Medication For Sleep Deprivation » On Paper-Cuts and Auld Lang Syne

Firstly–thank you so much for the six months paid LJ time, LJ Fairy! *grins massively* That is so, so sweet! I’ve really lucked out with regards to people buying me LJ time and the user pics, and that definitely evokes the warm fuzzies. *much hugs*

Now, let’s try and make you glad I’m around. *g*

Title: On Paper-Cuts and Auld Lang Syne

Author: svmadelyn@yahoo.com

Spoilers: No, ma’am. Future-fic. PWP.

For seperis, because last night/this morning she wanted ‘falling things, whisky and Clark and Lex.’ And she’s pretty.

And I want her to finally put out with her damn Kitchen Aid mixer.

Everyone else–Happy New Year’s! (And I’m going to double up on what I post Sunday for Devil Lex; I think having the whole chapter all at once will just work out better. I–sorry. But, hey, fic that doesn’t have two chapters of never-ending dialogue, whee!)

The first holiday Clark spent as a human was Thanksgiving, and that hadn’t been the greatest time on earth. Having an iron-cast stomach one month and suddenly being susceptible to such things as overeating and heartburn the next weren’t pleasurable experiences. Clark had spent the next two days curled up on his mother’s sofa, moaning miserably, and taking silent, shameful comfort in his mother’s cooing, feeding him regular intervals of Pepto-Bismal and peppermint tea.

He couldn’t look at food with quite the same blind innocence he’d had before, so it was with some trepidation he’d sat down to Christmas dinner.

His mother had looked at him like he really *was* an alien for the very first time when he’d declined that second piece of pie.

So, two major holidays down now, and Clark was watching the clock at his desk in the office, hoping that the third time was the charm.

***

New Year’s Eve sucked.

Clark squeezed through the crowd, having to suck in his breath just to fit in between the warm, heavily perfumed bodies. “Excuse me,” he called over their heads, over and over, until he got stuck in the middle of the room. He carefully pressed against one of the taller guys, and half-using him as a shield, grunting a bit as he pushed, he managed to finally work his way up to the bar.

All of the bartenders looked harassed, so Clark pulled out his best, ‘I’m charming, please don’t spit in my shot glass smile’, and called out for a scotch, neat, vaguely hoping that the guy who’d nodded his head would bring him something resembling that.

The glass slid to a stop in front of his hand, and Clark’s smile dissipated when he saw the contents. “But—but wait! This isn’t–!” But the bartender was already at the other end, listening to a couple other patrons screaming in his ear. Clark looked around, and saw that it was kind of like Noah’s Ark in here. Surely he couldn’t be the only one all alone?

But—no.

Guy in the black polo shirt with the girl in the green hoops.

Red haired man that bore an eerie resemblance to Bruce Wayne in a bad wig with the short gymnastically-inclined looking girl.

Girl with the hideously bad tattoo *over her eye*, and eight piercings on her *face*, with the dorky looking black haired guy in glasses.

This was so fucking depressing. Clark was taking it all in stride, telling himself that it was good to be able to watch people up close and personally when they were in such a joyous spirit, when he saw two men in the corner, practically fucking with their eyes as they sipped their drinks. They seemed to be completely unaware of the noise, so intent they were on their conversation.

Clark gurgled, managing to choke on the tiny bit of liquor he hadn’t swallowed, and someone smacked him on the back, once, twice, hard. He gasped out, breathing in sweet, precious air and turned to half-heartedly thank whoever had seen his predicament, but there wasn’t anyone around who seemed to be paying attention.

His glass had been refilled while he’d turned his back, and he downed it without thinking. He set it back on the counter and hit the bar with his palm. It was so weird sometimes, the thoughts that crossed his mind lately—like now, he was certain that if he’d applied that kind of force only two months ago, he’d have turned the bar into dust.

Being human had certain freedoms that came with it, but Clark was still trying to figure out if the trade-offs were worth the trauma.

