Medication For Sleep Deprivation » Your Next Bold Move (Or How to Seduce the World’s Greatest Superhero in Just Three Weeks)

Title: Your Next Bold Move (Or How to Seduce the World’s Greatest Superhero in Just Three Weeks)
Author: Madelyn
Prompt: “So dear I love him, that with him all deaths I could endure, without him live no life.”
Rating: NC-17
Summary: It’s the end.
Author’s Notes: The numbers are equivalent to the days.

Thanks *so* much to eleveninches (HAPPY BIRTHDAY, WHIPPERSNAPPER!) and kalpurna for nobly volunteering to beta and workshop with me the night I was freaking out over this story not getting done on time. It was a highly productive chat the three of us had, with such gems as:

svmadelyn: and how the hell can Clark fight that?
svmadelyn: who *could*?
kalpurna: not me!
eleveninches: where everyone is like, “but he’s a manwhore!”
kalpurna: who’s a manwhore?
svmadelyn: Clark: He’s not a manwhore!
eleveninches: Lex
kalpurna: AH, yes

and –

eleveninches: if i was writing this fic, batman would call clark a homo
svmadelyn: *eyes you*
svmadelyn: Flash: You’re one to cast stones.
svmadelyn: Dick: *Yeah*. *Dark look*
eleveninches: dead
eleveninches: dick: “oh, NOW you believe he molested me. fuck you guys.”
svmadelyn: …..
svmadelyn: *screams*
svmadelyn: oh god, I kind of want to
svmadelyn: only that screams: ELEVENINCHES WROTE THIS.
svmadelyn: doesn’t it.
kalpurna: omg, that takes this fic to a WHOLE NOTHER PLACE
eleveninches: DO IIIIIT
svmadelyn: you’re both horrible!
svmadelyn: *caves* Fine!

ALLRIGHTY THEN. Thank you both *so* much, I can honestly say this story wouldn’t have finished without your help.

- One -

He shouldn’t be here. It’s hardly a new thought; each and every time he landed on the balcony, Clark understood he shouldn’t have set a foot in this building. But tonight he *really* shouldn’t have been there.

Lex was in an odd mood.

“Why aren’t you sitting down?” Lex asked, sipping his drink. He gestured at the sofa.

“Blood,” Clark pointed out shortly, knowing full well Lex had registered every drop on his cape the moment he’d landed on the balcony.

“Billionaire,” Lex replied, equally succinct.

Clark sighed and settled down on the sofa, trying to control the fall of the cape in order to minimize the damage.

“I’m not sure what you’re asking,” Lex said, settling in across from him, hand resting gently on the arm of the chair.

Clark didn’t have the slightest clue himself; the second he’d flown in the through the balcony, he’d just started rambling for ten minutes. It’d started out with the dance they both knew so well—you’re evil, stop doing (fill in the blank of the evil thing; tonight it was creating robots bent on taking control of half the eastern seaboard), and no, I don’t want coffee because the last six times you laced the coffee grounds with kryptonite and I couldn’t drink coffee for a month, you bastard.

But then, Clark had said something about how he was tired–aren’t you?–and Lex had gone still.

But. Lex was still looking at him, waiting for an answer to his question. What was he asking?

What *was* he asking?

To stop. To never stop. Clark didn’t know what he wanted anymore, and honestly, that was the most frightening thing of all. If Lex were just another law-abiding citizen, Clark wouldn’t have any excuse to talk to him, to even be in the same room.

When had the trade-off become not worth it? Once, Clark would’ve given anything, *anything* to see Lex set back onto a path more worthy of him, and now, Clark was willing to just roll with it, because it meant he had *contact*?

“It’s all so messed up,” Clark realized.

Lex eyed him sharply.

“Superman?” Lex drawled.

“This. You. Me. If you were anyone else, I’d have killed you a long time ago, or got you put in jail and made sure you’d stayed there,” Clark said.

“All of that is of course assuming that I’d have let you. Naturally, you realize it goes both ways?”

Clark’s eyes snapped up.

“If it were anyone but you, I’d have shot you full of kryptonite and never looked back.”

“Right. And goodnight, Mr. Luthor.”

“Shut the fuck up, Clark,” Lex stood, hand clenched around his glass for all of a second before he pitched it across the room.

“You don’t get to call me that,” Clark said. He’d *said* it, oh God, he’d *said* his name. Clark had thought it’d always be another one of those unspoken things between them. He’d never questioned the line Lex had drawn; he’d just managed a sense of dim gratitude and constant low-grade anxiety.

“Sit down,” Lex murmured, and pulled Clark in by gripping the ‘S’ tightly around his fist. Lex’s lips pressed against his, and Clark sank down, taking Lex with him.

***

Lex stroked Clark’s shoulder even as he leaned in and licked a trail down his jaw, tongue mapping the skin and hollows of Clark’s neck. When the tip touched the lobe of his ear, Clark shuddered, spandex-covered erection rubbing against Lex’s pristine suit, seeking more friction; harder presses. Lex had thought he’d understood the meaning of the word desire, had thought he’d been breathing it for the past decade, but he was quickly discovering he hadn’t had the slightest fucking clue before this night. He’d never wanted anyone the way he wanted Clark, it had never even been close.

The night had started out the same way as a hundred others, with heated threats, verbal and not. Tonight though, tonight it had shifted into something else entirely, words hitting too close to home for a change, and all Lex could think to do was to let it happen.

“Get it off,” Lex murmured fiercely. “Now.” The suit’s lower half was in a heap on the floor, all but the cape before the fourth word from Lex’s mouth. Clark made to unfasten the top but Lex’s hand on his chest stayed him. “No. Now. Fuck me, now.”

- Two -

On Friday, it had happened all over again.

“There’s lube in the desk,” Lex continued, the words murmured so low Clark could barely concentrate on their meaning, could only hear their combined breathing as Lex exhaled and Clark inhaled in turn. Clark didn’t see that the words had registered until he stared down at his hand and realized he’d sped over to the desk and back again before the thought fully finished forming in his brain. Clark glanced at Lex’s face, and didn’t see the expected arrogant smirk, just a soft, tight smile and glittering blue eyes. Lex tugged the lube out of suddenly numb fingers and flicked it open, holding it out like an offering.

