painted inside of them, because Lex had a feeling his eyes were going to fast become bored with the texture of the coffee's surface. "And you're right. It's not news. But..."

"But?" She left the question open, waiting for him to continue. Oh, yes. He was definitely wishing for mugs with pictures on the inside.

Then again, with his luck they would've been Greek pictures. Achilles and Patroclus playing hide the sandal, or something. "But I love him, too," he finally told her, not willing to look up yet.

"That's what I wanted to know," Martha sighed, lifting her cup to her mouth. "Lex, honey. More than anything, I want both of you to be happy. I don't want you to feel like you're responsible for Clark's happiness, though. You're allowed to have your own. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. I know Clark wouldn't make you, but sometimes, he has... He has these expectations..."

There wasn't any yelling. Or anger at him, or... and Lex didn't know why he was expecting it, but it wasn't there. Still, he didn't quite have the confidence yet to look her in the eye. "I know. Believe me, he's had them for years."

"It would have been hard to miss," his mom informed him, expression twisted wryly. "Lex. I just want you to know that you don't have to do anything. I'll talk to him if you're unhappy, or if you feel pressured. You're my baby. You're both my babies," she sighed. "I want you to be happy, not... Not to give in because you don't want to hurt Clark's heart."

"And it would..." A lingering thing that still was chewing at his mind, had still been bothering him the night before. He quickly added, "But that's not why. I mean, it was why I tried not to freak too badly when I was younger, but not..."

"Not why you're letting him have his way now," Martha finished, hands placed carefully around her coffee cup. "You're sure about this, sweetheart?"

"I'm disturbingly sure of it," he murmured, and glanced up to look at her face at last. "I've been pretty sure of it since it was a thought I definitely shouldn't have been having."

The faint sigh Martha gave seemed more relieved than anything else. "All right. People are going to talk, honey, you know that. But talk is just like everything else. So long as you're both happy, we'll all get through it."

And his parents knew that he and Clark were more friendly than regular brothers.

As simple, even if awkward, as that. Lex set his cup down on the table and slipped around the table to briefly hug Martha. "Mom... Thanks. I know that this is such a far cry from normal, you didn't--don't have to try to be understanding. I'm not even sure if I understand myself."

"I can't say I understand it, sweetheart. I can't even say that I haven't hoped against hope that it wouldn't happen. I've had nearly five years to accustom myself to the notion, though, and quite frankly, as a mother? I just want you to be happy. I want Clark to be happy. And I want it to be an honest choice." Martha's expression was serious as she hugged him back just as tightly as she could. "You're both my boys. No one else could ever be worthy of you in my eyes."

"That's pretty flattering," Lex murmured, and he took his time pulling away, moving to sit down in his chair again. "I promise I'm not... not here. Not anything."

The look Martha gave him was one that should have been delivered over the edge of some old school marm's reading glasses. "I expect you're figuring on this being permanent, young man. This relationship, I mean."

"Yes," he was quick to admit. "I wouldn't dare if I didn't think it'd last. He'd have to get tired of me first..." And that was as close to admitting of sexual acts, or sex life, or even kissing as Lex wanted to go with Martha.

"Well, so long as that's the case, sweetheart, I wouldn't worry about any of that 'not here' business. We're your parents and even if we're not too sure about it... Well, just give us the courtesies you'd expect to give if you brought a wife home. Oh, dear," Martha said. "That really is a disturbing though. But... Yes, those. And keep in mind that Clark is still a very young man, only a freshman in high school. Now. Why don't you help me shell some peas while we wait on that pot pie?" Martha asked him, bringing up the pan she'd obviously been working on before he'd come home.

Lex loved his parents. He was glad he'd listened to Clark that long-ago day and had started to just call them mom and dad, because they were. His real mother was a fond, sad memory, like Pam, and his father was a vague figure to respect. But the Kents...

Well. Martha had just had that conversation with him, and was asking for his help with peas.

"It'd be my pleasure. No one in the office would believe I can do things like this, you know..."

"Well, I'm your mom, and I know better." She wasn't nearly so tense now that her boys were appropriately seen to, either. "I made your favorite for dessert. There's even vanilla ice cream in the freezer." Martha smiled a little sheepishly. "I know we just had cobbler last night, but I thawed a few berries too many, and I know you can always eat a little more when it comes to cobbler."

"I think you thawed too many on purpose," Lex smirked a little as he quickly tucked up his sleeves and started on the peas. It took a little work, but muscles remembered what the brain half-forgot. "It's good to be home again. And not sleeping in cramped hotel rooms."

Martha smiled at him. "We've missed you horribly," she said. "Especially Clark and Cocoa. It's good to have you home, and even better to have you close."

"Somehow I have a feeling that at least for a few weeks, I'll be here as much as at my own place. Oh -- what did Dad actually think of it? He was tight lipped last night, and I couldn't tell if he was impressed, in shock, or angry."

"I think he was startled, sweetie. It didn't occur to him until the big shipments started coming into town that you were ever going to live anywhere but with us, and it is... Er... Big." She was doing three pods to every one that Lex managed, but that was typical. She was a mom.

And, Lex excused himself, he was out of practice. "I know. However... if I'm going to be taken seriously in the business world, I can't work out of the barn's loft." As tempting an idea as it was, as much as it made Lex want to smile broader. "I still remember, you know, how you hid the business section from me when I first came here."

The sparkle in his mom's eye was well-loved, equally well-remembered. "You were so adamant. I remember catching you trying to sneak it out of the garbage and saying that you thought you'd lost one of your little green army men down there. It was so hard for you to try and get it out of there, as neat as you were, and so paranoid about germs. You should have talked Clark into doing it."

"Ah, but I thought Clark might tell you what I was doing. Not that I apparently fooled you in the first place," Lex smirked a little as he tried to go just a little faster. "I bet you have hundreds of stupid things Clark and I did and thought we got away with."

"I'm your mother," Martha chided. "I have years worth of blackmail material... like that time you both went skinny dipping down in the cow pond and Cocoa dragged all of your clothes back to the house."

"Cocoa thought he was helping us to be 'tidy'," Lex chuckled, as a faint flush rose up to his cheeks. "And Clark sped home to find clothes for us..."

"Naked," Martha reminded him with a snicker. "And Jonathan was out on the tractor and caught you in those bushes before he got back because I caught Clark in the house..."

"If anyone from the newspaper ever interviews you, please don't tell them that." Lex glanced at Martha's hands, as she was starting to steal from his pile. Well, they were almost done... "I'm glad you both decided that the humiliation was punishment enough."

"Always choose your time and place carefully," Martha informed him with a prim little purse of her mouth. "Besides, your father and I like to skinny dip in the cow pond, too."

He groaned a little, mouth twisting up. "Don't tell me that. My mind is just refusing to process that."

"Don't want to admit that your parents might do that thing, hm?" Martha was so happy, and she didn't seem to mind what was going on with Lex and Clark. Not really. If she did, she'd have a lot more to say about it. "Well, good. We're even."

Very very, painfully even, Lex agreed mentally, still smiling. "Can I ask just what Clark wrote on the note he said he left you...?"

"It went remarkably like, 'Going to sleep with Lex. He needs company'," Martha answered, looking at him with an expression that mirrored his own.

"I see." Lex finished the last pod of peas, and then moved to wipe his hands clean. "None of us ever bothered to teach him subtlety, did we?"

"Only when it came to the things he could do that no one else could," Martha admitted, eyes going down to the peas in their shared pan. "Lex..."

"Yes?" And they'd taught him how to do that well, and it did protect Clark. Clark, who wasn't just weird, but an alien, and Lex found his mind tripping over itself every time he thought that.

"I'm sorry we never told you. Just... We didn't think either of you were ready to know, and Clark wasn't that different from most of the other people here in Smallville who... are affected by THINGS..."

"Freaks. You can say it, Mom. Clark told me about some of them and I think it's a valid characterization." Worrying. It seemed like each and every person like that hit some breaking point and snapped. Lex had to hope that never happened with him.

"NOT freaks. Not everyone turns violent because of these things, Lex. Some people are just a little different. You carry your differences visibly," Martha considered. "You've learned to deal with them. I think it's the people you can't see, you can't tell about, who have real problems and lean towards violence."

Lex started to gather up the pods, to sweep them into a plastic bag so he could toss them onto the compost heap before dinner. "There still needs to be research done on the effects of those rocks. As for just a little different... do you know anyone else that's been... changed, and hasn't attacked Clark in the past few months?"

Martha paused, startled. "Well. Jodie attacked Pete, but she didn't want to..." That was the only person who hadn't directly come after Clark that she could think of. "I don't think they do it on purpose, but Clark wants to help and he gets involved..."

"I know. He feels responsible. But can you think of anyone who hasn't gone off the deep-end that you know is different?" Maybe there were other people. Other low-key people like Lex, and maybe they were all ticking time bombs. That shouldn't have been a more disturbing thought to mull over than the reality that his brother was an alien, but it was.

"There have been a few. Kyle Tippet, you remember him? He was relatively normal. There's you. You're different, but still normal, aside from healing so quickly." She sighed deeply. "Sweetheart. Half of Smallville is affected. A minor few seem to handle it badly."

