Codes: Clark, Lex, Lois, Clark/Lex, other, futurefic
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: be safe and say everything
Summary: Clark decides on a change of lifestyle. Lex decides on a change in the status quo. And the world's doomed.
Author Notes: I raided Sascha at tentative.net for the summary, since God knows, I suck at them. Rana for the title, from the ee cummings poem. Ann for the double beta of botho stories, Agnes for finishing what she could on this one. And the LJ community for walking me through it very, very patiently. Thank you.
Archiving: SSA, Level_Three
Disclaimer: Don't own anyone except Cassius, Daniel, and Charity.
Feedback: Oh yes.

The Fortress hadn't given him any real warning about the side effects.

He's been kneeling by the toilet for what feels like forever, shocked at the bile-burn in the back of his throat, the smell of it. His mouth feels raw, but there's no really good basis for comparison, vague memories of nausea and broken ribs from years and years ago that don't mesh at all with this kind of pain.

This is nothing like Kryptonite poisoning.

Collapsing on the cool tile of his bathroom floor, Clark shuts his eyes, letting the chill settle into every bone through denim and decade-old flannel. It's brand new and familiar like a dream can be, but more real, somehow, like life's been a long fantasy and this is the reality. Dirty, filthy taste coating his mouth, Jesus, this he couldn't have anticipated, and he struggles to his knees for his toothbrush. His stomach hates sudden moves, though, and he's collapsing again, barely noticing the sharp thud of his head hitting the tile again.

Shock, his mind offers up with surprise. You didn't expect something like this?

Obviously not, and he scrabbles feebly at the floor, the small rug brushing the tips of his fingers, a slice of pain following so bright that he gasps. Lifting his hand, he stares at the glass that's buried in his flesh. Broken glass, from the water he was carrying when he stumbled, though he can barely think through the twists in his stomach,

Blinking, he watches blood lazily trace a line down his finger, oozing over the first knuckle and pooling in the web of skin at the base of his fingers. Colder as it moves, almost icy as it reaches his palm, tracing a lifeline that might have actual significance now.

Human, his mind offers, and he can't do anything but agree. This is *human*. Belief's an imperative now. He doesn't have a choice.

Even the relief is sublimated under the spasms wracking every muscle. His entire body's screaming with the change, and something sharp ripples through him, eyes rolling back in his head as his body shudders, toes to the top of his head.

No, the Fortress hadn't covered this at *all*. Probably didn't know. He's the first and last of his kind--or not anymore, and that chokes out a broken laugh that hurts his throat and his ears. It doesn't sound that amused.

Rolling onto his stomach, he shuts his eyes briefly. Focus. Irony would be dying now of blood loss from a fucking cut *finger*. Or knocking himself out on the edge of the toilet. Opening his eyes again, he stretches both arms, trying to steady shaky hands, just enough to pull it free. It breaks, another shock of bright pain, and there are tears forming behind his eyes.

Oh God, he's crying for a cut finger. Giggling threatens to erupt before the next shock of pain, *real* pain. Some kind of fucking hero.

He should call Lois. Get her here. She knew what he was planning, knew--understood. She'd know what to do, all these things he doesn't. He doesn't even have *bandaids* for God's sake, no antibiotic, he's never needed it. Blood is splashing vividly on the floor, pooling bright red and accusatory.

Oh yeah, he really thought *this* through.

And letting Lois see him like this when she's seen Superman--Clark shakes the thought aside and rolls on his side when his stomach heaves again. Bile this time, thickly yellow-green on the floor, but he can almost ignore the burn of it for his finger.

Beneath his cheek, the tile's so cool he might never get up again.

The next spasm is completely unexpected, and Clark's body curls up, mouth opening on no air and no way to get it. Panic takes over--what do you do, he thinks, remember, you saved humans all the time. Save *yourself*. He'd wondered why they fought him sometimes.

So cold, though. And he's never been that before, and it's distracting, soothing, something to explore. Forcing every muscle to relax into the shudders, he watches his own blood smear the floor. He can take this. It's what he chooses. God, it's what he *wants*.

His eyes are almost closed when something warm slides under his head, shoulders leaving the floor to brace against something warm and firm. Thick, harsh cloth slips against his cheek, and he rubs against it instinctively, trying to focus his eyes off blood, but the too-fast movement of his head just brings the nausea back and vision's off. Instantly, cool hands are on his face, turning it sideways, and he's vomiting onto the floor, raw bile flecked with blood.

That--can't be good.

"Ssh." Fingers smoothing over his face, and Clark tries to recognize the voice. "You're a fucking moron."

Oh.

"Lex."

He thinks he can hear a snicker, or a sigh. You never know with Lex. Lex, who's relentless by nature and bored by choice, levering Clark up until he's sprawled in some kind of sitting arrangement, and something wet and soft streaks his face. Clark realizes he's been sweating. When the cloth flashes too close to his eyes, he sees blood.

"What--" Words are hard to form; his mouth feels like it's stuffed with cotton and his tongue's far too big to try anything like English. Kryptonian either, and he feels a grin spread his lips briefly. This will be funny one day. In the future. Far, far in the future.

"Shut up." He's braced against a warm, strong body, and it's Lex, though logic says he's hallucinating and dying on his bathroom floor alone in this ultimate kind of superhuman irony. Still, instinct is instinct, and he'd know Lex on his deathbed. Beneath the stench of vomit and blood and God knows what else, the sharp masculine cut of scent, metal-edged and frighteningly vivid, is too familiar. It's Lex.

His night could get worse, Clark reflects when another spasm shakes him and strong hands brace his shoulders, keeping him from shaking himself apart. His hand's taken and lifted, sharp pain when Lex removes the glass, wrapping it in what feels like toilet paper, layer upon layer. Letting his head roll back, Clark looks up.

"It's been awhile." He can't help smirking.

"Not long enough." Under Clark's hand is a warm thigh, wool covered and solid, easy to brace himself on. Grounding, too, and his fingers like the feeling of the cloth a little too much for comfort. Lex's arm around his chest is almost too-tight, but Clark doesn't care. It's enough that there's something to hold on to, grip with the next spasm that rips up his body like he's being cut open inside and out. "I assume this is reaction to whatever the fuck you did up in the Fortress?"

"Yeah." Clark chokes out a laugh. "Should have stayed--there. With the medical facilities." Can't get back now. Frankly, he's not even clear on how he got back to Metropolis, since obviously he didn't fly on his own. There are vague memories of a private plane and a man that didn't speak much English but watched him a lot. Okay. "You bought my pilot."

"Michael was very disappointed you weren't carrying something interesting like heroin or weapons of mass destruction. A let-down for the man, I assure you." Lex shifts a little--motion isn't good, but Lex is about as capable of stillness as Lois is of silence. Strong arms reposition themselves under his arms, and Lex pulls them both up effortlessly.

Lex is really too strong to be completely human. Clark wants to laugh at the thought that Lex is now the most alien in the room. In a manner of speaking.

For some reason, he doesn't shake too much on his way to the narrow bed in the corner of his bedroom, and it's warm and soft under his back. Lex lowers him down as gently as a child, pulling the blankets up, then turning Clark on his side just as the next spasm hits--how can he still be throwing up, there's nothing left in his *stomach*.

"I can't believe you didn't ask a few more questions before you did it," Lex says from somewhere far away. The next country, perhaps. He's lightheaded. Obviously.

"I can't believe that the Fortress considers this 'consequences' and didn't go into detail." Clark sucks in a foul-tasting breath. "I thought it meant for the *world*."

"You might have guessed that the transition from alien to human might be a little jarring." Lex's voice is so dry it almost grates, but the washcloth is back, sliding over his mouth. Clark wants to lick it, get rid of the taste.

"*Little* jarring?" Clark opens his eyes--blurred vision. What if he needs glasses now for real? That will suck. A *lot*. "I don't--why are you here?"

He can almost hear the smile in Lex's voice, and the finger in his hair are gentle now, stroking back. "I have you watched from time to time." More gentle stroking, fingers lacing through his hair. It feels wet, curling around Lex's fingers like it's trying to hold on.

Clark feels the completely inappropriate laugh try to break out from between his lips. "How--"

"I've studied Kryptonite for years, Clark." That answers--well, absolutely nothing. The washcloth is back, and Clark lets himself lean into that, loving the feel of the rough, nubby material cleaning, soothing. "You're engaged to Miss Lane. I put two and two together."

Oh. Not exactly two and two, except in Lexworld, where weird yet strangely right conclusions could be leaped to without anything as irrelevant as actual evidence. But it's easier just to nod, and the bed shifts when Lex reaches for the phone. Distantly, Clark hears Lex dialing a number.

"Chloe. Shut up." A pause. "Do you want to hear this or not?" Another pause. "Tell Lois he's fine. Yes, like she'd believe me." Another pause, longer, and Clark tries sight again. Marginally clearer. Black wool thigh near his chest, inches from his fingers. He follows the line of material, up to a crisp white shirt. Lex must have discarded jacket and coat somewhere. The sleeves are rolled up. Very Lex. Wouldn't want to get too dirty. "No, you both can stay right where you are." Another pause. "Then you should have been here first. Tell Lois to be here in the morning. He should be fine by then. Mercy and Hope would love a chance to chat, sweetheart, so feel free to pass that along. Goodbye."

Lex can't even be solicitous without being threatening. But--Clark doesn't want to see Chloe. Or Lois. Not like this. Macho-guy thing--frankly, Lex seeing it sucks so much it hurts, but that's unavoidable now. Lois? Unacceptable in every way. He shivers at the thought, and instantly, warm hands stroke over his back, tucking the blanket in around him.

"Why--"

"War's over."

He'd once heard speculation that Lex was insane. It's almost believable, and Clark finally finds the focus to look into Lex's face. Usual Lex, totally unreadable, except for the smirk and the familiar tilt of his head.

"You're fucking kidding."

"Your mother would wash your mouth out with soap if she heard that. Drink this." A bottle magically appears and Lex hand slides under his head, levering it up enough to reach the lip. It doesn't taste like water, faintly metal-edged, but that could be the blood and bile slicking Clark's tongue. It goes down a lot more easily than anything's come up, though, and Clark shuts his eyes at it hits his stomach, expecting the cramps....

...that never happen.

Well, that's unexpected.

"How did you--"

"You never did listen well," Lex remarks. "Take another drink before you try to talk." The bottle's back in place, but Clark's not fighting it. Thirstily, Clark gulps, but in an act of pure evil, Lex pulls the bottle back. "Not too much. This will help."

Clark lays back on the pillows. There's a fine sheen of sweat crawling over his skin--uncomfortably slick, and he can feel it popping up in places that have never sweat before. Under the blankets seems uncomfortably hot, and Clark tries to shrug them off. A hand on his chest stops him instantly; Clark blinks as he realizes he can't fight it off.

And Lex is smiling like he just got handed the entirety of Europe for his personal demesne.

"Human, Clark. Like I'm not." The pressure increases--it's a shock, and Clark blinks, reaching up to close his fingers weakly around the delicate looking wrist. Instantly, and pretty damn surprisingly, Lex backs off, hand now simply resting on his sweat-soaked shirt before it's joined by the second, busily unbuttoning the ruined material. Clark thinks about protesting, but it smells.

And moving would involve far too much effort. Much easier to lay here and let Lex strip him down to his boxers, clothes discarded, then a few long minutes on the other side of the room with the cellphone.

When their eyes meet, Lex holds the gaze for seconds too long before crossing the room, pressing his palm to the tiny mouthpiece.

"Lois wants to talk to you. She's downstairs." Lex sits down, extending the phone until it's pressed to Clark's ear. He can hear her cursing from inches away and it brings a smile to his face, carefully moving until he can hear her clearly.

"Lois?" His voice sounds--really bad.

The steady stream of invective ends like a radio dial being turned. "Clark?" Breathless relief fills the single syllable. "Clark, oh God, are you--what--"

"I'm fine." Glancing up, he sees Lex studying the far wall as though it's covered with the personal sayings of Alexander the Great. Almost enough to make him laugh. "Really, Lois. I'm okay. Just--wiped."

"What the fuck is Luthor doing there?"

The question of the ages. "Apparently making sure I survive the experience. Everything--everything's okay, I swear. Some sleep and I think I'll be okay."

She doesn't like it. Vocally doesn't like it. More than one time. Clark can't keep up and doesn't even try, just enjoys the steady rhythm of her voice and how she can make even fuck sound sweet and somehow tender.

The phone's gently removed from his ear.

"He's falling asleep," Clark hears Lex say, amusement rich in his voice. Clark doesn't bother opening his eyes. "Go home. He's yours tomorrow."

That sounds--oh, just a little bizarre. Clark shakes the thought away, letting the voices drift. The spasms in his stomach are reducing by the moment to faint cramps, like something is gently pushing against the surface of his stomach. Curling onto his side, he feels Lex stand up, walking to the door, and that's Mercy's voice, though Clark can't make out the words.

The spasms grow--Clark shudders at the sudden chill, burrowing under the covers, voices becoming nothing but an indistinct, almost annoying drone of sound. Teeth suddenly clattering together, God, this is *cold*, this is how people feel in Kansas winters, he never knew, never guessed it felt like this. The covers don't seem to hold any heat at all, seem to suck it from him, and he pulls his knees to his chest, trying to find--something. Warmth. Anything.

"Clark. Shit." The door closes far too loudly, and then too-hard footsteps. The mattress dips and Lex's hand brushes his face. God, so hot. Wonderful, vibrant heat that he can't help moving into, making an embarrassing sound low in his throat.

He's miles out of shame. Hell, he's a few thousand miles out of complete sanity as well. Who the hell tests the powers of gold kryptonite on their fucking *body* without further research?

"Clark. It's okay. Hold on." Blankets aren't doing anything, no matter how close Lex tucks them in, and Clark tries to lock his jaw enough to stop the constant clatter of enamel. "You know, research would have been smart, Clark."

"Heh." What an idea.

"This didn't come up during..." Lex cuts himself off. "Not that I ever had the actual substance, but extrapolation..." He drifts off into possible thought, and Clark slits his eyes open enough to see Lex frowning. "You're so fucking stupid."

"Worth it." Mumbled between clenched teeth. *Human*.

"She'd better be." The hand's back, and Clark wants to grab it, pull it under the covers and curl all around it. The bed shifts again, comforters drawn aside--Clark almost protests before he gets it.

Big, warm, *hot* body, and screw the war, fuck the enemy thing, Lex is like a space heater and Clark doesn't even hesitate. He rolls over and curls up as close as he can, draping a leg across beautifully warm wool, an arm over a silk-clad chest, and burrows his face into a silky shoulder.

Lex makes an unclassifiable sound. In Smallville, an adolescent Clark might have called it a laugh.

He wakes up to the smell of coffee, Lois, and some truly sickening memories. Light from the window cuts across his eyes when he sits up--instant karma for something he must have done wrong in a past life, because damn, that *hurts*.

"Lois, window--" he doesn't, can't open his eyes to see, but her heels make sharp sounds as they cross the room, and he listens as the blinds are closed and the curtains dropped down. More heel clicks, then the bed dips with her slight weight, and he opens his eyes as she hands him a bottle.

"You look like shit, Smallville."

Clark can't help but grin. She doesn't look much better. Dark hair in an uncertain chignon, smudges under her eyes, smeared make-up, but her clothes are Metropolis dinner theatre from last night and she's still wearing heels and stockings. The faint smells of stale smoke, wine, and coffee drift around Clark, but the very idea of coffee makes his stomach turn over.

Taking a drink, Clark recognizes the mix.

"Okay, that wasn't an extended hallucination." His finger aches and he feels--different. The same. Strange. No X-ray, even when he squints. His vision isn't twenty-twenty anymore.

That really does suck. He'll need glasses.

"No, it wasn't, kiddo." A gentle hand belies the sharp edge of her voice, stroking across his forehead, pushing damp hair aside. "God, you--"

He lifts his hand, staring at the neatly bandaged finger. Lex sent out for things at some point. The idea of Hope carrying medical supplies is far too mindbending to process.

"Human," he whispers, staring at the bandage. He think he can feel his pulse beneath the clean white gauze covering, the hard flow of blood, coagulating, forming a scab for healing-- "Lois--"

"Yeah." Her voice is uncharacteristically gentle, followed by another long, tender stroke. "I'm--" Her voice breaks briefly, and Clark turns his gaze, meeting dark eyes that stare straight into him. "I'm happy for you, Clark."

"Do you understand?" he whispers, and her fingers curve down his cheek, resting briefly on his shoulder. Elegant fingers with manicured nails, and he covers them with his. She takes a deep breath, letting it out, brow furrowed in thought.

"Maybe." The shrug is pure Lois. "Sometimes. A little?" She shakes her head, pulling away and reaching for the bottle. "Luthor left a list of what to give you for the next couple of days, but he said the worst is over."

"God." Worst hadn't been the vomiting--Clark has vague memories of later bathroom moments even less attractive. "I should have known. He wouldn't miss the chance to see the transition from alien to human for the world."

Lois chuckles and pulls the covers around him, tucking him in. "I'm sure he took extensive notes. Be a good boy and stay in bed. Chloe's bringing my clothes and my laptop, and I already called us both in to the office. Perry's going to kill us, you know."

"You're staying here?"

The twinkle in her eyes makes him grin. "Like you know how to take care of yourself. Please." A slap on his thigh that--wow, that *hurts*, then she stands up, ignoring the creases in expensive silk and the vagaries of smudged mascara. She's still the most beautiful woman he's ever met. "Who told Luthor we were engaged?"

"I was going to ask you the same question." It makes Clark really wonder what the mail staff at The Planet does during downtime. Seriously. The gossip that comes out of there blows his mind. "Has Chloe said something?"

"Probably." She shrugs. "If you're not going to tell her the truth, Clark--"

"Which part? She just thinks I'm sick, right?"

Lois isn't like anyone else, something that still throws him when he thinks about it. She looks *at* him--sees him, he thinks, like no one else ever has.

"I think so." He watches her balance it out in her head, mentally replaying whatever recent conversation they'd had, looking for clues. "We'll worry about that later. Drink up."

Looking at the bottle, Clark takes another drink, wincing at the feel of the liquid sliding down the raw spots in his throat.

"Anything interesting happen while I was gone?"

Lois leans into the side of the bed, head tilted in thought.

"Yes. Chloe's got a new boyfriend, your mom called and asked where you were, and my mother sent me another email regarding my love life. In other words, nothing new to report." Her pause makes Clark look up--dark eyes are fixed on the floor. Her mouth twitches with a completely indefinable emotion. "What happened last night?"

"I was sick. I was--" When she looks up, the sparkle makes him choke. "You have a filthy mind."

"Mmm." Sitting at the foot of the bed, she draws a knee to her chest, giving him a long, extraordinarily knowing look. "Let me see if I can remember--oh yes. 'No, Lois, we just were in Smallville at the same time.' 'No Lois, we were just friends.' 'Lois, it was a long time ago and we haven't spoken in *years*.' 'Lois, we never had a relationship like *that*--'"

He's in hell.

"It's all true." Amazing, how good her memory is. Makes him curious if she was around Smallville during the meteor shower. That's got to be some kind of mutation.

"Uh huh. So you always snuggle with your nemesis on off-nights?" Oh God, she's enjoying this too much. Snuggle--

Jesus. "You--er, came up here?" Would Lex have *let* her up here when he was still....

She smiles sweetly. "Just in time to watch the very untouchable Mr. Luthor pry you off before he left."

Yes, this is hell.

Burying his head in the pillow, Clark tries to think of calming things. Like holes that open up under you when you're backed into a horrible, horrible corner of hell. The bed shifts nauseatingly, and then Lois is stretched out beside him, indifferent to what has to be a thousand dollar dress, head rested on one hand, and she's far, far too happy.

"Luthor Found *In Flagrante Delicto* With Daily Planet Reporter." It never stops amazing him how she can make her voice sound like a Daily Planet headline. "At six this morning, Alexander Luthor, CEO of LexCorp and current candidate for state senator, was observed leaving the premises of one Clark Jerome Kent, staff reporter for the Daily Planet. Sources report he spent the night."

"Bitch," he murmurs into cheap cotton.

"Mr. Luthor, currently in the middle of *divorce proceedings*, has no comment on his hitherto unknown relationship with reporter Clark Kent." One beautiful hand slides out into a fist, resting just below his mouth. "Any comments, Mr. Kent?"

"You're so going to hell. You know this, right?" In a just world, there would be payback. Something.

"Oh. This is new?" Her laugh is gorgeous--like cut crystal, tinkling around them both. "Really, Clark, you know I wouldn't be jealous--we could compare stories--"

"--you're so dead." How can he hide the body?

"After all, it's not like we often sleep with the same people--"

"Nothing happened!" Though snuggling, in Lexian terms, might be up there with a declaration of intent. Or something. He's trying not to think about that part.

"Are you naked, Kent?" And boom, blankets pulled back before Clark can remember how hands work. So embarrassing. So, so embarrassing. She looks at the boxers with a frown. "Well, that's disappointing."

Clark lifts his head enough to glare at her. "I hate you."

"I hate you, too." Smiling sweetly, she gets up on both elbows, obviously thinking about something else now. "Perry called before the dinner last night. Before you decided to change species, did you happen to check with the Fortress about meteor showers?"

"What?" He hadn't really done much but brood and then do it. The Fortress was like that.

Lois waves a hand, frowning in concentration. "Nothing important, really. Just a spectacular meteor shower is apparently coming up. NASA is still gauging the size--those new laser whatevers that LexCorp's been working on might be called into action if they're large enough." Turning her head, she must catch the expression on his face. "Oh, is it time for a Clark Kent Guilt Trip With Optional Brooding? Don't let me stop you."

Guilt, yeah. He hadn't even checked. Blinking, Clark rolls on his back, staring at the ceiling. Meteors.

"I didn't--"

"You know, humanity survived a long time before you were around and will be around whether or not you're in tights." The uncharacteristically gentle voice makes Clark blink. "Far be it from me to say Luthor has any redeeming qualities, but he's been fighting you for so long that he's upgraded the defensive capabilities of the planet in a really big way. NASA's not worried, and you shouldn't be either."

"I could have stopped it."

"And take away our light show? Drink." Reaching over him, she takes the bottle, forgotten against his hip, and shoves it into his hand. "You have to finish three of these, Luthor said."

The novelty of Lois using Lex as a reason is enough to make his eyebrows jump, but he takes a drink, feeling the faint cramps in his stomach settling again.

"Lois--"

The dark eyes fix on him with impossible strength.

"I was wrong, Clark," she says, slowly, like she's testing out the words. "I do understand."

"Can you?" Sometimes, he wonders if anyone can. His parents might and then again, they might not--but then, they're a little blind. They want him happy, that's all. Parents are like that. In the final balance, racking it up in his head, Clark's not sure anymore. Not that he was sure before, but--

"Completely? No. I never wore the tights." A thoughtful look creases her forehead before she sits up, crawling over him to land neat as a cat on the floor, heels and all. "But I can tell you this, Superman. I never wanted to, either."

Clark frowns at the name. "I'm not Superman anymore."

Lois cocks her head. "I didn't know a change in DNA changed the person inside the skin." Her pause hits him like a truck. She's really far too good at this. "Get some rest, Smallville. I'll make breakfast and download the NASA data for you to look over. You're the one with the family history in advanced astrophysics, after all." A flicker of her skirt, and she disappears out the door.

Of course, she can't leave it at that.

"By the way, before you nap, maybe you should see something."

Clark opens his eyes, frowning a little as she leans into the door.

"What?"

"Come here."

Oh, this is going to suck. Lois in playful mode was dangerous when he was *invulnerable*. Getting to his feet unsteadily, he's pleased to note that vomit does not appear instantly and the walls do not move. Much. It's a long, long walk across the room, but Lois doesn't move, and the smile stretches into a smirk that she has to have picked up from Lex.

Leaning into the doorway, Clark stares into his living room, blinking warily. Tulips, roses, sunflowers, things he can't even name anymore, a riot of colors and scents that hit him like a brick. *Everywhere*. Coffee table, beside the couch, *on* the couch, the floor, the dining room table, the kitchen--how can anyone *walk* in here? Slowly, he pushes himself fully upright, staring at the vases that litter the room, vaguely trying to bring it together.

Is this what an armistice feels like?

"I forgot," Lois says smoothly as she picks her way to the kitchen like she's walking a Metropolis ballroom, not a misstep in sight. "Your mom also asked why Luthor cleaned out her greenhouse. Any ideas, hotshot?"

He's going to kill Lois.

And Lex.

There's almost an entire week where Clark wonders if Lex has finally begun to deserve the title 'insane'.

Lois isn't helping, either.

First day back at work, there are flowers on the desk. Large, obvious, former-nemeses-don't-send-stuff-like-this flowers. Huge red roses, and yeah, Mom's querying email asking why on earth Lex was singlehandedly buying out Smallville's flower population hit him by the third day, when sunflowers made a shocking appearance on every inch of his desk.

By Thursday, Clark only sighs when he sees the orchids. Apparently, Smallville's tapped. Metropolis florists are now under siege.

"You know," Lois says thoughtfully, leaning down to take a sniff from the orchids, eyebrows raised, "he never sent me flowers."

"He sent tulips," Clark answers rebelliously, staring at the dizzying array of flora littering his desk. "You said he sent you tulips."

"That's how he confirmed I'd broken up with him." Head tilted, Lois leans into the desk, fingernails tapping an irregular rhythm on the wood. "You know the MO."