One refill turned into two, and Clark felt the room grow warmer as more bodies pressed tightly together and more people trudged in from the cold. The noise leveled out to almost become white noise. Two turned into three as Clark watched the couple in the corner put their glasses on a ledge and start kissing, and that seemed to be the cue for a quarter of the room. Three became four, and Clark was feeling wobbly, and lifted his fingers for the fifth, but the glass fell from his hands and shattered on the floor. Clark half-knelt to try and gather up the shards, but the room swayed before him.

And on his third holiday as a human, he was well and truly drunk.

He tugged out his wallet, and threw a handful of bills on the bar. Pushing the wallet into his back pocket, he weaved his way again through the crowd, barely noticing the television screens with the little :59 in the corner.

A minute later, he found himself outside, breathing in the crisp, wet air, watching and enjoying the little puffs of air his breath made in the cold. It had started to snow heavily while he was in the bar, and the ground was covered with sticky flakes. Snow rarely stayed on the ground in Metropolis, so Clark soaked in the ambience of the moment, and tried not to pass out. The bar broke out into screaming and cheers behind him as horns blew and people applauded.

He half-lurched across the sidewalk, and through a combination of holding himself up against the wall and running down the street like a madman alternately, he wound up completely lost, in a district he’d only visited because of a lot of domestic disturbances. Clark figured he should probably just call a cab and save himself at least one ordeal tonight. He fumbled around for his wallet in his pocket but came up empty.

“Shit,” He muttered. “Shit, shit, shit!” He yelled, growing from a whisper to a yell in the three syllables. He picked up a handful of snow and pitched it blindly into an innocent yield sign.

Okay. Okay. He had to just—retrace his steps. It had probably happened while he was running, or maybe he’d just brushed up against something at the bar. Sighing, he turned back around, only to realize he wasn’t exactly sure which way the bar was. He looked at the ground, about to retrace his path through the snow, but the white seemed to blur in front of him and his ass felt cold.

…because he was somehow sitting in the snow. Clark leaned his cheek against the icy side of the building, watching mesmerized as the flakes fell quicker and closer together. He could just—sit here, and watch, and wait, and maybe someone would come and offer him some hot cocoa or something. Didn’t people do that anymore, if they found random people lying pathetically in the middle of their sidewalks?

He hoped so.

***

Clark couldn’t wait to get home, throw on his favorite pajamas, and curl up with some DVDs. No patrol tonight, just him and a bag of chips with his name on it. Only a few more words and he was out of here.

“CK, come out with us—it’s going to be a bitchin’ party!” Jimmy yelled, bobbing his head as he rushed at Clark.

“Yeah, bitchin’.” Lois muttered, hands fluttering to make obscene air quotes behind Jimmy’s back.

Clark pushed his glasses further up his nose and shook his head, hoping he looked repentant. “Sorry, I need to finish this in the next hour.”

“You used to be able to whip up stuff like that in a few minutes! Are you just taking longer because you don’t want to have to go?”

“Jimmy Olsen, when did you ever get to be so suspicious?” Lois gasped dramatically, placing a trembling hand over her heart. “Why, Clark Kent would never stoop so low.”

“You both suck.” Clark muttered, returning to his laptop.

“Come on, let’s leave Smallville alone. He’ll come out and dance the night away if he feels like it, or he’ll go home and cuddle up in flannel pajamas.”

Blinking at the unexpected mercy from Lois, he inclined his head so quickly that anyone else might have missed it, but he saw her grin soften for a moment right before she turned away, heels clacking, snapping at Jimmy to get a move on. “Besides, we’ve all seen Smallville’s dancing, and maybe this is for the best of all humanity.” She called over her shoulder as they stepped onto the elevator, her voice ringing out overly loud in the Planet’s all but abandoned newsroom.

Clark sighed and returned to his article. He punched in a quick, pat ending, and sent it off. He could have gone with them; he probably should have. His mom had been making noises about him becoming suddenly ‘anti-social’ in the last few weeks, and Clark had mostly spent his time refraining from mentioning that hey, going from world’s most powerful superhero to a human who genuinely needed the damn eyeglasses was quite an adjustment, even if it was only for a few months.

God damn it. He was beginning to wish the AI hadn’t suggested this.