And even if he was going to end up being one of those minor few, there was probably no way to stop it. Lex nodded to his mom's logic, and tried to quirk a crooked smile for her. "All right. Okay. But now that I'm in town, let me know when things happen. I can help."

"Clark tends to find out before anyone else. He spends a lot of time working with Pete and Chloe at the Torch, and Chloe is big into 'investigative journalism'," she said in a voice that implied great amusement. "Now. Go call Jonathan and Clark, sweetheart. Let's eat."

"I'm going to make you guys do dinner at the castle sometime this week -- just so you can get a break from cooking, Mom," Lex offered as he headed for the door.

"And I'll thank you very politely. Especially if you make sure that Clark gets to school on time every morning. Now skedaddle!" Martha shooed, and Lex hurried out to get Clark and their dad.

Things had definitely been different in the month that Clark's older brother had been home. The distracted haze had faded off, but he definitely seemed happier almost all of the time, even if he was spending less time hanging out with his friends.

Pete would've been worried if he hadn't known Lex and Clark before Lex had gone off to college and travelling the world. Plus, it meant that Chloe dragged him into the Torch's office more often, even if it was just for 'pin stuff to the wall' duty.

After all, Clark couldn't do it since he had a deadline to make. Pete grinned to himself, peering over Clark's shoulder for a moment and then over to Chloe. "Background checks for lunch ladies? Chloe, have you leapt off the deep end?"

"No, I have not," Chloe said in that tone which said she knew something he didn't. "There've been a rash of food poisonings all over town lately. Admittedly the green meat loaf that the diner swore was a late St. Patrick's day treat should have been a clue, but don't you think we ought to know a little more about the women who prepare the food we eat?"

"I guess so," Pete snickered, and spun idly in his chair for a moment. "Of course, you've got Clark writing it up -- so what've you been looking into?"

"What makes you think I've been looking into anything?" Oh, yeah. Innocence. That was a sure sign that Chloe was up to something.

"Because I refuse to believe that you're ever so intently surfing through porn over there." Pete stood up a little from his chair. "What do you think, Clark? Chloe hinted at you what she's doing?"

"No," Clark said firmly, continuing to work on his article. "But I'm starting to get these shivers down the back of my spine that I'll bet small hunted animals feel."

"Has she chased after you with a pistol yet?" Pete teased as he moved to linger behind Chloe's shoulder. "C'mon, what're you doing?"

"It's nothing!" the blonde insisted, squirming fitfully. "A girl has a right to some privacy, Pete!" The window flickered away with a quick click of her little round mouse before he could see much of anything.

"Oh, so it was porn?" Pete asked, feeling a little slack-jawed. "Come on. It's not like I'm going to scoop you!"

"It's a secret," Chloe insisted firmly. "Look. Maybe I'll bring you in on it when I have something a little more firm..."

"And leave me out?" Clark sulked.

"Sorry, Clark -- I think it *is porn." Pete moved back to sitting behind Clark, but made sure to waggle an eyebrow as he walked.

"It's special girl porn," Chloe answered, going along with it. "It's all about these two guys and they get hot and they take off their shirts and..."

"TMI! TMI!" Clark moaned, even if it wasn't. He was grinning at her to say so.

"Man, Chloe, you're weird," Pete chuckled, and plopped back down into his chair. "So, Clark -- with your mad investigative skills, do you think old cat-lady Mullholland needs a background check to drop fake potatoes onto our lunch trays?"

"Speaking of old cat-lady Mullholland..." Clark cleared his throat.

"Oooo, Clark has dug up something!" Chloe crowed, rushing over. "What, what?"

"...I was just wondering how she manages to feed all of those cats," Clark finished innocently.

"Good distraction," Pete crowed as he jolted to his feet to try to get to the computer before Chloe could.

"No, I mean, seriously!" Clark said. "SHE'S growing whiskers. Don't you think that's some sort of sign?"

"Hey, just because an old lady has whiskers doesn't mean she's going to end up on Chloe's wall of weird," Pete prodded as he continued to sneak towards Chloe's computer.

"Her nose is getting shorter, Pete," Clark pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

"You won't be able to see what I was doing, Pete," Chloe sang. Her screensaver came on just as he reached the mouse, and it asked him to provide a password. "Now come on. We need to look into old Mrs. Mullholland."

"Damn." Pete quirked an eyebrow at both of them. "Can't it wait until tomorrow? It's almost five now..."

"Where's your civic pride, Pete?" Chloe chided. "Do you want a cat-lady to take over Smallville?"

"Just imagine her in vinyl, Pete," Clark added with wide eyes and a faint shudder.

"Aw, damn. With the saggy skin and the jowls and everything? Clark, you need to be shot for that." Pete sighed and tromped back towards them. "Fine, where do we start?"

Chloe and Clark exchanged a look. "Just what I thought," Chloe said with a slow nod. "Why don't we go by her house and check out those cats? See if maybe there are little green rocks in her kitty litter?"

"Er..." Clark smiled sheepishly. "I'm supposed to meet Lex in fifteen minutes. I'm already kind of late."

"Fate of Smallville versus meeting your brother?" Pete scowled. "Man. Where're you meeting him, anyway?"

"Out at the castle." Clark had the good grace to blush a little. "He promised Mom a family dinner with no cooking on her part. She still made dessert, though."

"Mmmm, Mrs. Kent's pie," Chloe said with such lust in her voice that it was just possible she might want Clark for the pie.

Might just. Not that it had anything to do with Clark's winning smile and great body, no, of course not... "I guess we can start looking into the cat lady tomorrow, then?"

Chloe snorted. "No way you're getting out of this, Pete," she informed him. "You and I will just go do preliminary reconnaissance."

"Do I get to use binoculars?" Pete eyed her for a moment, then looked over to Clark with a mischievous look.

"Not all of us do our peering through various telescopic lenses," Chloe snickered.

"Annnnd, that's my cue to vacate and head out to meet Lex," Clark decided, gathering up his bookbag and jacket.

"See you tomorrow on the bus," Pete waved vaguely, watching him gather up to leave.

Chloe shook her head once Clark had abandoned them to one another. "Sometimes?" she confessed slowly. "I really wonder about that boy."

"Why?" Pete perched on the edge of Clark's abandoned desk, catching Chloe's eyes.

Both of her brows rose slowly. "I've never met any boy that devoted to his brother, you know what I mean?" she asked, the implication there in her voice. "I mean. You see what I'm saying."

"Kind of. But I already told you that they had a weird circumstance and... bonded. Almost like twins, you know? The Carpelli twins are sort of like that."

"Somehow I'd guess that the Carpelli twins wouldn't know the half of it," Chloe told him, nodding slowly. "More like... Marsha and Greg BRADY, if you get what I'm saying."

"No way," Pete scoffed, eyebrows drawing together in disbelief. "Why do you say that? Chloe, I grew up around them."

"Have you seen the looks that pass back and forth between them?" The stare she gave him said that she didn't know how he could have missed them. "I'm telling you. It's not exactly what I would call innocent brotherly love, if you see what I'm saying, Pete. It's all hot and bothered. Clark doesn't even go home anymore."

"What do you mean he doesn't go home? He does chores almost all the-- wait, have you been FOLLOWING him?" The hell -- Pete couldn't believe that. He slipped off of the desk to stare back at Chloe.

"I don't have to follow him." Chloe rolled her eyes. "My dad works for his brother, remember? They've been having all kinds of meetings, that sort of thing. And Lex tends to mention things, apparently, like how his baby brother is waiting for him at home."

"So? That's a lot of mental leaps to make without much proof," Pete scoffed. "If you'd done any real research you'd know that Lex and his friend Bruce have been on and off since eternity."

"Currently off, because Bruce Wayne has trotted off to Japan's Kansai district to learn some kind of martial arts. Look. I'm telling you. They've got eldest Brady syndrome. I think we should just be grateful it's not, you know. Kuno syndrome or the like." Seeing his blank look, she sighed. "Never mind. I'm just telling you."

"Whatever, Chloe. I'm not going with that unless I've got some real proof," Pete scowled. Of course pressing at Chloe probably wouldn't yield anything, so he changed tactics. "What were you working on earlier?"

The smile she gave was shark sharp, gleaming. "Real proof."

"Whoa. How?" And to what purpose, but he didn't ask that yet. It could've just been Chloe's usual curiosity.

"I was taking pictures when we were out investigating Mrs. Farrell's weenie dog. You remember?" How could he forget? The thing had been six foot long and had glowed green. It had spent nearly three days trying to dig up every badger in town. "I happened to get a few candid barn shots in when it was heading down to Kent Farms. Right before Clark came and helped stop it?"

It was hard not to shudder at the memory, but Pete nodded. "Candid barn shots of what?"

"MAJOR tonsil hockey," Chloe told him, typing in the password quickly and clicking on the smiling Mac face in the upper right hand corner. It brought down a menu, and she opened up Graphics Converter. "Here."

Candid, but distant. Pete squinted at the picture as he leaned over her shoulder. "Oka~ay. It looks like they're hugging."