"Yep." Tulips are remnants of Victoria, because Lex has a truly, truly bizarre sense of humor. Pushing aside a solid crystal vase, Clark buries his head in his arms. "He's trying to drive me insane."

"I'd say he's doing the unheard-of and asking for a date." Oh yeah, she's enjoying this far, far too much. "Did you finish up that article for Perry?"

"On the city council? Done and done." Leaning back, Clark surveys his desk. "Lex doesn't ask for anything."

"It's like a funeral, isn't it?" she says brightly. Oh fuck you, Lois. "Except in reverse. Check your livefeed later on. NASA's doing a press conference on the meter shower. So far, ETA is ten days or so. The biggest fragment recorded is apparently the size of the old LuthorCorp headquarters, but there's talk about destroying it before it reaches Earth. The Justice League is making noises about going out to check on this itself."

Clark makes a noise that sounds just a little petulant. Okay, really petulant. He's a spoiled rotten brat that's being--being--being *flirted* with via flora. Semi-publicly. Lois is right and wrong--this isn't Lex asking for a date, per se. This is Lex laying fucking siege, even Clark knows intent when it comes in the form of flowers. Faintly, the elevator pings in the distance, reminding Clark he has two stories to at least pretend to work on and not obsess about the bizarrity of his love life.

Such as it is.

"Yeah, I got an email from Br--Batman." Lois looks interested at his almost-slip. She's going to figure it out. He pities Bruce the day she does.

"For Superman?"

"For Superman." One of a thousand times Clark is glad that his identity was kept secret even there. Don't ask, don't tell. Like the military, except, well--the Justice League really hadn't *wanted* to know. It was enough Superman showed up on time like a good little trooper to save the world. "He thinks Superman is--oh hell, who knows what Batman thinks?"

"About the latest latex polymers, I'd say." The tip of a pink tongue slinks out, resting lightly on her lip, eyes going distant and interested. Oh, he pities Bruce. Selena, too. Taking a breath, Clark shoves his chair back. "Who's covering the NASA press conference?"

"Chloe for The Inquisitor, Ralph for The Daily Planet. Jimmy went with, so if all else fails, we'll have good pictures." Glancing up, Lois freezes, and he watches the pretty red mouth drop briefly, then shiver, like she's fighting something else.

That--that is a smirk. Oh Jesus Christ.

Slowly turning, Clark watches what appears to be a grizzly bear on a dolly being worked across the floor. There's a bow around its neck.

"Lois," Clark says slowly, carefully, "tell me you just had a really bad date with someone who thinks you're a goddess or something."

"Not--recently." She sucks in a slow breath, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "I think it's carrying a box. In its paws."

This isn't happening. People are gathering along the aisles to watch, work coming to a scary, grinding halt as everyone gathers to watch the most bizarre, and smallest, parade in history. The poor delivery guy is all shades of red.

Let Melinda have had a fight with her boyfriend. Let Jerry have had a fight with *his* boyfriend. Let someone, anyone, please, be expecting a six foot--that's a teddy bear with a purple bow.

"I'm going to kill him." Clark isn't sure how, but a variety of interesting possibilities emerge. He was Lex Luthor's best friend for four years, after all. He knows things.

"Kent!"

Lois spins in one of those perfect arcs of motion that even Superman couldn't have duplicated, and she does it on a slick floor wearing heels. Leaning into the desk, they both watch Perry descend from his office like the wrath of God, mouth twitching.

Is he anti-teddy bear?

"You have an interview at one." A paper is thrust onto the desk, vases crash, scattering orchids like ants making a run for cover, and Lois leaps gracefully from a spill of water that soaks the floor. Clark watches the slow, careful drip, because he knows Lex, Lex knows this office, and this is so very well timed Clark's teeth ache.

"Interview." Lois says it for him. She's not laughing, but only because Perry's here.

"Delivery for Mr. Clark Kent," the delivery boy says far too clearly, and Clark closes his eyes as Perry's eyes flicker up, taking in the bear in a single look. There's laughter, quickly muffled. This can't be happening to him.

"Kent?"

"Yes sir?" Perry doesn't have a sense of humor. At least, not one that exists on any plane Clark's ever heard of. There's a horrifying second where Clark thinks Perry will comment on the flora and stuffed fauna currently taking up important Planet space, but he only smiles.

It's as unnatural as anything Clark's ever heard of, and that includes Lois wearing off-the-rack.

"Good job getting an interview with Luthor. Don't be late."

And he walks away, leaving shock in his wake. Lois looks around the room, eyebrows raised, daring anyone to say a single word. Any word. Instantly, blissful noise results as people throw themselves into busy, important work, like there isn't a giant stuffed teddy bear beside Clark's desk and he didn't just get an interview with a man harder to get a comment out of than the average corpse.

With a trembling hand, Clark picks up the paper, wincing at a paper cut. Humanity is beginning to seriously, seriously suck.

A chair rolls over, and Lois is sitting neatly beside his desk, like it's any day in the world. Moving a vase aside and pushing a few stray, wet orchids from a comfortable place to put her elbow, the dark eyes fix on him.

"'Lois, you have a dirty mind. We never did anything.'" Her voice drops, low, husky, and very possibly what makes men, including Lex once upon a time, lay down so she can walk on them in her designer heels. It's sex. "Let me think here--right. 'Lois, we're enemies--'"

"We are!" Obviously, when Clark became human, a warp in space/time developed and Clark has been transplanted here. Where there exist six foot teddy bears, and where does someone *shop* for those anyway? "We really, really are."

Studying her nails, Lois sighs softly. "I suppose I should tell you--" And she stops. Oh God, she's a bitch.

"I'm going to call Chloe and tell her to set you up on another blind date," Clark snaps, and that is The Threat. The one that even Lois can't possibly ignore, because she remembers the last guy Chloe set her up with, and so does Clark. Bruce Wayne hadn't appealed in the least.

And that reminds him--she's going to kill him when she finds out the truth. Note that again. Now he's not invulnerable. He'll have to watch for her heels.

"You're playing dirty."

"I love you, too. Spill."

She shrugs beautifully, tossing back dark hair and giving him the most serious, studious reporter-look in creation. The kind that Clark knows from experience means terrible, terrible things. Terrible things.

"Just a rumor."

Clark grits his teeth and that makes his jaw ache. Oh damn, this day sucks.

"What. Is. The. Rumor."

The sparkle sends hope crashing to the ground. Though what he was hoping for, he really has no idea.

"From Luthor's personal secretary, reservations were made at 'Glass House'. Seven o'clock. And yes, those are chocolates." Standing up, she swishes by him in a cloud of Christian Dior and silk, removing the box from the bear. Turning around, she slowly pulls open the gold thread from the heavy black box, carefully removes the cover, and takes out one perfect chocolate. "Wanna know what name?"

It's strange, that a variety of possibilities are assaulting him and not one, he knows, will be the right answer. He watches with a sinking feeling as she bites into the chocolate, a long line of caramel slinking out like something in a really classy porn film. Chewing slowly, she watches him melt into his chair.

"Clark, does the name 'Warrior Angel' ring any bells?" She watches his expression with every indication of pure satisfaction. "Get your gear, Kent. I'll take you to lunch and drop you off at LexCorp Towers on the way back."

Staring helplessly, Clark looks for words that don't exist. Licking his lips, he forces something out. Anything at all.

"I need someone to pick me up."

Lois grins, indicating the bear with a flicker of red painted nails. Evil. Damn. "I think you're spoken for, Smallville. Let's get moving."

It's a form of completely unheard-of wrongness that Lex's secretary, Charity, who once shot at Superman with Kryptonite bullets, *smiles* at his arrival.

"Go right in, Mr. Kent," she says, picking up the phone with a cheery shake of a very blonde head, ringlets bouncing. He doesn't trust the ringlets. She's five two, weighs less than a hamster soaking wet, and can kill a man in under five seconds. Lex likes his people multi-talented. "He's expecting you."

Chinese food does not minister to a mind diseased, nor does Lois when she's in the mood to make his life a living hell. Chopsticks were a new phenomenon without super-reflexes--it turns out he really is naturally clumsy, Kryptonite or no-Kryptonite--and Clark, staring hard at the polished wooden door, wishes wistfully for heat vision again.

"Mr. Kent?"

Adjusting the now-necessary glasses, Clark considers snapping something out, but she's better with the witty comebacks than anyone but Lois. Taking a deep breath, he tightens his grip on his notepad and thinks calming thoughts. Of bear-massacres and shredded orchids, and Lex that one time that Superman held him over the edge of a building, the time with that stupid plot involving dolphins and bizarre uses of sonar, but it doesn't help much, because one, Superman hadn't dropped Lex, and two, Lex's suit didn't even look rumpled afterward.

Clark opens the door and steps onto fine mosaic tile--probably something Alexander the Great either owned, wanted to own, or considered owning at some point in his short reign over the known world. Lex would know this--probably by this time he's found some psychic to work full time channeling Alexander just for the purposes of giving Lex good advice or sharing world conquest jokes. That might explain a lot.

Fixing his gaze on the floor, Clark flips the door shut--it's still kind of new that full strength no longer means instant destruction, so really, he can slam doors now, and it's comforting to hear it hit with a beautiful loud clatter. Oh yes. Better. Petty as hell, but better.

"Clark." The voice is--pretty much Lex. Smooth like caramel, dark like chocolate, and if Lois had ever shown even the slightest hint of precognition or a real feel for his weak spots, he'd say she'd eaten that candy deliberately. "Come in, please."

"Mr. Luthor." Even to himself, he sounds petulant and just on this side of bratty. Well, good. "You asked for an interview." Oh hell, is he really going to play along? Looking up, he sees the smirk--vintage stuff, like fine wine, it only gets better with age, even if Lex hasn't aged to speak of. Maybe the feel of power's stronger, and right, the morals have seriously gone to hell, but--well. He's still Lex. Still lounging in two thousand dollar suits in indecently large leather chairs behind far too-wide desks, the very picture of relaxed and indulgent sophistication.

Oh yeah. Slamming down in the wide, offensively comfortable leather chair across from Lex, Clark tries out a glare. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Sitting." Head cocked, Lex studies him with so much blatancy that Clark feels more underdressed than usual. Almost naked, even. "How are you?"

"Fine, great, and Smallville, by the way, is losing oxygen by the second, what with the denuding of anything floral." Oh, he's petty and really not great at the witticisms. Closing his eyes, Clark takes a deep breath. "Mr. Luthor--"

"Lex." Lex leans both elbows onto the desk, fixing him with a warm, personal look of true interest. The sort of interest that got socialites out of their underwear, managed to get Lois out of hers, and at sixteen, could have peeled the boxers right off of Clark's in the time it took to light a cigar. "Clark. Really. Relax."

"There's a bear by my desk."

Lex's mouth twitches from the practiced smile. The bastard is about to laugh. "Do you like it?"

Clark hadn't really got past the utter humiliation to decide on that. "That's not the point. You can't--" Clark stops. *Can't* isn't a word in Lex's vocabulary. Like *shouldn't* and *couldn't* and *wouldn't*. "Lex, if this is some sort of--I mean--" It just sounded weird. Lex, are you hitting on me? Lex, is this your idea of foreplay? Lex, it's been years and remember the time I broke all your really cool toys and you said you'd cut out my heart? With a Kryptonite spoon?

Taking a breath, Clark braces both feet on the floor.

"No."

"Dinner."

"You do still know the meaning of the word 'no', right?" Thing is, Lex might not. Looking up from beneath his bangs--he really needs a haircut--he watches Lex study him. Like a chessboard, maybe, or a particular area of unclaimed land that needs conquering real damn soon.

Or like--well, like he's looking at Clark, too. Like he sees *him*, not Superman, and Clark doesn't miss the hatred or the anger or the barely checked violence that has always simmered beneath the surface of every one of their encounters for so long that sometimes, Clark thinks that those years in Smallville were some kind of Kryptonite-induced hallucination.

It's a lot like being seventeen again, and that's where Clark stops the train of thought completely. Another breath, and he thinks about reaching for his notepad, but that'd be pretty silly at this point.

"Why? You didn't win. I withdrew. Different thing."

"Different thing," Lex agrees, and the smirk vanishes like it was never there at all. "It's just dinner, Clark--"

"Lex? You do remember I actually have a pretty good idea about your dating life, though the bear thing's new. I--" Clark stops, wondering if he can say the words. He can, actually. Leave me alone. I don't want you. I'm engaged to the most brilliant woman in the world.

Lies are easy for him. Always have been. The point of this entire thing was to bring that to a stop, and Clark bites his tongue on the words.

"Dinner, Clark. We can talk." Lex picks up a pen from the edge of the desk, running it lightly between his fingers. He's nervous, which is something on the order of a minor miracle, but the thing that makes Clark pause, Lex is letting it show. To him. "That's all I want, Clark."

Clark Kent hasn't seen the real Lex in far too long. Even this--too-polished, too-calm, too-reasonable, and too-damn smooth--is closer to the real thing than anything Lex has been since Smallville.

"Aren't you trying to conquer the Pacific Rim tonight?" That's--not even close to being snide, and Clark leans back in his chair, watching Lex watch him. And the pen that's stationed between those long fingers is bending under the stress that shows nowhere else, even in Lex's eyes.

Lex isn't playing. At least, not in any way that's familiar to either Clark Kent or Superman.

"Dinner." Clark can hear Lois' voice in his head, hear his dad's too, but Lois wins, per usual. She's just louder that way. And a hell of a lot closer. "What time?"

The pen is pushed aside like it wasn't almost bent in half.

"I'll pick you up at seven." And right, jaded sophistication isn't supposed to show relief, but it's there. It's Lex, and Clark knows every mood, every twitch, and it's as obvious as a shout.

"From the Planet. I have to--finish this." Clark looks at his notebook and sighs. He still has an interview to go. Oh damn. "Okay, interview now?"

Gesturing expansively, Lex settles back in his chair, giving Clark a smile that could light up the world. Clark feels a shiver run up his spine at the feel of it, remembering getting that look anytime he wanted it once upon a time. "Go right ahead."

Lex sends him back in a car--Aston Martin, no huge surprise, and the driver, Mercy, keeps giving him suspiciously friendly looks every time their eyes meet. Frankly, it's creepy as hell, but then again, Clark's doubted Mercy's ability for independent thought for years now. She's like this feminine extension of Lex with breasts, or so the cut of her coat suggests. Mumbling something like thank-you, Clark gets out in front of the newspaper, noting Lois, cigarette in hand, chatting with someone from The Inquisitor, but her head turns at the sight of him. Her eyes flicker, telling him, don't let anyone see you, Clark. Unless you want to be front page news.

Clark ducks through the swarm of people on afternoon break, approaching the glass doors like it's any day of the week. He wonders if the fact he's just accepted a date with the archnemesis of the world is written somewhere on his skin like invisible ink. Visible in just the right light or whenever Lois' eyes fix on him too long.

"Clark." Oh hell, he knows that Inquisitor employee. Chloe's buddy Daniel, Jimmy's favorite rival, and possibly the third most annoying human being ever born. Turning with a sigh, Clark watches Lois' eyes narrow as she takes him in, then a slow lift of the corner of her mouth, asking a question, a merrily arched eyebrow that confirms his short, defeated nod in answer.

Like she ever thought anything else.

"Hey, Daniel." Letting the door fall shut with a feeling a lot like doom, Clark turns to face them. Daniel's a lot like a puppy--bouncy, eager to please, but with sharp teeth hidden behind the goofy, gape-mouthed grin, and a mind almost as sharp as Lois'. He fools people like that, and while Clark can't like him, even for Chloe's sake, he does respect him. "I thought you'd be covering the NASA press conference."

"Nah. Got a new kid that Chloe wanted to break in." A shrug of tweed-clad shoulders, and Daniel settles beside him, taking out another cigarette. Lois saunters up, and Daniel's eyes flicker down her body like a conquest waiting to happen.

Oh, stupid. Lois hates that.

Leaning into the rough brick wall, Lois blows out a slow line of smoke like she's warming up her mouth for the oral sex Olympics. Whoa. Clark sucks in a slow breath and Daniel's eyes glaze over.

"Daniel heard about the interview," Lois drawls, tossing it out with all the power of a bomb wrapped in a blanket. Nice. He's seen Lois use every weapon in her arsenal to get a story, but never to keep one from happening. "I was telling him about your history."

Her eyes hold his, and the simple, clean explanation is there. Also, the fact that the body count in the Daily Planet will jump when she finds out who leaked the information to the Inquisitor. Clark could almost pity whoever she discovers.

"You knew Luthor from Smallville?" Daniel asked, shaking his gaze free of Lois' mouth with some difficulty.

"A little," Clark answers, thinking fast. "When we were kids. Lois, I have to get that report to Perry. Did you want--"

"Sure, Smallville." The butt flicks out, just missing Daniel's shoulder when he moves. "Sorry, Daniel, duty calls. See ya." Leaning past Clark, she pulls the door open and Clark ducks inside, Lois on his heels like a frighteningly beautiful bodyguard. The second the glass shuts between them and Daniel, she gives him a look under her lashes that says, you're going to spill everything. And she's right.

But business first.

"What did you get?"

Clark pulls out his notebook, letting Lois look it over with sharp eyes.

"Good job. You covered the ETA lawsuit and the pending monopoly investigation." Looking up, she hands it back, finishing with an easy stride to the elevator that human Clark legs have issues keeping up with these days. "This'll be your first solo front-pager, kiddo."

Clark stumbles in shock.

"What?"

The dark head turns as she jabs a finger into the button.

"You've heard of it, right? It's the page that isn't A-16, where articles sometimes appear if they're interesting. Come on, we've managed it together before." A flash of wide white teeth follow the pronouncement like it's the most natural thing in the world.

"This?" He waves the notebook a little wildly, but really, can anyone blame him for being a little off-balance? This has been a really damn weird week. Hysteria should be in his future. Or a padded room. "Why--"

"NASA will have headline, but this?" She flicks her nails at him like she's trying to get dust off the tips, and the door slides open. "Daniel's drooling through his capped teeth. No one gets this and you did."

Oh damn. Taking a breath, Clark follows her as the elevator door opens.

"I'm going to be front page news soon, aren't I?" Clark asks, leaning into the back wall as she hits the correct button.

"Never here." The dark voice softens a little, sharp eyes fixing on him. "But yeah, the second Chloe gets back, your ass is grass. Whoever the hell she has at the Planet probably told everything that's happened, even if Luthor was smart enough to keep his name off the tags. Though when I find out who leaked the interview information--" The full mouth tightens almost imperceptibly, and Clark feels a sudden start of pity for the person or persons responsible. "Never mind. Ralph should be back tomorrow with more details, but I downloaded the livefeed and compressed it for you to look over. Did the--" She stops, frowning slightly. "Have you contacted up north by any chance?"

Well, that would be logical, so of course not. He's still getting used to the fact the first water in the morning in his shower is fucking *cold* and he has to brush his teeth or there will be cavities in his future. Remembering Lois' three days of toothache, he's not exactly eager to find out what that's like. Blinking, Clark considers.

"I don't think I can get back in physically. It's matched to--a different set of prints." DNA changes, that is, and he really hadn't thought much about this, had he? "I can log in through my laptop and see if there's anything, but I checked the math again last night. It doesn't look dangerous."

"Hmm." Lois' mouth purses, rubbing her thumb idly into the gold woven bracelet curved around one wrist. Her itchy look, though Clark's never told her that. He likes the way his face is arranged, thank you very much. "Clark, do you remember a few years ago, when we had all those blackouts?"

"Live Wire." Not a memory Clark treasures either.

"Right." Another slow rub, and Lois' eyes glaze a little. "Leaving out the part where you didn't tell me everything you knew--"

Clark winces.

"--remember how there was a pattern that no one could see?"

"You saw it."

"No, I didn't. I just paid attention to the reports." Yes. Because Lois doesn't believe in intuition at all, no matter the she's the case that could prove its existence to any skeptic out there. "You found it. It's--that same feeling now. I've read everything in the public feeds and your analysis, though God knows, I'm not exactly a physicist." She pauses, tongue sliding out to lick her upper lip. "I was watching the feed. The military's acting fine. The spokesman for NASA, Eldritch, was fine. So was most of the NASA staff who was called up to discuss the situation. Dr. Rhinestadt wasn't."

Whoa. The ping of the elevator catches them, but Clark hits the stop button, holding the door closed. Rhinestadt is the best of the theoretical astrophysicists. People bent over *backwards* to hire him after he earned his dual doctorate in astrophysics and astronomy at the ripe old age of twenty. He makes Lex look like a slacker. Barely.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know." The crease between her brows is as good as confirmation. "You're not worried, the government isn't worried, the Justice League isn't worried, and I'm not worried, either. But Rhinestadt is and he's not telling why."

"Interview?"

"Got it while you were gone. Tomorrow at two. I'm flying out in the morning." Another frown, before she glances at the door. "Open up, Smallville. Your boyfriend's toys are all safely put away--orchids to the hospital, bear to your apartment. Tell me I can be there when your dad sees it."

Clark bangs his head into the wall, then winces at the sharp pain. Damn humanity anyway. Lois' smirk is unreal.

"By the way, from the look on your face, I'm guessing you have a date tonight."

She steps out of the elevator, once again completely at ease, a hand stroking down the fine wool of her skirt and straightening her jacket. Jesus. Taking a breath, Clark steps out, aware he's yet again the center of attention. Furtive attention--Lois is watching. Head down, he feels his shoulders slump under the weight of all those eyes as he follows her down the aisle, finding their desks by dint of stopping when Lois does. His chair's close enough to fall into, and he busies himself straightening an already immaculate desk. Someone cleaned up the water and stacked his folders up neatly.

"Perry's expecting your report," Lois says softly before turning to her computer. "The bit with Rhinestadt from the press conference is in your email. Look it over when you get back and tell me what you think."

If he can log into the Fortress, he can send it there after and see what it picks up. It's gotten pretty good at analyzing subconscious human physical cues.

"How sure are you?" Clark asks, but it's a rhetorical question. Lois doesn't believe in instincts, never has, but that doesn't change the fact she *has* them, so sharply developed they're as much a part of her as the intelligence and the drive.

"Sure enough that I canceled my vacation time next week," she answers quietly, not looking at him. "I'm running a background check on Rhinestadt as we speak."

Clark nods slowly, standing up.

"Oh, and I sent your good suit to the cleaners. Where's your boyfriend picking you up?"

Clark grits his teeth together. She really won't let this go.

"My *friend* is picking me up *here*." Taking a breath, Clark lets it out slowly. He should have said, I'll meet you there, Lex. Except Clark's car is--embarrassing. So very, very embarrassing. He should have thought to ask to borrow Lois' convertible. Or something.

"Oh good. Pick up your suit at five from Wallington's." Lois had a way about her with dry cleaners. A flash of teeth, a show of strength, and they roll over like--logs. Or some comparison Clark's brain is too confused to handle. Giving a long, dark look to the back of her head, Clark stalks by her towards Perry's office, notes in hand. He can hear her whistle off-key as he walks down the aisle.

Right, work. Getting to it.

Clark debates whether to wait upstairs or outside on the street. Both have their drawbacks. People who know him *will* notice that he's standing around The Daily Planet like a moron, but Lex might send someone up--or dear God, come himself--and his coworkers here just might notice a too-familiar CEO slumming through the building.

Change 'might' to 'will', and all those half-hidden questions will be answered in less time than it takes a pin to drop.

His suit feels weird--it's his best one, the one Lois picked out when she gave up on his taste in clothes. The price was the equivalent of three paychecks, and he's still paying off the credit card that covered it, but Lois' eyebrow had been pretty much irresistible. He needed one very good suit, she'd said, intimidating the salesgirl to silence while she prowled the aisles. We have appearances to maintain. Wear whatever crap you like to work, but when we're in public, you'll look decent if I have to dress you myself.

The scary thing is, Clark's pretty sure if it had come to that, she would have. Sighing, Clark imagines Lex and Lois shopping. They must have had a blast together going through every boutique and department store in Metropolis. Clark doesn't even want to know what they did on those two trips to Italy. Lois had returned with an egregious number of shoes and a smug grin.

Staring at the mess of papers on his desk, Clark leans back, thinking about Lois. They--hadn't been close then. She was meeting Superman for the first time and building her reputation, annoyed with the kid from MetU heeling her like a puppy, so all he knew of Lex and Lois was what had appeared in The Inquisitor from time to time. It'd been weeks before he'd really made the connection, though granted, he'd been busy and distracted with the shock of living on his own and being out of college, trying to find balance in handling the dual identities he was creating.

Lois, his mentor, the woman who drank coffee black by the gallon and symbolized the epitome of everything he wanted to be as a reporter, was Lex Luthor's lover.

No wonder they hadn't gotten along so well at first.

Frowning, Clark picks up a pencil, drawing slow circles on some notes from a forgettable story involving under the table mob deals and the city council. It hadn't been just that, he thinks, although he'll admit in the smallest corner of his mind that it hadn't helped. The woman he idolized in college, who did four years in three and graduated to become the star reporter of The Planet after less than a full year on the job, also had something else, something that he couldn't even admit he'd wanted.

Of course, it hadn't helped either that he'd done that Superman interview first. Oh yeah, that had--definitely pissed her off, and again, after she'd found out who he was.... Well. That's a conversation he doesn't like to remember to this day.

But still. The break-up hadn't been anything huge--not like Lex's latest divorce, though the society pages had gleefully reported what scant details they could get. Lois wasn't the type to talk, and Lex--well, Lex was and *is* Lex, and his personal life is his own. She'd never discussed it--not with Chloe, he knows for a fact, not with him, not with *anyone* that Clark could ask if he was actually stupid enough to be curious.