What was more, he was beginning to wish that he hadn’t been stupid enough to give it permission to do this to him.

He’d gotten six paper-cuts, he’d tripped over a brick and fallen on his face, and he’d gotten shot on a stakeout with Lois.

And maybe there was something wrong with him, more so than he’d suspected, because he had listed those in the order of most traumatizing to least. Sure, it had only been a little bullet graze, but he still found himself eyeing paper dubiously ever since the day of the three paper-cuts in the *same hour*.

***

Clark wiped the snow off his face again, shivering on the ground. No one appeared to be forthcoming with cocoa, and what the hell was wrong with people anyway? He clutched at the wall, pulling himself to his feet, and stood still for a moment to steady himself. He took stock of his situation. Looking around, he wasn’t sure how to get back home from here. He just knew it was far. Blocks and blocks and blocks away, and Clark felt a little sick just thinking about it, so that was out. And the bar—the bar had vanished in the night, Clark determined sadly. So he could knock on a door maybe, and see what happened. But people were a little scary in these parts, and shit, why had he even walked this direction anyway?

This wasn’t one of his better nights.

This wasn’t one of his better months.

Hell, this so wasn’t one of his better years, and really, that was what had gotten him into this mess anyway.

***

“I’m scared, I guess.”

“You have nothing to fear, Kal-El. You and you alone are supreme over all else on this planet.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Clark told the AI, frowning. “Actually—yes, that is the point. I’ve been Superman for ten years now. I feel like I’m doing something my parents would be proud of, at least a little bit, even if I’m not conquering the damn planet.” Clark sighed, sitting in front of the AI’s panel.

“According to the latest human media surveys, your approval rate is at approximately 89.3 percent, and has been maintained at such a level for two point one five years.” The AI pointed out, and if machines could hold pride in their voice simulators, Clark would swear he heard it now.

“But what happens if that changes? What happens if I do something they don’t approve of? I feel like—I feel like this has become a job.” Clark said finally.

“And this concerns you, Kal-El?”

“Yes! AI, when it comes down to it—I’m not like them. I’ll never be able to completely understand them.” Clark bit his lip, rising and pacing. “And what happens if I lose touch of what this all is; of what it’s supposed to be? What happens then? Like you said—humanity loves me! What if none of us even realize it’s happening and it’s too late?”

“Your level of agitation does not fit with the parameters of the situation at hand.” The AI said logically.

Clark blinked slowly, an idea formulating. “AI. Would you be able to set up a simulation to help me get more of an idea about humanity? Fears, hopes, desires, that sort of thing? I feel like I’m missing something, and I feel like I’ve been missing it for a long time. I need to figure out what it is.” Clark whispered.

“To set up the kind of extensive parameters required to anticipate the emotional capacity of any given human being would take one month, three days and fifteen hours.”

Clark sighed. “I guess that’s better than nothing.” The AI was silent; still running calculations, Clark assumed.

“Would it not be simpler for you to go through the regeneration matrix for a brief period of time, experience humanity as you wish, then be restored to your full power?”

Clark looked up at the panel again. “You—can do that?”

Because the AI understood how Kal-El would deem such a thing, it refrained from saying that consistent surveillance would be maintained throughout; to ensure Kal-El’s safety and well-being.

***

Clark clutched his coat closer to his chest, wishing he was home, asleep in his flannel pajamas like he’d planned until Lois’ damn comment. He should call her and tell her about the havoc she had wrought.

That was a good plan! He could call Lois, and make her come get him, because it was all her fault he was out here and lost and cold anyway.

He needed a phone. “God? If you love aliens, I could use a payphone.” He said aloud, voicing his wish into the universe weakly.

He passed by an apartment complex—and oh, hey, there one was. Right inside the window. Like a beacon of light, on the table, the answering machine button glowing in the darkness. Shivering, he knocked on the door, once, twice.

No answer. Pounding loudly now, he yelled into the security-locked door. “I’m cold and I’m lost! I pulled someone in this building out of a car wreck once, so if they could come out and give me a phone, that’d be so great.”