Oh, no. No. Not another LOOK from Chloe. And a click of her mouse. And. Wow, was that Clark's TONGUE there? "I wasn't aiming at them right at first," she informed him dryly. "I was a little more concerned with Cooter."

Definitely not hugging. Even with the railings of the loft in the way, Pete could see Lex's leg slid between Clark's, the way they were clutching at each other hotter than it had any right to be.

"Oh."

"Mhm," Chloe said dryly. "Not as important as the lunch lady thing -- I mean, really, Cat-Lady Mullholland IS getting a little weird -- but definitely a lot hotter. If really pervy."

"Ugh, Chloe? Clark's my best friend. Lex used to watch us when we were up in the loft. Can you not desecrate my childhood memories?"

"Sure thing, Pete. If you'll admit to the Marsha and Greg Brady analogy."

He eyed the picture for a moment more, then nodded and hung his head a little. "Yeah. Okay. I've admitted it. Are you going to stop stalking them, though?"

She grinned at him. "Sure. There are some very pretty pictures here, though. Sure you don't want to see them all before we go check out Mrs. Mullholland's cats?" Chloe teased.

Pete wished she was teasing about the cats, too. "Are you going to delete those first?"

"They're on my zip disk," she said, closing out the program and popping the disk loose. "Think they might want copies one day?"

"No?" Pete watched her put the disk away into it's plastic case, and then slip it away in her backpack. "But I think Clark'll tell us when he... decides it's appropriate. It's pretty weird."

"Could be worse. Could be the Kunos." Even if he didn't get it. "Come on, Pete. Let's head out."

He'd gone to college to study the finer parts of chemistry and chemical compounds, not to be poring meticulously over the fuzzily done numbers of the plant. "At least we're still in the red. I fired more of the accounting department, didn't I?" Lex asked wryly, as he glanced up at Gabe.

"At last check, two thirds," Gabe told him distractedly. His fingers had been a blur on the calculator for the last half hours. "We're getting closer to being out of the red, though. That's something."

"We'd be in the black if the sheriff wasn't investigating embezzlement charges on four of them. Has HR done callbacks for the job applicants? I'm willing to run some interviews myself tomorrow..." Lex sat back in the chair distractedly, cracking his knuckles.

"They're moving as fast as they can. I think they're scheduling interviews for the end of the week. We have to fill the floor positions, too, so they've been wrapped up in both of those. Since half of HR got replaced, too..."

It had meant a lot of work for Gabe and Lex. But the work was going to pay off. Lex rubbed at his temple, nodding as he watched his manager. "Shall we call it a day?"

"More like a night." Ah, but they were enjoying themselves. Workaholic wasn't just a word to Gabe Sullivan and Lex Luthor. It was a way of life. "I'd better get home and see if Chloe's managed to get herself into anything she can't get out of."

"Hopefully she hasn't dragged my little brother into the muck again." Not that Clark minded it, and not that Lex wasn't smirking as he said it and started to pack his laptop away into the padded case.

"I'll only start really worrying if they start wearing scarves and calling Pete Scooby," Gabe answered, expression twisted wryly. "Or worse, Shaggy, and they start toting Cocoa around with them."

"Shit -- I'd wondered why Clark wanted me to buy him a van." He zipped the laptop case closed, and smiled a little at Gabe to show that he was joking mildly. Not that he wouldn't buy Clark the van if he wanted it. "I'll see you tomorrow, Gabe -- have a good night."

"Bright and early," Gabe agreed. It was good to be going home, for both of them. "Be careful on your way home. Your mom and dad would hunt me down if you stayed late and then had an accident on your way home."

"Not many people have to promise their employees that they won't speed," Lex drawled. "You drive safe, too. If Mom and Dad had to take in Chloe, I'd have to change the 'Kent Farms' sign to 'Kent Orphanage'."

It was good to have an employee who would banter with him -- most of the people in the plant were either in some form of awe or fear of him, but not Gabe. He gave one last wave to the man, and then headed out onto the main floor where the night shift was busily at work packing shipments.

There was just something greatly pleasurable about knowing that he was responsible for those people. That he provided them work, and provided a service that a lot of people needed. He wanted to come up with a few more organic products, too, just to see how much business he could do there. It was a beautiful thought.

And when he finished there, he'd sweep up the rest of LuthorCorp. It was his, his for the taking once he'd proven himself to the rest of the board.

Life was damn good.

Lex skirted the edge of the floor as he always did, waving and smiling slightly to some of the employees that he knew were damn hard workers. It helped morale, made people smile a little more. It didn't hurt that he was one of the Kents, either, viewed as separate from the idiots who'd been running his company.

Altogether pleased with the way the week was turning out, Lex strode out of the back entrance and headed for his car, patting it affectionately as he moved to open the door.

If Gabe hadn't suggested it to him, he wouldn't have even thought of speeding back home. But his good mood was prodding him as he slipped into the car, and dug through the glove compartment for his driving gloves with the glow of the parking lot lights.

The sound of a hand hitting the driver's side window scared him half to death. There hadn't been anyone in the parking lot when he'd walked out into it, so it was no wonder. He startled, fumbled his keys somewhere in the darkness, and twisted all at once to see who was banging on his window with the same motion he made to lock the doors.

Oh, fuck.

Billy Farrell gave a vicious grin outside of the car. "Come out and talk to me, you fucking faggot. Get outta the car."

Lex groped between his legs, and then down between his feet in wild search of his keys. "I'd rather not!"

"Come out or I'll break the fucking window!" Not good. So. Very. Not. Good!

Fuck. His cell was in his laptop case, his hands were shaking too hard to find the god-damned keys... "What do you want to talk about, Mr. Farrell?" Lex demanded sharply -- because he could sound in control -- as he continued to look for his keys.

"I'll give you three guesses and the first two don't count, Scarecrow Boy," Billy sneered. Idiot.

Fucking son of a... Lex heard a jingle when he moved his foot, but had no idea where he'd just kicked them. "I don't know what you're talking about," he denied through the window.

"Yeah?" That was just pissing Farrell off worse, and the next thing Lex knew, there was a hand through his window wrapped around his throat. Shit. "I'll just bet you don't know, huh!?

Despite the startling crash of glass, Lex's fingers flew up to clutch at the hand, the urge to flee replaced with the need to fight the fingers on his throat. "F-fuck, let me go!"

"I don't think so." Was the man fucking glowing? Oh, Jesus, he was doing SOMETHING, and the sudden thought of all those strange people, the strange things, his family had talked about made Lex stiffen. "I think you gotta be punished."

"Sure you do, you f-fucking psycho!" Lex snarled, tugging at the hands before the guy tried to drag him out through the shattered side window.

"LEX!"

Oh, thank God, thank God, it was Clark, and Clark would save him, because that was what Clark did.

Unfortunately, the rules of the world didn't dictate 'drop victim in fear of victim's little brother'. Particularly when the madman could lift him up like he was a rag doll, by the throat, and Christ he was glad his seat-belt hadn't been on or else he could've been headless.

Not that Lex quite thought that as he landed on his knees on the pavement, that hand still too-tight on his throat, too tight even to eke out another plea.

"Let him go, Billy!" Clark demanded, moving closer to them. Lex couldn't see him very clearly, but that didn't mean anything. Not really. "You don't want to hurt him!"

"Oh, yeah!? He fired me. He got me kicked off the football team, charged with all kinds of shit. You know what that does to a man's future? Faggot!"

"You... committed a crime..." Lex tried to stagger up onto one knee, fingers prying at Billy's hand when he tried to jerk away. He couldn't stop struggling, just like he'd done the day he'd been put up as the scarecrow.

"Now would be a good time NOT to mention that," Clark muttered under his breath. "Look. Billy. I'm sure we can work something out if you'll just let Lex go..."

Lex started to nod to that, anything to get the choking hand off of his throat before the man did something more rash than he'd already done.

"Should have strung him up higher. Should have made it impossible to get loose," Billy snarled.

"If you don't let him go, I'll have to hurt you, Billy. I don't want to hurt you," Clark warned, moving closer to them.

Warnings, warnings, couldn't Clark just rush the guy? Lex exhaled a strained breath, and started to struggle harder when he could hardly get another breath in. Everything felt hot and there were bursts of color starting to invade his field of vision. "Let... let go..."

Jesus, there was sound and wind, and he could hear Clark yelp in pain, and that wasn't right, was it? Clark didn't make sounds like that. Lex was free, though, free for the moment, gasping for breath even if he was still on the pavement.

He had to get up, get away and help Clark. His little brother just wasn't supposed to yelp like a dropped puppy. That wasn't what Clark did, Clark was the saving-person, Clark...

Lex could hardly move from the pavement, lolling there and gasping. Something was definitely hurting, and so much for doing for his brother what his brother had done for him before.

Sounds of struggle broke out around him, near him, and he could hear Clark fighting with Billy, could still see the faint green light now and then that had seemed to limn the bully's form. Maybe that was what hurt Clark, because he could see Clark now and then as he flinched away from Billy's touch.

He groaned, let his head drop back to the pavement. How did you fight a person whose mere existence hurt?

Lex pushed himself over to hands and knees, ignoring the pain as he started to crawl fuzzily towards his car. If he could distract Billy...

