Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, if they were, they'd be a little different on the show. Also, the only band mentioned that is not real is Life Threat, a name and people characteristics I made up. If there is a real band with that name, I apologize.

Note: I really wanted to picture Lex dressed like this...

"Lex, what are you wearing?" Clark looked Lex over with his mouth agape.

Lex glanced down at himself, then back up at the startled farm boy. "Wait until we get inside, Clark. I won't even stand out. Well, I wouldn't except for the baldness thing."

Clark shook his head as if to refute Lex, then gave up. He didn't know what they were doing nor where they were, so perhaps Lex was right.

Lex was wearing a pair of dark jeans that looked almost painted on, they were so tight. Around his waist, but loose so it was cocked to one side, was a wide belt studded with rows of stainless-steel pyramid spikes. His tight black t-shirt had the legend Minor Threat scrawled across it in green paint. Over the shirt he wore a denim jacket that had even more pyramids, and actual spikes, sticking out of it, making Lex look like some sort of disgruntled porcupine. A few saftey pins were also thrown on for good measure. Plastered all over the jacket where there weren't spikes were patches or other scraps of material with more odd legends on them, such as Anti-Flag, A Global Threat, The Casualties, The Unseen, The Clash, The Sex Pistols, Dead Kennedys, Agent Orange, Exploited, and Thought Riot. Adorning Lex's feet was a pair of black combat boots with several scuff marks (very un-Lexian).

As Clark circled Lex, trying to make sense of it all (What was unseen? What was such a threat? Which dead Kennedies? Who was clashing? Agent who? What kind of sex toys? What kind of riot?), he realized that Lex was trying not to chuckle.

"What?" Clark asked defensively. Lex had only told him that he was taking Clark out to get some culture, something about not wanting Clark to grow up without experiencing music other than the shit rock that played on the radio, and the other shit pop music that Lex was subjected to every time he let Clark have control of the radio.

Now, here he was, on a sidewalk in Metropolis, outside some club where loud, atrocious music was playing, with a bunch of kids his age smoking cigarettes while leaning against the wall or sitting on the curb. From what he could tell, Lex was the one that fit in easily (proving Lex right once again, damn him), while Clark in his red t-shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers (the lone instruction from Lex) stood out like a rose among buttercups. Or a country boy among city kids.

None of the other kids took any notice of them. The boys were dressed variably like Lex or wearing simply a t-shirt and pants of one kind or another. The girls he could see were often dressed in colors that tended to look awful together (perhaps that was what the legend The Clash meant?), plaid, jeans or skirts (with either multi-colored or fishnet stockings), and combat boots, and none seemed to have their natural hair color.

As a boy with a green mohawk stepped outside to light a cigarette, Clark leaned into Lex and hissed, "Where are we and what are we doing here?"

Lex also leaned in conspiratorially. "Clark, the music you listen to is shit. Now, even if you don't like the music you're going to hear tonight, at least the music here isn't that pop rock garbage on the radio. The music has a purpose other than to make money. There's a reason you've never heard of any of the bands that my jacket is promoting. You're going to experience something new, and meet a whole subculture that is decidedly lacking in Smallville. Who knows? You may have a good time."

Clark looked doubtful, his expression practically screaming it from the rooftops. "If you say so, Lex. But... could you at least tell me what this all is?"

Lex inhaled, trying not to sound exasperated. "Clark, tonight you are going to experience a street-punk show. Music that promotes thinking for yourself, unity, and not taking everything at face value. Most importantly, the bands promote questioning the government and not taking any shit from it lying down. Making yourself heard. If you don't like the way something is, work to change it. Don't just bitch about it."

"Well, okay, but what are you doing here?"

"While not exactly a part of the scene when I was your age, I did enjoy going to an occasional show to rid myself of some aggression, and meet some kids who may have had bigger problems than their fathers cutting them off while they attended boarding school. Also, I could blend in. In some groups, ones very different from the crowd here tonight, I was welcomed as a Neo-Nazi skinhead, while at others I was ostracized for it. Usually no one cared. Most importantly I was never recognized as the heir to the Luthor throne. I was just another kid with a grudge against someone or society." Lex turned to the club. "Of course, here in Metropolis, I should get recognized, but this is one of the better clubs to have my picture taken in. Far less impending scandal than most other places I could bring you to tonight."

"Okay..." Clark was still having trouble processing the information he had just been given. Punk? Lex? Nazis? The government? What? Resigning himself to just letting Lex have his fun, Clark smirked. "So Lex, who exactly thinks of you as a `minor threat'? You can be a pretty big threat when you want to be."