Still nothing. “Please?” He tried manners now. He couldn’t feel his fingers, and he wondered if it was cold enough to get frostbite out here. Suspecting the answer was yes, it was a combination of numbness from the cold, the drinks and fear of passing out on the sidewalk that made him bundle his scarf around his wrist and smash the window open.

The sound echoed in the wintry stillness, and Clark looked around wildly before reaching in and plucking the phone out of the broken window. He stared at it for a moment, trying to remember Lois’ number. Crap. Crap. Think, Clark! He rubbed his head. He never had to dial her number! She was speed dial three!

She was speed dial three, he raged at the universe!

He was so screwed. His parents were away, Jimmy was plastered at his bitchin’ party, Clark hiccupped, and he couldn’t remember Lois’ number.

But there was one number he did remember, one person who could get here before his toes fell off and Clark found out if there really was an afterlife for aliens.

Teeth chattering, Clark pulled off his glove with his teeth, ignoring the lights starting to flicker on in a couple of apartments. Plenty of time to run before the police came, he hoped. Or maybe he’d just stay here and wait for them; at least the car would be warm.

The phone rang, once, twice, three times. Please, please, he chanted silently. There was a small telltale click.

“Lex?” He breathed into the phone.

A pause, then: “Who the hell is this?”

“Um. It’s Clark. Clark Kent. Sorry for calling late. I’m lost.” Clark rambled.

“…what?”

“I couldn’t remember Lois’ number, and Jimmy’s drunk, and you still have the same number?” Clark babbled.

“…unfortunately, it appears that this is the case.”

“Lex, can you send me a taxi? Or something? I’m really cold.”

“Cold? Clark, where the hell are you?”

“On the sidewalk. In front of a door. I mean, window. I broke it because they had a phone, it glittered at me, and Lex, I think people are coming down the stairs.”

“Clark. Jesus. Okay, look—Mercy’s got an address on the phone you’re calling from, and I’ll be there in ten minutes. Just go find somewhere nearby to keep a low profile, okay?”

“Lex, I didn’t mean for you to come—I just need a cab.” Clark muttered into the phone.

“As if I would miss this opportunity, Clark.” Lex’s voice was so warm over the phone that Clark felt as though his own temperature had gotten a bump up a few degrees.

Clark felt like running, but he didn’t think his legs would work that way anymore. “Okay. I’ll go around the corner. Come fast though? These shoes were from before, and I didn’t know how cold it got. It’s cold.” Clark hung up the phone and stuck it back on the receiver in the window. Clark took off at a half-jog down around the corner, running in a weaved pattern as he tried to keep his feet under him.

Clark slumped behind a dumpster, wondering dazedly if he should double back and try and disguise the snow tracks, or ooh, hey, run in a different pattern and throw anyone off who might be following him.

But that was stupid, he was probably really drunk, he hiccupped again, and he was cold. So he was going to sit here, and wait, because Lex was coming, and sure, he’d probably laugh at him, or wonder at the state of his old friend Clark Kent, but he’d probably have a really nice warm car.

And Clark was willing to do anything for that at this point. Not ten minutes later, but more like nine (Clark was counting to himself in French with his watch), but a sleek black limousine rolled up smoothly, slowly, on the street. No one had noticed the window yet; so the apartment inhabitants probably weren’t home. He hoped he’d remember enough to send them money in the morning or something, because that wasn’t a very nice thing—having your apartment window broken on New Year’s Eve. Hands in his pockets, he made his way over to the car, watching as the passenger door slid open. Lex climbed out, hand on the door, watching as Clark walked in a not-very-straight-line toward him.

“Lex–” He started, but he hiccupped at the same time, so it came out as more of a half-strangled “..x” sound. Lex’s eyes widened, but he stood away from the door, motioning for Clark to get in. Clark managed to duck his head enough, but lost his balance a little bit on the follow through. He felt a hand push him gently into the car, and he landed with an oomph on the plush seats.

“Warm.” He chattered appreciatively, disposing of his gloves to expose them to the air.