Which he was. Is. Always has been.

And it's--weird. Weird, that they're openly hostile but never bitter, that the respect still exists, even if neither would admit it. That Lois is showing really bizarre amounts of non-surprise at this whole turn of events, and God, he needs a couple of hours with her over dinner sometime this week to work this out. His life is confusing enough--Lois is like icing on the weirdness cake and that's one thing in this mess he can actually work on.

And here he'd thought being just Clark would make his life *simpler*.

"Thinking?"

Clark's eyes fix on the clock. Oh crap. Turning slowly, he watches Lex lean carefully into the desk behind him, like it might have the plague but he's willing to be reckless just this once, arms crossed. Black and grey, very Lex, watching Clark with a little smile that makes something in Clark warm uncomfortably.

Comfortably, if he's honest.

"Sort of." Glancing around, Clark notes the heads that jerk down at his sudden attention, the noisy and completely obvious clatter of keys. Sighing, he stands up, picking up his coat from behind his desk. "Wow, it's going to be fun here tomorrow."

Lex half-turns, looking around the room with a cool, measuring gaze, before flicking back to Clark with a raised eyebrow.

"They have better things to do." Pitched just loud enough to be heard. Jesus, Lex, subtlety would be nice here. Pulling the coat on, Clark shuts down his computer, locking up his notebook in the desk. He already sent what he needs from work home via email. Perry's the stoic equivalent of ecstatic--an eyebrow jump and a twitch of his mouth--that the next edition will have the interview with Lex on the front page. "Ready, Clark?"

"Yeah." This is--dinner. Not a big deal. Everyone has dinner. It's a required meal of the day. Breathe. Lex motions him to go, falling into easy step beside him, and this is Smallville all over again, two friends calmly going for food, except everything's different.

Lex isn't hiding anything at all, and Clark can feel the want like heat projected against his skin.

"You're a lot more subtle usually," Clark hears himself say as the elevator doors slide shut. "I mean--a *lot* more subtle."

"I've noticed hammers are required more than rapiers in some situations," Lex answers lightly, pressing the button to the garage level. Huh. So it wouldn't have been a good idea to wait out front after all.

The silence that falls after is unnerving in every way. Clark takes a breath, trying to think of something to say to fill the silence, but nothing comes to mind. Latest nefarious plot? Not Clark's business anymore, really. He wonders who the Justice League will hand Metropolis over to. Bruce's last email had made uncomfortable statements regarding duty and sacrifice, but Clark had deleted it before he got too far. Superman is gone. Bruce had better just get used to it.

Hell, all of them should get used to it. There are murmurs already among the residents of the city. It makes him wonder who Perry will assign to look into the Mysterious Disappearance of Superman.

A flash of CNN's latest report flickers through his mind like a television changing channels. Flooding in Brazil. The Justice League had intervened, but--

"I was wondering when you'd start feeling guilty again," Lex remarks, and Clark flushes. He can't be that readable. No one is. "The flooding, right? Don't be. A LexCorp subsidiary had been monitoring the rains for weeks and your friends handled the rest. Most inhabitants with any sort of sense took our warnings and moved out before the flooding started."

"You going into the superhero business, Lex?" Clark hears himself say lightly, flickering a glance. Lex is perfectly at ease. Damn him.

"Nah. Good deeds are terrible for my image." Lex shifts, brushing a non-existent bit of lint from his sleeve. "How are you feeling? Any other side effects?"

Clark flicks a finger at the glasses and basks a little in the warmth of Lex's smile. It's okay to do that. "Twenty-forty, twenty-eighty, right and left respectively. I guess it's karma."

"I'm surprised Lois lets you out wearing those." Clark's gotten a thing for the heavy black rims. There's an edge in Lex's voice that makes Clark wonder, just a little, but he pushes the thoughts aside forcefully. This so isn't the time to be thinking of Lois and Lex together. "You've lost weight."

He has, actually, though the coat and suit should hide it. He wouldn't have noticed except this suit is tailored, and his waist has lost a least an inch since the last wearing. Blinking, Clark turns to look at Lex, who looks back without any expression at all.

"That's all it takes?" Clark asks slowly. Lex's puzzlement is almost a goad. "What, twelve years where you wouldn't even acknowledge I existed, then I hang up the tights and you--" Clark stops, clenching his teeth. That hurts, muscles locking, almost cramping, and God, he's still not used to human muscles. A purely human body. The little thrill is still there, though, like when he cursed this morning when he stubbed his toe, and dropped the toast, no superspeed to save it. Human. Completely not what he expected. And the best thing ever.

"It would have been harder any other way." Lex's gaze fixes on the elevator wall over Clark's right shoulder.

"This was easier?" Staring at the door, Clark wraps both arms over his chest, trying to think. "You tried to kill me--"

"I'd usually succeed, you know." Clark shivers, remembering too many encounters to even begin to count them. The ripping pain of Kryptonite, the things they said to each other, the things they'd both meant with all their souls. "When I try. I should have." The thoughtful lift makes Clark turn just enough to look at Lex.

Who still seems to find the wall some kind of marvelous wonder to behold.

"You could have fooled me."

"No problem. I think I fooled myself." The smile's self mocking and Lex looks down, that intense gaze fixed on the floor. "It would have been easy to order on your little trip to the Arctic. Michael was an assassin. You went north in a private plane alone and you didn't even do a background check on your pilot, which was very annoying, by the way, since I went to a lot of trouble to set up a good story.

"Michael waited for my call for the entire trip from Metropolis International to that silly science station that Clark Kent just had to do a story about." Lex stops, lips tightening.

The quiet rush of the elevator is the only sound, then the ping as they get out on garage level. Lex gets out his keys, coat flickering back in dramatic exit mode, per usual, and he doesn't even do it consciously. Clark is only two steps behind, and then there's nothing but silence.

"Why didn't you? The way there, the way back--if you're going to trot out some line out of a Hallmark card, I won't believe you." Though Clark might. Lex says Clark's dense, but Lex can be, too, and sometimes, it does take hammers. It's a deliberate thing, Clark thinks, a way to cope with a father like Lionel. To create your own blind spots and not see, because it hurts too much. Clark has some of those still, remnants of Superman and the life he'd had to live.

There've been a thousand ways for Superman to die, and there's a thousand reasons he didn't, but it comes down to that single thing that he knows about Lex. Lex wins at almost any cost. Superman's life might have been cheap, but maybe Clark's wasn't.

"So what now?" Clark comes to a stop, waiting as the line of Lex's back stiffens even more. With a slow turn, Lex is looking at him--seeing him, and it hits like the first time Clark looked into those eyes and thought he saw everything in the world inside them on a muddy bank in a forgettable town.

"If you're expecting a guided tour out of life just because you're human, you're going to be disappointed." Lex shrugs. "I don't know."

"I know everything about you." Clark takes a slow step toward Lex. There's destiny and then there's this--Clark doesn't have a roadsign left anywhere in sight. Destiny's gone out the window, pedigree is shot, and it's all free-fall and terrifying.

This is how Lex lives, like humans live.

"Not everything."

"I got you thrown in prison. I destroyed your projects. You can't pretend that Superman's separate, because he never was." Lois was right, and he's never telling her that. Nothing's changed inside, just the covering over it all. "You know who I am, Lex. Just because I'm only Clark now doesn't mean I wasn't Superman, too."

"Just because I was your enemy doesn't mean I--." He can almost see Lex thinking and thinking hard. He thinks too much, more than anyone Clark's ever met. "I don't think it's that simple, Clark."

"What do you want?" Another step that at very least answers that same question that Clark's been asking himself.

"Anything you're willing to give."

Clark feels the breath catch in his throat, a lump settling so words can't get out. This must be what it's like to remember falling in love.

And Lex is waiting. But then, he's always been waiting -- for his father's approval and a town's approbation and to live up to his own ideals, for the disapproval and the disgust and the failure.

There's only a few steps between them. Clark doesn't even know he's covering them, stumbling over a nonexistent crack in the perfect asphalt, and he can see Lex is still waiting for him to walk away even when Clark kisses him. Warm, soft lips that are too surprised to do anything but let him take, and he'd dreamed about this when he was still a kid and refused to think about it when he was awake.

How Lex tastes like brandy and like power and like vulnerability, and then slim fingers are in his hair and Lex is kissing him back. Leaning into him, touching him lightly, it's like the typical first kiss in every way except it's Lex and he's anything but typical.

Clark pulls away when he runs out of air--another new thing, and he's panting and hard and shocked at how the blood races through his body and that everywhere they're touching is so warm.

"The only thing that's changed is the location of the battlefields," Clark says, licking his lips. He's left Lex speechless. That's pretty damn cool. "You get that, right?"

"We can negotiate." Lex turning it into a business deal. So typical. Any way he can get it, he will. Clark grins and forces himself to pull back, and Lex's eyes are wide and completely open in a way that Clark never would have appreciated as a teenager. One hand lifts like he means to touch his mouth, jerked down almost immediately, and Clark grins. "Which car?"

"...Porsche. You might recognize it."

Clark rolls his eyes as Lex abruptly remembers the keys clutched in one hand and pushes down on the button, the bright, strangely happy sound of the disabled alarm filling the garage. It's only two cars away. In Perry's space, of course.

Silver-blue, sleek, and a newer model, but as unforgettable as the repaired bridge, and Clark begins to laugh when he sees it.

"You are such a romantic."

Lex laughs. A laugh that echoes everywhere, amused and young and carefree. A kid Clark used to know who drove ninety miles an hour over Smallville's country roads sounded a lot like that.

Warm, leather-gloved fingers brush his elbow. "What gave it away?"

The first thing Clark sees on his desk is the dozen roses--red, long-stem, no thorns, and he grins as he spots the dark purple ribbon wrapped around the crystal vase. A card's attached this time, and he sits down, carefully pulling it free of the roses, glancing at the neat script, a florist's handwriting, but maybe she was channeling Lex when she wrote the strong LL on the back because it's very similar.

Lex, apparently, is done with anything even vaguely resembling discretion.

"Have a good night?" A coffee and a cinnamon roll slide in front of him, still steaming. Lois remembers he forgets breakfast a *lot* when he's distracted.

Clark blinks, looking up as she shifts the vase over, seating herself on the edge of the desk. Today, an elegant fawn pantsuit, minimal jewelry, nails in beige rose. The dark hair is twisted up and back in a simple chignon, more for convenience that style.

"I thought you'd be at the airport."

"My plane doesn't leave until nine. You didn't answer your cell phone, so I figured I'd come down here on my way." A folder lands just north of the cinnamon roll.. "Some information about Rhinestadt. Three guesses on his special passion."

Looking at the folder, Clark tries to think, wishing half-heartedly for X-ray.

"ET?"

"Clever boy." Tapping the folder with one lacquered nail, she looks at his computer monitor. "Got it in one. Now tell me what kind of ET he's been studying for the last, oh, two years."

If he's into extraterrestrials, that's easy. "Superman."

Lois laughs. "You're on a roll, Smallville. Let's see if you can go three for three. Who has been financing his little extracurricular activities in extraterrestrials."

Clark glances at the roses and grins. "LexCorp."

"Half right. Cadmus, Inc. Heard of it?"

Frowning, Clark flips the file open, looking at the first page of printed information. "Vaguely." One of the very few labs LexCorp owned openly. "Lex ran it in Smallville for a while. It's resurfaced occasionally for some genetic research, but it's the most public of his labs. Why wouldn't he use one of the secret ones?" Lex is more subtle than that, and far too good a businessman to let himself be linked. "This is too easy."

"That's what I thought." Leaning over, Lois flips through the pages, surrounding Clark with a mist of Chanel No 22. Clark's shocked to feel his nose begin to itch. "He's not hiding it at all--in black and white for anyone to see or any government agency to ask questions about. It's all aboveboard."

"Not meteorite research, then." The sneeze is swallowed with some difficulty before Lois withdraws.

"Not even a whiff, other than what directly relates to Superman." Finding the page, a finger slams down, marking something bolded. "Rhinestadt draws a very large salary for a theoretical astrophysicist who works paper only. Even for one hired by LexCorp."

Five hundred thousand a year. Jesus. Makes his NASA job look like a sinecure.

"Okay, you got me. What did you figure out?"

Leaning back, Lois kicks a heel into the desk, frowning. "Nothing. The EPA checks the lab like clockwork, there hasn't been a violation on record for as far as I could trace back, and they submit reports to the government regularly." Shaking her head, she smoothes down the line of her skirt. "Now ask me why this bothers me, because we both know Luthor's got half the inspectors on payroll."

"Why does it bother you?"

"Because the inspectors he's been allowing in aren't on his payroll."

Whoa. Leaning back, Clark glances at the folder again, trying to think of something to make *that* make sense. That's not very Lex at all.

"How far did you go back?"

"Two years. Shit." Lois pauses, checking a nail quickly, apparently noticing a flaw in her nail polish. Picking at it briefly, she gives up and looks back down at the folder. "Anyway. Cadmus is sharing information with the government and doing it so openly that it makes my back itch. That's not Luthor."

"No," Clark answers slowly. "It's not. What kind of information?"

"Everything on Superman you ever wanted to know except three things. Identity, location of his planet of origin, and, wait for it--"

God, she does drama well.

"--The Fortress."

Meteorite reactions in all their various incarnations, covered. Superman's abilities and weaknesses, covered.

"They got the physiological profile?" Clark asks, flipping through the pages. There's a vaguely queasy feeling in his stomach just from reading the scraps here and there. For almost pure speculation, it's not bad at all.

"Yes, but it's guesswork and not entirely accurate, though your reaction to a yellow sun is pretty much covered. I've been trying to track down someone who can get me access to internal memos, or at least someone that's seen them, but--" Lois stops short, giving him a strange look. He'd say compassion, but this is a story and Lois doesn't have much of that in this mode. "If I were the suspicious and paranoid kind, and if I were an alien on earth, reading that, I *might* think that Cadmus labs is trying to tell the government how to kill me. And I might think, maybe, that the government asked."

Clark feels the folder slip from suddenly numb fingers.

"Why?" Even to himself, his voice sounds hoarse. "What have I--I mean--" Years ago--God, it had to have been that huge thing in Columbia with Lex and that drug kingpin, Lex had thrown that at him. He can't remember the words--frankly, he doesn't want to remember them--but it was something along those lines. How Clark fought for a people who would kill and dissect him at the first opportunity. Something.

Years. It's been *years* and countless lives saved and countless bad guys taken in and neutralized, and *now* the government decides he might be a threat?

"Lois--" He stops, swallowing. "But no identity." For some reason, that bothers him most of all. Lex wouldn't share important tactical information about his greatest enemy--but he had. Except the three things that actually made the information at all useful. Right now, at best, everything they had was theoretical or observational--though Rhinestadt's a genius, so if anyone besides Lex could work without all the facts and still come to the right conclusion, he could. "I need to talk to Lex."

"Great idea. And maybe tell him why you want the information? Because really, we don't need *fewer* roadblocks in our investigation, do we?" Looking up, Lois shakes her head with a little grin. "See why I don't date?"

Okay, that's *weird*.

"Lois, you're being really weird now. I thought you'd want me to ask. Or at least try and find out--"

"Clark, you suck at undercover work and we both know it." Holding his gaze, she leans over and flips the folder closed. "Whatever they're doing, it's not a threat to you anymore as long as Luthor keeps his mouth shut. Do the rocks still affect you?"

No. Clark had tested that the third day. Just a pretty green stone now, and it made him queasy to *look* at it, but in a purely human, revolted sort of way. Not a 'please-let-me-die-because-this-fucking-*hurts*' way.

Shaking his head, he watches Lois' expression clear.

"Okay, then. Read this over and see if you can find a former employee to harass or something. Most are still LexCorp employees, but a few have moved to different jobs. You might find out something."

"Yeah," Clark answers slowly. "What are we trying to find out again?"

Lois' grin is brilliant. "What Rhinestadt's not telling about that coming meteor shower. From what's here, I'd almost say they're worried it's more Kryptonite to screw around with the ecology, but I'd like that confirmed." Shaking her head, she slides off his desk, straightening the line of her jacket, then gives him a mischievous grin. "How'd your date go?"

Apparently, the automatic blushing wasn't just a alien thing.

"Good." Very good, actually, and Clark had been meaning to take about an hour or so and just brood on it. The slide backward into comfortable companionship had been so easy, so effortless, it was like no time had passed at all between their last argument and their first date. "Dinner. That's all, so don't look like that. We're, um, meeting for lunch. Today."

Picking up her purse, Lois snickers. "To think you actually have a social life. The world must be coming to an end." Stretching, she does a quick check of her suit, then sighs. "All right. Wish me luck."

"You don't need it. Can I borrow your car?"

Rolling her eyes, Lois leans over to sniff a rose, keys jangling as she drops them on the desk. "Figured as much. I left it in the garage, Smallville. Don't break it. I'll try and call tonight if anything comes up. Be home tomorrow night when I get back. And have something interesting to tell me, 'kay? With details."

Waving at the folder, Clark sighs. "Not all of us are as good as you are at rooting out conspiracies in under twenty-four hours."

"Funny," Lois answers, tilting her head, mouth pursed slightly as she looks him up and down. "Did I say it had to be about work?" With a little smile and a flick of her purse, she saunters off, and Clark hears his own choked laugh. "Give your boyfriend my best, Kent." The elevator opens on command--like anything would disobey Lois when she feels playful--and she disappears inside, winking at him as the door shuts.

The ring of the phone distracts him from the lights on the elevator as she goes down, and Clark picks it up absently. "The Daily Planet, Kent speaking."

"And here I was trying to get pizza." The low voice makes Clark shiver, smile fading at the memory of that voice last night at dinner. God, if Lex could use that voice for crowds, he'd be president before his thirty-fifth birthday. "You're early."

"So are you. I thought big time CEO's slept in."

"I might, with sufficient incentive."

Leaning back in his chair, Clark shuts his eyes. God. "I'll keep that in mind. Pretty roses, by the way. I see you're giving up even the pretense of subtlety."

"It's easier to be blunt. Less chance of miscommunication." Clark can hear someone's voice speaking to Lex, though he can't quite make out the words. "More coffee, yes, and reschedule my twelve o'clock meeting."

"We can meet later."

"It's LexCorp's board. One of the few perks of my job is that I *can* reschedule when I want to." A little sigh, and Clark can hear Lex's chair shifting, the soft sounds of expensive wool on leather. "What are you doing?"

"Right now?" Clark glances around the room. Only a few people are in at this hour. Picking up his coffee, he takes a sip. Not enough sugar. "Getting ready to track down some stuff for Lois."

"New story?"

Clark glances down at the folder. "Are you asking about what I'm working on?"

The little pause speaks volumes, and Clark wonders what Lex is thinking about. "No. Work is work. Just don't expect me to leave business secrets and my passwords lying around the penthouse when you're here."

Clark feels himself grin. "'*When*' I'm there?"

"When. Come over for dinner tonight."

Wow. Lex isn't wasting any time at all. "You know, I don't put out on the second date."

The low laugh raises every hair on Clark's body and there's a twitch below the belt that makes him shift uncomfortably. "Maybe I can change your mind."

All it would take is a look. God, he's easy. Shaking his head, Clark kicks a foot up on the desk, trying to ease the sudden tightness of once-loose pants. "Maybe."

"My divorce went through yesterday." Lex's voice is impossibly dark, like velvet sliding over Clark's skin. Shivering, Clark tries to think of something that isn't sexy, or he's going to have a *really* long day ahead of him. Nothing comes to mind.

Divorce. Right, *divorce*. Sitting straight, Clark glances at his monitor, then at the flowers. Initialed. "Oh. So we're going from not-subtle to public?"

Lex, thinking again loudly enough for Clark to hear it over fiberoptic cables. "Maybe. Do you have a problem with that?"

Oh, well, no. Mom and Dad might, and Chloe *will*, and God alone knows what Pete will think, and is it getting hot in here? "No." Clark winces at the phone calls he'll be getting come tomorrow. "I just--didn't expect you to. Um. Well. Lex? This isn't like you."

It really, really isn't.

"Even I can't keep *The Inquisitor* silent forever. I bought time until my divorce was final, but that was all I could get."

Yeah, Clark really hadn't thought of that, but wow, this thing with Lex could have seriously screwed with the final details of that.

"I--"

"I don't want this to be secret." There's something in Lex's voice that Clark can't quite figure out. Determined, yeah, but also-- "I don't want to hide."

"Okay." Pushing aside everything else--and dammit, Lois *would* go out of town the one time he really, really needs her here--Clark nods into the phone. Lex can't see him, but he feels better doing it. "I don't mind. I--I'm sort of tired of secrets, too." How--how weird. This can be public. There's only Clark now--it doesn't matter who knows what he does.

Wow. He can *date*. He can go on a date and anyone can see him do it. He doesn't have to explain why he has to leave in the middle of dinner to help with an earthquake, or cancel five seconds before someone arrives or, God, miss it altogether and try to explain the next morning. He doesn't have to avoid inviting people to his apartment because he might have to leave suddenly. He doesn't have to pretend *anything* anymore.

"Clark?" Lex sounds worried.

Lightheadedly, Clark laughs. "Really, fine. It's just--I just realized that I can. Do anything I want."

"Now you figure it out." The amused indulgence makes Clark laugh harder. "Jesus, Clark, compose yourself. Where do you want to go for lunch?"

"I only have an hour. Fast food okay?" Choking back another laugh, Clark suddenly sees the keys on the edge of his desk. "I'll pick you up in front of LexCorp Plaza."

"...fast food?..."

"Be out front at twelve on the dot. Bye." He can almost see Lex's expression and, leaning his head onto his desk, almost laughs himself sick. His coworkers probably think he's crazy. He doesn't care.

Like dinner the night before, lunch with Lex is--comfortable.

Scarily comfortable, almost like being friends in Smallville again, except for all that sex that isn't happening, which right, is *also* a lot like Smallville, but now it's not happening because they don't have time. And it's going to happen, even if Clark's logical brain keeps telling him, are you really ready for this? You do remember that thing you two did where you sort of *hated* each other, right?

Clark's not listening to that part very often. It's not terribly loud, and it fades a little more every time Lex looks at him.

Like--like the first thought in his head when he saw Lex, cool in business grey, dark sunglasses, and almost defiantly challenging anyone to question why Lex Luthor was standing outside his own building for no apparent reason, is to touch. Insanely, insanely weird reasoning going on, but he had to close his hands over the steering wheel when Lex slid inside, settling beside Clark like it's something they've done every day, giving him a look over the fine edge of his glasses that....

Breathe, Clark.

"Something wrong?"

Clark blinks back into the warm deli, noting that the sandwiches at some point had appeared, and Lex is viewing him over the rim of a styrofoam cup of coffee with a curious expression. Reaching for a potato chip, Clark bites down aggressively and thinks non-sexy thoughts.

Very, very non-sexy thoughts. Freshly baked potato chips, extra salt. Not sexy. Lex, across from him, licking excess salt from his bare fingers. Sexy.

Oh, this is going to be a long day.

"No. I'm fine." Eating another potato chip, Clark shifts in his seat as Lex picks at the chicken salad sandwich in front of him with little frown of concentration, picking up one of the triangular quarters. "Um. How do you like it?"

Kaatz's is Clark's favorite place in the world to eat. They sell huge sandwiches and chips that are almost as good as the ones Mom makes sometimes when she has time--thickly cut potato, baked crisp, and covered in salt.

"Good," Lex answers after the first careful bite. "You scared me with mention of fast food."

"Please," Clark answers, checking his turkey club for mustard, "I saw the paper bags in the back of your cars. You're totally a fast food junkie."

"Clark, I have appearances to maintain." A quick smile, before Lex takes another bite. Their chicken salad is amazing. "And you never saw a fast food bag anywhere *near* my cars."

"Stuffed under the seat--"

"Take that back!"

"--like you were ashamed of it." Grinning, Clark ducks his head, getting back to the important task of eating.

Narrowed eyes greet him when he raises his head, and Clark swallows quickly before sticking his tongue out. Oh right. Not just adolescent hormones--there's been regression to adolescent behavior as well.

"Please." Lex shakes his head, finishing the first quarter. Eyes fix on Clark's sandwich briefly before flickering up. "You don't eat as much as you used to."

Surprised, Clark looks down at his plate. "Changed metabolism, I guess." With a little shrug, he picks up the second quarter of the club. "It's just--the first couple of days, it was hard to eat."

"Did you follow my instructions?"

Clark rolls his eyes. "Yes, Lex. Lois bought everything and mixed it herself. I'm fine. And yeah, that's what I was going to ask you. How the hell--"

"Did I know what would happen?" Lex shrugs elegantly, taking a careful bite. "Cause and effect. You changed your entire genetic structure and did it in under twelve hours if Michael's report is right." With a frown, Lex looks him over with a critical eye. "In fact, you should probably be eating more now than usual, at least for a while. Your body's used to taking a certain amount of nutrition from ultraviolet radiation and with that gone, the conversion--"

"I'm beginning to remember why I skipped Bio II."

"Hush." Lex frowns again, brow furrowed in thought. "Clark, have you seen a doctor?"

Putting down the remains of the sandwich, Clark grins. "Oh. Right. I forgot. I can call a doctor and ask, hey, I've just changed DNA and I need to know if I'm healthy--"

"That's not what I meant." Wiping his fingers, Lex pushes his plate aside. "I mean, you *are* human. You need to get a check-up and get your baselines. I'd do it--"

"--when did you get that medical degree?"