Hell. If he could find his keys, he could just run over him. Jonathan would be really upset at the waste of the car. Maybe he could call Dad. Dad would come with a shotgun. That sounded like a good idea, especially when Clark yelped again, a sound like Cocoa made when a cat scared him by turning on him unexpectedly.

Or security...? Where the fuck was the plant's security when he needed them?

Lex dragged himself up against the driver's side door, swung it out and tried to not fall down when the weight of the door carried it open.

Right. He was going to get in the car and call Dad. That was the answer.

Where the hell was Clark?

Clark, it seemed, was being chased around the car, because he yelled at Lex as he distracted Billy a little more. "Get IN!!"

But the window was broken and he'd already been pulled out of it once! There wasn't much safety in the car... Lex hauled himself into the seat, palms on shards of window glass as he crawled to the passenger side to dig for his cell phone. Everything hurt, but. But, that was no reason to just roll over and play dead.

Lex wondered if bloody cell phones even worked as he shakily dialed the number, waiting for it to go through. "Don't be a dead spot, don't be a dead spot...."

"Calm DOWN, you fucking nut!" Clark yelled, and then he gave a sound that was just too hurt.

"Hello!?"

"Dad, help, we're in the plant's parking lot, Clark can't stop him, I..."

Broke into something between a scream and a howl when the open car door slammed shut on his leg.

Something garbled came out of the phone, probably some kind of promise to be right there, but Lex couldn't do much more than moan. It was an eerie sound that was sort of echoed, probably by Clark since he was the one pressed against the door of the car, and shit, yes, that guy was glowing. GLOWING. Not a good sign, Lex would guess, able to at least think that well on the verge of passing out cold.

Wow, and then Lex could hear mom's voice, but then he dropped the phone and between his leg and the glass on the seat and his hands, he couldn't find it again.

He just laid there, and hoped really hard that the freak might just stop glowing.

Clark.

Where was Clark?

Clark was his savior. Clark was supposed to be able to help him, and he couldn't hear Clark anymore.

"C'mon, you pussy." The car door was opening, fuck, fuck, fuck. "You and your fuckin' bratty baby brother gonna get it now."

Lex groaned, bit back another scream because that leg... fuck, chop it off at the knee right then and there it was going to do him no good in the immediate future. All it was doing was bathing him with crippling pain, and -- oh, fuck, fingers wrapped around his throat again, lifting him up and out of the car.

Where the hell was Clark?

Oh.

THERE was Clark, dragged along with that other hand. The Kent boys weren't putting in such a good show today, apparently.

"Gonna string you up and leave you like you oughta've stayed, you fuckin' queer freak," Billy rumbled, tossing them both about like ragdolls.

And was he going to argue with Billy about that...?

"You... 're making a mistake..."

Apparently his id was winning over his super ego. Lex groaned when Billy stopped dragging them along the pavement, and put them over his shoulders.

"Be a good fag and shut the fuck up, Luthor. Ya goddamn bone-stroker."

Well. At least the insults were starting to go a little beyond sixth grade vocabulary. Give the man another three or four hours and he might actually come up with something interesting, like bowler from the pavilion end, or Kinsey 6. Milksop, pantywaist, cream puff, short-arm bandit, breechloader, there were all sorts of things he could call them. Or pederast, which was frighteningly accurate, but not technically true yet. If he lived, it might be.

Lex tried to not whimper or groan, tried to turn his head to look at Clark's face. Being so close to the glowing man couldn't be good.

Little black and green veins seemed to swell all over Clark's skin. His eyes were closed tightly, and he was barely breathing. Lex could at least tell that much from where he lay, and he couldn't help the sound that spilled from him then. God, bad enough to be hurt so much, but worse for Clark to look like that.

Clark never hurt, never ever hurt. Clark was the amazingly fast, strong little kid, alien and -- it looked like even he wasn't unstoppable. Lex closed his eyes as the painful jostles started to get worse. They had to be running, but he was going to throw up if he saw the landscape speeding past them in the darkness.

Okay, maybe he was going to throw up anyway, and that couldn't be making Billy any happier, because there was vomit down the back of his shirt now. Not that he seemed to notice anyway, not with the way he was running and jostling, and wait, weren't they back in Riley Field?

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh, shit. Fuck.

"Where you oughta be. Where you oughta stay..." Billy was talking to himself now, and he was maybe crazier than Lex had thought he was.

"Making a mistake," Lex mumbled when Billy tossed them down onto tramped grass. He could see the scarecrow already torn down and thrown over back into the field proper, the barren cross waiting for him and Clark.

And it was almost okay. The pain was starting to leave him cold and drunk-feeling, and that wasn't so bad.

Whee. Endorphins.

"You ain't comin' down this time, Luthor. Ain't got no freaky little brother to save your ass by findin' you." God, the idiot was stripping them both naked, and those veins were all over Clark, and he was shaking everywhere.

"Billy...? We... we can get you help, you're..." Making a mistake, but the sight of Clark, so weak, crawling with veins all over his skin, was too nauseating to go on. That had to hurt, had to--

Lex choked on a yell when Billy tugged down on his expensive, bloody, ruined pants, boxers and all.

"I don't need no help. I just need you to go back to wherever the fuck you goddamn eerquays come from." The sneer in the man's voice was audible; Lex didn't have to see his face to know it was there as he felt himself pulled up and tossed against the scarecrow post.

"Lex..." Clark, whimpering, and the veins were receding a little, maybe?

Maybe. Clark needed to be not hurt to get them both out of it.

Everything hurt anew for a ragged, painful moment, and Lex couldn't breath while the man tied his hands up to the post, tied his legs, and fuck fuck fuck the pain got worse.

There was no way he was going to be able to handle this for long. No. Way.

Once the knots were in place, Billy was gone, and it was Clark's turn to be tossed up on the other side of the post. Somehow, the man managed it, getting Clark's arms and legs around Lex's. "An' I got a prize for you, too," Billy sneered, stepping back. "One o' them pretty rocks Momma likes. I'm sure you two faggots like pretty rocks, right?"

"Nuuh." Lex's head lolled, but he could still bring himself to protest the idea of being stoned, probably slowly, by a crazed ex-high school jock.

It was just a rock, though, tucked up against Lex's hand, somehow propped between his arm and Clark's. Lex could feel Clark flinch away from it, could hear Billy snicker.

"You just enjoy it, Scarecrow Boy. Ain't nobody comin' for you this time."

"Fuh... kkk you," Lex sneered, and leaned out against the ropes to spit at Billy.

The globule landed on his cheek, and the man reached up to furiously rub at it. "I'm gonna kill you!" he snarled, and he reached up with glowing hands just as a warning shot fired past them.

"Oh, no, you're not," Jonathan Kent informed him grimly.

Lex went limp, and couldn't see their father, but he could hear him. The distinctive crack and flash of gunfire followed, and Jonathan's serious, infuriated voice filtered through the dark. It was like a bad western -- the cavalry arriving at the last minute and he'd never been so glad to see the cavalry arrive at all.

There was some inarticulate snarl on Billy's part, motion that Lex really couldn't make anything out of, and then another gunshot, the rifle loud and close, and then things were quiet and dark.

"Son?"

"Ye...ah?" Really drifting and really cold, everything hurt, but he hadn't felt so relieved since Clark had arrived to get him down from the same cross. Or one just like it. The Romans hadn't done that to people for the fun of it, they did it for the pain and the eventual death.

"I'm going to get you both down now. I'm gonna start with Clark. He's all wrapped around you, and bad as you both look, I think it's better to start the easy way," Jonathan explained. A faint thud sounded, the rock dropping off of the cross, and Lex could hear Clark groaning.

Groaning was better than whimpering, or even silence. With Jonathan there, Lex let himself relax, sagging even though it hurt. "Mmm."

"Dad." Clark's voice, faintly relieved. "Move the rock. Get the, the rock."

The rock?

But Jonathan did get it, threw it out into the corn, and then the ropes practically snapped as Clark pulled them off the way he had so long ago, and somehow in all of that, Lex ended up in his arms. "God. That guy was poisonous, Dad." Clark, still shaky, but Lex's Clark, there and real and more like himself. Recovering?

Lex hadn't meant to groan again, but he did, and it was still dark but everything was going to be okay.

If he didn't pass out first.

Sunlight was streaming in the windows when Lex opened his eyes. His head pounded, and the back of his throat was so dry that someone might as well have stuffed cotton down it followed by wood shavings. It tasted like something had crawled in there and died; that was enough reason to close his eyes before he registered just where he was.

More precisely, where he didn't want to be.

The windows had plastic horizontal blinds that slitted the sun down into the room, pulled closed backwards so the light that crept through the slots was too-sharp. And the bed was small, the sheets rough and uncomfortable. Lex twitched his hand, and felt a tug before he followed a thin plastic trail to the IV plugged into his hand.

So he had passed out after all.

"Hi, there." For a moment, Lex thought he'd imagined it, but then the blinds were twisted slightly, sunlight spilling madly into the room before it angled upwards and away from him. "I was starting to really get worried about you. Mom and Dad snuck off to get some dinner."