Maybe it was an offering. Clark ignored the small bottle, unable to focus on anything but how Lex’s cheek felt beneath his fingertips. Lex made a small sound deep in his throat, closed his eyes, leaning into the touch for only a second. Then his eyes opened and focused as he pulled Clark’s hand away from his face and placed it deliberately around the bottle. “Focus, Clark,” Lex said as Clark froze, green eyes meeting blue in a panicked moment. Lex said nothing as he watched Clark swallow hard and set the lube on the floor, running his hands underneath Lex’s shirt, the buttons popping off and dropping nearly soundlessly on the floor. He tugged at Lex’s trousers, Lex doing nothing to help him with the effort beyond raising his hips from the floor the slightest of fractions.

He wanted this fast, he wanted this quick, but he wanted Clark to work for it too, Clark realized. Clark bent his head down to Lex’s chest and sucked on a random part of Lex’s skin, hearing the blood pump faster and Lex’s breath turn shallower, the only outward signs that Clark’s efforts were having any effect on Lex.

“God, Clark. Why do you have to make everything so difficult?”

- Four -

Lex woke with a gasp, coughing at the still sex-filled air around him, the flannel sheets damp with his sweat. He sat up, leaning against the headboard, banging his head softly a couple of times, spent and exhausted even just from the damn *dream*. Clark hadn’t returned over the weekend, and Lex had told himself he hadn’t expected him to.

It had been bearable before, almost. But since he’d learned concretely from experience what Clark Kent’s skin truly tasted like, and what those gorgeous eyes looked like when he was riding Lex’s body hard above him, he couldn’t stop replaying the feel of that body shifting against his own. No more than he could forget the resonance of Clark’s desperate whispering urging him on, some of the breathless words uttered in a language Lex didn’t understand, the sensation of Clark’s breath on his neck, his mouth twisting wordlessly as he came.

This had to end, one way or—or the other. He couldn’t live any more with their only contact being that of alien and human foe. No, something suitably different would be required to set a new precedent. A new tone to jump-start the relationship literally, of Lex’s dreams and nightmares both.

He hoped it’d end as the former, with a desperation he thought he’d long since gotten past, but at this point, even the latter might be welcomed with tentative arms.

- Six -

Clark rolled over so he laid on his stomach, languidly sprawled in the bright sunshine now filtering through his open window. He left the blinds open for just this reason and he smirked sleepily to himself, distantly proud of his foresight. He and Lois had an interview planned at two so today was an incredibly rare sleep-in day.

“Mmm, nice sun,” he said to himself.

He tugged the blanket tighter against his chest and slept on, completely, blissfully unaware that five blocks away, all the people who thought they knew what Metropolis’ two most infamous citizens were all about were slowly realizing they didn’t know a damn thing.

***

The newsroom collectively pretended they hadn’t heard Lois Lane’s scream of “What the fuck *is* this?!” and started dialing sources.

It was time to play a fast game of catch-up or else Perry was going to make good on his now three-minute-old vow that had been heard as far as Gotham: “Whoever dropped the ball on this is going to learn a new meaning to the phrase of heads are gonna roll!”

Jimmy shifted uncomfortably, eyes daring to dart toward the Planet elevator. He could say he had to develop a few more pictures, he could say he was going out to get bagels, he could say–

Nothing, because Lois would probably be able to singe him with a single glare. Better to stand and nod at random junctures, Jimmy thought.

He silently applauded his self-preservation instincts when Lois finally pulled the cigarette from her mouth, oblivious to the ash that fell on her skirt.

“That–we’re *really good friends, Lois*. You don’t deserve someone who can never be the *man you need*, Lois. You deserve *better*, someone who can be there for *all* the things, important and small,” she sniped, still staring at the paper.

Jimmy would laugh at the fact she had the words memorized except for two things. The first being that she’d throw him in the elevator, alright. It’d just be in need of a cast for the broken limbs.

The second was that she sounded—hurt. Upset. And if Jimmy was honest with himself, he’d say more than a little jealous.

Lois being Lois though, the quietly building rage didn’t stay silent long. “That lying alien son of a bitch!” she yelled out, flinging the paper across her desk. Those frantic telephone conversations around her which had just begun to crescendo fell silent for all of two seconds and then resumed once more.

The Inquistor headline was still visible from its haphazard new position: “Superman and Luthor: An Affair to Remember!” The black letters over the carefully blurred pictures were especially artistic, Jimmy thought, his practiced eye having grown quite elitist over the years.

Yet there was no mistaking what everyone in Metropolis was waking up to this morning.

Superman and Lex Luthor were, or at least had been at one time, lovers.

***

Mercy had learned long ago that the old cliché of “Expect the unexpected” would never be truer than when it was applied to her employer. The years under Mr. Luthor had made her all but impossible to surprise, but her boss still had a few shockers left in him.

Oh, not about the fact they’d actually slept together. She’d known that from the two nights he’d spent working non-stop, balcony window ever so slightly ajar and blinds fluttering in the breeze after one late evening visit from the boy in blue. The bruises on his neck that hadn’t lasted longer than a day and his subsequent retooling of the Bizarro plan so suddenly had been tells as well. She’d be a shitty bodyguard if she hadn’t noticed the way his voice hardened around the consonants of the alien’s name whenever it slipped out in passing.

Nigel had actually stayed in the room as Lex read the article. Either he had more balls than Mercy had figured on, or he was stupider than she’d thought.

She redirected her attention on Lex’s still face, her spine straightening for whatever action she was sure he’d shortly be ordering her to take against the Inquisitor’s hack reporters.

It was understandable that her hand went to her sidearm automatically when he burst into delighted laughter, his hands shaking the paper in the air with grand sweeping motions.

“Did you read this, Nigel?” He crowed. “Did you *read* this?!”

Nigel was shaking, his outward actions reflecting Mercy’s inside one.

“Yes—yes, sir.” His voice echoed in the office tremulously.

“I want this framed!” Lex pronounced decisively. Mercy watched, almost inclined to believe she was hallucinating. His finger seemed to be circling a spandex-clad shoulder rather absently on the page.

“Sir?” Nigel asked.

He ripped the page off the rest of the paper. “Cut it! Frame it! Put it–” Lex slid his gaze across the room critically. “Hmm. There.” He pointed at a blank space on the wall next to the framed picture of himself and the U.S. President, smiling together at a press conference to announce LexCorp’s new deal to take over U.S. military contracts. “Find a suitable blue frame and stick this one right above the gold one,” he explained smoothly.

Nigel took the paper from their boss with shaking hands. “Right away, sir.” He promptly fled the room.

Lex’s eyes rose to hers expectantly. She resumed her previously ruler straight pose. “Yes, sir?” she asked tonelessly.