“Here, have a blanket.” Lex muttered, pulling over what seemed to be a tremendously expensive looking comforter.

“You keep this in your trunk?” Clark giggled, burrowing himself into the warm folds.

“No, I keep it on my bed.” Lex said, pulling out a thermos.

A thermos implied hot things. “Yes, yes.” Clark said, watching as Lex twisted it open. Lex looked at him quickly through hooded blue eyes, but there wasn’t snow and there wasn’t cold ground, and Clark couldn’t see his breath in the air, so all in all, this was a vast improvement, and so fast.

“Can you drink, or would you—ah, like some help with that?”

“Moving involves moving my hands from under-near-under. Underneath the blanket.” Clark told him, and maybe it was the resounding echoing chatter of his teeth that made Lex snort and pour out a cup of—cocoa! Lex had cocoa! And hold it up to Clark’s mouth.

“I knew people out there still had to make cocoa.” Clark told him confidentially, happily, in between gulps. “That’s so hot. I like it.”

“How smashed are you?” Lex asked incredulously, lifting a hand to Clark’s forehead. Clark whimpered at the warmth; it felt so good, wonderful even. He must’ve said that aloud, because suddenly Lex’s other hand was on his cheek, and Clark closed his eyes, just enjoying the feel.

“I really appreciate this, Lex.” Clark mumbled, only there was another hiccup when he said Lex’s name.

“Well. I think that answers my question.”

Clark opened his eyes slowly. “It was just really cold.” He yawned. “And I couldn’t think of anyone’s number, but you still had your number and I remembered that.”

“I’m glad, Clark.” The words were so soft and so low that Clark wasn’t sure if Lex had actually uttered them. He decided to just rub his hands together under the blanket instead.

Clark’s eyes roved the interior of the limo. Full bar, pillow, blanket, a thermos. Lex pulled off Clark’s glasses suddenly.

“Hey, I need those.” Clark protested feebly.

“You do not—Clark?” Shocked, breathless tone, the kind of tone that would have made Clark sit up and take notice if he possessed the physical capacity to do so. He blinked blearily, trying to regain feeling in his eyelids.

“Oh, God. You do.” Clark watched as Lex wiped them carefully on his shirt, and placed them back on Clark’s face.

“Better?” Lex asked casually.

“Yes. Um. Thanks. Lex? We need to stop the car.”

“No, we’re not stopping, Clark.”

“I’m really serious. We need to stop the car. I think I’m going to–” Clark bent over suddenly.

“Oh, son-of-a-!” Clark hadn’t heard Lex scream like that since Superman had busted up his new electronic ray in Mexico a few months ago.

The stench was truly horrifying and Clark twisted his head away so he wouldn’t have to see—it.

“I’m so sorry.” Clark said, ducking his head and moaning.

They sat in silence until they pulled into Lex’s parking garage at the Towers. Clark heard himself make noises about this not being his apartment, but Lex was ignoring him, and keeping him wrapped up in the blanket even as he rubbed his back, so Clark didn’t find it in him to mind so much. He didn’t mind the elevator ride up, or when Lex lead him into the bedroom, and even as Clark’s body fell against the bed, none of this seemed to be anything out of the ordinary.

“I’ll pay for your car,” Clark blubbered, repeating the words again. “And the window too. Hey, why are you taking off my pants?” He asked sleepily.

“I’m going to have my wild way with you, while you’re slower on the uptake than usual.” Lex grunted.

“Oh, God, I wish you would.” Clark said, turning his head into the pillow. He didn’t notice Lex’s hands freeze on his ankles, or how they shook as they worked the pants completely off.

“Hands up.” Lex grated out, and Clark didn’t even ask, just raised them dutifully, loosely sprawled along the bed. The cloth of Lex’s pants brushed against Clark’s frigid skin as he eased the shirt over Clark’s head.

“Lex, why’re you being so nice? We don’t talk anymore. I mean. I wish we do. Did. Talk still. I miss it. But why’re—I asked you a question?” He asked dazedly, reaching his hand up to touch Lex’s face; to get attention. Lex reared back, as if Clark’s palm had burned.

