Clark groaned as the shrill ring of the telephone cut through his dreams and rudely yanked him into reality. He peered at the digital clock then flopped back against his mattress. Who in the hell would be calling him at this time of night?

A momentary surge of panic swept through his sleepy brain at the thought that it could be his mother. After all, his father wasn't in the best of health these days. But one look toward his roommate's side of the room and he realized that Lex hadn't returned from the big frat bash.

He slapped the phone's receiver into his palm. "I'm his roommate, not his mother."

"What are you, Kent? Psychic?"

"It's two in the morning, Thompson," he replied testily.

"I know. But, dude, he blew up the keg."

Clark sat up and rubbed his free hand over his face. "What do you mean he blew up the keg?"

"Just what I said, man. He and Heller had some stupid bet about cleaning solvents they found under the kitchen sink and dry ice. One moment we were having a bitchin' party and the next there's suds and shrapnel everywhere."

At the word shrapnel, Clark's sleepy brain started wide-awake. "Was anyone hurt?"

"No one but Luthor, and he refuses to go to the hospital. He says he promised you for Lent that he wouldn't annoy his father. If he goes downtown there no way he's going to be able to stay off the paparazzi's radar. The way I see it, since you're the one who forced him to make such a dumb ass promise in the first place, he's your problem."

Clark sat up, although he didn't put his feet on the floor. "Is he in any danger of bleeding to death?"

"No. You can get dressed first. He's not bleeding nearly as bad as he was last time. We wrapped his forearm and it hasn't soaked through yet, so you have some time."

"Great. Just great." Clark reached over and blindly hung up the phone. With a heavy sigh, he dressed at superspeed, grabbed the keys to his truck and headed for the frat house, wondering whether or not he should ask for another roommate.

In many ways, Lex was a great roommate. He was normally fairly quiet, had a razor sharp wit and was smarter than anyone Clark knew, professors included. He came from an incredibly wealthy family, but didn't rub Clark's nose in that fact. He kept his side of the room immaculate, cleaner than Clark did, was generous to a fault and had exposed Clark to a lot of different experiences.

But he was also self-destructive. Lex had no sense of self-preservation, often leaping into challenges on nothing more than a dare or a whim. There wasn't a drink he hadn't tried or a substance he hadn't snorted. Clark had speculated that Lex was somehow trying to punish himself for some past misdeed, although the more he got to know Lex's father the more he thought Lex might be screaming for some sort of attention. And while Clark liked Lex more than he was willing to admit, he didn't know how much longer he could sit on the sidelines and watch Lex try to kill himself.

When he arrived at the frat house, he found his roommate sitting on the porch steps and leaning against the railing. If possible, he looked even paler than usual. Clark shook his head as he approached and couldn't miss the growing hangdog expression on his friend's face.

"What? You didn't know it was going to go boom?"

Lex flashed him a grin, but it disappeared under Clark's stern countenance. "I knew it was going to go boom. I just miscalculated the size of the boom."

"Did it, at least, happen outside?"

Lex nodded.

"And no one else was injured?"

"No one was injured."

"Except for you."

Lex shrugged.

"How much did you win?"

"Now, Clark, why--"

"How much?"

"One hundred fourteen dollars and eleven cents."

Clark squatted beside him and started to unwrap the towel. "Do I want to know?"

"Probably not."

"This doesn't look too bad."

"I told Thompson not to call you."

Clark ignored his comment. "It'll probably leave a scar."

"No it won't."

Clark stood and helped Lex to his feet. "Let's get you home and I'll bandage it properly."

Once he put Lex into the cab, he walked around the truck and took a deep breath to quell his growing frustration. He had every right to be furious with his roommate, and yet, he couldn't quite work up a decent head of steam.

He turned on the ignition and glanced over at Lex to make sure he was still conscious. "Why do I put up with you?"

"Because I've expanded your practical first aid knowledge ten-fold."

Clark put the truck into gear and started the short drive back to the dorm. "That's not funny."

"Because you feel sorry for the poor little rich boy."

"I'm not even going to dignify that with an response."

"Because I don't complain when you float in your sleep."

Clark slammed on the brakes and Lex bounced off the dash.

"Jesus, Kent. Injured man here."

"What did you say?" Clark demanded.

"Nothing. Shit. Can we just go home now?"

"What. Did. You. Say?"

Lex rolled his gaze heavenward. "Look, Clark, I'm not an idiot. You're never late to class, even when you wake up two minutes before they start. You type faster than anyone on the friggin' planet. You bent Taylor's dart that time he was drunk and totally missed the board, and you float in your sleep. You're from Smallville, home of the strange and unexplained. It's not that hard to put two and two together. Can we go home before I bleed to death?"

Clark shook his head to clear his thoughts but turned back to the road. "Why haven't you said anything before?"

"In case you missed the news bulletin, you aren't the only meteor mutant at this fair university."

"Your ability to heal?"

"What? You thought I just had an amazing constitution?"

Clark didn't respond, deciding it was best just to concentrate on driving. Once he parked the truck, he jogged around and helped Lex down from the cab. Lex shrugged his arm out of Clark's hold and walked unsteadily toward the dorm. Biting the inside of his lip, Clark quietly trailed behind him.

When they entered the room, Clark headed for the bathroom and pulled out their first aid kit. Lex flopped onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling, refraining from his usual after-party commentary. Clark cleaned the wound and bandaged the small hole with his usual proficiency, then gathered his supplies and put them back into the small box.

"So when are you moving out?" Lex asked quietly.

Clark studied his roommate's face. "You're testing me, aren't you?"

"What do you mean?" Lex refused to look at him.

Ignoring the question, Clark proceeded aloud with his train of thought. "I've seen you do this over and over again with other people. You expect people to walk away from you and when they don't you start to push them. After awhile, they decide you're more trouble than you're worth and they walk away, thereby proving your hypothesis."

"What hypothesis?" Lex's voice was filled with amused indulgence, but Clark had known him long enough to know it was a defense mechanism.

"That's you're...unlovable."

Lex rolled his gaze. "I'll have you know that I'm very loveable."

"I know you are."

"People scramble all over themselves to be with me."

"I know that, too."

"So, your brilliant hypothesis is flawed."

"No, it's not."

"Oh?"

"People are attracted to your name and the power associated with it. They like the limelight, but they don't really see you, do they?"

Lex clenched his jaw. "I'm very tired, Clark."

"So go to sleep." Clark picked up the kit and stood. "But to answer your earlier question, I'm not moving out."

He returned the kit back to the bathroom. Pulling off his shirt as he walked to the bed, he toed off his shoes and flopped face-first onto the mattress.

"Why not?" The question was asked so softly that had it not been for his superhearing, he might not have heard it.

"Because I don't want your power or your limelight."

"Don't try to save me, Kent."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

The room fell into silence.

"What do you want from me?" Lex asked just as Clark was about to drop off to sleep again.

He yawned once. "I just want to be your friend, Lex."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"Because it's been my experience that everyone wants something."

"Of course I want something from you."

"Do tell."

Clark rolled on his side and faced Lex's bed. "I want the right to continue to mock you in the mornings before you get your caffeine. In exchange for picking you up from frat parties gone bad at two o'clock in the morning, I get to continue to rile you with my total refusal to learn economics and I totally need your help if I'm going to pass history."

"That's all?"

Clark hesitated a moment. "No."

"What else?"

"I just hope that one day, when you're sober and healthy, you'll see me as more than a friend."

"Oh."

"Good night, Lex."

There was a long pause, but he finally heard the soft whispered reply. "Good night, Clark."

~End~