His next words nearly took all the breath from her body. “Take the day off, Mercy.”

“I–what, sir?” she bit out.

“You heard me. Take the day off. Go to a movie. There’s that new one about the Japanese samurai that I think you’d appreciate. Or head off for a massage with Olga. You seem awfully tense, and you shouldn’t be. It’s a nice picture; I like the angle.”

“Mr. Luthor, I really think you should have me taking care of this issue,” she pressed, stepping closer.

“It’s already being taken care of, Mercy.”

Mercy’s brows knitted in confusion. “I don’t understand how that can be. You just read the article. You can’t have–” The actualities of the situation hit her at once. “But–”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” There was a finality in his voice that was rarely directed toward her. She knew its implicit demand nonetheless.

“Very well, sir. I’ll have my pager, as always,” she said stiffly.

Lex nodded, rolling up his sleeves and picking up a telephone.

“Thank you,” he said simply at her retreating back.

She gave strict instructions to the other security personnel that she was to be paged immediately if there was anything remotely significant she should be aware of, but even as she put the fear of God–or rather, her, into the guards she had a feeling that the boss had everything well under control today.

The movie theater was closer than the house would be if she were to have a massage. She could get back here faster.

Movie it was then, she decided.

***

“…and unless you’ve been living under a rock for the past two hours, you know that the biggest news to hit the Big Apricot in quite some time was covered by the Inquisitor in today’s edition. Caller, welcome to WCAR, Metropolis’ number one news station! What are your thoughts on the apparent affair that has been going on under everyone’s radar, the sexual relationship between LexCorp CEO Lex Luthor, and resident superhero Superman?”

Clark heard a ripping noise; it was the sheets on his bed as he had shifted toward the clock radio.

“Well, it’s not like we all didn’t see it coming, Michael,” the older-sounding female caller announced self-importantly. “I mean, all these years of Mr. Luthor constantly saying how Superman drives up taxes with all the structural damage he does to the city, and all of Superman’s insinuations that Mr. Luthor’s some evil nutjob who’s trying to take over the world or whatever? You could feel the tension vibrating in the air, Michael. I always told my Morty, those two were doing something.”

Clark’s knees felt suspiciously un-steel-like as he fell hard to the floor. In the apartment below, the ceiling paint fell off in three sizable chunks. He sped over to the door, went downstairs and retrieved his newspapers, locking the door firmly behind him all in less than a second. He unfolded the Inquisitor hurriedly.

And stared.

The words weren’t in English, he thought, stunned. But no. That couldn’t be right either because he could read every language on the planet. His brain just wasn’t making the connections from the picture of Lex, naked, knees on the floor, Superman tight against his back. Superman’s cape was twisted to the side, his tights crumpled on the ground, his tousled black hair and long throat bent backwards in the penthouse office window. Lex’s pixilated genitalia, oh *God*.

Dimly, Clark realized the phone was ringing, and he groped for it blindly, not bothering to check the caller ID. He didn’t to say hello as all his attention was still wrapped up in staring at the impossible photograph.

“Are you there, Clark?”

Clark swallowed hard at the sound of Lex’s voice, still a little caught up in his dream, his body singing, despite the internal monologue on continuous repeat: hang up! Hang up now! Now!

“Yeah,” he managed to croak.

“Have you–”

“Yeah, Lex,” Clark muttered, flopping on the bed, the newspaper falling to the floor.

“It’s not my best angle. Are you still in bed?” Lex asked casually.

“They can’t even see you! All they can see that they know is you is your head! But they sure as hell can see me though!” Clark exploded.

“Yes. They certainly can.” And–Jesus, was the jerk laughing?

“How did they get this, Lex? Your office has your precious mutable glass! Don’t tell me someone was able to see get a picture hundreds of stories up *through the damn glass*, Lex.” Clark loosened his grip on the phone.

“I think it best that we discuss this over lunch. You always were more agreeable after food. Angelina’s? Noon? I’ll see you there.”

And he just–hung up the phone. Clark listened to the dial tone for a minute, as if Lex’s voice would suddenly decide to come back. He heard the sound of crumpling plastic as he gaped up at the ceiling.

He dropped the broken phone in the trash on his way to the shower. Fine. He’d play whatever game Lex was playing for a little bit at the restaurant, long enough to figure out whatever Lex was up to. There was only one way the Inquisitor would have gotten ahold of that picture, and even if they somehow had managed to get it from a source other than Lex, there was only one way they would have ever dared to publish something like this about the man who employed six million people in the city: with Luthor’s express permission.

Lex saw an endgame here, and damn anyone else who was affected, he was going to pursue it.

Lois. Oh, God. *Lois*. Clark exhaled, his arms pressing on the sink counter.

First, he’d deal with whatever Lex was going to throw at him at lunch.

Then he’d deal with Lois, who he figured would probably climb to the Planet rooftop in a couple hours or so and start yelling for Superman.

At least she didn’t have access to kryptonite.

He hoped.

Sometimes his life reached new levels of suck, he thought, as he turned on the sprays to their highest settings.

***

Clark adjusted his glasses for the third time in so many minutes. Lex was always exactly on time, never five minutes early or five minutes late. He knew this as well as he knew his own name, so why the hell was he here at 11:51? It made him twitchy to even be sitting here. Clark had just made up his mind to go to the bathroom and play with the toilet paper long enough to chew up nine minutes when a shadow fell over the small table.

He looked up, expecting the waiter. “But you’re never early!” he blurted instead.

“I like to keep you on your toes,” Lex murmured, sliding into the chair across Clark. Lex reached across the table, presumably to take a menu from underneath Clark’s hand.

He didn’t have to brush up against Clark’s thumb for so long when he did it, Clark thought dazed.

“I’ve been having all these cravings lately, Clark,” Lex said as he ran a finger down the menu, reading the selections.

Clark fumbled for his water glass and opened the menu as coolly as Lex had. “It’s been awhile since I had Italian too,” Clark mumbled, downing the slightly-warm liquid.

“I’m not sure what to do with them,” Lex continued, flipping a menu page.

“With what?”

“These desires that I have. There’s all sorts of reasons why I shouldn’t pursue them, but I really can’t seem to ignore them fully.”

“Just close your eyes and pick blindly if you want. I don’t care about your desires, Lex.”

The words might have had more of an effect if Clark wasn’t drinking from an empty glass.

Clark set the glass down with a soft, disgusted thunk. Didn’t they at least give you breadsticks? He remembered they’d always given breadsticks before. Where the fuck were the breadsticks when a person needed them?