This time, Lex did sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his middle finger and thumb. He gave Clark a very brief description of the punk band Minor Threat, and the new subclass that frontman Ian MacKaye initiated with his term "straightedge." He then gave Clark a push towards the door, and they entered. No one had given them a second glance, except for one of the girls outside deciding that even sans-mohawk and combat boots, the tall, dark-haired guy was pretty hot.

Clark entered the room and almost bolted back outside. The room was hot, and surrounded probably six times as many kids as had been outside. They all looked pretty much the same, with various combinations of band shirts (Lex had explained the legends on his jacket to be band names as well), jackets, and patches. Mohawks of various colors were plentiful, as were piercings. It seemed like everyone had either his or her eyebrow or lip pierced, sometimes both or multiples in each chunk of flesh. Many guys were decked out all in black, just to keep matching simple, he guessed.

Next, Clark's eyes were drawn to the writhing mass of kids in the middle of the floor. The lights were dim and the stage lights were strobing, so it was a little hard to see what they were doing (and watching in X-ray vision probably would have made him sick), but it appeared that they were... running into each other. And pushing each other. One tall skinny boy seemed to be throwing elbows at people. All at once the music seemed to change, and the thrashing crowd changed to form a shape that was trying hard to be a circle, flailing its limbs around like they were broken.

"Lex!" Clark returned to hissing at his friend. "What are they doing?! It looks like they're trying to kill each other!"

Lex was clearly trying to hide a smile. "They're moshing, Clark. It's part of the music. You get into the pit and move how you feel. Running into people is part of the fun. Part of the ridding oneself of aggression thing I mentioned earlier. There were some shows where I had some spectacular bruises the next morning..." Lex trailed off, lost in his thoughts for a moment.

Clark watched as some girl facing the stage got pushed about three feet and didn't even turn around to see what creep did it. Apparently, these odd kids didn't care that they were being abused. He guessed that they knew the risks when they got that close to the mob of spiky, thrashing kids.

"I just... this doesn't seem like much fun to me, Lex. Who likes getting the crap kicked out of them?"

Lex wasn't about to touch that one with a ten foot pole (another okay band, he thought absently) and changed the subject. "Okay, Clark, this is a local band. Sometimes they're really good, and sometimes they need to be retooled. They usually have a ton of fans to support them no matter what. Then there's going to be two bands, and then the headliner, Life Threat. They're a New York band that I got into when I went to a show there a few years ago. They play music that is a little more melodic than what we are listening to now." Lex frowned as the guitarist (who appeared to be about eleven years old) inadvertently switched keys. "And they're better. They even use a fourth chord once in a while." Lex looked around him, taking in the sights. "Now, Clark, half the fun of these shows is just watching and observing other people having a good time. If the music sucks, it's all you can do until the next band comes on."

Clark decided to follow Lex's example and just stood there and watched. The singer, screeching loudly, seemed to be trying to make love to the microphone, while the bassist looked a little bored. The drummer stared straight forward, his eyes intense as the tendons in his neck stood out.

Clark turned his attention to the crowd. Most of the kids looked to be about his age. Wow, he thought, Lex must feel like an old man. He glanced over to the bar along one wall, and smiled as he saw parents there. At least, grownups who had probably come with their kids, not wanting them to brave the concert by themselves. Show, Clark corrected himself. Lex keeps calling it a show.

Abruptly the set ended, and the band started to disassemble their equipment. The singer jumped up a second time to remind everyone that they were selling cds for five dollars. Clark saw not one person mosey over to get a cd. Probably everyone who knew them already had one. He did notice that each member in the four-piece had a girl to give him a hug.

During the set change, Clark noticed that the music playing through the club speakers was something he had heard before. Songs about being crazy, and something about paradise, and going somewhere or coming somewhere... Lex took pity on him and explained that they were listening to Green Day's album Dookie (apparently on random), which most kids in the club would have heard, if not owned. Clark wasn't sure he understood, but that was okay. Lex had thrown quite a bit at him tonight already.

The next two bands sounded pretty indistinguishable to Clark. Lex seemed to get into the second one, nodding his head and mouthing some of the lyrics. Clark, who had studied Lex's body language often, could tell that Lex wanted to move up. But they were in the back, Clark because he was wary of these kids and afraid of hurting them, and Lex because he didn't want to leave Clark alone. Clark wanted to give Lex a shove forward, but he didn't want to be left alone either. He wasn't particularly afraid, but he just felt horribly out of place and self-conscious. The way girls and one or two guys were staring at him didn't help.