"--but you do need a regular doctor." Leaning both elbows on the table, Lex meets his eyes. "A full work-up."

"How do I explain my lack of medical history? I've visited less than ten times in my life." Sometime in childhood, though Clark doesn't have any clear memories of that, though his parents said he was unusually calm through the entire thing. Other than a few emergency-room visits, including his last time as human, he really doesn't have--anything. Wow.

"That's not a problem." Lex is looking at him carefully. "Go to Dr. Cassius."

Clark frowns, the name sending off vague alarms in his head. "He works for LexCorp, doesn't he?"

"And I pay him very well not to be too curious and ask too many questions." Lex raises an eyebrow, obviously amused by Clark's skepticism. "You don't have to trust my word--Cassius is an excellent doctor and he's very highly respected in medical circles. He heads up LexCorp medical, but you know that. You can check his credentials yourself at the office. Or pick another doctor. But you need to be baselined to find out what's normal for you now. Even among the human population, there's immense variation. You need to know."

He's right, though Clark doesn't want to admit it. Humans fall and break their legs or get sick all the time. They go to the hospital and get treated, and it might be a good idea to at least have someone to tell him what is and what isn't normal for him now.

Picking up a napkin, Clark takes a slow breath. "I feel fine."

"And I'd like it to stay that way. Jesus, you haven't even been vaccinated, have you?" Oh damn. Clark hadn't thought of that. Reaching down, Lex rummages in the pocket of his coat. "I'll make you an appointment for today--"

"Lex, I don't think--"

Lex pauses, fingers hovering over the keypad. There's a--well a *lot* that Clark's taking on faith here but--what could it hurt? He's got to trust Lex isn't using this for some weird purpose, and anyway, human. While the data might be interesting in theoretical terms, it's not like it could be at all useful otherwise.

"Okay." Looking down at the sandwich, Clark sighs. "I'll have to call Perry to take off for the afternoon. Where is--"

"I'll take you myself." Lex has the phone against his ear. "Benny?" Benny? Clark tries not to grin. "Yeah. Cancel whatever your one o'clock is. We'll be there in ten minutes." Clark watches Lex frown. "That's fine. New patient, standard work-up. No, a friend. Thanks." Turning it off, Lex looks up at him, a hint of a smile curving up the corner of his mouth. "Convenient."

"Hmm?" Fumbling for his cellphone, Clark blinks at the slow, lazy smile stretching Lex's mouth, looking him up and down, before getting to his feet.

"Come on."

That's how Clark gets backed into an alley in the middle of lunch hour in Metropolis.

There are some things that are predictable, like tides, migration of certain species of birds, and Dad's reaction to the name Luthor. There are things that aren't. Those things include a Lex who glances casually around the street then pushes Clark into an alley, only a few feet from an overfilled dumpster, before his tongue is in Clark's mouth and his hands are pulling Clark's coat open, sliding inside.

Oh God. This time, Clark moves faster, finding skin with his fingertips, fine as parchment on Lex's throat, skims a thumb over Lex's jaw. The low, pleased sound makes him shiver.

Cold brick is against his back and Lex's teeth are against his throat, pressing in, and Clark shudders at the start of pain--actual pain, twisting into each nerve, and it goes everywhere in his body, making him want to wince and pull away and grind his cock into Lex's thigh and pull him closer.

God, he hadn't even *guessed*.

Settling for a strangled gasp, Clark looks for words. "Lex. We're--in an alley." In public. Very, very public.

"Noticed that." Breathed hot on wet skin and Clark feels his cock twitch as he slides his hands down Lex's back, digging in when Lex's tongue slides over his collarbone.

"This--isn't your style." Or hell, Clark's either, but Clark's usual style has been pretty damn lousy so far, so he's willing to change techniques.

"And you think you know everything about me." A far too fast brush against his cock with the palm of Lex's hand, and Clark shudders, one hand locking on Lex's shoulder. Wet breath on his ear, a tongue following, gently pushing inside.

"Anyone could see us."

"So they could." Another brush against his cock, and Clark swallows, head scraping against the brick, eyes falling closed. His shirt's pulled free of his pants and warm hands slide over his waist, digging into his lower back, pulling them together, cock to cock. "I want you."

"Oh." Inane as hell, he's making out in an alley, but that's what he gets for going to lunch with jaded, too-sexy CEOs. There's a brief image of returning to work after having come in his pants, but right now, that's just fine. "Lex--"

A low, rumbling sound from the side of his neck, and Clark shudders at the next quick bite just below the collar of his shirt. "You bruise now." There's a trace of rich satisfaction in his voice, tongue licking soothingly over the skin. "So sorry, Clark--"

"Fuck you."

"Tonight." The low promise makes Clark shudder hard, and those able fingers unbutton the top of his pants, easing the zipper down. God, those hands--leather-covered, soft, sliding in his boxers, closing around him tight and hard. "Don't come yet."

Oh--oh God, easier said than done. He bites into his lip, the flash of pain barely enough to hold on, and then Lex is--dear God, is crouching, right here in this filthy alley, eyes fixed on his crotch with intent.

"Lex, what are you *doing*?"

A flashing smile upward, bright and hungry and sharp. "How long has it been since you had sex, Kent? Guess."

"Oh God." This really couldn't be happening. But those talented fingers are drawing him through the slit in his boxers, other hand on his hip, holding him still, and Lex leans forward, brushing the tip of his tongue over the head. "Lex, God, you can't--"

"I'm not sure I know that word." Hot breath now against the head, then Lex leans forward, taking the entirety into his mouth, sucking lightly. Clark's head slams into the brick--oh wow, that *hurts*, almost enough to distract him except, except, except Lex is *sucking his cock* and there's nothing on earth that can distract anyone from that. Lex pulls off with a wet sound that's like a shock to his nervous system, and a humiliating whimper is pushed out between Clark's lips. Looking up, the clear blue eyes look into Clark's, sparkling, dangerous, *hot*. "Take a deep breath, Clark. You're going to need it."

Swallowed whole. No time for thought or protesting or even that needed breath, because his cock is surrounded by tight, wet heat, and Lex hums something and Clark's losing his grip on reality. He can't be in a dirty alley, he's not pounding his hands against brick, and there's no way this is actually happening.

The world condenses into nothing but this--heat, wet, tight, suction, scraping through every nerve. It's never been like this. He's making noises and it's Lex's name over and over and over, because there aren't any other words that apply. Warm leather cups around his balls, playing lightly, stroking, then slide just behind to that insanely sensitive skin just behind them, that place that makes Clark come, every time.

Makes him come now, screaming, bruising his hands on rough brick and maybe concussing himself but who the hell cares? Knees like water, his body's sending wild signals about overload and too-good, and he barely catches himself on Lex's shoulder before he sinks to the ground.

And like that, Lex is on his feet, stepping between his thighs, hands trapping him against the wall, taking his mouth in a slow, sweet kiss. Clark can taste himself layered over everything else and his cock gives a half-hearted jerk that makes him wince.

When Lex pulls back, the reddened lips smile. "Third date, hmm?"

Clark hears himself choke out a laugh before Lex tucks him back in his pants, zipping them up neatly, then stepping back to check his own apparel. Like he's anything other than immaculate even now, and he licks his lips lightly, like he can taste Clark there still.

"Lex--"

Hot eyes look into his, freezing the words on his tongue, and a gloved hand closes over his elbow, pulling gently. "Come on. We'll be late."

Late. Appointment. Right. Nodding slowly, Clark pushes himself off the wall, surprised his legs will hold him up at all. When they emerge back into the street, Clark wonders if the entire world can see his blush.

On seeing Dr. Cassius for the first time, Clark remembers the interview Lois did for some LexCorp story involving radiation less than a year before. Non-committal answers and a brief flashing grin, sharp eyes.

Nothing useful. Lex is right--alone among LexCorp employees, he's so completely squeaky-clean that he makes Clark's teeth itch. Not even a rumor of misbehavior for a man who heads up LexCorp's medical staff. Published in numerous medical journals, a highly respected, completely brilliant researcher. A typical LexCorp employee in every way.

Right, *that's* why Clark feels nervous around him.

"Lex." Cassius comes out before the secretary even has time to call him--tall and slim, blond, with blue eyes that remind Clark of Lex, impeccable in suit and the typical immaculate white lab coat, glancing briefly over his glasses at Clark before extending a hand to Lex, who shakes it with every sign of pleasure.

"Benny, this is Clark Kent." Lex's grin is bright and real--not what Clark expected between employer and employee. The blue eyes fix on Clark briefly, no expression at all, but the handshake's firm and friendly. "I need a full work up and results by tonight."

"And you'd like me to discover the cure for all types of cancer as well?" Rolling his eyes, Cassius shakes his head. "Come on. I set up everything so neither of you will have to wait. Do you want him present, Mr. Kent?" Not even looking at Lex, like this is totally Clark's choice.

Oh. Does he want Lex around while he's poked and prodded?

"Can I use your office?" Lex says, saving Clark the trouble of overthinking. Cassius rolls his eyes.

"Sure. Don't break my computer again and try not to fuck up my records while you try to conquer the eastern United States today?" With a grin, Benny looks back at his secretary. "Hold all calls or forward to Mitchell. He'll be in to take over the rest of my appointments." Waving at the door, Cassius looks at Clark. "Ready?"

Wow, good question. There's a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, reaching outward and sending every alarm in his head off in various degrees of loudness. Dad's *really* loud, saying 'Luthor' and 'experiment' and 'dangerous', because he never--never--

Breathe, Clark. Human. Nothing else.

"Sure."

He's been with his mother to the doctor's before. And in ER's. The exam room is cheerful in butter yellow, kind of like being trapped in the yolk of an egg. Shiny metal equipment, but also big leather armchairs and the utilitarian cabinets aren't quite as intimidating as he expected. Cassius closes the door, motioning him up on the bed. Peeling his coat off, Clark perches uncomfortably on the edge, watching Cassius move restlessly around the room. A man who can't sit still. A lot like Lex, come to think.

"Arrhythmia, I think, but well within normal," Cassius says, startling him, and Clark almost jumps off the bed. The blue eyes hold his, like there's a secret message that's being passed between them that Clark has to figure out. "I was born in Smallville."

For a second, nothing. Then Clark blinks, watching the doctor watch him.

"Oh."

"I was eight when the meteor shower hit." Another pause, and then Cassius picks up a palm pilot, looking at it carefully. "My mother took me out of town a year later. I had some unusual reactions to the radiation."

Jesus. Clark flushes as the doctor makes some notes. "I'll be running the basic physical work-up. I'll need your permission for DNA testing for genetic abnormalities and a full blood work-up." Cassius looks at him over his glasses. "Did the mix work to clear the radiation reaction?"

Every hair on his body stands straight up, and the only thing keeping Clark in the room is utter terror. "How much do you know?"

Cassius shrugs lightly. "Lex did the chemistry, I provided the genetic and biological information." Making another note, Cassius turns away, pulling out a drawer. Right. Blood. Great. With a man who knows--who knows *something*, but--

Radiation effects. Clark lets out a slow breath. "A lot of people were affected by the meteorites."

"In varying degrees of severity," Cassius agrees, coming over with the needle and a set of vials. Settling them down, Cassius moves a wheeled table under Clark's arm. Frowning, Clark looks down.

"Aren't you going to--"

"Don't need to." The smile is slightly mocking, but only of himself. "Light arrhythmia, normal lung function, normal liver function, normal kidney function, et cetera. You're about as baseline human as they come." The smile smoothes out. "If someone were to say, make me a normal human, this is what they would get." Looking into Clark's eyes, Cassius' smile fades a little. "Like when you're a kid and you think, make it so I find out if people are sick before it's fatal like Mom...."

Clark sucks in a breath. Jesus.

"It must be hell to be out in the city." Clark remembers hearing their pain, night after night. But--but feeling, *knowing* that this man is dying of cancer, that one has this disease, all around you, all the *time*....

Cassius glances at the door, then makes a wide motion encompassing the room. "The entire building is lead-lined so I can't feel anything outside it. When Lex found out it blocks--that--he built this for me." Cassius shrugs, making a simple tourniquet around Clark's arm. "I couldn't practice at all otherwise. I barely made it through medical school."

No, Cassius would have gone crazy in a hospital or normal clinic. Knowing. Always *knowing*, and Clark sucks in a breath.

"I should have asked, let me *cure* disease, but God knows what would have come of that." The lightness is betrayed by an edge that makes Clark shudder, then the needle slides cleanly through the skin. Fascinated, Clark watches blood fill the reservoir. He's getting nauseated. Oh God, he's got needle issues. "I'll analyze this. I need a few other samples...." Cassius trails off meaningfully, glancing up once before removing the first vial and snapping the second onto the needle. "The usual culture."

Forcing his eyes straight ahead, Clark takes long, deep breaths, trying to think.

"How--how did you meet--" Stupid question. Does it matter? Lex has always been fascinated by mutants of all kinds.

"I diagnosed his cancer from radiation exposure." Clark looks up, surprised. "We met at a hotel in Lisbon when I was--escaping my problems." A strange, dreamy look covers the doctor's face. "He--told me he could make it better. That I could still be a doctor and help people." A little shrug. "I head the LexCorp medical staff. I also oversee the facility where less successful Smallville mutations are kept."

"Kept." Clark's mouth tightens. "Yeah."

"Better than the alternative," Cassius says shortly, and the last vial is filled. Pressing down with a cotton ball, Cassius pulls the needle out. "Psychosis is standard for those whose DNA couldn't handle the changes." A little shrug before he straightens. "It was me or mental institutions and prisons. I decided I could do better treating them than the government."

Clark has no idea *what* to say to that, but he nods stiffly as Cassius walks picks up a swab, absently running it across the inside of Clark's mouth before sealing it away.

"Do you experiment on them?"

The fast turn is startling--but then, most meteor mutants seem to have picked up some seriously good motor control. Pulling his lab jacket sleeve up, Cassius unbuttons his shirt, deliberately rolling up the sleeve. Clark sucks in a breath at the line of needle scars. Old, fresh, some have to be from as recently as yesterday.

"On all of us." A long second passes, then Cassius rolls his sleeve back down, once again the mild, quiet doctor in a perfectly average examining room. Picking up the vials, Cassius turns to Clark. "I'll be back in a moment."

He's no more than out the door than Lex appears, leaning casually into the doorway. Clark slides off the table, taking a breath.

"You didn't tell me."

Lex shrugs. "You didn't ask. I told you he has impeccable credentials. He's also the only man alive who has access to almost every record of mutation in Smallville." The tight grin makes Clark wince. "The government, for obvious reasons, has no idea about any of that." Lex runs a finger absently over the edge of his sleeve, picking away nonexistent lint. "What do you want me to say, Clark? You've known about my research for years."

"I--" Clark stops. In theory, yes. "What are you doing to them?"

"Studying them. Treating them when possible. Trying to fix what the kryptonite fucked up. Keeping them out of the public eye and government records." Raising a hand, Lex peels off the glove. It looks human--it even feels human, so human that Clark's forgotten Lex has been without his hand for over two years. "Meteorite mutations--Cassius can't feel them as well as a baseline human, but he can still feel it. He wants to cure them. He oversaw every aspect of my treatment for kryptonite poisoning. He knows wild mutation is perfectly possible and even likely. Most people who were exposed don't get the option to mutate and go straight to cancer. I was lucky enough to go both ways." Lex shrugs, putting the glove back on. "You don't have to trust me, Clark. But I'll ask you this--who would you trust with this? It's the biggest thing to hit human evolution since we crawled out of the sludge. Cassius has personal reason to want to help. And if I use his results--what's the harm?"

Staring at Lex, Clark tries to think. He's known--God, he's known for years Lex experiments with Kryptonite. Human subjects, though? Somewhere in the back of his head has always been the vague idea that there are some lines even Lex can't cross. Won't cross, no matter what.

Cassius comes back in, reading something on a clipboard. The blue eyes flicker up, capturing the moment, and Clark looks away.

"I'll schedule several round of immunizations," he says mildly. "Adults normally don't react as predictably as kids, but--" Cassius shrugs. "Also normally, the side effects are minimal. I'll start you off on the MMR and we'll monitor from there. Do you live alone?"

"Yes." Clark watches as Cassius keys open a cabinet. He keeps vaccinations here? How--weird. Or did Lex talk to him before making that call this afternoon? If Cassius was involved in the original stuff that Lois was shoving down his throat for two days, probably.

"I'd like you checking in with someone every four hours for the next twenty-four hours. Just in case of--"

"I'll take care of it." Clark glances at Lex, impassive face and veiled eyes. "I know the symptoms."

"You would."

Clark fixes his gaze on the far wall while Cassius administers the shot. He knows he's not up to watching shots yet--right, once a superhero, now freaking out about needles. This is just great.

"Okay. The lab will have full results by tomorrow." Cassius grins a little as he peels off his gloves, tossing them aside. "Has there been anything unusual--never mind. Everything's going to be unusual."

"He's lost about ten pounds," Lex says from the door, and Cassius gaze jerks around, fixing on him. "I'd guess also anemic. Appetite--"

"Jesus, Lex!" Flushing, Clark stands up, grabbing his coat. "I'm fine!"

Cassius makes a sound a lot like a laugh. "Right. Mr. Kent, try to keep track of what you eat over the next ten days?" Clark nods, stuffing his arms in his coat. "How do you want the results--"

"Clark, give him your cellphone number," Lex says shortly. "You can pick them up from the secretary."

Frowning, Clark finishes straightening his jacket. Cassius is smiling now, like there's a huge joke that no one but him gets.

"Thanks," Clark says, and he thinks he means it, reaching out to shake the firm hand, then walking by Lex into the waiting room. The secretary's on the phone, chatting lightly with someone, turned away from him. Leaning into the wall, Clark considers the office. From the exam room, Clark can hear the low murmur of voices, but human normal doesn't allow for much in the way of hearing what they're saying.

After a few seconds, Lex comes out, a little line between his brows and a tight set to his mouth. Without a word, Lex walks by him to the door, going outside.

Oh the bastard. Like he'll follow. And like he has a better idea. With an impatient sigh, Clark catches the door and steps into the cool Metropolis afternoon.

Lex is looking around with an abstracted air, like he's not entirely aware of what he's doing.

"You're pissed that I'm suspicious?" Clark asks. He's tempted to ask about Rhinestadt, but Lois is right. Whatever Lex is doing, he'll start covering things up *fast* if he thinks someone's looking for something they shouldn't see. It plays in his mind, though--Cassius, a meteor mutant and doctor, and Rhinestadt, astrophysicist. Just too nice a segue there.

Lex swings around, coat flying. Lex has an impeccable sense of drama. "Surprised? No. Pissed? A little. If I wanted to use you, I would have picked you up that first night. No one could have stopped me. No one would even have known."

Clark--hadn't thought of that.

"You didn't tell anyone what you were doing or where you were going, except Lois apparently." Lex shrugs lightly. "And I could have easily gotten her out of the way."

"Could you?" Maybe not a great time to remind Lex that Lois isn't just anyone but is Lex's ex and a pretty damn prominent reporter. "You wouldn't have a problem doing that to her?"

"I'd have a problem." There's only three steps between them, and only Lex would cover them, face to face, so close Clark can feel the warmth of his body through their clothes. "Do you think that's ever stopped me before?"

For a second, there isn't even air, and Clark flashes on too many looks just like this--hostile Lex, enemy Lex, enraged Lex, the Lex that Clark's fought for more years than they were ever friends. Something tightens in his chest, a burn following in his throat, and then Lex steps away, the mask falling into place.

"Don't do that." Lex looks at him in surprise. "Don't pretend that you don't care."

"Who says I care?"

Nothing. Everything. Superman didn't have this luxury, but hell, Superman's dead, Clark's here, and there's all kinds of luxury involved in it. Taking the step separating them, Clark reaches out, catching his elbow. Lex doesn't even flinch--some habits, Clark thinks, are harder to break than others.

"I do."

Defiant, definitely, but Lex is like that. He's never gotten over being a rebel, even in his mind. Some part of him misses Lionel to fight again, compare himself to. Superman had been good for that, Clark thinks. He has to wonder how Lex is going to function without a decent archenemy in sight.

Grinning, Clark slides his hand down the strong arm, lingering on soft wool over hard muscle, ending with long fingers, twining his between and pressing his thumb into the palm, circling slowly. He can feel Lex tense in an entirely different way.

"So you said something about dinner," Clark murmurs, taking another step, and they might be in the middle of downtown Metropolis but Clark doesn't really care. Lex meets his eyes with something a lot like anticipation.

"It's only two now. A little early, don't you think?"

Clark laughs. "Since when has convention stopped you?" Leaning closer, he brushes a fast kiss over parted lips, moving back too quickly for Lex to do anything but gasp softly. "I--I want to see you naked. Now."

The slow, sucked in breath is reward enough, even though he's blushing again, God, he's got to stop doing that. Stepping back, he snickers at the dazed blue eyes that blink before focusing sharply, looking into him like Lex is mapping everything he's going to touch and how he's going to do it. Dear God. Clark's cock pushes uncomfortably into his boxers, making him shudder.

Instantly, Lex has a cellphone in hand.

"Car. Now." He shuts it off and drops it in his pocket, cutting off Clark's protest. "Hope will take Lois' car back to the Planet." The fingers in his tighten, almost to the point of pain. Wow. Dark eyes fix on Clark's mouth, heavy, full of things that make Clark shiver again. "I'm going to enjoy you, Clark."

It only occurs to him when they're in the elevator, quietly going up to the penthouse, like two people not currently imagining each other very naked, that he really doesn't have all that much experience.

Okay, so right, there was college and stuff there--lots of stuff there, actually, but not, well, not much sex-sex. Making out and other adventures were all well and good, and yes, there'd been that hot frat guy who'd hit on him at the sophomore mixer and they'd had fun, but....

But Clark just couldn't be sure, then. Not-human, too many secrets, and the fear that someone might notice--something. Something like he doesn't bruise or things don't hurt, or he might--might hurt them. Even not meaning to, just forgetting even for a second, and more than one girlfriend had gotten a one o'clock phone call after a bad dream. Just for him to be sure they were okay.

More than one break-up after too many bad nights and a near miss, like Erica and her sprained wrist, Jane's bruised thigh when he held on too tightly.

That's--not a problem this time. Except for the fact that he's with someone who goes through lovers like toilet paper. Including Lois, and she--well. She wouldn't bother with an incompetent lover.

Jesus, Lex might not either. He's fucked *Lois*. Oh dear God.

"Clark?" Quiet, careful voice, like maybe Lex is aware sexual shock is setting in. Warm fingers close over his hand, then a gentle pull. "Clark. Stop."

"I'm fine." His voice is about an octave too high. This isn't happening. It just can't be. He is *not* panicking about sex with Lex.

"I wanted you the first time I saw you."

It goes straight to his cock and that's it, Clark is investing in more pants. Better pants. Pants that stretch or allow for men with sexy voices talking like that. Like it's perfectly normal conversation for people who still are only halfway to their destination. Sweat breaks out on the back of Clark's neck, trickling into his collar.

"That mouth," Lex muses, almost like he's talking to himself. "I used to wonder how you'd taste. How you'd look. How I'd--"

"Lex." His skin feels too tight, muscles involuntarily clenching. "You know--"

Lex's mouth cuts him off. Hard, fast, almost painful, sharp bite to his lower lip before pushing inside, and it's like a first kiss all over again. Lex kisses like he's conquering territory a hard-won inch at a time and has to pacify it afterward. A slow draw over his palate, licking across his tongue, and Clark gives up trying to keep up, just going with it. Reaching for Lex and getting his hands under that coat, feeling muscle and skin beneath wool and silk.

Lex, who tastes like everything Clark's ever imagined and feels like a fantasy.

The elevator bings softly, and Lex pulls away, licking his lips like he's holding onto the taste of Clark's mouth. The fingers twined in his pull, and Clark follows down a short hall, vaguely aware of Lex entering codes and then the door's opened and they're inside.

An impression of white walls, then his coat hits the floor. It's all like a dream--rooms going by, Lex saying something to some help they pass, but the only real thing is Lex. Lex, pushing open a door and pulling Clark inside behind him, then he's up against the door and--God, being *eaten*.

Like Lex is making up for every time they'd looked away from each other, every unfulfilled dream, every lost possibility. Like Lex is trying to rewrite history with just his mouth, saying, you, yes, you, Clark. This is what we both wanted and we didn't get. This is what we can have.

Clark wants that. Needs it, shoving the coat off Lex's shoulders, fingers pulling at buttons that don't rip off when he's too clumsy, forcing silk apart to touch pure skin, and it's like coming home. Like this first touch, skating over Lex's chest, his shoulders, his collarbone, isn't as new and completely different. He has to have known forever that Lex's skin tastes earthy and rich, that it's smooth beneath his tongue, that a lick at this dip of bone and muscle makes him twitch, hands clenching against Clark's back.

Wool trousers fight him, button resisting, and finally Lex pulls away with a breathless, wet sound, hands at his waist, looking up only once with that slow burn erupting into something that says, yes. Now. Now, Clark. "Clothes."

He gets his dress jacket off. Shirt is more tricky, but he manages, throwing it aside, forcing his pants to obey shaking fingers, kicking off shoes, toeing off socks, mouth sore and empty, skin burning from the traces of Lex's mouth. Lex, backing up step by step to the bed, Clark following like iron following a magnet and then Lex is on his back and Clark is finally touching everything.