His throat was still too dry for Lex's comfort, but he swallowed cottony nothingness and slitted sleep crusted eyes at Clark before he lifted his good hand to rub at them. "How long have I been here?"

"Since sometime late last night. By the time Dad and I got you back to the plant, there were police swarming everywhere. They went and picked up Billy Farrell's body. Miz Farrell's heartbroken," Clark told him solemnly. "On the other hand, you and me? We'll live. You had some serious cuts and bruises and you broke your leg. You're going to be hell to live with, aren't you?"

Sitting up was more of a challenge than it should've been for Lex, even on a 'don't want to get out of bed' day. "What makes you say that?" he asked carefully, glancing around to see if there was a glass of water in reach before he asked Clark for one.

"Um, because that time you got the flu, you were Satan for nearly two whole weeks?" A glass found its way into his hand, almost as if Clark had simply read his thoughts. "Here. Drink this. I'll call the nurse and let her know you're awake."

"My nose wouldn't stop running, and I was delirious with fever," Lex scowled at him. The water had a good side-effect for Clark, of shutting Lex up while he very carefully guzzled it down. It almost washed away the sour cottony taste in his mouth. "And I haven't had anything since. Some day you'll be sick..."

Or had he been already? When they had privacy, he was going to have to grill Clark about the vein-crawling thing.

"And then you'll rub it in really really hard, right?" Clark grinned at him, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. "I'll be right back, okay? Gonna get a nurse and let Mom and Dad know you're awake."

"Thanks." Jonathan had... shot, shot and killed Billy to protect them both, and though Clark hadn't mentioned any possible legal troubles over it, Lex wanted to make sure everything was all right. If Jonathan happened to be in trouble because he and Clark combined had managed to do absolutely nothing right...

"And stop worrying," Clark said, pausing in the doorway. "Sheriff Ethan's already been out. It was a clear case of self-defense, or family defense, considering we were both strung up and looked like death when the paramedics got to us. Okay, well, I didn't look so much like death as you did," he admitted.

It wasn't fair that Clark could almost read his mind some days. "We need to talk about that," Lex murmured, and gave a smile so Clark would know that it wasn't a life or death talk. Just a conversational reminder that Lex wanted to prod and probably ask Clark a hundred questions about that specific oddity. "Go on. I'd go with you, but I think I have the good drugs in my system. Or my leg is unbroken."

"The good drugs," Clark replied with a grin, hurrying out into the corridor. That left Lex alone in the sunlight, and bright though it was, it couldn't be too early. It had to be somewhere around four or five, at a guess. Maybe Mom and Dad hadn't eaten lunch and that's why they were eating so early...

By the time his thoughts came back from whatever tangent they were on, Clark had returned with a woman in tow. "See? Awake and kicking," his brother pronounced proudly. "Well, okay. Maybe not kicking. Maybe more like floating..."

"Is the plant still standing?"

The haunting thought of work left unfinished and then something about gunning a car over a person and into a building had led Lex to the horrifying thought that maybe it could've happened, so he had, had, had to ask Clark the very moment he came back in.

"Not only is the plant still standing, Mr. Luthor, but your manager spent his lunch hour hovering outside your doors and, if I'm not mistaken..." Oh, cold stethoscope. "...he also brought those lovely purple flowers by the door."

"Chloe picked them out," Clark informed him.

"Purple's a good color." Lex took a slow breath, mindful of the stethoscope and half-remembering doctors appointments because of the long-gone foe that was his asthma. "Does that have to be quite so cold?"

"It's the nature of stethoscopes, Mr. Luthor," the young woman apologized.

"Be nice to Dr. Bryce," Clark teased. "She fixed your leg and everything. Even though you were mumbling some really bizarre stuff at the time."

"Like what?" Lex challenged vaguely, looking pointedly at Dr Bryce. She was pretty, good facial structure, nice, thick-looking hair. He probably shouldn't have picked up that book about valuing horses the week before. There was the oddest itch to check her teeth and gums, an urge that was clearly linked to the IV in his hand.

"Oh, something about the juice and the fax machine and boobs," Clark said innocently enough, making the good doctor snicker.

"Never mind. Forget I asked you what I said. There's no logic to the subconscious mind." Or the conscious drugged mind. Lex laid his head back on one of the flat pillows that was propping him upright, and smiled at Clark and the doctor. "So, when can I leave?"

"Well, considering the extent of the break, I'd rather you didn't leave for at least another three or four days. I'd also like it if you'd agree to stay in bed for the next couple of weeks, but somehow, I doubt I'll be getting that concession out of you, Mr. Luthor." Nice lady. Smart, too.

"Probably not," Lex agreed mildly. "Staying in bed for weeks is quite boring -- can't I just get a cast or crutches?"

"Well, you could..." Dr. Bryce hedged. "Except you've got one nasty tib-fib fracture. That's the reason you'll be staying a few extra days and not getting out of bed for a bit longer. We had to do surgery while you were sleeping to get the bones set properly."

"Surgery?" Fuck. Lex could feel his face contort at the thought of it, and Clark could probably read his mind on the matter. Surgery. He could've healed it all up tidily with some rest, concentration, but now there was a foreign object involved? "I did have a car door closed on my leg."

"And we could tell," Dr. Bryce informed him. "It was a remarkably clean break, straight across both bones. I was surprised that they weren't crushed."

"The guy did something really funny with the door when he shut it on Lex's leg," Clark said, shivering. "He was creepy."

"That was a hell of a grudge to hold, wasn't it?" Lex shook his head a little, and narrowed his eyes as he looked at the doctor again -- horse meat was flitting through his head again, and he probably should go to sleep instead of keeping himself awake with conversation. "Was there anything else?"

"I think that about covers it. Will you promise me to at least pretend that you're going to do as you told?" She was charming enough, her eyes sparkling, her smile nice.

Not nearly as nice as Clark's, but whose was?

He smiled back at her. "I promise that I'll rest. I'm being kept here for a couple of days, aren't I? I suspect I won't fling myself out of bed and chase someone down the hall."

"But you should watch out if Mom brings by cobbler. He'd sell me for a fresh peach cobbler," Clark teased, laughing at his brother.

Lex wanted to urge Clark to keep yucking it up, because he was right -- when Lex got home he was probably going to be hell on his little brother. Home and without the good drugs. "Mmm, I'd sell you for Blackberry. Peach, I'd ignore you for."

"Oh, well. Now that I know how to bribe you, all is well," Dr. Bryce said with a smile. "I'll just have to make sure you get offered a cobbler a day to stay in bed."

"I don't think even that would work."

"We're in the process of hiring new staff at the plant. Got rid of a whole lot of do-nothings like Farrell..." Lex leaned his head a little, peering at Clark past Dr. Helen. "Did Gabe happen to leave me anything to look at?"

"Gabe... wanted to leave a whole lot of stuff," Clark admitted sheepishly. "Mom threatened him with imminent death, though, so he left with all of it, too."

"That figures." And they probably had his cell phone and laptop with them, preventing him from doing any work at all. Lex grimaced a little, and laid his head back on the pillow before he smiled at Dr. Bryce. "So is there anything else?"

"I think that about covers it." She smiled at him brilliantly. "Oh, and Mr. Luthor? If I find out you've tried to do anything you hadn't ought to do? I'll tell your mother."

"Whoa," Clark smiled. "She's a vicious woman. I'd listen to her, Lex."

"A good doctor knows how to manipulate her patients." Lex kept smiling hazily at her, "Nice to meet you, Dr. Bryce."

"Have a good day, Mr. Luthor. If you have any pain, just call and let us know. Clark," she said, nodding to the boy as she headed out the door.

"So. How are you really feeling?" Clark asked him seriously, settling into a chair beside his bed.

Lex's head lolled a little as he looked at Clark, mouth quirking a little. "Pissed that this isn't going to be as easy as it could've been."

"You were looking pretty bad," Clark told him, shaking his head. "Plus, somebody had to set the bone, or it would have grown back crooked no matter how easy it might have been."

"I know." Lex quirked his eyebrows at Clark. "But I'm going to be hell to live with once I get home. There's metal in my leg now. What am I supposed to do with that?"

"Entertain me while I check out your bone growth?" Clark asked him, grinning. "I don't know. What do you usually do with metal in your leg?"

"You little bugger," Lex muttered, and leaned a little to swipe at Clark's arm. "Since I'm being banned from doing anything useful by a conspiracy between Mom and the doctors, you're going to have to entertain me."

"I'll read Bleak House for you," Clark offered with shining innocence. It was said so sweetly, so teasingly, that Lex knew it wasn't actually meant.

Thank God.

Dickens gave him hives.

The dictionary was more entertaining than Dickens, a thesaurus twice as good as that. And neither would bother him the way Dickens would. "Well. Talk to me until Mom and Dad arrive, or I nod off."

"Well, all right, if you're that excited about Bleak House. We're all in today's paper. Chloe nearly wet herself when she found out the trouble we'd gotten up to. It totally did away with her theories on old Cat Lady Mullholland," Clark nodded.

"Great -- you have a copy of the paper?" What a way to get into the newspaper -- he could imagine it now, the same damned stock photo of him getting out of a car with sunglasses on, and some trite line about 'Luthor heir attacked' only hyped up. Because that was what reporters did.