For once, somebody up wherever was watching out for him because a waiter passed by, dropping a basket of breadsticks on their table as he swiftly glided across the room to another party. Lex stared at the waiter’s back thoughtfully, undoubtedly thinking about purchasing the restaurant just to fire the guy who hadn’t seen fit to double-take at Lex gracing their unworthy establishment with his presence. Clark and Lex reached for the basket at the same time, picking up the same bread. Clark tugged his half away, annoyed to see Lex had gotten two thirds of it while he’d only gotten the smaller piece. The corner of Lex’s mouth twitched and Clark pretended his sole focus was on the breadstick.

It would have been a really good course of action too, if only Lex didn’t eat his breadstick in a completely sinful way. Clark watched through lowered lashes as Lex’s mouth wrapped around the end of the breadstick, biting lightly, his tongue wiping away the crumbs on his lip after he chewed.

“…I always thought Lois would look shockingly hot in a sweatshirt and jeans.”

Clark looked fully at Lex now, bewildered. “What?”

“You should really start paying attention to what’s right in front of your face, Clark. I think it’d work out well for you,” Lex said, all traces of mirth dissipated from his voice.

Clark drew in a deep breath. “Why don’t you straight out tell me what it is you thought you were doing, selling that picture to the Inquisitor?”

“I didn’t sell the picture Clark,” Lex replied seriously.

“The heck you–” Clark lowered his voice, leaning in closer to Lex. “The heck you didn’t, Lex. Don’t you dare try and tell me that–”

“But I *am* telling you the truth, Clark. I did not sell that picture.” Lex’s expression was so *earnest* that Clark was almost halfway to believing him, yet he remained still in his forward position.

“You’re such a *liar*,” Clark breathed. “It’s second nature to you, like breathing.”

“Stones and glass houses,” Lex sighed, continuing: “I gave it to them, no charge. Rather generous of me, considering they just quadrupled their average sales rate for a week in less than two hours, don’t you think? And certain people say I do nothing good for Metropolis.”

“You–you *gave* them the picture,” Clark parroted.

“I do believe I just said that, yes.” Lex broke out into a full-on smile that nearly made Clark slide off the edge of the table. As it was, he couldn’t stop himself from pressing his tongue to his lip, and the ensuing higher wattage of Lex’s grin was the only reason he realized he was doing it in the first place.

“What the hell is *wrong* with you?” Clark asked a little wildly. “Do you know how this is going to affect me?”

“Oh, I’m rather certain Miss Lane won’t be overly thrilled with the newest spreads of her favorite boy scout, but other than that, your parents and Pete will be the only ones who you’ll actually interact with. And none of them are a part of this.”

“You arranged for the camera to be out there. Is that why it even happened?”

Lex’s eyes slid up to meet Clark’s now, genuinely surprised. “What? No. Clark, no.”

“I have to go.” Clark stood, his chair backing away from the table with a loud metallic groan. “Someone’s probably taking pictures of us right now, and how you’re not being photographed within an inch of your life after having pictures of you and an alien having sex is something I probably don’t *ever* want to know how you managed,” he bit out.

“Wait. No, Clark…” But Clark was already halfway across the room, not realizing that Lex had risen from the table and followed as well. Clark shoved the restaurant door open, striding blindly down the bustling Metropolis sidewalk.

“Has it ever truly occurred to you that perhaps I’m tired too, Clark?” Lex called from a dozen feet behind him.

Clark turned around slowly, not sure if he was turning because of the words themselves or the quiet, odd tone in which they were offered. He set his jaw a fraction and brushed back past Lex; Lex taking his cue and falling into step beside Clark.

“No, actually. It hadn’t. Why are you tired?” Clark tried not to let this burgeoning light feeling in his chest overwhelm him. “What changed?” Clark blurted out, ignoring the annoyed murmurs of the throngs of people having to move around them. Lex slowed his pace and Clark matched him step for step.

“You tell me. You started this. I could have kept going for years.”

“You’re lying again,” Clark said, tight-lipped.

“I’d do anything to keep you. That will never be a lie.”

Clark swallowed. “I mean, what made you decide *today* was the day to turn everything upside down?” Clark needed to do something to wipe that smug, self-satisfied smirk of the older man’s face. Tactile contact never ceased to make an impact. Clark reached out and placed his palm against Lex’s stomach, fingers pressing into the ribs in a slow motion. Lex blinked but not after Clark had seen the shock Clark’s touch had wrought in Lex’s system.

“Why not today?” Lex hands formed into fists in his pockets. “You’d think that with everything I have and the man that I am, I’d be happy, wouldn’t you Clark? I can have most anything I want. I gather you’ve realized I have difficulties accepting it when people try to deny me?”

Clark’s mouth went dry. “You make it sound like I’m the last trophy you need.”

“I thought about it. What are we accomplishing by shoving our desires aside? I can play this two ways, Clark. Make my move and play it for all its worth and the worst that could happen is that I don’t win which, when it comes to you? Isn’t especially new. And then I can pick up my toys, go home and get over it.”

Get over it? Clark thought. Why did those words make the muscles in his chest seize up? And why did the way Lex said those words, so softly, yet so determined make him–afraid?

“Or I could succeed and you and I could come to terms.”

“It’s not a business negotiation, Lex!”

“God, can you ever make it through a conversation without interrupting me?” Lex asked, but the words weren’t laced with exasperation, only exhaustion.

“Say we–come to terms, Lex. What happens then? We ignore the fact that you’ve turned into a Mini-Me version of your father and–”

“I think I resent that. Actually, I know I do.”

Clark continued as if Lex hadn’t said anything. “…what, we pretend like we’re friends again? That we can go out to museums, and hang out at each other’s homes,–”

“We’re not talking about this on a street, Clark,” Lex sighed, and tugged him into an alley. It had a wall to the side that perfectly blocked the view of passerby; and Clark wouldn’t be at all shocked if Lex had actually had the alley cased out before they’d even wound up there. “I was visualizing more of a physical relationship than that.” And with those words, Lex placed a hard hand on Clark’s chest, startling Clark into smacking right against the wall. Lex pulled Clark in by his arm and tilted his head up, guiding Clark’s mouth to meet his own lips. Clark closed his eyes tightly, holding his arms still at his sides. Lex released Clark’s lips with a grimace.