His hands can't move fast enough, can't touch enough, spreading his fingers to feel more. Lex is murmuring things in his ear--encouragement and promises and snatches of some dead poet who probably had no idea he would one day be quoted as foreplay, but Clark's lost in sensation. Pale, pale skin, light sprinkles of freckles over shoulders and chest that Clark can draw lines between with the tip of his tongue. Restless hands on his back, Lex feeling him by inches, like he has to memorize everything he touches, every muscle and bone, invisible fingerprints pressed into his shoulders that Clark will never stop feeling, tangling in his hair and pulling him up to that addictive mouth. Lex rolls them on their sides and Clark slides a leg over Lex's hip, keeping them close, gasping at the brush of cock on cock, bare and frighteningly hot.

Like he could burn up if he's not careful, consumed in too many years of sublimated desire that's breaking them both. And he'll like it.

Lex's fingers on his chest, thumbs brushing nipples awake, thrusting against him and pushing him that much higher. It's like being drunk but better, and Clark hears himself laughing when Lex's tongue flicks across his ear, his chin, slicking down his throat like he's drawing lines to follow later. A shift down that makes Clark mutter protest, but teeth close over his nipple and he forgets how words work. How they sound. How to make his tongue do anything but curl up behind his teeth to stop the sounds he's making, low and needy and desperate.

On his back somehow and Lex goes down on him in one motion, arching his back and liquefying his spine.

"Lex--"

A low hum around his cock pushes his heels into the bed, scrambling for purchase, and his fingertips touch a silky scalp, sliding helplessly over the curve of skin and bone, he can't hurt Lex now, he can *touch*. Can arch and push up into that mouth, he doesn't have to be still, be careful, worry, because Lex can heal from anything and Clark can't hurt him anyway. And Lex fits against his palms, pressing against him, encouraging everything, you can do this, Clark, you can do anything you want.

Touch, hold on, push into that mouth harder and faster, but he wants something entirely different. Pulls Lex up and has to bite his lip to keep from coming just from the look on his face, the swollen red lips and eyes darkened to black.

"Lex, I want--"

"Anything you want." A kiss sucked into his inner thigh, quick tongue slicking his balls, hinting at a slide behind that forces out a gasp, but Clark pulls until Lex is covering him, smooth skin blanketing him, nipping at his lips. "Anything, any way you want it, Clark--"

Jesus. Shaking hands slide down Lex's back, digging into bone and muscle, as hard and he wants, and he *can't* hurt him.

"Fuck me." Like a normal person can, and he'll feel it. "Lex, I want you to fuck me."

Lex traces his face with one hand, fingers shaping to his cheek, breath panting out, and if it's possible, the blue eyes are even darker, pupil swallowing the iris until there's nothing but raw need. "Have you ever done that before?"

"No." Too many variables to consider. Clark couldn't imagine taking his experiments in sex that far.

"It'll hurt." More like a promise than a warning, and Lex levers himself up, slowly, like he can't quite make himself want to move faster. Reaching with one hand to the bedside table, pulling open a drawer, little tube landing by Clark's head, then he pulls back on both knees, staring down at Clark. "Spread your legs for me."

Clark sucks in a breath, complying, and Lex strokes his thighs. Eyes closing tightly for a second before they open again. Lex swallows hard. "It'll hurt, but you'll like it."

Clark swallows hard, nodding, and Lex reaches for the tube, then grins, bright and sharp. "How much have you done?"

"What, you want a list?" Clark's lucky he's getting out sentences at this point. Lex laughs, fingers slipping to his inner thighs, almost tickling the sensitive skin in a way that's making Clark shudder. "I'm not a virgin, if that's what you're asking."

"Imagine my relief." Another sharp grin, then both his thighs are lifted, pushed over Lex's shoulders, and Lex ducks his head. Entirely not what Clark had in mind, and he lifts up on both elbows.

"Lex--oh." A slow lick to that little patch of skin, too careful to make him come though it's a close, close thing. "Lex, I--"

"I noticed. I think you'll like this." Clark can barely hear the muffled words before--oh God. God, Lex's tongue. That clever, sharp, ruthlessly gentle tongue slicking across his hole, shocking Clark almost upright before he realizes that movement like that will stop the feeling. Collapsing back into the mattress, he feels Lex's chuckle before he's doing it *again*. Slower, now, so Clark can really feel it, and this is--really new. Completely unlike anything he's done to himself, but Lex has a better angle and, well, that tongue. That tongue that's even slower, making a lazy circle around before pushing just a little, and Clark tenses, can't help it. Forcing himself down, closing his fingers over the bedspread, strangely harsh compared to Lex's skin.

Then a push that sucks the air from Clark's lungs--that's Lex's tongue inside him, curling, pressing, licking, slow and steady, and Clark might not be breathing anymore. Might never want to breathe again if it results in this.

"Fuck."

That chuckle again, vibrating against hypersensitive skin, and warm thumbs open him, giving Lex access to do--oh God, more. Deeper, harder, thrusts and slow licks and twists that drive Clark's heels into Lex's back but he doesn't seem to notice.

Time loses meaning. Everything loses meaning that isn't centered in that place Lex is playing with, a perfectly ordinary area that's never hinted it could do things like *this*. Lex's tongue is in his ass like it's the most normal thing ever invented and Clark wonders vaguely, do people *know* about this? And why in the name of God aren't they doing it all the time?

He's twisting into it, every long lick and hard thrust, and this, he thinks a little vaguely, will be like having Lex's cock, maybe. Open and pushing and slick wetness and God, how is he doing it, coaxing sounds out of Clark's throat that aren't even possible. Whimpering, arching into it, more, please, he can feel sweat breaking out all over his body, and his cock aches, a pain so good he never wants it to stop.

He's begging now, he's sure of it.

Then something else--harder, Lex's finger, he's almost sure, and it hits something that wipes out even the memory of a life that doesn't include this. Clark chokes on air, grabbing for the sheets with both hands, and Lex's other hand closes over his cock, a rough, expert jack and Clark twists completely open, and fuck, he's screaming.

Screaming and moaning, coming so hard he can't see, can't hear anything but rushing sound. He can feel it everywhere, like every nerve is centered in his cock and ass, nipples and stomach and back and mouth, tingling, shocking, and Clark's not sure he's ever coming down. It goes on forever, his cock trapped in Lex's hand and his ass on Lex's tongue and nothing, nothing can be better than this.

Awareness comes back in slow fits and starts. Lex's hands smoothing over his chest, then the soothing warmth of fingers pressing inside him, a slow heat that tickles overheated nerves. Working him slowly, carefully, and he misses Lex's tongue but that mouth moves to his stomach, licking him clean, and Clark shudders at every lick.

"Clark." Soft and gentle, a hand on his face. "Come back to me here." Stroking his face, thumb across his mouth, and Clark sucks it in, running his tongue around the nail, almost smiling at the way Lex's breath catches. "Come on. I want you. I want you to be here for this."

Clark lets Lex pull his thumb away. "Here." Like Lex didn't just blow his mind, he opens his eyes, grinning. "You need something?"

Lex chuckles and brushes a kiss over his mouth. "Bastard." Then pulling back, arms behind his thighs, pushing them close to his chest. "Just relax. It'll only hurt for a second."

The blunt tip of Lex's cock pushes against him, and Clark breathes out, feeling Lex's eyes on him. Easing inside, stretching him open, and it's--wow, it's nothing like he expected. And Lex is so slow--God, Clark can't imagine what it takes to move like that, like he has all the time in the world when every muscle is tense, and Lex is biting his lip as he goes. A stretch that begins to burn, but Clark forces himself to relax, pulling his legs up close, trying to open up more, and Lex breathes out. "Almost there."

"Do it."

Lex shakes his head tightly. "You're not invulnerable anymore." A long stroke of his thighs, then Lex is working him open, pulling back a little to push again. Another inch, forcing a surprised gasp from Clark's throat, a sound from Lex that Clark's never heard before. "God, you're tight."

"Uh." Clark pulls his hands free of the sheet, reaching for Lex. Smooth shoulders to dig his fingers into, living flesh that twitches when he touches it, asking for more. "That's. Good?"

"Unbelievable." Another little thrust, opening him wider. The sharp burn fades a little as Lex pulls back, then Lex shifts, both hands on Clark's thighs. "Deep breath, Clark."

He has just enough time to do it before Lex thrusts--thrusts *hard*, pushing all the way inside, and it hurts, yes, God, yes, but he's still holding Lex's eyes even when he hisses, and he can feel the slap of Lex's balls against his ass. Completely filled, and Clark can't remember exactly what it was like not to be.

His cock twitches, making him wince a little--he's come twice in less than three hours, but apparently, Lex is good for all kinds of sexual inspiration and it's ready for another round. Lex, who holds completely still, waiting for him to adjust, and Clark squeezes his hands a little. "I'm okay."

Lex nods slowly, teeth freeing his lip, and Clark can see the blood. Can't help trying to reach him, and Lex shifts, Clark's thighs going around his waist, leaning forward for a kiss that tastes like copper and Clark and sex.

"Keep your legs here," Lex whispers, pulling out, and the next thrust makes Clark see stars. Sparks. Cock hardening against Lex's stomach, scraped with every thrust, and Clark pulls his knees up Lex's sides, heels pushing into his back. He's going to leave bruises on Lex and he wants to, every place he's touched. "You're so beautiful, Clark."

Clark's breath catches. "You're so weird."

"It's called sex talk. Enjoy it." Another slow thrust, like Lex is getting the feel of his body, and Lex groans softly. "It's the most honest anyone ever is."

Clark arches at the next slow, almost lazy thrust. Lex braces both hands on the bed, close enough to breathe him in, and Clark watches sweat form on his forehead, the way the dark eyes close briefly every time. "Why not in Smallville? When we were kids?"

"Shouldn't have told you about the honesty part," Lex murmurs, licking his temple. The next thrust is a little harder. "I--didn't think you were ready."

He was probably right, too, but Clark tries to imagine refusing Lex. Imagines just once, Lex had reached out and touched him, if he would have pulled away. Even then, he doesn't think he would have.

"I would have, you know," Clark hears himself say. Lex is right. It's impossible to lie like this. Impossible when Lex is inside him and surrounding him and brushing soft kisses over his forehead and his face.

"Couldn't risk it." Another thrust, making Clark's teeth clench together. His cock's hard, loving every brush against Lex's stomach, almost arching to meet it.

"Risk?" And when Lex opens his eyes, Clark catches his breath. "Lex--"

"You were everything." And it hits just with the next thrust, with Lex's groan, and Clark winds his arms tighter, trying to breathe normally, trying to remember what normal is, then forgetting it. Maybe trying to crawl inside Lex's skin and stay there, never have to come out again. "You are everything, Clark."

Jesus. Lex kisses him, slow and sweet and ruthless, consuming his mouth, and Lex murmurs words into his neck, his jaw, his ear. Things that erase years of hate and anger and make them meaningless, because now, now is this. Them. The words trickle off and Clark's shuddering, shivering when Lex thrusts into him harder, pushing them both toward orgasm, as inevitably as this moment must have been after all the time apart.

Like being taken apart and put back together, and Clark holds on tighter when he comes, a slow build that's like falling and flying and perfect happiness, shuddering and gasping, Lex's voice in his ear, Lex's cock in his body, and he'd do it all over again, everything, he'd have done anything, if he'd known this was possible.

Lex, slick with sweat, warm, touchable, curled up around him, would have been all the reason he'd ever have needed.

"I'm not engaged to Lois."

Lex, tracing the line of hair on Clark's lower stomach with every sign of fascination, glances up. "So I suppose I should revoke the contract on her life now?"

Snorting, Clark tries to stretch, wincing at the ache in muscles that aren't used to heavy activity, not to mention the burn in his ass that reminds him, yes, he's human all right. Rolling on his back isn't even an option.

"Where on earth did you hear that, anyway?" Clark asks as Lex tests the line with his tongue, smoothing the little hairs down, like some very sexy cat. Fingers are slowly stroking his hip still--Lex hasn't stopped touching him since they came down. Like he's trying to memorize everything, fingering Clark's bruises with gentle touches and little smiles that make Clark grin and hot at the same time.

"Contact at The Daily Planet."

"Your sources suck."

"So I'm beginning to think." A wet circle around his navel, then Lex slides back up the bed, kissing him lightly. Friendly kiss, like people do when they know each other so well it means everything and nothing at all. Settling beside him, Lex raises himself on an elbow, running curious fingers through his hair, and Clark sighs, arching into it. "Why would anyone think so?"

"Undercover thing a few months ago, fertility clinic. Went really, really badly," Clark answers, eyes still closed. "I really don't want to talk about Lois." Shifting closer, ignoring the twinges, Clark buries his nose in Lex's throat, licking softly at the skin. "You know, Perry is going to kill me."

"Oh, Perry's a much better subject," Lex remarks, and Clark grins as he lowers his head slowly back onto the pillow so Lex won't stop touching. "Quit your job. Move in with me. Let me tie you to the bed."

Strangely, the idea doesn't actually sound that bad. Clark snickers, reaching to run the palm of his hand down Lex's side. Silky skin he can't quite get enough of. He suspects he never will. "Get me a collar too?"

"Mm. Feed you regularly, fuck you daily, and you'll never need to buy clothes again. Which, considering your taste, would frankly be a relief to civilization." Warm lips brush his temple. "Are you hungry?"

"Is it feeding time?" Clark's stomach growls and Lex laughs. "Fine, yeah. Um, I should get dressed--" He really doesn't want to move. Even for food.

"Being rich has some great perks. One, food in bed. Two, people to cook it and bring it up. Don't move. Just--like that." Lex brushes Clark's hair out of his eyes, pushing himself up, looking over Clark's body with utter satisfaction. "You couldn't look more perfect if you tried."

Clark feels the blush, turning his head enough to stare into the pillow. A long stroke to his back and Lex moves, shifting for the phone. Right, call in for food. He could get used to this.

A few minutes of murmured conversation on the phone, and Clark turns enough to look out the window, watching the faint traces of the sun disappearing beneath the skyline, lighting up everything in yellow-orange and streaks of rich red. Breathtaking, even if he knows intellectually that smog is at least half the reason Metropolis is known for its spectacular sunsets.

Lex is settling back down beside him, distracting his attention, warm mouth trailing over his skin, followed with lazy swipes of his tongue. Clark catches his breath at the twitch of his cock. "Lex, um, I don't--"

"Shh." Urged onto his stomach, and Lex runs his hands over his back, lingering on his waist. "Relax."

"Right." But he's soothed by the slow strokes, the way Lex mouths his spine, slow and easy, like he's got all day to learn the curve of every bone, the texture of every inch of skin. Teeth brushing after, a tiny bite that makes Clark shudder, cock twitching more, God, it hurts but it's still so good.

"So where is she anyway? I expected her to be protecting your virtue at some point." Lex settles over him like a blanket, mouthing the back of his neck before slipping down beside him, absently pulling up the covers they turned down at some point.

"Interview thing. Have I ever told you how weird you two are?" Lifting himself up on his elbows, Clark gives Lex a long look. The smile isn't reassuring. "No, really. You're both weird. You have the worst public break-up in the history of Metropolis with not a detail in sight, and you both act like you'd dance on each other's grave. But Lois kills herself laughing at that fucking teddy bear and she's still the only one that has open creds at any and all LexCorp functions, public and private. Explain this to me."

Lex snickers. "Are we actually at the point in a relationship where we're comfortable discussing old lovers?"

Clark smiles, drawing both arms up to settle them beneath his head. "I've never slept with her, so that'd be only you. And I'm perfectly comfortable. Feel free."

"Why?"

Clark watches the play of emotion on Lex's face carefully. "Because I'm curious."

"You would be." Stroking through his hair again, fingers gently untangling knots, smoothing after. Clark lets his eyes fall closed. "We didn't break up because Lois had issues with my ethics, if that's what you're thinking. She had--at the time--no idea."

"Then what was it?" He *is* curious, but it's the kind that's almost masochistic. Tell me how close you were to being in a world where this day couldn't have happened, Lex.

"She didn't want to commit." Fingers move against Clark's scalp in an idle rhythm that could so easily put him to sleep.

Clark's eyes open. "You were--you were going to marry her?"

"Possibly would have been the third biggest mistake of my life, but yes. I wanted her to change to a LexCorp job and marry me. She didn't."

Yes, Clark could actually see this conversation taking a downslide with the very first hint of a job involving her significant other. Lois would never allow that. Proposing marriage--wow, had she even been in the same state before Lex got the words out?

But. "Why a mistake?"

Lex grins. "We fought a lot. About everything." The grin widens. "Dinner, dates, which apartment to sleep at, whether staying the night was acceptable, everything. Everything was a battle." Lex doesn't seem terribly upset by that. "I was used to people who would do anything I wanted, any way I wanted it. Lois was different. She made me work for what I wanted. She didn't like to be manipulated. She made me compromise. She made me want to compromise."

Clark nods slowly, ignoring the strange ache centered somewhere in his chest, the stupid ache that has no reason to exist. Nothing new--when Lois and Lex had still been seeing each other, he came to work every day feeling like that. But different now that he's--he's here.

It's stupid. "Are you still in love with her?"

"No." Lex says it so easily, so smoothly, that it can't be anything but true. Clark frowns.

"If I ask you next time you fuck me, will you give me the same answer?" No matter the state of his head, ass, or various protesting muscle groups, his cock's completely interested, pushing into the mattress, and Clark hisses. With a grin, Lex rolls on his back, groping until the tube appears under his hand. Like anything would disobey when Lex wanted it. Slicking his fingers, he looks at Clark.

"Fuck me and find out." One long thigh raising slowly, Lex slides his fingers tempting around the hole, staring into Clark's eyes.

"I've done this."

"With a guy?"

Clark's mouth goes dry, eyes fixing as Lex works a finger inside himself, flicking up to see the blue eyes glazing over, a slow flush spreading across the flawless skin.

"No, but you know, basics." Even to himself, his voice sounds--sexy. Rough, hoarse, thick. Completely understandable why Lex's smile fades, blue eyes darkening almost instantly. "Um. Lex." Another breath, then Clark pushes the petty barriers of flesh to the back of his mind, pulling up on hands and knees. Lex's cock is half-hard against his stomach. Leaning down, Clark licks a line from tip to base, bracing a hand on Lex's thigh at the first involuntary jerk. "I know this, too."

Lex makes a low, dark sound, like a purr. "Show me." Two fingers thrust inside him and Clark wraps his fingers around Lex's cock, letting the head slide easily into his mouth.

He does know this. Simple, slick tongue over tangy flesh, Lex shuddering and murmuring, fingers in his hair, urging him deeper, and Clark breathes through his nose and swallows, pulling his hand aside. Lips pressed to smooth, musky skin, and Lex says a few words that Clark supposes are supposed to mean something, but it's more like he forgot English and sentence structure, which is just fine. He swallows just to get that arch, then pulls back, shifting between Lex's legs and bracing both hands on Lex's hips.

He's always had to be careful, even here--too fast or too hard or hold too tight, can break bones like kindling, but this time--ah, this time, he can dig his fingers in and grip, suck hard, lose himself completely in taste and feel and sound. Meet every arch of Lex's hips, tease him with a brush of blunt teeth, hold him on the tip of his tongue so Lex can see and shiver, go back down smooth and easy.

Enjoy this, the way he's never enjoyed sex before, like anyone, any human can. Listen to Lex murmur his name coupled with endearments and curses and promises and believe it.

The fingers in his hair pull him off suddenly, and Clark grins, looking up.

"Inside me," Lex hisses, drawing up his legs, and Clark gets the lube instantly, slicking his cock. Almost shaking with it, all these first times coupled together, and he's dizzy and happy and utterly intoxicated. "Clark, please--"

He's wanted to hear Lex beg for *years*. Holding him over a volcano couldn't do it, but Clark's cock pressing lightly against his hole could. Laughing, Clark puts his shoulders under Lex's thighs and pushes, Lex arching hard, pulling him in.

In. Inside. No better word in the world.

Oh God, tight. Lex had it right, and he hears himself breathe it like a benediction, like a prayer, the slick heat clenched around him like it's fitting itself to him perfectly. Lex, shuddering, head back, throat on offer, and Clark flexible enough to lean, quick bite to the pulse of one artery.

Lex, who opens his eyes, sex-dark, intense, like the entire world is compressed into this moment, this second. "I'm not in love with her."

Clark sucks in a breath, then lets Lex's legs down, shocked breath like he's been running forever and never wants to stop. Lex, pushing himself up, Clark sits back on his heels, and Lex, on his lap, fucking himself on Clark's cock. Big hands in his hair, pulling his head up for a brutal kiss, and nothing can match this, nothing could ever compare. Like mainlining pure oxygen, he's heady and so hard he thinks he can fuck Lex forever, wants to, just to keep this, the taste of Lex, blood, sex, and he reaches down, fisting around Lex's cock, hard against his stomach. Fast, hard jack, whimpers and hisses filling the air, then Lex, shuddering and coming, clenching around him and it's too sexy, Lex fucking himself to orgasm on Clark, too impossible even for a fantasy, it has to be real, like the smell and the feel of slick skin and the bruises on Lex's skin from fingertips and mouth.

Coming forever, Lex's tongue in his mouth, and he's still shaking when they're tangled on the bed, wet and stick and Clark holds on and closes his eyes when Lex's arms go tight around him.

Like he'll never be let go again.

"Stay with me tonight." Whispered against his mouth, and Clark nods slowly. A slow, wet kiss, before Lex presses their foreheads together and goes boneless in Clark's arms. "Good."

The ringing--is a phone.

Clark blinks back to reality, opening his eyes on the warm disaster area he's currently inhabiting, the warm body pressed all around him like a cocoon.

"Phone, Lex."

Lex makes an unclassifiable sound that's probably negation, burrowing into Clark's shoulder, arm around his chest tightening.

"I--think its mine." At least, it seems to be coming from Clark's pants, and he stares very hard at them, wishing for a sudden bout of telekinesis to bring it across the room and into his lap.

"Not important."

Clark glances at the clock. It's--ten in the morning. How the fuck had that happened? It's hard to disengage himself--at least three quarters of his body doesn't see the point, the rest is only doing it with the promise he'll be *right back*, and he crawls off the bed, completely shocked by the way his legs buckle and the sudden screams of protest from every major muscle group.

Ah. This is why he should have listened to that three quarters. Behind him, he can hear Lex snickering.

"Lay down, Clark. I'll get your phone."

"Don't you dare answer it." It could be anyone. Chloe or Lois or--Dad. It has got to say sad, sad things about him that he's still scared of calls from his parents, fully into adulthood and all.

Lex is across the room before Clark has even managed to completely lower himself down on his stomach, head turning to watch Lex look at the number. The grin's--not good.

"Lex--"

He hits the button. "Luthor speaking. How can I help you, Lois?"

Oh Jesus. Clark buries his head in the pillow, listening to the pad of Lex crossing the room, a stutter as he steps over the trays from last night that had brought desperately needed refueling. Lowering himself down beside Clark, edging him over with a hip before stretching out. "Oh, Clark. Of course. Can I see if he's awake?"

"You're going to hell," Clark hisses, wondering if in lieu of firestarting eyes, his blushes will be the next wave in pyrotechnics. Lex grins and hands him the phone, rolling on his side to draw a proprietary hand down his back. Covering the mouthpiece, Clark tries out a look. "You know, she can't see you doing that."

"She's got a filthy mind. I'm sure she's got some idea what I'm doing to you." The strokes slow, becoming more petting, then Lex sits up, straddling his hips, strong hands on his shoulders. Oh God, that feels good. "Lois, Clark."

Lois? Fuck, Lois. Lifting the phone to his ear, Clark wonders if Lois can feel his blush all the way in Houston.

"Um. Hey. How did it go?"

The pause is really scary, before he hears a sound that scares him to death. Lois is snickering.

"Clark, my flight was late, they lost my baggage for six hours, and it was raining the entire time. My interviewee was a bitch of the first order and walked out on me halfway through. The hotel sent soggy pizza for room service last night. I ruined two pairs of extremely expensive shoes that are going to take me three paychecks to replace. Yet you have singlehandedly made this entire trip worthwhile. 'Lois, there is no sexual tension. Lois, it was never like that. Lois, why don't you trust me?'." The snickering becomes a full out laugh, and Clark forces his face into cool cotton, trying not to moan as Lex's hands work the too-tight muscles of his shoulders. Oh God, like his fantasy and nightmare combining on the astral plane. "I got some interesting information from some of my dad's friends, though." The edge in her voice makes Clark lift his head--she must have been frustrated if she was calling in on her father's friends. "You remember this LexCorp doctor we interviewed a little while back--"

"Yes." Clark tries to straighten, but a hand in the center of his back pushes him back down with no reluctance at all. "Yeah. I know him. When will you be home?"

"When are you going to be?"

Never? That would require moving, after all. "Um. I'll make you dinner." Lex presses sharp nails into his neck. "Early dinner. Like, say, six?" Is this what having a boyfriend is like?

"I'd hate to interfere with your sex life," Lois murmurs so blandly that Clark chokes. "Pick me up at the airport at five, okay? And you can tell me what made you sit up like that when I mentioned that doctor."

"Got it. Be careful."

"Always, Smallville. Have fun." Her snicker is the last thing he hears before she cuts out, and Clark stares at the phone for a few long minutes. "Okay, I'm missing something huge here between you two, but I'm not going to ask."

"The ways of your partner are mysterious," Lex agrees, kneading his lower back. "Call in sick to work."