“It’s not on fire. It’s the oppo—opossum—opposite. It’s unfire.” Clark mumbled, reaching up again, hoping for more of that wonderful warmth. “Like, don’t people have sex in cabins when they’ve been through blizzards? And then they live? And it’s New Year’s. People have sex on New Year’s. People shouldn’t. Shouldn’t be alone for sex.”

Lex made a choking sound. “Tonight was hardly a blizzard.” He scoffed. “Still. You do have a point. You’re incredibly cold to the touch.” He sighed, unbuttoning his shirt in front of Clark’s suddenly attentive eyes. “Well. I guess you can just slide up, lay on the pillow.” Lex told him, apparently waiting for Clark to do something.

Clark continued to look at that broad chest in front of him and decided to do that something. He leaned forward and pressed his tongue to Lex’s nipple, circling it slowly even as his other hand found Lex’s stomach and started kneading the skin there.

“Clark, this is ridi–” The word he’d been about to say didn’t seem to matter as much as how Clark could feel his heart beating fast under his rib cage; hear his tiny low pants in his ear.

“I always wanted to try this too, like a normal person wood. Would. I don’t think with you it’ll be normal, but that’s good by me.” He slurred to Lex, even as he slumped over, head hitting the pillow. He was dimly aware of Lex’s muffled cursing before he passed out completely.

***

Clark woke up with sunlight filtering through massive window blinds, and he felt his stomach lurch and wobble threateningly, so he scrambled to his feet and looked around desperately.

“Garbage can. On the floor, to your right.” A sleepy voice muttered.

Clark made it in time, just barely, and he slid to the floor, leaning back against the side of the bed.

“Oh, that’s the nastiest thing ever.” He said faintly.

“Yes. Isn’t it?” The sleepy voice was instantly cheerier, and Clark felt a hand on his shoulder. Clark hazarded a look up, which was a big mistake. Lex’s face swam before him, and Clark thought he might’ve thrown up again, and only the fact there was nothing left stopped him. He gingerly folded the top of the trash bag over the disgusting content, and crawled back onto the bed.

Next to Lex.

Who wasn’t wearing a shirt.

Clark looked down, blinking, again a big mistake, he thought as his eyes watered, neither was he.

Lex seemed able to read the expressions as they flit across Clark’s face, because he leaned back into his pillows and shrugged. “You were cold, your pants were soaked, and you were as cognizant as a grapefruit. So I brought you back to my house, and we both fell asleep here.”

“And you took off my clothes?” Clark asked, trying to swallow, but his tongue was wrapped in rough fabric. Lex reached over to his bed stand and grasped a bottle of water, handing it wordlessly to Clark.

“Body heat warms the human body faster, Clark.” Lex said softly, something about the weight of his words twisting inside Clark’s chest. “And like you said last night, you were very cold. Cold tends to feel all the more abominable when you’re just not used to it, doesn’t it?”

Clark got to his feet, standing in shorter, but still comfortable sweat pants.

“Lex. I’m glad you were able to come and get me, and I hope I said thank you at least, last night. Thanks—again. But I wasn’t myself. And I wasn’t thinking, and I’m sorry. Again. You know what; I’m just going to go.” Clark said pointing at the door like Lex didn’t know where it was.

“Shut up. Go into the bathroom, brush your teeth, drink some more water and come back here.” Lex enunciated slowly, pointing to a door ajar on his left.

“Lex.” Clark exhaled.

“You’re right. I did do you a favor last night, and you’re going to talk to me about it today. There are bagels and coffee downstairs, and after you’ve finished in there, you’ll join me.” Lex stood and stretched in front of Clark, red silk trousers hung almost indecently low on his hips, his rib cage rising with his outstretched arms.

“You have fifteen minutes, and then I’ll come in there myself.” Lex said, as he padded to the door. It clicked shut behind him, leaving Clark gawking.

***

Clark hadn’t been in the kitchen of Lex’s penthouse before.

He could fit his entire *apartment* in the space of Lex’s kitchen. Shaking his head, and then groaning at the motion, he heaved himself onto a stool opposite Lex.