"Yep. Mom already cut it out for the scrapbook," Clark assured him. "They got a picture of us coming in somehow. Not pretty. You'll see why we were worried enough to take you straight here."

Why couldn't they have taken a picture of the corpse that had been Billy Farrell instead? "The photographer's name didn't happen to be anywhere in the picture's caption, did it?"

"It just said something about AP, actually, so he probably asked that they not say anything," Clark decided, tone easy and teasing. "He probably figured you'd come strangle him in his sleep."

Even if the idea was tempting. Lex closed his eyes and nodded to that, still smiling tiredly. "Smart man. Not strangle. I'd just have a talk with him about privacy and manners..."

"Lex," Clark murmured. "The man is a reporter. I think those two terms come up under 'something to be violated often and with great fervor' for them. Admittedly, I try not to do that, but sometimes you have to for the greater good." He paused. "I can't really see where that picture of you would be for the greater good, though."

"Exactly. Unless you're talking about the greater good of sensationalism leading to greater sales, and the average joe's love of gory details." He slumped a little against the pillows, and maybe, just maybe, he started to mumble more than talk.

"Mhm. Want me to rub your foot? On the not-broken leg, I mean," Clark offered, standing out of his chair. "Might help you sleep..."

"Shoulders would feel even better," Lex drawled, tempting pleasant fate by opening one eye to look at Clark.

"All right." Clark was always agreeable to Lex's suggestions. It was a good thing he wasn't exactly planning some world domination tour; Clark might actually be able to pull it off.

But for the moment, big, familiar hands clutching at his shoulders, rubbing carefully, was all Lex wanted Clark to pull off. Later he'd think over everything that had happened; until then, he just wanted to drift and not think...

Clark was going to kill his brother.

Well, maybe not KILL him, because then he'd be lonely, and that would be bad. But surely there was SOME good way to punish him so that Lex would stop whining about all the work that wasn't getting done and would relax... wasn't there?

Like, valium. Or sedation. Lex had always been quick to get his homework done when he was younger, quick to do papers for college and research almost the day it was assigned. Having work to do and not being able to do it properly was taking its toll on Lex's patience.

And the bed rest thing wasn't happening, either.

Clark wasn't surprised that it wasn't, but he'd at least managed to keep Lex from running any marathons. It helped that he could pick Lex up like he weighed almost as much as Cocoa had at eight weeks old, but even that wasn't keeping him resting. So far this morning, they'd been to the couch in the study, a small divan in the west salon, and now Lex was settled rather grumpily in the solarium with his foot propped up on pillows and his computer on his lap. Even with the wireless network in the house and a fresh battery, it just wasn't the same as sitting in his office and doing actual work, feeling papers and notes under his hand and being able to compare them against his files. Gabe had been kind enough to email him some of the latest resumes for higher positions but even that wasn't cutting it.

Clark just had a math book and paper and pens to keep himself busy with, and it looked like he was managing just fine.

LOOKED like.

It didn't help that Lex was driving him crazy trying to keep himself occupied.

"Clark!"

Arrrrgh.

"Yeah, Lex?" he asked, sighing deeply. "You want something?"

"Never mind." Something about Clark's tone, the 'wit's end' undercurrent to it, made Lex want to re-think what he'd been about to ask. He definitely didn't need a cup of coffee after all. "How's your homework coming?"

"It's math," Clark said shortly, and then shook his head. "Sorry. I don't mean to be grumpy, just I hate doing calculations that I did with you six years ago."

"I probably have my old notes somewhere if you want to copy them," Lex offered flippantly. "So I'm assuming you don't need help."

"I don't need help. What I need is a distraction," Clark moaned, flopping his head back against the chair in which he sat. "I can only look at your steel plate so many times before I want to hit my head against the stones. Can't we just sit and make out?" he pouted.

"You're the one who keeps telling me to rest, rest, rest. If I can make out, I can damn well drive my car to the plant, but no..." But Clark was pouting, and even as he talked he was closing files and preparing to put his laptop on standby.

"I think I should be insulted by the fact that you'd rather work than make out," Clark muttered, putting his books away, too. He was going to be much happier getting kisses than he was doing math.

Lex put the laptop to standby, and slipped it beneath the foot-stool his leg was propped up on. "Missing a few moments with you, Clark, only hurts my heart, not my pocketbook..." He smirked a little at Clark, "And that's just digging my hole deeper, isn't it?"

"Much. Much. Deeper," Clark agreed, moving to stand beside him. "Hey, I can sit in your lap and everything!"

"Absolutely." Clark sitting in his lap, over his groin, oh... Good thoughts, and Clark on his lap was better than a laptop.

Definitely much better, as he discovered shortly. "Hey, Lex?" Clark asked, leaning close to brush faint kisses across his face. They smelled faintly of chocolate and pears, like he'd been into something Martha was planning for supper. "I really hope your leg's better soon. You promised to show me more..." Good, lips finally reached his mouth and Clark was damned near swallowing him alive.

"I could show you more even with my leg like this, if you're up to a little more effort," Lex advised softly against Clark's kisses. Warm, good lips against his, and he lifted his hands up to Clark to pull him down. It wasn't fair that there was distance between them.

"Yeah?" Clark whispered, curious. "Like what?"

"I can still suck you off, can't I?" Lex suggested, a slow and sensual drawl to draw in Clark's curiosity. "This seat is good and sturdy, and there's no reason to not put that sturdiness to the test."

"Ohhhh." The sound was more than a little excited, and the way that Clark shifted against him announced how much the thought pleased him. "I want more, Lex. I want to..." Clark. Blushing. Lex's life was so good. "I want to suck you."

Lex wrapped his arms loosely around Clark, smiling against Clark's mouth before he stole another kiss. Lips against lips, and Clark tasted just a little like chocolate when Lex delved his tongue briefly between his brother's lips. "Mmm, I like that decision."

"I haven't before..." And Lex knew it, but Clark's mouth was made for sucking dick. "You'll tell me if I do something wrong?" Yeah, his mouth was made for it, but it was obvious that he knew how to turn Lex on, one hand sliding down his stomach even as Clark so shyly 'confessed'.

He was his brother's first, after all. It wasn't news to him, but there was something alluring about that. The corruption of innocence, the way Clark's fingers skirted over the folds of shirt fabric to rub at the muscles beneath. "I promise I will. I'm sure you'll be so good..."

And even if he wasn't, the thought alone of Clark's head between his legs, his mouth going down on Lex's dick, smoking the blue-veined havana... There were no words for it, especially not when combined with that glance from under black lashes or the way that Clark slipped back off of him, kneeling down on the floor beside his chair. "Please, Lex?"

"Jesus, you're gorgeous." Lex reached a little, curled fingers loosely in Clark's dark locks. He was already ready to come, and his brother hadn't even unzipped his pants for him. He halfway wanted to pull them down himself, just to speed things along, but Clark could do it at Clark's pace. "Please, Clark -- suck my dick."

That seemed to be enough to steal Clark's breath away, his shaking fingers reaching up to tug at the button and zipper of Lex's khaki shorts. They pulled down slowly, the faint zzzzp noise echoing loudly in the solarium despite their closeness. "You have on underwear," Clark said thoughtfully, one hand reaching out to touch, careful of Lex's leg. "That's teasing."

Lex always liked to wear underwear with shorts, if he was going to have to wear shorts because of the damned wounded leg. So it wasn't teasing, it was necessity. But somewhere between Lex's mouth and Lex's brain, that concept was lost. "No, _that's_ teasing," he drawled, fingers twitching with eagerness in Clark's hair.

"Probably," Clark agreed, and fuck, Lex could feel Clark's breath against his belly. His eyes nearly crossed with it as Clark's fingers reached up, tenderly tugging the soft cotton back and away from his dick, revealing him to the sun-warmed air. "Oh..."

Lazy warm day, sunlight, and Clark kneeling down in front of him, just a little to the side of the still stretched out left leg. And the look on his face, one of purest eagerness, ecstacy as if he'd never seen Lex's cock before.

And maybe he hadn't, not so close up; the moment could only get better if Lex could get his eyes to focus for better viewing. "Go on," he whispered, fingers twitching with motion in Clark's hair to gentle him onwards.

His brother's eyes closed, and he leaned forward, kissing the bare tip with a gentle purse of his lips before allowing his tongue out to lap tenderly at the head. God, Clark might not have done it before, but it was fucking gorgeous to watch, made Lex's heart race, and his hands shake. By the time that Clark wrapped his lips around the end and began to gently suck, Lex was fairly certain that he couldn't even focus anymore.

He closed his eyes, and just groaned with the needy feeling of it. There wasn't anyone near the solarium, so he could be quite as loud as he liked, as indulgent as he liked. "Fuck, yes! God, just like that, Clark, do it just like that..." And maybe it wasn't the most expert blowjob he'd ever had, but there was such slow tenderness to the motion, to the slow sucks that made Lex want to buck his hips up and fuck Clark's face.

He wondered if Clark would let him do that sometime, and the thought made him whine just as much as the way Clark was taking more of Lex's dick into his mouth did. "Mmmm..." Soft, muffled sounds from Clark, breaths taken through his nose. God, he was looking at Lex again, all worshipful adoration.