Actually, he kind of has to. There's no possible way he'll be sitting in a normal chair all day. He knows his own limits, and having everyone at the Daily Planet watching him squirm and generally act more bizarre than usual just isn't something he can handle. Even if Lois was there. "Yeah." Punching in the number, Clark cranes his head. "I thought you had a job."

Lex smiles. "I'm taking a personal day." Climbing off him, Lex is on the floor light as a cat, like no, he hadn't spent the entire night in various kinds of acrobatic sex. "Join me in the shower when you're done."

Clark's horrified to feel his cock jerk hopefully at the low promise in Lex's words. He can't really help watching as Lex disappears into the bathroom, then stares down at his phone, pulling his mind from his cock and everything else that's happened, trying to concentrate.

Perry gives him a lot of leeway, he knows. Blanking the number out for now, Clark punches in Jimmy's and waits patiently. Voicemail, of course--he wonders if Jimmy is back yet and decides not.

"Jimmy, check something for me. I need you to cross-reference something for me while you're up there. Any recent discoveries coming out of any LexCorp business with any papers released by Dr. Cassius--I think the first name is Benjamin--and Dr. Rhinestadt. Send whatever you find via email. Bye." Now dial Perry and explain he's following some Very Important Leads for Lois and will be out most of the day. Sighing, Clark rolls on his side, vaguely surprised his back doesn't ache nearly as much as he expected it to.

"Clark?" Lex's voice is like a draw, making him sit up, giving himself another round of pain, but that's okay, because it's Lex. His legs are more steady now, or at least, acting like they might keep him upright, and he mutters his excuse to Perry while he's walking, barely aware of what he's saying, because there's steam coming under the door.

Hot, steamy bathroom with Lex in it. Absently, Clark turns off his phone and drops it on the floor, pushing open the door and walking inside. Instantly surrounded by hot, wet air, and Lex is only feet away, casually naked like it's just the most normal thing in the world.

"Done?" Lex asks, eyebrows raised, and Clark nods slowly. "Then come on."

He wonders if he looks different.

The airport's not too crowded, but enough for Clark to get jostled, and his body protests every time it happens. Security keeps eyeing him suspiciously, but he can't help twitching when he stands too long in any one position.

The plane would, of course, be late.

His cellphone's off--he'd checked his messages on the way to the airport, and the number waiting frankly scared him. The caller log wasn't comforting--Chloe, Pete, Mom and Dad, Daniel (oh fuck), a few college friends, and his next door neighbor Mrs. Dickson, who reads the tabloids like a religion.

He hasn't even looked at the Inquisitor yet. Frankly, he doesn't want to even think about it.

"Kent!"

Jerking his gaze up, Clark watches Lois appear from the door--somehow, uncreased despite a plane flight and two long days without her personal drycleaners. The dark hair is pulled back loosely, a few strands artistically tickling her cheeks, but her grin is huge and messy.

Tossing him her coat, she wraps an arm around his waist lightly, leaning close enough to stifle him with some heavy musk that clings to his nose. "You're making the careers of social columnists all over the country."

Great, just what he needs to hear. Taking her carry-on, Clark glances toward baggage claim. "You want--"

"Don't even bother. They're on the next flight. Don't ask. Just thank God I put everything I needed in my carry-on. Come on."

Outside, she nods in approval at her car. "Washed. Nice. So, business or personal?"

"You mean I have a choice?"

Lois snickers as she slides into the driver's seat, obviously looking around for signs of--"Lois!"

"Be good. Seatbelt on. I have information, but it's on my laptop. Spill. At least, what I can't guess."

Sighing, Clark closes the trunk and circles, sliding into the passenger seat as she revvs the engine. "We're dating. Happy?"

"So that's what you're calling it?" A merry wink before her foot drops on the gas pedal, hitting sixty almost before they leave the parking lot. Luckily, Clark's used to maniac drivers and simply closes his eyes, belatedly aware that if there's an accident this time, he's pretty much going to die. Dammit.

"Cassius," he says, giving her a quick look, and forces down a grin when he sees the eyebrows slide up.

"Okay, so business. Tell me."

"Lex wanted me examined--" Lois snicker makes him flush. "Shut up. Human. Immunization. Stuff like that."

"Good idea. I wouldn't have thought of that. Keep going."

"He's a kryptonite mutant, dated from first impact." Leaning back in the seat, Clark closes his eyes, refusing to watch them enter the highway. Just too stressing. "He's head of medical services for LexCorp."

"That we know."

"He also heads up the facility where Lex has been keeping other Smallville mutants."

"Jesus Christ." With a quick flick of her wrist, Lois plunges into the next lane, and Clark breathes out sharply. "He *told* you that?"

"I'm pretty sure he know who I was," Clark answers, closing his eyes again. He'll be better able to concentrate if he isn't pretty sure he's going to die. "He's been working with them--Cassius says to cure them. Since he is a geneticist--"

"Yes, he'd have the creds. Hmm." Leaning an arm on the window, Lois surveys the highway like her own personal driving range. "He and Rhinestadt have been meeting a lot more than a geneticist and a theoretical astrophysicist should under normal circumstances. Even ones employed by LexCorp. Some email here, some letters there--"

"How'd you find out--"

"Dad's old Marine buddies. One's a pilot for NASA, the other's--not." The corner of her mouth twists. "Dad, of course, acted like I'd just asked to sell the country out to the Nazis, but he did say that Rhinestadt's been a very busy man the last year or two. Nearly disappeared, in fact, between LexCorp and NASA."

Clark catches the tail end of something like frustration. "He's liaison, isn't he?"

Lois sighs softly. "That would explain a lot. His clearance, by the way, is higher than Dad's. Than, in fact, anyone I could get to talk to me." Her pause is thoughtful. "Lots of equipment being moved around, very carefully. I know shuttles and computer systems, and I can recognize most disassembled weapons on sight, Smallville. None of what I saw being moved looked anything like that." Her mouth tightens. "But I saw the people moving it, and ten to one they're LexCorp employees."

Leaning back in his seat, Clark considers. "So there's a meteor shower--and you didn't get anything out of Rhinestadt?"

"A lesson in Einstein's relativity and how commoners just didn't understand it, along with some grandstanding about his education and impeccable background. He shut up when I asked about his LexCorp contract. So working theory--they're worried about the meteor shower. Enough to contact LexCorp and set up something. I guess get hold of Luthor's weapons or something. The thing is--why aren't they moving this stuff to the space station? I know they have weapons capability up there--it'd be smarter to shoot from space. No atmospheric problems, better sight."

"How do you know they aren't?"

"If they are, it's nowhere in Atlanta or Houston." Lois tosses him a grin that makes him wish she'd keep her eyes on the road. They're going very fast. "I checked every log and had Jimmy ask around in Atlanta. Very long day." Straightening in the seat, Lois leans a hand on her elbow, glancing through traffic like she would a collection of Ralph Charity sweaters. "Nothing not logged already. Nothing unusual in the cargo. And the stuff I saw would be unusual."

Nodding, Clark lets his eyes open briefly. Oh good, they're exiting into his neighborhood. Survived again.

"So--they're worried about the meteor shower. LexCorp would be interested, since it specializes in meteor rock experimentation, whether they admit it or not." With a quick turn, Lois speeds into the parking lot of Clark's apartment complex, spinning to a stop beside his old Ford. "You need a new car."

"After I pay off that damn suit," Clark grumbles, undoing the seatbelt and getting out. God, better. Staying in one position too long just hurts. Seeing Lois' grin, Clark flushes again. "Okay, I asked Jimmy--"

"Yeah, he told me. He's staying an extra couple of days, has some friends from MIT in town he'll get drunk and talk to, a couple who are pretty close to Rhinestadt in academic circles. Scientists are easy marks." Grinning, Lois locks her car and circles around to the trunk, opening it up and taking out her bag and coat. Grinning at him over the trunk, Lois tilts her head. "What's Cassius' thing?"

Clark considers. "He knows when you're sick."

The smile fades. "Jesus." Shaking her head, she slams the trunk closed, and Clark follows her to the stairs. Third floor, corner that views the skyline pretty well. Clark keys them both in, deadbolting behind. "Has Luthor bugged you yet?"

Clark grins. "Not yet. I checked when I came home to change. My phone might be tapped, though."

Lois snorts. "Good to know his MO with new lovers hasn't changed." Tossing her bag on the smaller couch, she kicks off her shoes, stretching out slowly. "God, I hate flying. Okay, so. How was Luthor?"

Clark stumbles as he walks into the tiny kitchen, half turning to watch the dark eyes fix on him with unmistakable intent.

"I'm not telling--"

"I have, I do, and you love it. Spill."

He can't help grinning. Going to the refrigerator, he gets out two bottles of water, walking back over to the couch and lifting her feet to sit down. Handing her a bottle, he turns her right foot and gently begins to massage the arch. The sound she makes is--really hot.

"We had a good time." Clark rubs his thumb into the arch again, watching her eyes glaze slightly, pushing her foot harder into his hands. "We had lunch, doctor's appointment, sex. You know him."

"I know him," she agrees. "But considering he took weeks to get around to letting me anywhere *near* the penthouse after we started dating--probably to make sure nothing incriminating was lying about--I'd love to know why I woke you up this morning there."

"How do you know I was there?"

Lois makes a bland sweep of the living room. "When I called you earlier, you didn't say you were at home." Another sharp grin, then she pushes her foot into his unmoving hand and twists the cap off the bottle. "More. My feet hurt."

"Right." Going back to work, Clark leans into the worn cushions of his couch, wondering what to tell her. "We had fun."

"You got laid."

"Very." Oh God, very. Shaking his head a little, Clark runs his thumb down to her heel, then back up to the pad of her foot, gently massaging. "Have you ever--have you ever had one of those nights where everything went exactly like you always dreamed? Like--like someone hot-wired themselves into your fantasy life and did everything, told you everything you ever wanted to hear?"

"My nightmares? Yes. But never my fantasy life." But she levered herself up pushing another cushion behind her back. "Clark--"

"I asked about you and him, okay?"

"Oh." Clark tries to check her expression, but she's doing that perfect mask again, the one like Lex's, the one that makes him remember again that, like Lex, her childhood hadn't been that great. They have, he thinks, a lot in common in their problems with their fathers. "What did you want to know? I would have told you, Clark."

Clark shrugs. "I--don't know."

"Still jealous? After all this time?"

Jerking his gaze around, Clark fixes on the impossibly dark eyes. No smile, nothing, just calm acceptance. "I wasn't--"

"Clark. I didn't get to be the best reporter in Metropolis, if not the country, by not paying attention." Making a soft noise, she takes a drink of water, gazing thoughtfully into the bottle as if it has all the world's best secrets ready for publishing. "After you became my partner, Lex wouldn't come to the newspaper anymore."

"I--didn't know that."

"He thought I didn't notice either." Shrugging, she takes another drink. "I asked you and you said there was nothing between you."

"There wasn't."

"Funny, he said the same thing." Putting the half-empty bottle of water down, Lois folds her hands on her stomach. "Ask me what you asked him."

"Why did you break up?"

"Because Lex wanted everything. Wants everything." It's the first time he remembers her using his name. "Because somewhere in his head is this idea of what his life should be, and I couldn't fit into that. And when I knew I couldn't, I had to leave."

"Were you in love with him?"

"Yes."

Taking a deep breath, Clark looks down at the foot resting innocently in his lap. Lois, his best friend, confidante, former enabler of Superman, mentor. Lex's ex. His life's never going to be simple. "It's not--"

"Do you remember the day we met?"

Clark jerks his head up, but Lois is examining her nail polish for flaws. "Yes. Why?"

"We argued and then you went off and got the Superman interview just to spite me." Her eyes dance when she looks up. "When Lex saw me at dinner, he laughed himself sick. Scared the waiter to death. Do you know what he told me?"

"I'm scared to ask."

"Learn to share." Grinning, she leans back into the cushions, watching his face.

Clark runs his fingertips absently over the tops of her feet, shaking his head sharply. "He--I never told him. About Superman. He figured it out--I don't know when--"

"About a month before we broke up," Lois says, like he should know this. Clark blinks, staring at her. "If I were guessing Lex's motivations for the sudden and inexplicable need to have me change jobs *and* get married when we'd barely negotiated when we'd be sleeping over and where." Flicking a nail at him, Lois smiles, but it fades slowly, seriously.

"What?"

"You were still at MetU when Lex and I started dating, so you probably don't remember a lot of the media frenzy. It's going to get worse for you, what with the guy thing. Frankly, I'm surprised he's being so open about it, especially with the senatorial races approaching. Third party candidacy is always a long shot, even with his money and popularity." Running her nails across the back of the couch, Lois considers. "You remember how careful he was with his last wife, right?" Clark nods. Not even a hint until the wedding was announced. "You're an investigative reporter, not a society reporter, so this is going to go a little differently than what you're used to. I've worked every department at least once, so lets cover this now. No interviews, I don't care what they promise, Clark. You're a Daily Planet reporter, my partner, and Lex Luthor's new interest. Those three things guarantee they'll be looking for shit on you. Do not comment on anything they say. Lex can handle photographers well enough, but he can't watch you twenty-four seven, though God knows, he tried with me." Snorting, Lois waves a hand at the futility of anyone thinking she couldn't handle herself. Clark has to agree. "In any case, you've been on the writing side, not the written-on side." Lois snickers. "You're going to hate reporters soon."

Clark laughed softly. "I can handle myself."

"I know." Her smile fades again. "I just want you ready. The Inquisitor follows Luthor like a vengeful ex-girlfriend, and with just that level of friendliness. Chloe's not going to talk, but anything she's said to Daniel about you is fair game. He has the ethics of a hungry shark and even less tact." Tapping a nail thoughtfully into the cushion, Lois frowns. "Normally, I'd say let Chloe do one interview to start things off--something positive and friendly, but--I don't think it's a good idea right now." Clark makes a mental note to ask her why later. "Lex's staff is incorruptible--we both know that--but your neighbors, friends, anyone else...." She leaves off with a long look, meaning plain.

"I can handle this."

"I know. I just wish Lex didn't show such uncharacteristic openness this fast. I had a few weeks to get used to the idea of being stalked before everything went public. Where are you going tonight?"

"Opera." Clark barely flushes. "Mom went to school with one of the sopranos or something and Lex thought I'd like to meet her while she's in town."

"You need a tuxedo." Lois, always ready with clothing advice.

"Lex ordered me one. It's supposed to be delivered here. Hopefully after the pizza." Clark grins as she pushes a heel into his thigh and starts rubbing her left foot again.

"So you out tonight?"

Now he blushes and Lois laughs. "I'll take that as a yes. My apartment was fumigated while I was gone. You care if I crash here?"

"Go ahead." Clark frowns a little. "Jimmy said he'd email--"

"I broke your passwords years ago. I'll check and see what comes up. Did you get the analysis back from the Fortress on Rhinestadt?"

Clark blinks in surprise. "Yeah, but I haven't done much more than skim it. Just basically, yeah, he's nervous, yeah, he's leaving something out, and he was sweating more than the average human of his size and fat to muscle ratio." Sighing, Clark slumps into the couch. "I wish I'd taught it to be more user friendly. You're welcome to chat with it. I sent the coordinates of the meteor shower, and it's been watching its approach, though the stuff isn't in range yet. Too much interference or something for anything other than there are a lot of big rocks."

Lois nods slowly, relaxing into the couch.

"If it's just to avoid panic--" Lois says softly, and Clark's head comes up sharply. She has that line between her brows, and she's fingering her bracelet. "I can get why they're not public if they're worried about another Smallville situation, but--"

"But?" He rubs his thumb into her arch meaningfully and gets a little kick in response.

"But. I'm thinking. I don't know. Cassius, who comes on board to head up LexCorp's medical staff, what--"

"Two years ago." Clark watches her straighten.

"Around the same time as Rhinestadt?" The dark eyes light up. "One doctor with a background in genetics who specializes in meteor mutants and runs Luthor's lab. One astrophysicist with a thing for wanting to know all about Superman." Lois' eyes glaze over. "Do you think Luthor's sharing the meteor mutant information with the government? What could happen if it is more Kryptonite that's going to hit?" The dark eyes narrow. "Or how to deliberately get--"

"Get useful mutations. Interesting ones." Human experimentation, Clark's worst nightmare in two simple words. He lets a breath out, falling into the couch again, Lois' feet forgotten. Lex said--but right, this is Lex, ambitious beyond words and not exactly moral in any sense Clark's ever heard of. "Lois--" It catches on the back of his throat, words he can't say, and his stomach turns over. He doesn't want to think. Lex wouldn't-- "Lois--no."

Lois looks up, wary. "Smallville--"

"No. Lex *is* one. So is Cassius. He wouldn't risk himself like that, and Cassius sure as hell wouldn't--" Clark watches Lois' expression turn thoughtful. "I'm betting that the government still doesn't know about the effects on Smallville. Lex did a pretty thorough clean-up the second he had enough resources and somewhere to store it. We would have heard about investigations in Smallville, disappearances. Nothing." Lex wouldn't let that information out at the most basic mercenary level--that's his edge, or one of them. He wouldn't risk it.

Lois nods slowly, lifting a thumbnail to chew absently, a long-broken childhood habit. She only does that when she's thinking hard. She's too proud of her nails otherwise. "But this isn't a coincidence, Clark." Straightening, the stockinged feet are pulled free of his lap. "Okay, your black shoes, the ones I got you from Saks? Those for tonight. Bring them here and let me make sure they look okay. God alone knows what you do to your clothes."

Lois switches mood like no one's business. He's not fooled. Somewhere in her mind is a huge game of connect the dots going on. She'll be glad when he's gone so she can concentrate, Clark thinks with a grin.

"My wallet's on the counter," Clark says. "Pizza should be here any minute. I'd better shower."

She waves a hand absently, reaching for her carry-on and unzipping it, pulling out her laptop. He watches her turn it on, already pulling up notes. "Run along. I want to go over a few more things before you go. Hurry."

"Aye aye, Captain." He laughs at her smirk and stretches, wondering if those shoes are still okay. They'd had a run in with a muddy field in Smallville a while back. With a little sigh, Clark pushes open his bedroom door and wonders what the opera will be like.

Lex hands Clark the tiny pair of--opera glasses.

"To see with," he explains, turning them carefully. "Otherwise, all you'll get is sound. Which is nice, but the woman you're looking for is going to be doing a solo and you might want to actually know what she looks like before dinner."

Clark nods, letting Lex show him how to hold them, vaguely aware that in the other boxes, people are watching. Behind them in the shadows, Mercy, flawless and frighteningly beautiful in dark purple, is polishing her gun with a lot of enthusiasm. Hope's standing just outside, tiny headset in one ear, while Lex's people take up key positions for watching out for sudden, random assassinations.

Clark thinks the opera would be a good place to do it, too. Lots of people, easy clear shots, and huge amounts of noise.

Lex is slouching into his chair, already bored. A bored Lex is a very scary Lex.

"You hate *Carmen*." Frankly, Clark's impressed he remembers the name.

"I hate the opera, symphony, name anything where you have to sit still three hours straight, and I'll wish for my own death." Lex flashes him a brilliant smile. The box doesn't seem quite so dark. "However, deals are negotiated everywhere and anywhere."

"Business." Right, because even recreation is business.

"Politics, too. Cassius told me you didn't pick up your results yet."

Clark puts down the tiny glasses, giving Lex a look. "Did you ask him what they said?"

"He's very into his entire doctor/patient confidentiality thing." Lex sounds both amused and frustrated. "But he said to tell you to pick them up, one, and two, not to worry, so I assume you aren't dying of anything."

"That's nice." So Clark's a coward sometimes. Needles and test results. Sighing, he leans back into the heavy leather chair, replaying the moment Lex had walked into his apartment and saw Lois. Quick flash--uncomfortable as hell in a way, amusing in another. Right, maybe not in love, but definitely something.

Maybe you never quite get over some old lovers, especially the ones you wanted to marry. Slumping a little, Clark tries to focus on the stage. Damn bad human eyesight.

Warm fingers close over his hand, and Clark looks up to see Lex watching him. "What?"

"Nothing." No smile, but the blue eyes darken. "Just wondering how visible this booth is to the rest of the place." The slow lift of one side of Lex's mouth makes Clark shiver, sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. Looking away, he fixes his gaze on the stage before his pants get tight.

The soft sound of a chair moving tells him Lex has shifted closer, the elegant fingers lacing through his. "Chloe's watching us." Lex sounds amused.

Clark tries to scan discreetly, but well, human eyesight. Sucks. Fuck. Lex leans to murmur in his ear, "Two o'clock, sitting with the editor of the Inquisitor, his wife, and her brother."

"Why--" Clark turns his head, and they're close enough to kiss. It takes everything in him not to do just that.

"Why do you think?" Lex grins, then does what Clark couldn't quite, brushing a kiss across his mouth before settling back. "You haven't talked to her yet?"

Clark grimaces. "Lois took my cellphone and said to worry about it tomorrow."

"Smart woman. There's Daniel. Ah, and look, he's with the mayor's daughter." Lex matches the wave, shaking his head. "He'll never be in Lois' class. Too blatant. Smile, Clark. Your picture is being taken."

"Am I blushing?" He can feel the heat in his cheeks, and it's not helping that Lex's thumb has started a suggestive rhythm in the center of his palm. Achingly slow circles, punctuated with a gentle press into the center, reminding Clark--

"Yes. Very prettily, too." Lex is laughing quietly. "Did Lois warn you?"

"Yes." Forcing his face to remain pleasant, Clark turns enough to see Lex's eyes. "I can take care of myself. I *am* a reporter, Lex. I'm sort of aware of how this goes."

"You're an investigative reporter. There's a difference between being asked, are you responsible for the latest radioactive spill in the Caribbean and being asked, does Luthor like to be on top or on bottom."

Okay, full blush time. "Jesus. How the hell did Lois handle it?"

Lex chuckles. "Dislocated jaw and two broken fingers."

"The reporter that asked?"

"Yes."

Clark can see it. Grinning a little, Clark surveys the room again. "How much security do you usually have?"

"This is higher than usual." Lex sounds slightly distant, like he's thinking about something else all of a sudden. "I didn't want this to be too bad for you."

Hmm. That's not all, though Clark thinks it's part of it, which is both warming and a little disturbing.

"Are you going to assign me bodyguards?"

Lex flashes a quick grin. "You won't know if I do."

Great. "What else do I have to look forward to?"

"Intermissions. People will come here. Chloe most likely as well. Take her down for champagne and have a talk with her if you want. Mercy's been assigned to watch you, so if anything goes badly--"

"She's my friend!" Clark hears the squeak in his voice and shuts his mouth tight. Lex gives him an amused look.

"Yes, she is, and her first instinct will be to protect you. From me, from anyone else. Her second instinct will be to get the story. She's in a bad place, personally and professionally. Lois doesn't cover this kind of crap, so she doesn't have the conflict of interest that Chloe's got as the Inquisitor's best reporter. But I'll bet you Lois called Chloe and gave warning to play carefully tonight." Lex leans back into his chair again, scanning the other boxes.

"She's got someone at The Daily Planet."

"Chloe's got someone everywhere." Lex's fingers tighten in his. "Lois told you no interviews, nothing on the record?"

"Yes." Clark frowns a little. "I don't--Lex, you're running for office--"

"Yes." Supremely unconcerned. So very not-Lex that Clark has to think how to approach this.

"You don't think, in Kansas, not exactly known for its support of political aspirants having anything resembling a sex life, it might have been smarter to be more discreet? What with the fact you just divorced your wife and a day later, you've already--"

"Yes and no." Lex frowns. "I can run again, if it comes to that, but I can't lose in Metropolis, and as for the rest of the state--" Lex shrugs. "LexCorp employs millions all over the world. The current incumbent has managed to fuck up their chances with the last session of Congress and that farming bill and he's too conservative for the current political climate attitudes." Okay, that's interesting. "Unless I'm found guilty of the murder of a hospital of orphaned babies, I really don't think I'll have any problems."

See, these are the moments Clark wonders about Lex's sanity.

"What about the presidency?" Like he doesn't know Lex's greatest ambition. It's nothing less than shocking that Lex shrugs.

"That's years away. By then they'll be used to you."

Something in Clark tightens instinctively, warm and frightening and a little dizzying, like looking down from the balcony at his apartment these days. "Lex--"

"Shh. It's starting." He's right, the lights are dropping and things are going on down near the stage. Picking up his opera glasses with his free hand, Clark tries to concentrate.

Lex is right about the intermissions. He's introduced to more people than he knew *existed*, and after this many years as a reporter, that's saying something. Lex's hand on his back is both grounding and somewhat disconcerting--this is Lex, guardian of his personal privacy to a truly obsessive degree, making no secret of the fact that only days after his divorce, he's dating.

Dating, by the way, a male. Reporter.

It's almost a relief when Chloe appears, pretty and sharp in silver silk, watching him from behind completely unreadable blue eyes. Lex leans over almost immediately.

"Go take her for a walk, Clark. Just be back here before the curtains open. Mercy will lead you back if you get lost."

Nodding, Clark slips away, the people parting magically before him--Mercy's good for that--and Clark takes Chloe's arm, painfully aware of all the eyes watching him as they go down the narrow hall. She's quiet until they're down at the lobby, and Clark takes a glass of champagne from a waiter with something like desperation, handing it over to Chloe before taking one himself.

He's going to need it, he thinks.

The blue eyes narrow as they glance around, then she pulls him toward a corner. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Clark?"

So many flippant responses, so many ways to get his toes broken by her very elegant heels. Taking a drink, Clark tries to think.