“I can’t paint you a more vivid picture, Clark. That’s what I want from you. I don’t want your glossed over conversations or your half-thought out truths like we had in Smallville, I don’t want us screaming at each other and hurting each other until one of us dies, and the other is left alone, which is all we have in Metropolis. I want this, I want everything from you that we’ve denied ourselves. Tell me you don’t, and I’ll let you lie to me for one final time and I’ll make myself forget you ever meant anything to me.”

“Back to the old status quo?” Clark didn’t know why he found the thought so frightening.

“No. Not at all. I won’t do this with you any longer, Clark. It’s too difficult walking the balance of remembering being your friend and trying to honor those times with whatever the hell we are to one another today. It’s all or nothing. I refuse to settle for anything less.”

“I can’t give you more,” Clark replied, his body starting to shake. This was all too fast, too much, and he couldn’t do this in a fucking Metropolis alley with no preparation whatsoever. Lex couldn’t just up and decide to *do* things like this, even….

Even if Clark had opened the gate to all these *thoughts* that were now flooding out, just a few days ago.

“I’ve done things wrong, Clark. I do understand that, and you know, so have you.” Lex held his finger to Clark’s lip before Clark could interject. “I do understand that, but I don’t think you’ve ever fully understood why.”

“Numan. Seget.” Clark said steadily. “I get why. Part of me even–”

“What?” Lex asked sharply, eyes narrowing.

“Part of me even agreed with you! That I’m dangerous, that people should watch out for me, that people shouldn’t trust me as much as they do. Sometimes–”

Lex seemed to brace himself, and all Clark could manage was: “You’re insurance,” he breathed, closing his eyes.

Lex went still against the wall. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”

Clark snorted. “Fundamental differences on how we see the world?” he reminded harshly.

“Not so different,” Lex murmured. “We want the same things, we just go about getting them different ways. Now sit back and enjoy the show, Clark. And hey, chin up. One way or another, this will all be done in a week or two, and we won’t have to worry about it anymore.”

Lex left Clark staring after him, dumbfounded in the alley.

The show?

- Seven -

Clark stared blearily at the clock, the time not registering for a few moments. Eyes widening as he took in the fact he was already an hour and a half late, he searched frantically for the phone, cursed, threw himself in the shower for twenty seconds, and was at the Planet fully dressed a minute later.

Whistling tunelessly as the elevator ascended, Clark rehearsed his explanation to Perry. ‘Following up a couple leads’, that was always a classic. Exhaling as he stepped off, he had a moment of calm before he dimly registered a hissed: “That’s finally him!” and the singing began.

Clark looked up wildly as four men stepped in front of him in long, deep blue trench coats, two getting to their knees as they harmonized.

I see people gettin’ mad on CNN
Who’s right… democrats or republicans
I don’t care who’s right or wrong
I know a way we can all get along

No. *No*. Not the show. Clark froze, hand clenched around his briefcase handle.

“Uh, hey, I think you’ve got the wrong—” he tried, weakly.

The tall one with the purple—oh god, *purple* mohawk, slid to his knees, inches from Clark’s feet.

Let’s take a ride
Let’s take a ride on the love train
Unwind, we’ll be chuga luggin all the way
Let’s roll, like the stone playin all day hey
Let’s take a ride
Let’s take a ride on a love train

Clark looked around the newsroom wildly, and yes, every single eye *was* trained on him. “Please stop,” he tried again.

Blue and red mohawked guy slid down next to purple mohawked guy–oh the *nerve* of Lex, Clark choked soundlessly.

The whole color thing’s never made sense to me
Who gives a hoot
If you’re red, yellow, purple or pink
We’re all mixed up anyway
We might as well give each other a break

And take a ride
Let’s take a ride on the love train
Unwind, we’ll be chuga luggin all the way
Let’s roll, like the stone playin’ all day hey
Let’s take a ride
Let’s take a ride on a love train

Lois had worked her way up to Clark’s side in the middle of all this, as Clark had started trying to pry them off the floor, but they just kept *singing* and *singing* and it was obvious: they were never going to stop.

So let’s forget about the hatin’
And the way the Bulls are playin’
Without Jordan on the team
And the high price of gasoline
And if your living in a bubble
Then I guess you got no troubles
But if your anything like me
Well then I bet you really need

“Okay, hey! If Smallville turns any redder, he might die! This is a–private newsroom! Respect it!” Lois yelled, even whistled loudly, but no one could hear her as the singers belted out the last stanza.

To take a ride
Let’s take a ride on the love train
Unwind, we’ll be chuga luggin all the way
Let’s roll, like the stone playin all day hey
Let’s take a ride
Let’s take a ride on a love train

“I want to die!” Clark yelled, but didn’t realize that the song had just finished, so it rang out loudly across the bullpen.

Someone let loose a loud catcall, and Jimmy came up, wheezing, pointing his camera at Clark’s stricken face. “Sorry, big guy, but the Society section sent me over.”

“Jimmy,” Clark whispered, betrayed. Jimmy had a sympathetic look on his face right up until the flash went off.

“Everyone! Back to work now! I don’t care if half the city wants to get into Kent’s pants, there’s no excuse for this kind of work ethic!”

“But Lex Luthor sent the quartet!” Kaila from Society called.

“Yeah, it was research!” Someone–and when Clark figured out who, there’d be much death, much, much death–called from the Entertainment desk.

Perry blinked. “Were you boys sent by Lex Luthor?”

“Yes’sir,” they all smiled charmingly.

“Oh. Well then,” Perry said, obviously flustered. Clark eyed Lois, who looked like a little girl in a candy store at the sight. He disappeared back into his office.

“He didn’t know what to *say*,” Lois half-shrieked, and Clark gripped his briefcase more tightly, using it to half-bludgeon, half-lead the singers out of the hallway and onto the elevator.

“Mr. Luthor sends his regards,” the blue and green mohawk said. “Oh. And this,” purple mohawk pulled out a single red rose from somewhere inside his coat, and held it out to Clark.

It became obvious that they weren’t going to let the doors *shut* until he took the rose, so Clark feebly extended a hand and Lois waved as the doors closed.

“Wow,” she said.

“Not a single word,” he warned, floundering about for a place to put the rose.

He spied a trash can two feet away, but Lois slid in front of him in a violent flurry of motion.

“He sent you a *rose*, Clark,” she grinned, and why hadn’t he ever noticed that she only had two kinds of smiles–slightly evil, and really very evil?

“And it’s probably poisoned!”

“No thorns!” she pointed out sensibly.

“He’s *friends* with Poison Ivy. This thing could *eat me*, and then you’d be sorry.”