"Ohhhh..." Hard to keep looking, but so worth it, so worth seeing the way Clark's cheeks hollowed out and how it matched the fluttering sucking and pressure of tongue against the underside of his cock. Better than Bruce, so, so much better...

That was just because it was Clark, though, Clark who loved him, Clark who would never leave him, who would always love him and stay with him. Clark, who was a whole lot better at giving lip service than any virgin anywhere ought to be. He'd obviously spent a lot of time thinking about it, because Lex didn't doubt that he'd never done it before.

It made him fleetingly wish he'd waited for Clark the way Clark had waited for him, but if Lex had, he wouldn't have had the experience to compare it against to know just how good it was. The way that teeth were a presence but barely, the way he sucked and tongued just right, just over the veins and that spot beneath the head that felt so good it made Lex's teeth ache.

"You're gorgeous, Clark, so good at this, so..."

The encouragement only made it better, the faint hums of enjoyment turning into whimpers, Clark's fingers coming to hold the root of Lex's dick. It made him pant, head laying back against the chair as Clark stroked him carefully just behind his mouth, where he couldn't take any more in past his throat.

"Beautiful." Lex moaned it more than he said it, but he meant it as he used his good leg to cant his hips up just a little, just for a fraction of leverage. It wasn't going to be like those times where he had tried with all of his might to outlast Bruce's torturously expert sucking -- no, he wanted to come down Clark's throat, and just the thought made it more imminent.

Just the faint application of tongue made it even closer, and Clark's nose was nudging at his belly, at the faint bare traces of his skin in a way that made him want to yell.

"Oh, fucking... Christ, Clark, you beautiful -- fuck, I'm going to come, your mouth is so good, your hand..." His soft nose and the side of his hand against sensitive bare skin, his breath, the careful warm moisture of his mouth closing him in, sucking him out.

Lex yelled, and it felt so good. So good, and Clark didn't pull away, just let Lex spill into his mouth, and when it overflowed his lips, he only paused to lick it up, making Lex come in another faint spurt that spattered over a high cheekbone.

His balls were going to collapse like the vacuum-suctioned things they felt like. Breathing hard, staring at Clark's face, Lex dropped his fingers to Clark's cheek and swiped his thumb through the streak of semen. "Clark..."

"Was it okay?" Clark asked him, voice trembling a little as he turned his mouth to the side, sucking Lex's thumb between swollen red lips.

"Better than okay," Lex murmured, and that last gesture gained Clark a little twitch of his flagging erection as the sensation raced up and down his spine. "Best ever."

That seemed to make Clark feel entirely smug as he leaned to kiss Lex's belly, slowly tugging up briefs and refastening Lex's shorts. "Have I mentioned lately how gorgeous you are? I think I could suck your dick every day," he sighed, rubbing the remaining faint traces away from Lex's skin with careful fingers.

"I think I could definitely live with that. Clark..." He felt he had to impress on Clark just how good it had been, even though there weren't quite words for it. "C'mere."

Carefully, Clark moved to straddle him again, looking shy now that he wasn't face-first in Lex's crotch anymore. "Love you," he whispered, hiding his face momentarily against Lex's ear.

So, so sweet, so sweet... "I know," Lex whispered back, sliding arms tight around him. Warm and shy, but definitely not timid. And with time, Clark would be less shy, less... less virginal when he wasn't a virgin anymore. "I love you, too. Always have... And like this for a long time."

"Good. That means I don't have to hunt Bruce down and make him sorry for looking at you." There was such warm amusement in that voice, backed by no small amount of truth. Clark's arms were around him, and he was rocking faintly against Lex's belly, giving little sighs. "This is better than math."

"Plus you've done the math before. I hadn't thought that they'd still be inflicting the same stuff when you got to these grades..." Lex's fingers tugged at the hem of Clark's shirt, pulled it over the waistband of his jeans. "Let me return the favor."

"We could go upstairs, Lex. Maybe, you could have more. Anything you want," Clark promised him, mouth bussing across a cheekbone. "Anything."

"I know, but I want to go slow with you," Lex reminded softly, turning his head into Clark's kisses so he could catch his mouth. "I didn't have the benefit of being given time to think things through and get comfortable, and I'd like to make sure you do. It gets unsettling if it goes too fast."

"I could still hunt him down for you," Clark offered a little breathlessly, kissing Lex again, tilting his head so that it was almost perfect. "If you wanted."

"I learned a lot. That two stupid kids shouldn't rush headlong into sex together. Someone..." Lex let out a slow, breathless sigh against Clark's sweet, perfect lips. Oh, yeah, he was going to suck Clark's cock before they left that room. "Someone has to be the voice of reason, but I think I just forgot why."

"Forget why again," Clark encouraged on a whimpered breath, but the sound of the door to the solarium opening nearly scared them both to death, and Clark was off his lap and halfway across the room by the time their visitors came in.

"Wow," Chloe said, sniffing the air thoughtfully. "Very sunny in here."

Of course, Lex didn't have super speed like Clark, so he was still clutching with death knuckles to the arm of his chair.

"Wow, it's bright for a musty old -- hey, Lex, are you wearing shorts?"

"Hi to you, too, Pete, Chloe. Thanks for knocking and did the butler let you in?" Did the butler like the idea of staying employed? No, obviously not.

"You're welcome," Chloe answered for both of them. "Well, still, it's nice. We came in through the kitchen, dropped off some kind of pie. Mrs. Kent said you two were here, and that Clark was probably dying for comfort food by now. She said he'd probably suck it right down like it was going out of style."

Or maybe like it was... Mm, good thought, but still too soon. Lex shifted, and winced genuinely for the ache in his leg as he twisted to pick his laptop up off of the floor. "You didn't have to bring it over, but thanks." He flashed them both a bright, clear business smile, and took his laptop off of standby. "So what brings you two here?"

"In a word? Well, actually three... Cat Lady Mullholland," Chloe told Clark with a nod. He groaned and shook his head.

"No. Just no."

"Yes, Clark. Just yes. Something really weird is going on over there, and we need to find out what."

"And pretty much? I'm refusing to go over there with Chloe unless you're there, man," Pete muttered.

Lex cocked an eyebrow at both of them, trying hard not to scowl. "I think Clark's been involved in enough trouble recently."

"We'd just be going over to peek in the windows," Chloe cajoled. "You can come with us, Lex..."

"No, he can't, his leg is broken."

"Exactly. As much as the idea of tagging along with you three fascinates me, I'm under threat of death if I try to walk much on my leg," Lex drawled, "So, no. And I'm not letting my little brother get into trouble..."

"Clark can carry you. I know he pretends to be a wuss..."

"Hey!" Clark protested.

"...but I've seen him toting around those bales of hay," Chloe continued. "Tell me you're not absolutely dying to get out of this moldering pile of rocks and have some real adventure."

The half-scowl turned to a full scowl. "Miss Sullivan, you may leave. Now. You come up here, disturb me, and then insult my home. This 'moldering pile of rocks' is my home, and you can remove yourself from the premises immediately."

"Uh..." Pete darted past Chloe, over towards Clark. "So, how's your math homework?"

"Slow," Clark admitted, keeping one eye on Lex and Chloe at all times, just in case the claws came out and it proved to all of them that old Mrs. Mullholland wasn't the one they ought to be worrying about. "I mean, it's all stuff Lex showed me forever ago. Do you think they're going to kill each other before we come to a solid decision?"

"Probably. Actually? I think Chloe's a little jealous of your brother," Pete whispered as he hovered over Clark's shoulder.

"... so I'd appreciate it if you showed yourself out."

"Not until you both agree to come with us. Come on, Lex. I don't know you well at all, but you seem the adventurous type. Don't you want to know what's going on over there with all of those cats and Mrs. Mullholland? What if she slips something in the cafeteria food? Clark's in danger, here!" Chloe told him.

"Why would Chloe be jealous of Lex?" Clark murmured back, tilting his head to the side to look at Pete.

"Dunno," Pete denied vaguely. "Might have something to do with you being here all the time. Ask her yourself."

"I think the only danger here is your lack of rationale. Don't you have, say, homework to be doing?"

"No," Chloe said firmly. "Pete and I have already done our homework, unlike Mr. Procrastinator Clark Kent. What we have is a situation that needs to be investigated. Come on, Lex. You sound like you're a billion years old."

He smiled at her, a sharp unpleasant smile before he returned his attention to his computer screen. "I'm not planning on peeking into old ladies' windows, Miss Sullivan."

Clark groaned. "Look, Lex. Could we maybe fight over this later? Chloe, what makes you think it's such a good idea to go look in on Mrs. Mullholland?"

A triumphant grin crossed Chloe's face. "Not that you'd know, since you've been hiding out here for the last couple of days, but Mrs. Mullholland hasn't shown up for work since Friday," she informed him. "And the cats all over town have been going absolutely crazy."

"Don't you think you should notify the proper authorities if you're looking into a missing person's case?" Lex sneered in the face of Chloe's grin.

"This is Smallville, Luthor," Chloe snapped. "The authorities don't give two good damns so long as whoever it is isn't glowing green and rampaging through Main Street thinking they're Godzilla!"