“Have a good shower?” Lex queried solicitously, pushing a cup of coffee before Clark.

“Yes, thanks. I was just going to wash my face, but I felt scummy. I kept it under fifteen minutes,” Clark grouched, sipping his coffee. “Hot. Jeez. God!” He set the cup down with a loud clatter, causing to slosh on the countertop.

“I used to do that all the time,” Lex said conversationally, taking a small drink of his own. “I’d make it as hot as I could, wait for the damn thing to stop literally steaming, and then bring it to you for breakfast. You never said a thing.”

Clark gaped at him across the breakfast bar. “What? It amused me.” Shaking his head, Clark sighed and dumped creamer into his mug, swirling it with a spoon. Lex reached to the counter behind him and produced another cup. “I know you hate cream. I’m not cruel, Clark.”

“Okay, stop. Just—stop. You helped me out of a pathetic situation last night, and you were nice about it. But whatever you’re doing right now, or think you’re doing has to stop.” Clark said, biting the inside of his cheek viciously.

“You know better than anyone else that I don’t do ‘nice’ things. I weigh the pros and the cons of any given situation and I maneuver accordingly.”

“So what? Last night was your latest move across the chessboard of our lives, Lex?” Clark sighed. “Look. I’m sorry I called you, I’m sorry you had to put up with all of this when we’re not friends anymore, and shit, I threw up in your limo.” Clark moaned, putting his forehead in his hand, remembering. “I’ll pay for that after I take care of the window I broke.”

“You can just reimburse me for both. I had it replaced last night; they probably won’t even know anything happened. The occupants didn’t get back until this morning.”

Clark had been in the process of drinking. The surprise Lex’s words brought caused Clark to choke and sputter the coffee all across the table.

“This is the crappiest New Year’s Day ever.” Clark said, unable to even look at Lex.

“It hasn’t been your finest twelve hours.” Lex concurred.

“You wanted to say something upstairs.” Clark sighed, after he’d stood and retrieved a sponge, soaking up the mess.

“Hmm. Later.” Lex said, plucking the cup of coffee from Clark’s hands, and placing the cups on the countertop. Lex rounded the breakfast island, Clark sitting still, bewildered at his sudden lack of caffeination. He was even more confused when Lex inserted his leg between Clark’s legs, gave a weird kind of half-smirk, and tugged at the lapels of the robe Clark had borrowed in lieu of wearing the too-short sweatpants again.

Clark landed with solid force, his back on the breakfast island. “Lex, what the hell?” He bit out, hands moving to get him on the ground again. Lex was on top, his legs over Clark’s hips and staring down even as his palms were pressed flat against Clark’s chest.

“Now, don’t say you were teasing, Clark. You were all over me last night, at least until you passed out.”

“I was drunk!” Clark exploded. “You can’t hold me to anything I did if I can’t remember it!”

“Those words, coming from those lips,” Lex said sadly, pressing his thumb to Clark’s mouth. Clark opened up to say something, but Lex inserted the finger and ran it along the inside of Clark’s cheek. Clark shivered and resisted the urge to bite. Lex stared down at him for a long moment, unmoving, until the finger worked its way over Clark’s gum line, under his tongue. Clark kept absolutely still until his tongue reflexively jumped from Lex’s motion, and he closed his mouth, sucking slowly, not breaking contact with Lex’s eyes the entire time.

Lex didn’t seem to be breathing, and Clark felt a little light-headed himself; more so when Lex shifted, and realigned so their hips matched up exactly, and all that stood between them was the thin wool of Lex’s slacks, and the ever-shifting pale purple robe that had seemed so long and modest only a few minutes ago.

Lex reached his other hand up and twisted it in Clark’s hair, making it so Clark couldn’t even move his head any longer. It felt—it felt surreal, like this was happening to someone else. Clark opened his mouth and Lex’s finger left with a wet, sucking pop, making both of them shift simultaneously on the once-cool countertop; Lex down, Clark up, and Clark’s head was suffering tiny thuds against the tile, but it didn’t matter. Lex lowered his head to Clark’s and pressed smooth, hot lips to his own, tongue twisting and retracing the path his finger had just vacated.