Lois’ eyes widened and Clark *knew*, just *knew* she was about to make a dirty joke at his expense, so he tossed the thing blindly, hoping it’d distract her long enough for him to escape.

She left it on the *floor*, as she chose to pursue him instead. Clark threw a longing glance back over his shoulder at the rose lying in the middle of the floor, and plastered on his best menacing expression.

“I don’t want to talk about it!”

“Yeah, that’s not going to fly, Smallville. Lex Luthor just sent you a singing quartet with a very gay song selection, a rose and a–”

“Hey, how did everyone know they were from Lex before I walked in?” Clark asked, slowly turning around to face Lois.

“Maybe because of the card?”

Clark rushed over to his desk where *six* interns were crowded. He threw an arm in between them and yanked out the huge purple card envelope, *obviously* opened.

Clark –

I know you’re not one for displays, so I managed to hold myself back to a card, *one* flower, and a quartet, but Clark. Indulge me; let’s meet for dinner Sunday.

Sincerely,
Lex Luthor

Clark sank down into his chair.

“I can’t believe you.” Kaila from the Society page came up from behind, slapping down her cup of coffee.

“I’m sorry this all disrupted your workday, but–”

“No, I can’t *believe* you’d do this to Superman!”

Clark blinked dumbly and to further make this day all the more impossible, she snatched his glasses from his face.

“Now you look me in the eye, Clark Kent, and tell me: Can you look at yourself in the mirror if you’re stealing away the one person that Superman loves?”

Clark managed to hold back a shriek, but only just. He snatched his glasses back and pulled them onto his face, staring down at the floor as he did so.

“You can’t even look me in the face! I’d never have expected something so crass from you!” Kaila sputtered.

“I didn’t–I don’t want to steal him from Superman. I don’t even want him!” Clark shouted.

Lois said something under her breath, “….one’s listening, Smallville,” but he was so angry it didn’t register.

“We had sex twice! That’s not love! That’s just sex!” he yelled, waving the card around.

Lois absconded with Kaila’s coffee as she sat down on her own side of the desk and buried herself in her laptop.

For a second, the only noise was her clattering away, typing at the keyboard. Clark felt himself flush all over again. Clark pulled out his cell phone, determined to ignore Kaila until she just went away, until everyone stopped staring, and before he knew what was happening, he’d text messaged Lex with a “NO.” and felt quite a whole lot better about the entire situation.

- Eight -

The clip wouldn’t stop playing.

“Mr. Luthor, what do you have to say about rumors that you’ve sold off your–”

“Oh, Miss Taylor, who wants to talk about business?”

“I–excuse me?”

“I’m in love! Who wants to talk about business when they’re in love?”

“Mr. Luthor?”

“His name is Clark Kent, and he’s without parallel on this planet.”

“Mr. Luthor, congratulations,” the reporter recovered somewhat. “And is there—”

“Anything else I’d like to say? Hmm. Strangely, no. Don’t want to talk about business, check, in love, check, Clark Kent is great, check. I think I’ve accomplished what I wanted to in this interview today. Thank you, Miss Taylor.” And with that, Lex had risen from the couch, three minutes into a promised twenty minute interview.

One of Lex’s vice presidents had slid into the chair ten seconds later, proclaiming smoothly, “Well, Miss Taylor, I’m not in love, and I *would* like to talk about business,” and LexCorp’s newest in biotech made its debut.

- Nine -

Clark tensed as he heard the all-too-familiar soft sound of Mercy Graves’ boots crossing the floor.

He turned around awkwardly, bracing himself for–gun? Bomb? He hoped. Before Lex had snapped and gone crazy, he’d expressed his affections through various neurotoxins and really, Clark should have appreciated that more.

Mercy cleared her throat.

“Miss Graves,” he mumbled, eyeing her.

Lois looked on in fascination, lacquered fingers tracing her chipped handle of her coffee mug.

“Let’s just get on with this. Shut up, sit still, and I won’t have to shoot up the room. Right?”

Clark set his jaw and motioned for her to go on.

“Clark. You should really start dating me,” she said tonelessly.

Clark blinked owlishly. “What?”

“Consider the message delivered. On his behalf.” She looked like she wanted to die nearly as much as Clark did, which gentled his tone reciprocally.

“Why are you here?”

“It was on my ‘to do’ list,” she sighed. She held out a small envelope, flung it at his face when he didn’t immediately take it, she said: “You’ve told me to tell him ‘thank you’, and that you’ve accepted his invitation for dinner tomorrow night.”

She looked at her side where her holster was meaningfully.

“I thought he wanted Sunday night,” Clark frowned.

“He gets impatient,” she said slowly, as though she were speaking to a particularly dim-witted child.

“Right,” Clark agreed, and gave a little finger wave as she turned abruptly and oh, thank god, left.

“I’m here for you, Smallville,” Lois said solemnly, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Now open it and let me read too.”

“It’s personal correspondence!” Clark protested.

“From Lex *Luthor*,” Lois said.

“So you know that he’s still evil, right? And playing some sort of game with me?” Clark asked hopefully.

“Oh yes, of course. Open!”

Clark scanned it through the paper, no mention of Superman, so—okay. “Here goes,” he said.

Clark, no really. Saturday night. Do you want to go through this all next week? I can be more inventive if you need further persuasion.

Sincerely,
L.L.

“Why does he keep bothering to sign? I know who it is,” Clark seethed.

“I kinda want to see what he’d do next week,” Lois mused.

“Don’t you think I’m humiliated enough?”

“But if you give in now, it’s setting bad precedent.”

“That’s blatant manipulation just because you want to see him send me a dolphin or something.”

“You come up with the strangest ideas,” Lois smiled sweetly. She leaned in and placed her chin on Clark’s arm. “Actually, I want to see you play hard to get, and wind up stealing him from Superman. Now, is that so wrong?”

“He’s tried to *kill you*. Several times!”

“Who *hasn’t* he tried to kill?” Lois pointed out.

Clark shoved himself away from his desk. “Everyone’s gone insane!”

- Ten -

As it turned out, everyone *really* hadn’t gone insane until the next day. Clark had wussed out and told Lex he had ‘superhero business’, hoping it might set Lex off on a ranting tangent, but Clark had practically heard the eye-roll over the phone. When Lex asked two seconds later, rather hesitantly, if there was anything he could do to help, Clark had been so freaked out that he’d accidentally hung up.

And then he’d wussed out on calling back, so when the video-phone rang, he was actually relieved to see Anyone Who Wasn’t Lex calling.