The first band announced one song to be a cover by that band Lex mentioned on his jacket and that many kids had t-shirts supporting, The Clash. This announcement caused a small riot in the already pumped-up room. More people jumped into that "pit" area, and it really did look like some of them were trying to kill their neighbors. This was one song during which Lex actually smiled openly, another very infrequent expression on the young billionaire's face; he also nodded his head. Shouting into Clark's ear, he explained that during most street-punk shows, an opening band played a Clash cover. It was scripture, or something. Not having any idea who The Clash was, Clark just nodded.

At the end of its set, each band promoted itself one more time, giving its name and reminding fans that there was merchandise to purchase. The first band promoted veganism in one song, at least that's what they said they were promoting in the song (it was kind of hard to tell either way). The second band announced a protest rally they would be attending in two weeks supporting the Planned Parenthood office in their home town, which was only a couple hours away, in response to a planned church protest attacking Planned Parenthood. Clark thought, okay, these bands do seem to actually be doing more than causing deafness in their fans; they have issues they support and promote. Clark tried to think of the last time any of the bands on the radio publicly announced a political issue they supported, and came up blank. Maybe it was something they did at concerts, but Clark had trouble affording the expensive tickets to get there to find out.

After another fairly short set-change (during which the bands broke down and set up their own instruments on the foot-high stage) featuring the same Green Day cd (for the third time), Life Threat finally took the stage.

Clark took in the band, this band that Lex seemed to like for some reason. It was a four-piece covered in denim and spikes. Clark could just glimpse chains that ran between pockets. The lead singer had a mohawk that was dyed red, but he hadn't bothered to spike it, so it just flapped there. The bassist and the guitarist just had bleach jobs, the guitarist's spiked. The drummer was the only member that seemed to have his natural hair color (brown), and it was cropped short.

After retuning briefly and strumming a few chords, the frontman thanked those fans who came out for the show, acknowledged all the opening acts, and gave another thanks to those fans who came out for their last show in Metropolis. The bassist piped up and mentioned that his leg was now healed (it had been broken the last time they were in town) and that the letters and emails with messages of "get well" were much appreciated.

Clark was impressed; playing with a broken leg couldn't have been easy, especially at this kind of show where all the musicians got really into it and didn't just stand around. These guys must really be into the music and their fans. He was sure he'd heard of pop stars who had cancelled shows for far less.

They finally got down to the music, and Clark noticed that Lex had inched closer to the pit. He had a gleam in his eyes that Clark didn't particularly like. Two songs into it, Clark felt Lex tense next to him. Before he could ask what was wrong, Lex bolted forward and launched himself over the crowd using the two boys that had been standing in front of them. The crowd wasn't very thick, and no one was expecting a surfer, so he almost crashed to the floor, but was saved and got passed around over the tops of everyone, using their fingers and hands.

He did eventually crash to floor and get stepped on, but he bounced up with the help of the people he crashed in between. He pushed his way back to Clark, who stood there once again with his mouth agape.

"What was that?!"

"Crowd surfing. Please tell me you don't need further explanation." Lex grinned and cocked his head at Clark, who shuffled his feet. "That was great. Haven't gotten a chance to do that in a while, forgot how much fun it is. Damn."

Clark ignored Lex's newly-broken speech. "It's just so... so different from what I've associated with you in the past. You're not wearing a suit, or a button-down shirt, or wingtips, and you're not hiding the way you feel, and you touched people you didn't know, and were touched by them! It's just weird." Clark studied Lex, actually happy to see his friend so pleased; he was just confused and trying to make some sense of it all. Lex rarely looked happy and content. He liked what he saw, the thin sheen of sweat on Lex's brow, the unguarded smile, the way his clothing accentuated his body... What?

Lex didn't reply, and, back to mouthing lyrics, just turned back to the writhing, hopping crowd as the band hopped and spat and shouted into the microphones, guitar chords and baselines reverberating around the small, crowded room. As they played their most popular songs, the crowd formed a circle-pit, or got rougher, and once or twice people tried Lex's crowd-surfing technique.

Lex was proud of Clark for not running away screaming; maybe there was hope for the boy yet. Punk shows were one of Lex's many old hobbies that he had been wary of Clark accepting. They were also one of the safest.

Lex would have tried to push Clark into the pit, with words, not his hands, just so that he would have a little experience with it, but he knew how strong Clark was, and he seemed far more developed than any of the scrawny boys at the show. Disaster was more than likely imminent, and Lex wanted Clark to have a good memory of the show. The way Clark was watching him out of the corner of his eye pretty much guaranteed that, from what Lex could tell.