“Lex, I’m going to come on your kitchen counter.” Clark managed to say, albeit in a highly-pitched, rapid spit-fire of words.

“That’d be the general idea.” Lex told him, grinding especially hard, hand snaking between the folds of Clark’s borrowed robe, finding his cock half-hard and waiting, and a couple of deft twists later Clark screamed and lurched halfway off the counter with the most overwhelming orgasm he’d ever had.

Having a human orgasm was quickly offsetting the bullet grazing and the paper-cuts.

“Upstairs?” Lex breathed, scrutinizing Clark as he continued to twitch in the aftermath. Clark nodded dumbly, but as he swung his feet to the floor, trailing after Lex, Clark found a cool glass pressed into his hand.

“It’s best to drink it all at once, and try not to inhale.”

Clark stared, frightened, but did as Lex instructed, wanting to die from the first hit to his tongue.

But if he died, he wouldn’t get to go upstairs.

With Lex.

Lex and his still very happy to see him cock, delineated clearly through his trousers. Clark gulped swiftly, eyes watering, and as soon as he finished, trooped after Lex on the stairs.

New Year’s Day was proceeding much better than its eve, what with the consuming, scream filled sex, followed by the breathy, shit-you’re-beautiful sex, and rounded out nicely by Lex finally collapsing on his bedroom floor, arm flung out, red marks all over his body, matching with Clark’s own.

They were wrapped up in the freshly laundered blanket of the night before, Clark’s head resting on Lex’s side, staring out at the Metropolis skyline.

It was really something else at night. “I don’t think I can have more sex today, Lex.” Clark choked out, when he felt Lex move temptingly underneath him.

“Ah, the perils of a mortal libido.” Lex teased, but his hand grasped hold of Clark’s hair, holding him in place.

Lex had a thing for his hair; Clark thought it was pretty hot. “Is today some kind of—time out of time?” Clark asked quietly, staring at the artificial light.

“Maybe. I don’t know what this is or isn’t.” Lex said finally. “You aren’t my enemy, Clark. Only a part of you was, and that part’s gone right now.” Lex breathed, fingers weaved through Clark’s hair, not noticing Clark’s agitation until he stiffened.

“Not permanently.” Clark said, closing his eyes, waiting for the dismissal, for the cool, cutting words Lex should have patented for the way they razored at one’s weakest point.

“I assumed. Doesn’t matter.” Lex said quietly. “We have now.”

Clark swallowed. “Just now? Not—not later?”

Lex’s fingers stilled, warm and pressing on his skin. “I’m good with where I’m at now.”

“I’d like to know what’s later.” Clark said, still unable to bring himself to tilt his head up.

“Then I guess you’d have to consult a psychic. I’m sure you know someone reputable.” Lex said wryly.

“When—when I get back to—like before,” Clark started, “maybe we could work out a few compromises? Just to try and see?”

“Maybe I don’t want you to compromise.” Lex froze, and forced Clark’s chin up, to look at him half-upside down.

“Maybe you deserve for me to compromise.”

Lex started stroking his hair again, and Clark closed his eyes happily. “So. We’ll have sex.”

“A truly egregious amount. We can see what happens.” Lex broke in cautiously.

“And we’ll ‘see what happens’?” Clark parroted incredulously.

“That’s all you’re willing to give that I’m going to take. For now.”

“But maybe not forever. Wanna make that a resolution?” Clark half-teased.

“No one knows the future, Clark. Least of all us.” Lex sighed, and brushed a kiss to Clark’s forehead. They quieted for a few minutes, silently thoughtful, until Clark glanced over as the clock hit 11:59.

“But today was the first day of the rest of our lives!” He yelled dramatically, making Lex jump.

Clark pulled him down by his legs so he was flat on the floor and mouthed a trail along Lex’s stomach, reveling in the writhing.

“And I’m thinking the year is getting off to a great start.” He told Lex, pressing his thumb to Lex’s mouth with a smile.

January 1 2005 Smallville. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.