“Superman, this relationship between you and Luthor, it’s not what I would call appropriate,” Batman began.

“You’re one to cast stones,” Flash interjected, and man, Clark really loved Wally.

“Really,” Robin muttered somewhere off to the side.

Flash, Batman and Clark all looked in the direction of the voice.

“Oh, *now* you all believe he molested me. Fuck you, guys.”

Clark hung up of his own volition this time.

- Eleven -

“Okay, I think the last truck is on its way to the hospital,” Lois sneezed.

Clark smiled gratefully at her, continuing to pick up stray petals to toss into the trashcan.

He managed to sneak one of them into the card containing Lex’s note of the day though.

You’ve reduced me to sending you flowers? I’m pissed off, Clark.

Very Sincerely,
L.L.

“Okay. I’ve decided that you should just humor him and go out already. I mean, he’ll see that you’re boring sooner or later, but at least we all won’t die of whatever the fuck kind of courtship dance you two are doing here.”

“But–Lois. He’s–he’s *bad*!” They both quieted, and he flinched under her stare. “Evil! I meant. Evil!”

“Oh, Clark,” she sighed.

“I don’t want to talk about this!” Clark said weakly.

-Twelve -

Clark turned around lazily in the clouds, enjoying the feel of the sun on his face, stretching a little further. He could just stay up for a few more hours, pretend life wasn’t kicking his ass.

Then Clark heard the shouts and yells from the ground, and slid open a cautious eye. They weren’t pained or threatened or hurt screams, just very angry.

“He’s *ruining* the sign!” he made out clearly. Confused, Clark glanced around. Just a tiny plane, some clouds, nothing amiss. Only….huh.

There was a trail of smoke coming out of the plane, could it be on fire?! Clark flew over swiftly, and the outraged voices increased by a multitude of ten.

“He’s doing it on purpose! That’s so petty!”

“That just ain’t right, son!” a man called up to the sky.

Confused, Clark peered into the cockpit of the airplane, only to be greeted by a red-faced young woman, gesturing at him wildly. He tuned in to her words:

“You *idiot*, you just went through the whole ‘C’! I have to start all over again!”

He looked behind him, and did a bit of an unintentional somersault mid-air.

The sky read: “I love you, lark! – L. L.”

Clark blinked hollowly at the gaping piece of blue sky where the ‘C’ in his name had dissipated due to his relaxing flight of moments before.

He could be petty and just erase the whole thing, but then people would say Superman was just being jealous, and this whole thing was such worlds of wrong that even Lex had to be laughing himself into a hernia at this point.

Clark hauled himself back to his apartment so dejectedly that even his cape was drooping in the air.

The phone rang the second he came in. “I paid quite a bit for that. You’ve always been so reckless,” Lex said, almost-fondly into the receiver.

He curled up into bed and let the sound of Lex’s breathing across the line lull him to sleep.

- Thirteen -

The papers were in a frenzy, all determined to outdo one another. Lex Luthor was not only gift wrapping a huge story for them, but he was handing out free pull bows. Pre-pulled. And–okay, the metaphor was getting away from Clark. He braced himself for the Inquisitor.

SUPERMAN SCORNS LUTHOR’S NEW LOVER

….there wasn’t enough bracing in the world for *this*, Clark thought, pitching the paper into the road, disgusted. He pushed his glasses up on his nose, and looked up to see a police officer looking between Clark and his night stick meaningfully, and then sliding his gaze over to the very littered paper.

With a sigh, Clark went into the street and retrieved the paper, and pitched it in the trash can instead.

- Fourteen -

“I’m not taking this,” Clark said, trying to shove the door closed in the delivery man’s face.

“You’re taking this, sir,” the man said firmly, yet very polite.

“I’m not. You can’t make me.” The delivery guy looked as stunned as Clark at his reversion to six-year-old state-of-mind, and seized the opportunity to press the small box into Clark’s hand.

“Have a good day, sir.”

Clark shut the door and stared down at the box. No ticking.

God, how Clark missed the days when boxes from Lex would tick.

He settled down on the bed and ripped off the tape, frowning as he lifted a tiny square box out of a bunch of peanuts.

Okay. An ipod. That wasn’t too bad. Not like—his own island or his own planet or, well, kryptonite.

It was already loaded with a playlist, Clark noted, as he wheeled through the settings.

You + Me = Us was the title, and Clark stared dumbfounded for all of two seconds, before he started laughing so hard he was pretty sure that it would deafen whoever was on the other side of the tiny electronic bug inside the screen. He gave Lex a little wave, in case it had visual capacity. He could never tell, that was always Bruce’s department.

With a sigh, he gingerly tugged on the earphones and settled in onto his pillow, facing the ipod down onto his jeans, right below his stomach, feeling rather mean, and very proud of it.

When Spice Girls’ Holler turned out to be the first song, Clark’s realized that triumph really was a fleeting sensation. He shifted uneasily on the bed, wondered why he was even *listening to this*, and realized he’d been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t managed to listen for the last fifteen seconds, so he rewound and got back to the right place, and paid close attention, swallowing hard.

Lex never fought fairly.

- Fifteen -

Clark stepped off the elevator, fumbling for his keys, and froze when he registered Hope standing at the side of his door. She calmly opened the door herself, using a *key*, and Clark scowled at her, taking the key from her hand before she could react, and leaving it a tiny metal ball on the floor.

“You’re home!” Lex greeted from the kitchen, reaching into the oven with mittened hands. “Good, I was afraid the chicken was going to get a little tough.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Well, you were scheduled to leave work at seven,” Lex said crisply, already cutting into the dish. “If you’d been on time, then I wouldn’t have had to worry. I felt so badly over you missing out last weekend over your ‘superhero business’, after all.”

“Well, you can just take the whole thing with you, because I’m going to bed,” Clark pronounced, yanking off his tie.

“At seven at night?” Lex asked doubtfully.

“Patrol starts at ten, I like a little nap.”

“You don’t have patrol tonight,” Lex smirked.

“Are you stalking me?” Clark demanded.

Lex looked up from where he had been busily divvying up the chicken onto plates and gestured vaguely around the room with the spatula.

The room being Clark’s apartment, which Lex apparently had keys to. Right.

“I do so have patrol,” Clark said, checking his PDA.

“Mmm,” Lex said, tasting the sauce on the chicken. “No, Green Lantern tonight.”

Clark realized Lex was right, he’d been so out of it the last few days that it wasn’t any wonder things were getting confused.