"CHLOE!" Clark and Pete gasped together.

"Go about things your way, then -- I'm not going to stop you, but I'm not going to put everything I have at risk to go 'investigate' some cat-lady. If Clark wants to go, that's up to him."

"Lex..." It verged on begging, and those green eyes were utterly pitiful. "You know I can't leave you here. You'll go off to the office when I'm not looking!"

"Why would I do that?" Lex asked, gesturing to his laptop. "I have all the work I could want right here."

"C'mon, Clark -- I don't think your brother needs a babysitter," Pete cajoled.

"My brother needs a babysitter worse than anybody else in existence," Clark insisted. "I know better than to think that he'll sit there and be good, and since that's the case..." He eyed Lex. "There's a wheelchair in the foyer closet that's got your name on it, Lex. It's that, or I call Mom."

It was the first time Chloe had gotten a chance to watch Kent Family dynamics up close and personal, or even in the confines of a controlled environment. Like vipers, or maybe rabbits, under glass.

Lex sighed, shut his laptop loudly, and then moved to roll to his feet, ready to balance most of his weight on his good leg. "You just want to see me go thudding down the stairs. I told you to get rid of that thing after the first Professor X joke you made."

Clark gave a huge grin, altogether pleased with himself as he moved to help his brother. "What can I say?" he teased. "Professor X is hot. I thought you'd appreciate the analogy."

"I don't," Lex denied as he let Clark help him limp towards the closet where the wheelchair was. "If just because I'm scared of you going after Patrick Stewart. What would Mom say about that, hmn? Or Dad?"

"Mom would agree with me," Clark decided. "But Dad would say that Jean Grey was hotter. He has a thing for redheads."

"We noticed," Chloe murmured under her breath, holding her hand out to Pete. She'd told him that she'd get Lex and Clark to go with them.

He just shrugged, shaking his head as they started towards the door. "Just had to let Clark talk him into it. Used to happen all the time when they were little," Pete whispered as he opened the Solarium's door.

"They're attached at the hip or something, aren't they?" she whispered back to him, shaking her head. "You owe me, Ross."

"Whispering's not nice," Clark chided as he picked Lex up and headed down the hall despite the bald man's protests. Loud. Very loud.

"Hey! What the fuck are you doing? I'm not the damned dog, I can walk well enough on my own, damn you!" The snarl of a man few would eagerly cross, outraged and embarrassed. Of course, it made Pete laugh quietly, smirking as they followed after the two of them.

"I'll pay you back in coffee," he whispered to Chloe.

"You'd better," Chloe threatened, beaming at him even as Clark came to a stop in the foyer.

"Come on, Lex. You've been dying to get out of the house and you know it. Aren't you glad I didn't say Captain Picard, instead?" he cajoled.

"Picard isn't in a wheelchair because the loony of the day thought it would be fun to close a car door on his leg," Lex countered flatly. "Just put me down, and if you push it, I swear to god that I'll run your feet over. With my Benz!"

"Yes, sir, Mister Lew-thor," Clark responded snidely, settling Lex down carefully. "Don't worry. You'll be back to Picard-sexy in no time at all."

Lex glared back at Clark, and any forgiveness that he'd earned himself by virtue of that beautiful blowjob was starting to disintegrate along with his brother's mood as he balanced carefully on one foot while Clark got the chair out of the closet. "Now just where the hell does this 'cat lady' live?"

Chloe peeked up over the edge of the fence. "That's it. The old Mullholland place. She's lived here forever and a day, and one of the big meteor crash sites is just down the road."

"Yeah," Clark said a little queasily, eyeing the house with a wary expression. "I mean, I heard." More like he'd felt it when they drove by it, but it wasn't that bad out here.

"Looks great," Lex remarked blandly, crunching over the gravel with a few motions of his hands. "You three go investigate, and if you need me, scream real loud. I have my cell phone."

"You're going to make us go in alone?" Clark squeaked, green eyes becoming huge. "Lex..."

Chloe eyed Pete, held up her fingers in an indication that she wanted to bet on who would win that argument. She'd never held out against a Clark whine in her life, so she knew the effects it could have. Pete just shook his head at her, and jerked his gaze towards Clark.

"I don't think you're in any real danger, Clark," Lex insisted, forced for the moment to look up and up at his little brother.

"Yeah, but they'll want to split up and Pete will go with Chloe, and then I'll be all by myself," Clark pleaded. "You wouldn't send me in there by myself, would you? What if the cat-lady comes to get me?"

"Funny, I've been harboring the idea that you're starting to grow up..." Lex started to roll away from them, pivoting the thing with little skill. "Let's go. The easiest way to not make an ass of yourself is to try the front door first."

Clark's grin was so bright it was damned near blinding. "Front door first. Right, Lex," he said happily, pleased with himself.

"Hey, Chloe... how's he going to get up the front steps?" Pete whispered to the antagonist of the whole thing.

"Clark will help him," Chloe whispered back. "Watch."

"Okay, so, we turn you around backwards and lean you back," Clark said, "and we go right up the steps. You're gonna let me, right?"

"I'd better, unless I want to knock on the door by throwing pebbles at it," Lex drawled. And just for a moment, he folded his hands on the arms of the chair and let Clark do just what he'd said he was going to do. He trusted Clark not to let him fall.

"Still haven't seen any Brady Bunchness," Pete muttered back at her.

"That's because you're ignoring it. What about all of the Patrick Stewart sexy talk?" Chloe murmured right back, shaking her head as Clark reached up and knocked on the door. "It's so there, I'm telling you."

"Mrs. Mullholland?" Clark called, eyeing Lex before he leaned down and turned the door knob. "Mrs. Mullholland?" he queried again, loudly enough that it echoed back to him. "She's not answering. Let's go in and look for her..."

"I tease my older sister about wanting to be J-lo, that does not mean I want to nail her, man!" Pete stopped whispering as he clomped up the steps behind them.

"Maybe she's sleeping, Clark," Lex suggested.

As Clark pushed the door open a little further, several hungry cats came mewling, pleading with them. "I dunno, Lex. I mean, if she was here, the cats wouldn't look like that, would they?" He shook his head. "What if she fell or something?"

"Hopefully we'll find her, then," Chloe said cheerfully. "Better us than those commercial people."

"If the police come, let me talk our way out of it," Lex gave in, and backed up a little to let the others file into the house in front of him. Maybe if he watched them like the stray, half-crazed ducklings they were, they wouldn't get into much trouble.

"Sure thing, Professor," Clark answered cheerfully. "I'll even promise not to shoot fire out of my eyes or anything. Hey, and Pete will avoid all efforts to force him into using the knives in his fingers, right?"

"You read such shit comics, Clark -- get in the house." Lex blocked the way of one curious cat, shooing it back into the doorway with a hand. The cat hurried back in, looking back hopefully and meowing in hunger.

Maybe the first thing to do would be to go and feed the cats before they ate all three boys and had Chloe for dessert.

"Let's split up," Chloe suggested. "We'll make it through faster. Pete and I will check upstairs, and you two can check around down here. God, this place is like some kind of funeral parlor," she finished with a shiver, raising her digital camera and clicking off a few quick pictures.

"Let's all hope they haven't been feeding themselves on her body -- if you find her, and she's not moving, come back here and call 911." Lex wheeled in, mindful of the hungry kitties, and closed the door behind him.

"Believe me, if we find a body upstairs, I'll be waiting in the car," Pete declared nervously. "You can join me..."

"You'd abandon me with a dead body?" Chloe asked, mouth screwed up in a disbelieving little moue.

"I'll drag you out to the car with me," Pete smirked as he started towards the stairs.

Clark shivered, looking at her from the corners of his eyes. "I'd be more worried about the cats if I was you."

"Clark, they're just cats." Lex hefted one scrawny furball up one-handed as demonstration to Clark of that fact. Normal cat that mewled when Lex did that, but didn't go ballistic at him. "If we don't find her, we're calling the SPCA along with the police. It's insane to have this many cats."

"Well, maybe she's able to take good care of them," Clark excused a little worriedly. "I mean, when she's not MIA. I'll bet there's plenty of leftovers at the cafeteria and they get fed pretty good. They look healthy, anyway. Of course, that could be 'cause they've been eating Mrs. Mullholland's dead body..."

Chloe shuddered. "Are you Kents ALWAYS this morbid!?"

"Chloe? Farm-boys," Pete called to her over his shoulder as he slowly started to walk up the creepily creaky stairs. "I know you're a city girl, but 'round here, farmers do all sorts of shit with dead and dying animals, like--"

"Sacrifice them at board meetings back in Metropolis," Lex agreed dryly, wheeling out of the front hallway and towards the 'living room'. "Get up the stairs and start inspecting if you're going to."

"Yes, sir, Mister Luthor, sir," Chloe replied sharply, saluting him as she took Pete's wrist. "Come on. Let's head upstairs."

"Maybe we should check the kitchen first?" Clark suggested.

"You do that -- I'll take a look around here," Lex murmured as he set the furball he'd picked up back down, and leaned forwards to shoo a couple of the more curious ones out of the way. They were calm