"I'm dating." Yes, that sounds--completely ridiculous. "You said I needed a life, after all." Right, turning this on her will work. Sure thing.

If possible, her mouth tightens even more. "Cut the crap, Clark. You know exactly what I mean. One minute, you're doing exposes for The Daily Planet, the next, you're fucking the subject of them?" Taking another drink, her eyes scan around behind him and instantly, she plasters on a bright smile. They're being watched. Got it. Dropping her voice even more, she continues. "Clark, what happened with you and Lois?"

"Nothing. Nothing ever happened, and God, what, do you and Lex have the same idiot working for you at the Planet or something?" God, Mom might have heard that rumor. He won't think about that now, though it puts a new reflection on her latest phone calls that he's been avoiding. "Look, Chloe--"

"You're dating a man--"

"I know exactly what I'm doing."

Taking a drink, Chloe's smile widens even further, revealing perfect dentistry. Clark breathes out, so glad he's not strong enough anymore to accidentally break the fine crystal currently clutched in his hand.

"You're compromising yourself as a reporter," she says very carefully, obviously going for another spot. A pretty good one, too. "Clark, everything you write from now on is suspect--"

"So I don't do any more exposes related to LexCorp. Believe it or not, news is made by other companies and organizations. I'm not going to be out of work or anything."

"Lois is compromised--"

"Oh please. Lois broke up with him--if anything, her integrity is above reproach just on that fact. My professional life and public life are separate, Chloe." Wouldn't Lois have said something? Clark shifts uncomfortably, taking another drink.

"This is a mistake and you know it, Clark. Daniel hasn't slept since that oh so fucking conspicuous little lunch date you two had yesterday." Clark flushes, but by the look on her face, she's not aware of the less conspicuous alley thing. "Your mom's called me four times to find out what on earth is going on. They've taken their phone off the hook, so you'll have to call on their cell phone. Do you have any idea--"

"You didn't notice I grew up, did you?"

Chloe snorts. "Not visibly." Her eyes fix on his collar suddenly. "I got an exclusive with Lex's ex-wife."

Clark's breath catches.

"Chloe--"

"If I don't run it, I'll be tainted, Clark. My editor is on my ass to get the first interview with you before Lois gets it--"

"She's investigative--"

"Yes, this is beneath her, I know the litany." Chloe's smile fades briefly before she replaces it. "Heads up, friend to friend. The former Mrs. Luthor is considering naming you as the reason her marriage fell apart. Now do you understand how serious this is?"

Clark really needs more champagne. Looking briefly at his empty glass, he glances around, waving over a waiter. Chloe takes one, too, and they sip and stare at the floor.

"How bad?"

"Bad enough. She's angry, Clark. Lex filed for divorce and pushed it through so fast she barely had time to wonder what the fuck was happening before the judge signed the order. Lex didn't even fight the prenup agreement, and he fought it the time before straight through the courts. Of course, Linda had the adultery thing, but--do you know how this looks?"

"Like he was getting rid of her."

"Yes. For you. How the fuck he got through all the red tape I have no idea, and how that judge thinks that blatant currying favor is going to help win re-election, even with all the money Lex probably paid him...." Chloe trails off, looking at the floor again. "Luthor's very good with his public image. If I didn't know better, I'd think he's slipping. This is going to be damaging as hell."

Clark takes a deep breath.

"You know what he is, Clark. Of all people--"

"I know." He really does, stuff that Chloe doesn't even know. So much. Finishing his glass, Clark spots Mercy coming toward them and takes Chloe's glass, handing both to a passing waiter. "Come on, I'll walk you back to your seat. Curtain--"

"Don't." She pulls away from his hand so fast Clark almost stumbles. "Daniel's over there and he's hoping for just that opportunity. You know what to do--"

"No comments, no interviews. Got it."

"Good." Stepping close, both arms go around him, sweet smelling Chloe with a hint of smoke and the thick musk of too many bodies in close confinement. "Be careful."

"I will."

"All right." She pauses, stepping back, suddenly uncertain. Something hardens as he watches. "Tell Lex the story runs tomorrow morning. He'd better have something good to counter it." With another bright smile, she walks away, stopping briefly at this group or another to chat, and Clark takes a breath, letting Mercy slide her arm through his. Deceptively fragile, but she's faster than anyone he's ever seen. Except Superman, of course, who doesn't exist. Now murmuring into her headset, hidden by the folds of hair and dress.

Lex looks--tense. Very tense, and Clark gets a glimpse of something like rage before he sees Clark. Nodding sharply at Mercy, Lex extricates himself from conversation as the first dim of the lights makes it clear it's time to get back to your seat. Lex's hand closes over his wrist as he talks, before turning away, eyes going all around the building before he settles back in his chair, pulling Clark down with him.

Hmm. Their chairs are very close together.

"Something wrong?" Clark asks lightly.

"I could ask you the same thing."

Tell Lex, she said. "An interview with your ex-wife is running tomorrow." Lex says something that's definitely not English or polite. "Senators' daughters take it personally when they're divorced without explanation."

"There's reason," Lex answers, mouth tightening. "Clever girl. Chloe did the interview?"

"Yes."

Lex's hand slides over his wrist, losing the death grip, becoming more absently caressing. "I'll handle it."

"There's no way you can pay off the editor for this one."

Lex laughs. "You're right about that. This will sell them out. No, I--" Lex shakes his head. "Fuck it. If she gets off playing victim, that's fine."

Clark takes a breath, about to mention the rest, but--no. There's no way she can prove anything about Clark being around to cause her marriage to fall apart--hell, Clark had been in the Arctic, staring at gold kryptonite when Lex had first filed the divorce papers. Settling back, Clark turns his hand over enough for Lex's fingers to skate across the palm, shivering a little at the feeling.

"How much longer?" he says quietly, and Lex gives him a slow, sleepy smile.

"I'll make it worth the wait."

Clark feels himself flush at the promise.

There's a chance he could be drunk.

More champagne at the opera. After that talk with Chloe, he'd needed it. But he'd forgotten, somehow, that with invulnerability went most of his resistance to alcohol. Dinner's at someone's house--a reception, Lex told him, for the cast, given by the governor's sister. Aperitifs, wine, and some sweet liqueur after capture his entire attention, and he knows he's talking too fast and laughing too loudly, but no one seems to mind.

Knows he's touching Lex *way* too much, just brushes against his shoulder or back or hand. On his thigh at dinner, making Lex smile over his wine and give him heated looks, and God, when Lex had pulled him into the hall after dinner, kissed him with the taste of red wine and smoke coating his mouth, Clark had--pretty much lost the battle against his libido.

He can barely remember meeting Elisa something or other, the woman who knew his mom, but then again, he *can* remember Lex murmuring in his ear that she was watching his ass when he went to the bathroom. Remembers sitting down on the arm of Lex's chair in this huge, dark den after dinner, fascinated by the thick, springy leather beneath him, and Lex playing with his fingers while someone was talking.

Remembers Lex's hand in his, leading him to the limo, and the casual goodbyes.

Which led to--now. Now, with Lex warm and willing under him, jacket unbuttoned, sucking on Clark's tongue and hands under his shirt, arching against him with every thrust of his hips. Clark doesn't even care that Mercy's sitting back here with them.

So yeah, he's very drunk.

Sitting up, Clark braces himself on both hands, panting softly. Lex, mouth swollen, face flushed, watches him with hungry fascination.

"You've never been drunk, have you?" murmurs Lex, drawing his nails down Clark's back.

Clark hears himself make a sound disturbingly like a giggle. "Tried, in college. Didn't last very long. And--not like this." Leaning down again, he brushes a kiss across the full lips, tasting Lex's tongue eagerly. Slim fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, one of Lex's legs sliding around his.

Everything feels different when he's drunk. The fabric of Lex's tuxedo coat is rough and thready, catching interestingly on the pads of his fingers, but the shirt beneath is pure silk that flows over his hands like water. Nothing on Lex's skin, though, everywhere his mouth can touch, so silky-smooth his lips slide over it effortlessly. Lex keeps making these sounds, small and helpless and sweet, every time Clark bites.

"I made a terrible impression, didn't I?" Clark whispers, untucking Lex's shirt and getting his hands underneath.

"Perfect," Lex whispers. "You were perfect."

"Goofy," Clark mumbles against the wet flesh of Lex's throat. "Hick."

"Gorgeous. Untouchable. Mine." And like that, he's on his back, Lex straddling his thighs, cock to cock. Rocking into him deliberately, expertly unfastening bow tie and collars, biting the bruises from the night before.

"Lex." His voice is shaking. He can't possibly be this hard this fast. It's against the laws of man and god, has to be. One hard kiss, a thrust of his tongue, and Lex pushes himself off, falling back to the seat with a deep breath. Damn. Clark forces himself to sit up, but Lex only pulls him gently back down until Clark's head is in his lap, long fingers stroking through his hair.

"You're going to be so sick," Lex murmurs. "Just wait until I can get some water into you."

Oh damn, another less than fun side effect. Sighing, Clark nods, enjoying the rasp of the material against his cheek.. Rubbing against it, feeling kind of like a cat. He's getting why animals *do* this so often against furniture and trash cans.

"...anything to report?" Lex is saying.

"No disturbances, sir."

"Lex."

"Lex." Mercy doesn't sound comfortable saying it. Clark closes his eyes, letting the dizziness slide over him like a warm blanket. Wonderful. He should definitely do this more often. "Is there anything else, Lex?"

"Tell me when we get home." A slow ruffle of Clark's hair follows, affectionate and soothing. Clark burrows closer. "It would be a lot more convenient if you lived with me, you know," Lex says to him softly, tracing his ear with one finger.

Clark grins and rolls on his back, staring up at Lex. "Okay, now you're freaking *me* out, and I don't *have* commitment issues. Lex, what is *with* you?"

Lex smiles his most blinding smile. "Clark. I like to move fast when I find something I want."

"There's fast and then there's the speed of light." Clark catches Lex's hand, drawing it to his mouth, licking the closest finger. Lex tenses wonderfully.

"I'm making up for lost time," Lex murmurs, leaning down to brush a kiss against Clark's forehead. "You have no tolerance for alcohol, do you?"

"None at all." Sitting up, Clark scoots backwards into Lex's lap, stopping his next words with a kiss. "I want you."

"I want to make sure you don't pass out on me tonight," Lex murmurs, but his hand is sliding in Clark's shirt again, flattening against his stomach. Clark smothers a groan and kisses again, wet and messy, putting his whole body into it. He can feel how hard Lex is under his leg and trails his fingers down the still-buttoned shirt, pausing at the waist.

Grins into darkening eyes and lets his fingers slide down, tracing the hard line of his erection through the pants.

"We're here, sir." Mercy, voice so neutral that you'd never think she was witnessing her boss being seduced right in front of her.

"Okay." Lex's voice, gravelly and low, widens Clark's grin. "Check for--"

"Security reports it's secure."

Lex's hands are in his hair, drawing him back down, a kiss slow and deep and impossibly sexy. He pulls back when the door opens, and Lex takes a sharp breath.

Climbing out of a limo with a painfully interested erection just isn't anywhere near easy, and Lex doesn't look too thrilled about it either. Mercy follows them into the elevator, rustling softly as she keeps a comfortable distance, enough for Clark to pretend she isn't there. Enough for Clark to feel absolutely comfortable running his hands down Lex's back, hands going to slim hips, pulling Lex back against him, sucking just behind his ear.

"Clark." Murmured, hands covering his, but definitely not pulling away. Definitely nothing like it, rubbing up against him through his pants, and Clark shudders, biting down into the thin skin of Lex's throat. "You're going to kill me."

Whatever. Like he doesn't know Lex's sex drive by now. Grinning, Clark runs his tongue over the bite in soft apology, finding another spot to worry with his teeth.

The ding of the elevator is a huge annoyance.

"Fuck," Clark murmurs, drawing back, but the hands on his stop him from moving too far. Mercy goes out first--hmm, this is new--then Lex follows after a single glance, pulling Clark behind him.

Mercy's the one to put in the codes, unlocking the door for them, and as they pass her, Clark hears her murmuring something into her headset. Code. Probably something like, Elvis is in the building, or, the pigeon has landed. Penguin maybe?

Lex is looking at him funny when he starts giggling.

"Come on, let's get some water in you," Lex murmurs, grinning back. Two lefts and they're in the darkened kitchen. Lex flips on the low lights over the island, kicking off his shoes as he pads to the refrigerator.

Cool tile and metal under his hands. Clark looks around the room with purely human eyes. Too dark to see clearly, though it's huge and imposing, like the one at the castle in Smallville. More modern, though, and then a bottle of water is pressed into his hand.

"Drink all of it," Lex murmurs into his ear. "Trust me, hangovers are no fun at all."

"You've had them?" With Lex's healing, he'd think--

"Yes." Lex opens the bottle Clark's holding and pushes it toward his mouth. "With application and dedication, it's perfectly possible for me to get very, very drunk."

Clark takes a drink, watching Lex watch him. "I want to see."

"Me drunk?" Lex's own bottle of water is forgotten on the counter--hands on either side, trapping Clark. "I can arrange that." Lex leans forward, brushing his lips against the exposed skin of Clark's collar. "Finish the bottle."

As quickly as he can, oh yeah. Clark nods, shivering with every light, almost chaste touch of lips on skin, feeling a little dizzy and too hard to think. The water's gone before he knows it, leaving his hands empty--totally unacceptable. Much better to reach for Lex, turn them around, lifting him easily onto the counter with simple human strength.

Simple, easy, and Clark fixes his gaze on the bulge in dark trousers, breathing sharply through his nose.

"Clark." Breathless. A plea and a demand and a question all at once. The belt comes loose almost too easily, making up for the inner and outer buttons that refuse to come loose. Clark stares at them hard, wondering if ripping is an option. "Here. Let me--"

Elegant, shaking fingers--that's hot, knowing Lex wants him that much, hot to watch Lex, careless of expensive material and dignity, and Clark hears himself make an unrecognizable sound when Lex gets the zipper down, pushing Lex's hands aside. Taking the waist of the pants, Clark pulls down sharply, Lex lifting enough to help. Boxers next, and then hands are in his hair and Clark goes down with relief.

Fast, hard stretch of his mouth, heavy weight on his tongue, and that taste--free of the perfumes and scents of smoke and dinner and a night out, just Lex and some powdery soap, and Clark swallows, taking him completely. Loves the way Lex mutters, fingers twisting in Clark's hair, little breathless pleas and snatches of sentences that are half gasp, half groan. Lex, arching into him and holding tight and Clark feels it, all of it. Sharp pulls of his hair that go straight to his cock, bruising roughness of fucking his mouth on Lex's cock, raw and addictive and perfect. Holding Lex's thighs open with both hands, tight and hard, humming softly when he feels Lex stretch out on the counter. The visuals in his head are hot, but he'd love to see this, see Lex's face and Lex's body now, twisting and arching, growling and helpless.

He works a finger into his mouth, getting it wet, half-high off the sounds he's getting out of Lex. More than high off being able to do this at all. Lex twists again and Clark pulls up his legs, working the damp finger in slow circles around his hole, ignoring the difficulties of pants that keep trying to get in the way.

Pulling off, Clark laughs at the sound of Lex's shocked gasp.

"Don't you dare stop."

Shoes, off. Socks, gone. Pants and boxers, discarded on the floor, and Lex is just lying there, half-naked, gorgeous and flushed and hard and almost pleading, but not quite. Clark presses Lex's heels up onto the counter, spread thighs an invitation, sucking two fingers deliberately into his mouth. Lex's eyes are on him with utter, perfect focus, drowning everything else out.

"Clark--" And God, Lex is whining, completely sexy. Clark laughs again, leaning close enough to breathe on the blood darkened head, letting his fingers tease lightly at Lex's sac before sliding behind. Just---playing, tongue coming out to lick lightly, and Lex arches, trying to get more. "Son of a bitch...."

"Shhh." Goes down and pushes both fingers in at the same time--sweet stretch and Lex's voice cuts off on an indrawn hiss, hips pushing against him. Lex's hands in his hair again, and it's like begging, don't stop, never stop, and Clark wonders how long he can keep Lex like this, twisting and gasping and needy. Maybe for a long time, maybe forever, and both sound great.

But. A twist of his fingers and he swallows, and Lex arches hard, almost impossible to keep him down, a ragged yell that's some corruption of Clark's name, coming hard. Clark pulls back enough to catch the taste, sucking, drawing out the shudders and gasps, then bringing him back down, slow and sweet.

Half-tempting, the idea of just crawling up on the counter and curling all around Lex, but Clark contents himself with a grin buried in Lex's stomach, riding out the shudders.

Long, long moments before the hands in his hair loosen, lazily petting.

"Jesus Christ," Lex murmurs, and Clark turns enough to look up. Dazed blue eyes, red mouth, and slick, flushed skin. "You--" A breathless chuckle follows, and Clark gives up, knee on the edge of the counter, bracing himself on his elbows over Lex, leaning down to kiss him. Still hard, but he can wait for Lex to catch up again. Slick arms slide around him, working under tuxedo jacket and shirt, hands sliding up and down his back. "I should get you drunk more often."

Clark grins, carefully lowering himself until he can feel Lex, bare skin and ruined tux. Closes his eyes and listens to the slowing beat of Lex's heart.

Drunk can be pretty damn good.

Lois chews gum and works on her computer just in front of him. Like any other day. Mail people come and go bearing mailish things. Just like always. Keyboards clatter and voices raise and fall, stories are written, investigations planned, interviews typed up. People are busy.

So why does he feel like *everyone* is staring at him?

That would possibly be the double shot of *The Inquisitor* and *The Star*, both of which someone with a sick sense of humor and far, far too little decency left on his desk.

The slow roll of a chair interrupts his contemplation of the papers. That's Lois, probably wondering why he's still staring at his desk. One manicured nail skims the cover, flicking his vision with sparkles of deep blue. "You beat the bat-boy found in the wilds of the Arizona desert for front page news," Lois remarks casually, tapping the smaller picture in the lower right-hand corner. He and Lex, that one quick kiss in the box at the opera, immortalized in brilliant color, takes up the rest of the space. Because that is how Clark's luck is running. "They say he's lived his entire life eating scorpions and mice he caught with his little claws."

Clark's less appreciative of Lois' humor than usual. Glaring at her, he shoves both papers aside, looking down at his keyboard, then his monitor. Email from Mom, Dad, Chloe, Pete, some from people he hasn't seen since high school or graduation from college, and Daniel. He deletes that one with something like triumph. Only a hundred or so to go. "Jimmy hasn't emailed yet."

"No," Lois answers, getting another piece of gum. "You got a call before you came in." Popping the gum in her mouth, she chews cheerfully, obviously enjoying his twitches. "A Dr. Cassius."

Fuck. "Great."

Lois frowns slightly, then leans over to her desk, stretching one arm and picking up a small sticky note from her monitor's screen. "He wants you to call him back. It sounded urgent."

Clark looks up in time to meet very serious eyes. "Urgent-now or urgent-it'll-keep?"

"Urgent-now." Cracking the gum, Lois studies him. "Chloe give you a hard time last night?"

Picking up his pencil, Clark considers his notebook, tapping. He has a lot of pages of circles now. "Not as much as I expected. Don't tell me--she used it up on you."

"We had a lovely little chat, yes." Quick, sharp smile. Clark wonders what was said. "The things I do for you. Did you read the interview of the former Mrs. Luthor yet?"

"No." It's been a long morning. Low grade headache from the moment he woke up, then forced to pry himself loose of smooth, slick skin and a sleepy, touchable Lex wrapped around him. Work hadn't seemed that important, especially with Lex murmuring phrases like 'shower sex' and 'call in sick'. Aspirin's helped with the headache, but his skin misses Lex.

Is there a reason he came to work today? A good one? Right, that masochistic thing. Just not quite masochistic enough to see what the lovely Lydia Luthor has to say about him in *The Inquisitor*.

Lois reaches to take his pencil--he's tapped hard enough to break the lead. Tucking it behind her ear, she dusts off the paper, and he notes the tiny indentations he left. "Lydia isn't done yet, Clark. Lex could have handled this a lot better."

Glancing up, Clark watches her eyes fix on his monitor. Thinking hard. "What do you think?"

"Think?" Lois looks up, a strand of hair sliding in front of her eyes. She flips *The Inquisitor* off the front page of Lydia's lovely, stoic face, to the interview within. Skimming down with her fingernail, she hits the line. His name jumps out like bold print. "I think the fact Lex filed the day you arrived in the Arctic is suspicious in itself."

"Okay, that made no sense."

Lois looks up. "Clark, he thought you did it--what, for me?"

"Yes."

"But he knew when you left. He knew what you were going to do."

"He guessed." And *how* had Lex guessed? No one knew about gold kryptonite. God, Clark hadn't known until he found it.

"He's in a marriage that's politically and socially ideal--her father the former and extremely popular retired senator, her mother the granddaughter of a president, Metropolis socialite, a lauded architect in her own right, a graduate of Yale--shit, considering this is Lydia, I wouldn't be surprised if she were a dyed in the wool virgin as well--do you really need me to explain?"

Clark's mouth tightens. "No."

"Why throw that away?"

"He said he had reason." Though with Lex, that doesn't really say much.

"What if that reason was you?" Her nail skids down the page, fingers closing over his, white knuckled on the edge of the desk. "Did you ever consider that?"

No. He really hadn't. Breath catching, Clark stares blindly at the interview, unable to read a word. "Lois, I know him. He'd never let--even if Lydia was purely political, even if--"

It would be like Lex going to Superman and saying, I've decided to give up this immoral and unethical way of life. I plan to join a monastery and take vows of poverty. In Tibet. With sheep. Please devote everything I own to charity. Good-bye.

Lex would not--*would not*--give up his future for anything or anyone. Not at twenty-one, not at thirty-three.

"It's like--"

"Like he's stopped caring," Lois says, testing the words between her teeth. Her eyes are fixed on the article. Something's working behind her eyes, and Clark would give a lot to figure out what that is. "Like someone's who's just gone through a lifechanging experience--"

Clark just can't see Lex herding sheep in Tibet. It doesn't compute. "I--" He's folding the papers, tucking them under one arm, standing up. Glasses, check. Coat. Where-- "I need to--"

"Your coat's still on," Lois says calmly. "You have an interview with Cassius for a story we're writing and will be out until after lunch. I'll tell Perry."

"You're--"

"Amazing. Breathtaking. The love of your life if you were straight. I know the litany. Go ahead. God knows, you won't be any use to me today." Leaning back, she picks the pencil from her hair, then turns to her keyboard, already typing. "I'll watch for Jimmy's email."

Clark ignores all eyes that watch him leave, staring at the elevator's bright numbers.

"Mr. Kent!"

Fuck the secretary. Screw security. And damn the elevators for moving so fucking slow while he's at it. The uniformed LexCorp security officers don't actually stop him, even hinder him really, which somehow seems to be the biggest thing of all. He was a kid the last time he had these kinds of privileges, when he never knew what they meant.

"Where is he?"

Charity's mouth opens on a breath, then she glances down at her desk. Fighting her instincts, maybe, then she looks up.

"Gym. Third floor." She reaches into her desk, and Clark tenses for no reason he can figure out. But all that comes out is a card. "This will get you through security. Mr. Luthor ordered--"

"Thanks." Snatching the card from her hand, he turns around, sweat breaking out across his forehead--has he been running?--drying cold on the back of his neck, under his shirt. He cards into the elevator--by now, Charity's called down, Lex probably knows he's coming. Mercy and Hope might stop him.

He wonders if he'll let them. He could have his first trip to the hospital today.

People stop to stare when he passes, or he thinks they do, but he's not stopping to survey. Down this hall, through that door, he knows LexCorp Towers inside and out--Superman did, anyway, and Clark still has the knowledge. Two of Lex's security watch him approach from either side of the double doors but make no move to stop him, and he pushes inside, not even bothering to flash the card.

Mercy hits the matted floor with a gasp and Lex comes up on one knee, flushed, sweating, blue eyes alive with the high he knows Lex loves best. Like sex, maybe, more than the refined power of money and business and politics, this--one on one, pure body and instinct, action and reaction. The place Lex stops thinking and just feels.

Mercy's panting, arm jerked up between her shoulder blades, Lex's knee in the center of her back. Hope's watching, but Clark can see the fresh bandages on her wrist, the taped knee beneath the lycra, faint bruising around one eye.

A second where Clark can almost see the struggle going on under Lex's skin--pure unleashed aggression, and he's not done, not nearly, and instinct sends Clark back a step against the closed doors in a stuttered step. Two short breaths and Lex's head goes down, control re-established.

Barely.

"Done," Lex murmurs. "Up." Letting go, he steps back and Mercy rolls on her back, coming up on one arm. There's too much--something--in the room. Superman was invincible--he didn't get high off of kicking someone's ass, no challenge, no--human instinct. No desire to, really. Or his parents training, the strict limits Clark set on himself years before, knowing who and what he was, what he could do without even meaning to.

Clark *is* human now, though, and it's a shock to feel it. Surge of adrenaline and shock of raw aggression--Jesus. Breathing out, Clark leans into the door. Lex gives him a slow smile that doesn't hide the danger at all.

Being Superman so long apparently kept him immune to the fact that Lex radiates purely physical threat as thoroughly and completely as he does everything else. Wow.

"You're both dismissed. Go get checked and changed." Lex rubs his wrist absently, then pulls Mercy to her feet.

"Yes, Lex." Lex picks up a towel from the floor, eyes fixed on Clark as the women disappear out a different door.

"You need something, Clark?"