Clark was indeed having a good time, now that he felt more relaxed. This band wasn't that bad, either. Or perhaps aggressive punk rock had the ability to damage his hearing, so he just wasn't hearing all of it any more. And the kids really were fun to watch. They were really getting into it, crowding around the microphones to sing along, and only one kid seemed like a jerk that was intentionally trying to hurt people. The one lone bouncer had given him a warning, but it didn't seem to matter.

After their last song, of which Clark could make out the lyrics "pain in living" and "fight back without fear," the band once more thanked everyone for coming, and encouraged the crowd to download its new songs and buy t-shirts and cds.

Clark and Lex ventured outside, the night air cool after the heat of the club. Lex brought them through an alley around the back of the club, where there were more kids smoking cigarettes. "I just want to tell the band it was a good set," Lex explained.

They only waited a couple minutes before the band came through a door at the back wall of the club, instruments in hand. Setting them in the van behind the building, two of them lit their own cigarettes and started to talk to their fans and sign autographs.

Lex waited until the teenagers with Sharpie markers left the area, then went over to the singer. He told them he liked the set, and the punker shook his hand and thanked Lex for coming out to another show and supporting their art. Looking over Lex's shoulder at Clark, the singer raised an eyebrow, so Lex introduced them. Clark mumbled something and shook the man's hand, then stood back. Another swarm of teenagers accosted the band members, so Lex dragged Clark away to give them room. He waved to the singer, and the guitarist, and wished them luck on the rest of their tour.

They found some kids ogling the Porsche when they made it back to the street, but most of the kids seemed to be gone, having taken public transportation home, or having called their parents for a ride. Lex smirked and opened the doors of his pricey sports car, and slid inside with impeccable grace. Clark, knowing that no matter what he was wearing he would never look that suave, just sat down.

They peeled out after revving the engine a couple times, Lex making the tires squeal on purpose to draw as much attention as possible. Clark again watched as Lex grinned. He really should do it more, he thought. It looks good. Trying not to think about it, Clark asked Lex, "So how come you didn't ask for their autograph?"

"Most street-punk bands don't want to put themselves on a pedestal over their fans. It's part of that unity thing they promote. No one is better than anyone else. And besides, I've met them before. I financed one of their earlier tours."

"Oh." Clark looked out the window, watching the streets of Metropolis streak by, when they weren't at a stoplight.

"So, Clark, did you have a good time?" Lex turned to Clark, watching the boy carefully. Clark sucked at hiding his emotions, but he often got away with lies that didn't involve them.

"Yeah, it was interesting. Not something I think I need to go see again, though." Clark returned his eyes to Lex.

"I figured as much. Thank you for coming with me, anyway."

"Lex, you practically kidnapped me and didn't tell me where we were going."

"Well, yes, but you could have left once we got there. No one held a gun to your head." Lex didn't say anything, but he felt that even the threat of a bullet wound wouldn't keep Clark somewhere he didn't want to be.

"No, it was fun. Different. The music got better, the crowd was really into it, which is fun, and some of the people there were really cute."

"Ah, you find a girl that caught your eye?"

"Something like that." Clark turned out to the window again, and in the poor light Lex wasn't sure if he was properly detecting a Clark Kent patented flush.

"Well, Clark, now you can feel comfortable bringing me to one of your secret hobbies. An exchange, if you will. I show you mine, you show me yours. Anything you want." Lex's innuendo achieved the desired effect: the flush crawling up Clark's face to his ears was visible. Lex found much enjoyment in messing occasionally with Clark's head.

When Clark was able to speak, he replied, "I dunno, Lex. I don't have this big secret life like you do, with all these secret hobbies." Lex forced back a snort with extreme effort.

"Well, Clark, anything you'd like to share with me, feel welcome to. Then I can bring you somewhere else you might enjoy."

Not touching that one, Clark and Lex drove back to the penthouse in silence, Clark debating what Lex was saying in the silence between his words.

"Lex."

"Yes, Clark?"

"Is there a video rental store somewhere here?"

"Yes. This is a major city. There's one every two blocks."

"Take me there, and I'll rent some stuff no one knows I'm interested in."

Lex cocked an eyebrow at Clark. "Okay, Clark."

"Haha!! Clark, this is great! How come you've kept this a secret from everyone?"

"I dunno, Lex. I was afraid people would judge me or something."

Lex looked at him, still smirking. "Then they suck. This is good stuff. Nothing to be afraid of. I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to share it with me."

"Well, you said anything at all..." Clark smiled at Lex. Tit for tat, after all. He needed to pay Lex back somehow for the show...