“Fine,” Clark sighed, pulling up a stool at his breakfast bar.

“Why don’t you have–oh, I don’t know. A table? Chairs?”

“I’m not a big fan of having people over,” Clark admitted. “Is this poisoned?”

“You don’t have to sound so hopeful at the prospect.”

“Hey, you poisoning me would help a lot,” Clark said, spearing a chunk of the chicken viciously.

“Hmm. Sorry, I don’t think I’ll make it that easy on you,” Lex said.

“You never have before; I didn’t expect you to start now,” Clark said quietly.

- Sixteen -

“It’s really not going to go anywhere. Too much has happened for it to be this easy. Even he has to know that,” Clark said, and yeah, he probably should stop hugging Lois since Hope had been following him for the last four days, and Clark was pretty sure Lex had managed to conceal a couple of the missiles he’d stolen years ago in LexCorp Tower. But he just–he couldn’t seem to make himself let *go*. She’d taken one look at the mountain of cookies and chocolate and *gallon of milk* on his desk, grabbed his hand, and pulled him into the supply closet.

“You think Luthor’s gonna have me killed? I think I’m at least half-serious,” Lois muttered into Clark’s ear. But she didn’t make him release his hug that had lifted her a few inches off the floor.

“Maybe something positive can come of all this after all,” Clark said meanly.

“Y’know, you were a lot nicer to me before you started banging Luthor,” she hissed.

“I’ll let you fall to the ground,” Clark promised.

“You never have before,” she said. “…not you, and not him.”

Clark tried to pull away, but she had clasped her hands tightly behind his back, her frame shaking underneath his hands.

“I’m only going to say this once. I’ll watch your back for you, with Luthor. But everyone deserves a shot at being happy.”

Clark didn’t know what to say to that.

“Especially you,” she murmured, rubbing his shoulder. “You–you deserve someone who can be there for all things. Important. And small.”

“Lois,” he breathed, about to apologize, because he’d never thought any of this would, could happen.

“You’re still not getting it,” she sighed. “I’m saying you can focus on the interpersonal part of this whole–thing,” she motioned vaguely, “and I’ll let you know if this is all some nefarious plot to kill us all. I’m just as good at breaking up his plans as you, you know.”

Clark buried his face in her hair and realized why he didn’t want to let go–she was saying it’s okay, not really, but it’s sort of okay, and goodbye.

- Seventeen -

“What are you doing?” Clark mumbled fuzzily. The question was getting really old.

They were lying on Clark’s sofa. Rather, Clark was, and Lex’s magical, amazing fingers were massaging Clark’s scalp.

“I’m establishing a sense of intimacy with you,” Lex said, matter-of-factly, and ignoring the actual question altogether.

“Where is that *from*?”

Lex shrugged. “I think I’m at a saturation point with everything I’ve been reading lately. It’s all rather blending together at this point.”

“Just keep rubbing my head,” Clark said finally.

- Eighteen -

Clark had never seen so many slack-jawed expressions in the Planet’s newsroom, and a *lot* had happened in here. Bizarro had thrown several tantrums, Lex had had Perry and Lois kidnapped – twice! – not to mention the havoc Live Wire had managed to wreak just two months ago.

Still, apparently nothing could compare to the sight of Lex Luthor strolling through, completely expressionless, past supposedly hard-nosed reporters.

“I’m fairly sure there are stalking laws for just this sort of thing,” Clark said, playing with his pen, looking up at Lex through the gap between his eyes and his glasses.

“Probably. But you know how judges like me.”

“That’s a little careless.” Clark couldn’t suppress a grin.

“What, just that I have a winning personality that some people find charming?”

Clark shook his head, knowing this wasn’t winnable. “And what brings you to my ‘office’, Mr. Luthor?”

“I got a little bored, so I figured I might as well come down here and let Lois interview me.”

Lois had been glaring at Lex across their desks, but even she couldn’t manage to hide her shock. “And is there a reason you don’t want Clark to interview you?”

“Of course. He’d have me at such an unfair advantage. I’d be picturing him naked the entire time, and that’s hardly conducive to covering up certain aspects of my business.”

Lois tapped her pen on her desk. “I can see why you’re having trouble, Clark,” she said slowly. “And you couldn’t just give me a call?” she asked, already rising.

“Well, of course not. I had to have my fix,” Lex smirked, helping Lois with her coat.

“Your–” she looked over at Clark, barely concealing her Cheshire cat grin. “Well. He does provide for some good eye candy,” she said, brushing past Clark’s desk, perfume leaving a light trail behind her.

“Maybe you should just agree to date me already,” Lex told Clark before he fell into step behind Lois.

- Nineteen -

Lois asked the question Clark had been asking for days, only this time, Lex finally answered.

“I don’t get to do stuff like this,” Lex had said.

“Stuff like what?” she’d asked.

“I don’t get to go up to a person I like, and invite them out for dinner.”

Clark wasn’t surprised that Lex had allowed Lois to print the last line. “I’d forgotten,” Lex said. “I’d forgotten that I am Lex fucking Luthor, and that I *can*.”

- Twenty -

“Superman’s public perception ratings have never been higher,” Batman began mildly.

“You are not talking to me about this. You are *not*.”

“And yet, I am. Look. This is getting embarrassing watching the two of you. Just kill him, or have me kill him or go out with him already. Get it done with.”

Clark couldn’t believe his ears. “Is he blackmailing you? I can’t believe you’d even ever mention the last option.”

“I’m assuming that since the first hasn’t occurred, and you haven’t asked the second, that the third is what will eventually be happening. I’m just saying put us all out of this misery here.”

“Don’t you remember when he tried to blow up the world? He’s tried to kill you! Several times!”

“I remember.”

“Can’t you ever give anyone a break?” Clark snapped, and hung up.

- Twenty-One -

Clark was sitting on Lex’s chaise, the streetlamps and moon lighting his face, his hands cupped around a glass. It had never felt right, being here before, but tonight felt different.

Maybe it was the lack of a cape.

Lex had just stepped out of his shower, and stood with his hand on his towel, for once apparently not knowing what to do.

“I’m here to try,” Clark said, setting the glass down softly.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Lex breathed, sat next to him, and ran light fingers across Clark’s face.

Clark trailed a finger along the soft cotton weave around Lex’s legs.

“I’m glad I can call the candygram orchestra back and tell them they’re not needed.”

Clark paused and grinned. “Nah. After all her support this week, Lois deserves a candygram orchestra.”

September 9 2006 Smallville. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.