Yes. But he's not sure what anymore. Wiping his forehead, Lex drops the towel again, and Clark from somewhere distant notes the taped knuckles, the bruises forming on one wrist in the elegant shape of Mercy's fingers, vivid against the pale skin. Faded bruises from Clark's mouth peek out from under the collar of the shirt, behind one elegant ear. It's a strange sort of thrill to see it.

"Water?" Lex is pacing to the back of the room--banked, whatever it was in him, but not gone, and Clark takes another slow breath, following Lex through another small door. Lounge, if anything this utilitarian can be called one, refrigerator and bare metal table, and Lex takes out two bottles, tossing one at Clark, before leaning into the table on one hip. "I'm going to go out on a limb and say you're not happy with the articles."

"I didn't read them." Much. He'd skimmed on the bus, too aware that curious eyes were fixed on him, maybe half-recognizing him from *The Star*'s cover. "I--why did you divorce your wife?"

Lex's eyebrows jump, like it wasn't exactly the question he was expecting. "Why does it matter?"

"Don't play with me, Lex. You filed when I went to the arctic. Tell me it's unrelated."

Lex grins, uncoiling with liquid grace. "It's not unrelated."

Jesus. Vows of poverty are coming next. This is--completely wrong, and Clark can't even wrap his mind around it.

Lex is close enough to breathe--sweat, totally male, like when they fuck, but edged differently. He doesn't even know he's going to do it until he catches Lex's hand just as it touches his face, wrapping his fingers around Lex's wrist, squeezing too tightly over Mercy's bruises, and Lex catches his breath. Jerking long fingers from his skin, and when the blue eyes meet his, it's--

Really fucking good, actually.

"You know, most people would be flattered."

"I'm not most people." Though that's there, too, and he's not happy about it. Not happy about that strange little part of him that's getting off on the idea. A different part from the one that can't imagine any Lex Luthor at any age doing what this one's doing without so much as a hesitation. There's got to be a better reason.

Lex twists his wrist free, almost effortlessly, and Clark staggers a little. Staggers more with the push that puts him back in the gym, and Lex is watching him.

"You didn't do it for me."

"You have no idea what I'd do for you." Walking out, Lex tosses the almost-full bottle aside. It hits the wall, splattering it with water before a drop to the floor. Clark tears his eyes away to watch Lex's slow approach. "I divorced my wife--and you have no idea how much that judge cost me to get everything through before Lydia could slow me down. I'm risking my political future and my social standing, not to mention stock prices. Three hours ago, Hope delivered to Lydia what she had better hope is her last communication from me regarding any future public comments on either of us. I think I got the point across."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted you."

And that's a *reason*? It's like--Clark wants to sit down and think, wants to pace, wants to leave, but more than anything else right now, he wants--

The next push unbalances him, sends him to the floor and Lex is--Lex is so fucking amused.

"This isn't you." It's years ago, though--carefully hoarded memories, some good, some not, but Lex hasn't risked everything for anyone since--since.... "Not since--not since--" It's hard to say her name. "Not since Desiree."

Lex nods. "That was for you, too. Didn't you ever guess?"

No. Yes. Maybe. Raising himself on his elbows, Clark wonders who he's looking at. Cold businessman, Superman's enemy, ambitious Lex, Clark's lover, all parts melding together and none at all. He doesn't know him at all, and knows everything there is to know. "Why didn't you tell the government who I am when you were telling them all my weaknesses?"

That Lex expected, from the widening smile, and this day can't get any more surreal. "I'd do anything for you."

"You spent years trying to kill me!"

Lex drops into a crouch, and their eyes meet. This is fear, Clark thinks, with the first shock of it, hitting him like a two by four to the back of the head. This is what people see when they look at Lex, when they understand what's under all the polish and the glitter and the charm. This is what's sensed, and it's instinct and it's self-preservation, and Clark can't imagine how he missed it before.

"You're mine. Alive or dead, Clark, I wasn't giving you up to anyone else."

From anyone else, it wouldn't make sense. Anyone else wouldn't have that kind of dichotomy in their head, but Lex had Lionel Luthor to train him and Clark Kent to lie to him, Smallville to screw with him.

It's terrifying and sickening and arousing as hell. How Lex can focus everything he is, all that emotion and need and blatant want like a weapon and turn it on, just like that.

"I--I can't--" He doesn't want to. He doesn't want to want that, to know this, but he does, too. There's never been anyone like Lex, even close.

"Yes, you can. And you want to." Lex is close enough to breathe now. Moving when Clark wasn't looking, hand on Clark's knee. "I've had years, Clark. If there was a way out, I'd have found it."

That Clark knows.

"I wanted you when I met you," Lex whispers. "I wanted you when you were my friend, when you were my enemy, when I hated you, and when I fought you. Nothing's ever changed between us but our battlefields. You know that."

"You think because I'm human--" Can he accept this? Maybe he already has. Somehow, when he hadn't even known he was doing it.

"The war's over, isn't it?" Both hands on his knees, spreading his legs effortlessly. Clark thinks he should pull away. He can't quite make himself do it. "You can write your articles about me and you can argue with me and you can fight with me and anything else you want to do, and maybe you'll even change my mind, but you'll be here and you'll be mine when you do it."

Yes, this would have scared Lois to death, even the implication. He's getting it now. "You want everything."

"Yes."

Too--much to think about, and he should leave. Lots of shoulds and musts crowd his head that have his father's voice, Chloe's voice, even Pete's now, but they're faded from this room, from the brilliant reality of the man kneeling between his legs.

"What--did you tell Lydia?" It's the last thing on his mind. It doesn't even enter the equation, because he can guess, maybe already knows. How Lex handles threats to himself, to his property. There's dead bodies littered behind him like a trail, and some might have Clark's name on them.

No, some *do*. He knows about that, too.

"That I'll protect you," Lex murmurs, both hands braced on the floor on either side of Clark's hips. Like some exotic cat let out to play after too-long confinement, Lex crawls his body, the drag of cloth between them barely noticeable. Lex could be touching his bare flesh. Coming to stop over him, staring down with perfect focus and nothing hidden at all. "From her, from anything she does. You, your friends, your family. That anyone she thinks she can touch she'll pay for."

"Would she? Do that?"

Lex's sharp grin is a good answer. "She was my wife for three years. You think she didn't learn some things from me?"

Clark shivers under the calm surety. This is--way above his head. This isn't what he expected, though maybe he should have, but then again--then again Lex was right. He hadn't known everything.

He still doesn't.

"Scared yet?"

"Do you want me to be?"

Lex has to think about it. Eyes narrowing, weighing the pros and cons, and for some reason, that--that, normal Lexness, doing his mental balance sheet, brings back something like equilibrium.

Clark chokes on little laugh--it's hysterical and it's completely wrong, but he lays back on the rough matting and just goes with it. Because everyone was right--Dad, Chloe, Pete, Smallville, every warning, all of it, in ways that even as Superman he hadn't gotten, but--they were right.

And he doesn't care.

"Clark?" Polite inquiry and impatient order all at once. Clark shakes his head slowly, calming down by breaths, finally looking up into blue eyes he recognizes--a severely puzzled and slightly put out Lex who isn't at all happy about Clark acting completely out of what he'd expected.

"You got my lease canceled, didn't you?"

"As of nine o'clock this morning, I own your building." Lex leans down enough to brush a lazy kiss across his mouth. "I was badly cheated, but I was in a hurry."

"Yeah."

The look changes, becoming gentler. More familiar "I'll give you until the end of the month."

"Son of a bitch," Clark breathes, and pushes Lex off, but even Lex falling is too elegant to be called a sprawl. Controlled tumble landing beside him, and Lex lifts himself on one arm, obviously surprised, still amused, and far too confident. Like he knows. "You can't control my life, Lex."

Lex grins. "I'm just trying to expand your options."

See, Superman didn't have these kinds of problems.

"My life was supposed to be less complex," Clark says, staring at the ceiling. "One identity, a normal life, maybe some dates, and late night television. You know. What normal people can do."

"You'd get bored very fast."

Clark turns his head. "How would you know?"

With a sigh, Lex reaches out, tracing along the line of his jaw. Clark doesn't pull away. "I know you."

"Do you?" It scares him that Lex very well might, better than Clark knows him. Maybe better than Clark knows himself.

"I've had time to think." The little smile's back. "And I'm making it very simple. Think about it. No long, boring dates trying to find whatever passes for your one true love, worrying about commitment and children and taxes and mortgages, deciding between public and private schools, and fights over who takes the trash out every morning."

"Right. You're so much simpler." Ambition, ruthlessness, more than a touch of megalomania, maybe a psychotic break or two--and man, wouldn't that explain a lot right now?

"I don't want that much, Clark." Clark lets his look speak for itself. Lex sighs softly, the touch firming, slicking lightly through his hair. "You're making this complex." Sitting up, he gets easily to his feet, extending a hand. "Come on. I'll buy you a late breakfast. Why does it matter why I divorced Lydia?"

That's a good question. Warily, Clark lets Lex pull him to his feet, straightening his coat. "If I asked why the government's so interested in Superman and why LexCorp is suddenly so interested in helping it out, would you tell me the truth?"

The blue eyes narrow in thought. "It--has nothing to do with you, Clark, any of it." A little shrug that could mean anything at all.

"I'm going to find out." So much for discretion. Lois is going to kill him.

Lex gives him a narrow, thoughtful look, but the amusement's still there. Oh fuck you, Lex.

"Clark, I don't doubt it at all."

"How convenient," Lois says over pasta, stabbing at the innocent bowl like she's envisioning Clark's head. He swallows hard, tearing his into his breadstick. "Oh! Did you say, hey, I know *all* about that link between Cassius and Rhinestadt, and here are my notes. And by the way, I've got a friend working *right now* to find out what's up, so why don't you make some calls and put some roadblocks in his way?"

Clark supposes he deserves this.

"Jesus, Kent. You *know* better. Did you seriously think he'd tell you?"

Clark looks up. "Would you believe me if I said I was looking for a reaction?"

"No. You were pissy at your boyfriend and said too much. Or--" Lois brutally stabs a meatball. "How did he react?"

"Weird." When Lois looks up, anger defusing in interest, Clark shrugs. "He's not worried, that much I could tell. Which is--"

"I think we've established Luthor is acting bizarrely. Further commentary on the subject isn't necessary." Lois twirls her fork in the spaghetti, mouth pursed in concentration. "Did the Fortress have an estimate on the size of the meteors? At this point, I'm open to any suggestions on why the government and LexCorp are doing this."

"Alien invasion?" Clark says, and Lois gives him a frown. "Right. No, the Fortress says the sizes seem to be well within the safety zone and the planet's defensive capabilities." Stabbing at a slice of zucchini, Clark wonders if it would be worth the aggravation and try to hack into Lex's computer. Not that Lex would leave anything even vaguely incriminating on it. "This isn't adding up at all."

"No," Lois answers slowly. She's staring at the bowl again, but the dark eyes are unfocused. "The planet's defensive capabilities.... Clark, how big is the biggest piece?"

"What?"

Lois drops her fork. "How big? Did the Fortress say how big?"

Clark opens his mouth, then shuts it. "I have the exact figures on my computer. I didn't memorize them or anything. What?"

"They're not moving weapons onto the space station," Lois says slowly. "They're all on the ground. I'm--" Lois shakes her head sharply. "Jimmy's got to have something by now. I'll call and see if I can, for once, not get his voicemail." With a sigh, Lois takes a bite, chewing contemplatively. "So how was your morning?"

"I'm getting why you broke it off," Clark answers, stirring the zucchini slowly in its butter.

Lois' head tilts slightly as she puts down her fork. "And you wonder why I don't have a permanent lover."

Clark's head jerks up. "Who says this is permanent?"

"Please. You don't have casual sex. You never have. Hence your lack of a love life for so long." Lois swirls her fork in the spaghetti sauce, then shakes her head. "Come on, Clark. If all you wanted was sex, there are a hell of a lot less--obsessive fields you could be exploring. Instead, what, four days in, you're accepting a date from the one man in Metropolis whose been obsessed with you *and* your alter-ego, for what, most of your life?"

There are times he really doesn't like her much. "I didn't know--"

"What you were getting into? I'd buy that from anyone else. Not from you." Lois shrugs elegantly, taking another delicate bite. "Are you in love?"

Clark's fork skids on the plate, screeching long loud enough for Lois' eyebrows to jump, mouth quirking slightly. Clark bites down hard. It still hurts when he does that. He's got to break the habit. "Point taken."

"What are you afraid of?"

Lex? No. He's been scared *for* Lex, scared of what Lex could *do*, fucking terrified of the things Lex has achieved, but Lex himself? Clark thinks carefully, trying to find a way to say it. "The same thing that scared me when we met. He takes over everything. He wants everything. He doesn't even--I don't think he realizes that--" Clark stops. "Normal people--"

"Normal is overrated." Lois breaks a breadstick in half, dipping it into the bowl of olive oil at her elbow. "Clark--"

"He makes me want to compromise." Clark keeps his eyes fixed on his plate. This, Lois will never really understand. "He always has."

Lois lets out a slow breath. "How much?"

"Why do you think Superman and Lex Luthor are enemies?" Clark asks, pushing his fork aside. "I--" He stops, leaning his head into his hands. "That was safety, you know. Crap. Simpler life my ass. My life was a hell of a lot simpler before."

"You weren't happy."

Clark looks up. "Do I look happy now?"

Lois' slow smile worries him. "You look like someone who is worrying about the wrong things. Don't let him bully you."

"Okay, I know this is a stupid question, but in between fucking him, did you ever, you know, *talk* to him?"

The quick flare makes Clark wince. Yes, this is productive. Piss off the best friend. Running desperately between major crises is beginning to be pick up a glow of nostalgia. Right, he didn't sleep well and he was starting to contemplate Tibetan monasteries, but at least he hadn't felt like everything was falling out of his control.

"In the spirit of our continuing friendship, I'll overlook that." Lois' voice is very even, very cool, that hot temper in severe check. Glancing down, he can see what it's costing her in the slow dig of her nails into the table's edge, cutting through the tablecloth. A long second passes in utter silence.

"I'm sorry."

"I know." The scratch of the chair jerks Clark's head up, and he watches Lois throw her napkin onto the table. "I have a source at MetU who has some information about the meteor shower. I'd better get over there before she changes her mind."

"I'm supposed to go with you." Clark fumbles for his wallet, finding a credit card by touch. He has to hope it's not maxed out.

"Not now." Drawing in a breath, Lois pushes the chair in carefully. "I love you. You're my best friend. Right now is not a good time. Look, call your parents and tell them that you're in the middle of a major story and you'll explain things later. Take a nap. Get in touch with Jimmy and get that information from him so we have something to go on here. Go for a walk. I really don't care. But don't even try to pass off this crap about how you aren't strong enough to deal anymore just because you're sticking to one identity." Stepping back, he watches her take another breath, mouth softening. "I'll call if anything comes up."

A quick turn, and the heels click in quiet rhythm as she leaves. Sighing, Clark hands the credit card to the waiter that appears at his wave.

The leftover zucchini looks up at him forlornly from his plate. Clark picks up his fork and pushes it in the butter, wondering if he could have handled this better. That would pretty much be a yes.

It's close to ten when the knock on his door makes him straighten. Hitting pause on the remote, Clark pads to the door, absently dropping it on the recliner by the door. When he opens, Lex is looking at him with a curious expression.

"I got your message."

For once, Lex doesn't look like he's about to go to a meeting. Lex-casual, beige slacks and white shirt, open at the collar. Beneath the cuff of his shirt, though, Clark can see his real hand is wrapped from knuckles to wrist.

"Come in." Clark steps back, looking at Lex in the better light of his living room. Fading green high on one cheekbone and pale violet around one lip. He heals fast, but there are limits, Clark knows. "What have you been doing?"

"I needed stress release," Lex says absently, looking around. Left leg, Clark thinks, noting the give in his knee, barely perceptible, and this has got to be weird as hell, because he's never, ever seen Lex injured outside their fights. "Your mother decorated, didn't she?"

The gingham curtains probably gave it away. Clark nods, closing the door and pushing the bolt into place, turning to watch Lex pace to the middle of the room. "Stop looking like you're wondering what this will look like when you've torn down the building and replaced it with a parking lot. Are you okay?"

Lex lifts his wrist, wincing when he turns it slightly. "I had a bad fall on the floor after lunch. It's a clean break. A few days and it'll be fine." An eyebrow quirks. "You've done worse."

Well, yeah. Backing off a step, Clark wonders what to say. I'm sorry, I didn't actually mean to throw you into a wall when you were doing your 'I am going to destroy this puny building with my super cool dynamite unless you accede to my demands' routine. Total accident you broke your femur and hey, all those concussions? Sorry about those, too.

"I never asked," Clark says slowly, unblinking as Lex studies him. "Do you always train with them?"

"Yes." Nothing else needed to be said, and Clark wonders how many years and breaks it was before Lex could pin Mercy like that. "They taught me and they're not afraid to hurt me to get the lesson across." Lex flexes his hand and doesn't wince. "I appreciate that."

"You hired them when you left Smallville." Clark still isn't sure about the chronology on acquiring them. One day they were just there, like they'd always been around, slipping so smoothly into position that Clark sometimes has trouble remembering Lex without them.

"That's--an unusual way to put it." Lex's head tilts. "Why are you interested?"

"I asked Mercy once." Back when Clark was still working out what the hell was going on, how life had gotten to the point where he had two identities, a mortal enemy, and a faint sense that this wasn't exactly what he'd been envisioning at sixteen when he thought about the future.

"Interesting. Did she answer?"

"No." Clark hesitates. "I--it's just--I've never fought you. Not on a level playing field. It didn't--I didn't know--" That Lex could *do* that. In theory, he knew Lex had started training from sheer self-defense. Smallville was educational that way. But Mercy and Hope had scared Clark as Superman, utterly careless of the cost if they thought they could hurt him. He can't even imagine Lex willing to take having the shit beat out of him daily until he was good enough to beat them.

"You thought I hired them because I couldn't protect myself?" Lex nods almost as if to himself, a little smile hovering at the corner of his mouth. "That's the correct impression."

That's Lex, won't give anything away. Clark stares at him. "Did I ever scare you?"

"No."

"Even knowing--" Clark stops, looking down at his hands. They used to be able to lift cars, tear through concrete, turn coal into diamonds. "I--never thought about it. Before now. You knew what I could do, Lex, even before I became Superman. It never scared you?"

"No."

"Why the hell not?" He's not scared of Lex, he can't be--but as Superman, this never came up. Kryptonite could hurt. Nothing else did. Now there's papercuts and bruised knees and stubbed toes. There's Lex, *pushing* him--and him falling. Unable to stop himself, and people can do this to him anytime they want. "Jesus. How do--"

Lex takes two steps, crossing the distance between them effortlessly, too fast for Clark's body to get time to flinch, and he's glad about that.

"How do I what?" Lex doesn't touch him, maybe sensing that Clark would move--it takes everything to stand here. "This is all new, isn't it?"

"You're just getting that? You could--you could--" Kill him. Clark. Hell, at this point, Lois could. She's had training, she has the strength, and God knows, she's got the will. Logic says he's being stupid. Logic didn't see Lex take down Mercy, though.

"Wow." Lex's voice is soft. "I didn't even think of that. You're used to being invulnerable and you're used to being absolute." Clark blinks at the almost wondering expression on Lex's face. "In every fight, every argument, in any given room at any given time, you knew that you couldn't be physically hurt by anyone."

"Yes." His mind's bringing up memories of Lois in the gym, of the thousand times he's stopped muggings and burglaries and brawls in alleys, rapes and attacks and beatings. Fragile human bodies that broke so easily, but it's all new, this--awareness. "Lex--"

"You do know most people don't settle things by beating the crap out of each other? Your experiences as Superman don't apply to a regular life."

"What? It happens all the time." How would he defend himself? Superman had strength and nothing hurt. "God, this is so stupid." Reaching out, Clark takes the bandaged hand, turning it carefully, watching for Lex's wince. It's easier when Lex is at rest. "You let them do this to you."

"I've done worse to others. And had worse done to me." He can feel Lex's gaze. "Clark. I'm not going to hurt you."

Clark laughs a little. Even to himself, he sounds hysterical. Right. Lex can say that and mean it, when two weeks ago he would have killed Superman without a wince.

"Clark." Instantly, the hand pulls away, curling around his palm. Clark takes a breath, forcing his eyes up. "All these years being Superman fucked you up, didn't they? You saw all the worst of it all the time."

"I know it's not all like that." Logically, yes. It's not sinking in. "It's just--I...." Clark shakes his head. "Stupid, isn't it?"

"Smart. It'll save you from any ideas of getting into bar brawls and stopping muggings with your bare hands. If you still feel like playing vigilante these days, at least let me get you a gun." The humor's deliberate, Clark knows. "Sit down. Breathe a little. Otherwise, you'll never leave this apartment again and I really hate it."

Clark lets Lex lead him over to the couch, sitting down and staring at the floor. "Maybe I should take some self-defense lessons."

"Probably." Lex sits down beside him, reaching over to carefully touch him. Just a brush against his shoulder "I'll set you up with Mercy. She likes you."

Clark lifts his head, feeling the little grin spreading his mouth without warning. It's funny, on some fucked-up level of his brain. Man of Steel--hates papercuts, fears needles, and runs from fights. Oh man, Bruce would fucking stroke out laughing. "She likes me? Yeah, I can remember all that liking the last time she held a gun to my head--what was that, Paraguay?"

"Ecuador," Lex answers, smiling back. "Now tell me why I'm here? Besides your sudden bout of insecurity?"

"You can't control my life."

Lex rolls his eyes, leaning back into the sofa. "I'm not trying to control you life--"

"Lex, what the fuck do you call what you're doing?"

"Giving you better options." Lex looks at him, calm and too reasonable.

"You asked if you scare me." Clark meets the blue eyes. "Is that what you want? What you always wanted? Because you can now. And I won't live like that."

He can see Lex processing it, back to calculations and probabilities, and Clark wonders if there's any other way he can explain it that would make sense. "I don't want to scare you."

"I don't--" Though maybe Lex doesn't even know he's doing it. He's a man used to obedience, to people hanging on his every word. Clark can't even be sure it's penetrating that you just don't *do* this sort of thing. "Just--just wait--"

"I did wait." The low voice cuts through Clark's protests, quiet and deadly serious. "I waited for you to grow up and then you were gone. I waited for you to get the fuck over your savior complex and then you became my enemy. What do you want me to wait for this time? For you fall in love with someone else? I'm tired of waiting."

"I won't."

Lex looks at him. Really looks. "I don't believe you."

Of course not. Because that would be *simple*. And completely against Lexian philosophy, which is get what you want as quickly as possible before someone else takes it away. Frankly, Clark's beginning to think he's lucky that Lex hasn't chained him to the bed at the penthouse. And he might not have ruled out that option yet, either. "Ask me. Ask. Give me reasons. This isn't the way it's going to go It's not--it's not going to work this way between us." Sighing, Clark wonders how he can explain this. If he even can. Superman didn't have to worry about this. But then, Superman never, ever got laid by Lex either. Or had a relationship that worked. Or really enjoyed life all that much, what with the stoppings of death and destruction on a daily basis. "If you want something from me, you ask. Don't ever again try to manipulate me." They were both wrong about nothing changing but the battlefields. This is an entirely different kind of war.

"I'm not trying--" Lex stops short.

"This morning wasn't a threat, was it?" He hates to say it, knows Lex understands the implications by the stiffening of the body beside him. "You forgot I wasn't Superman. I remembered that I'm not." Clark lets out a slow breath. "Look, we--"

"Compromise." Lex says it like a dirty word, but when Clark looks at him, he sees--something, flickering behind blue eyes, raw and very old, very familiar. "I'm not used to it."

"Get used to it." Clark breathes out, then turns on the couch, trying to think how to phrase this. Some way to say it that will penetrate enough for Clark to get some breathing room. "Do you know why I asked you over here?"

"Because I scared you and you wanted me on your own ground." Well, Lex knows his psychology, at least. "I can understand that."

See, Clark really hadn't needed to actually hear that, though. A little too concrete a reminder for his masculinity to handle. "Not just that." Clark glances around the living room. "I've lived here since I graduated."

"I know that."

Of course he does. Sighing, Clark grits his teeth. Say it, just say it. "Lex, this is my life."

Clark can see the muscles along Lex's jaw tighten, eyes flicking away to fix on a point just over his shoulder. "You've already made it clear that you--"

"Oh Jesus Christ, Lex, what the hell do you need?" Lex stares at him like he's gone crazy. That's an attractive option. It'd save a lot of stress. "Lex, we're, for lack of a better word, dating. You know, where people get to know each other and see their apartments and learn about their lives and do you need a fucking *diagram*?"

And people say he's oblivious to things. Clark watches it sink in. Standing up, he walks over to the recliner, picking up the remote, flicking the movie off, then back to the beginning.

"This is my favorite movie," Clark says, like Lex had asked. "I ordered pizza." Fixing his eyes on the television, Clark takes a deep breath, slowly letting it out again. "I thought we could hang out here, watch a movie. That work for you?" Not waiting for an answer, he drops back on the couch, feeling the faint brush of their shoulders.

Lex is very quiet beside him as the music starts.

"Is this compromise?" Lex asks, very softly, and warm fingers slide across his shoulder for the briefest moment. Relaxing a little, Clark looks over to see the small, surprised smile curving his mouth. Too much to resist, even for Clark. Dropping the remote, he leans over and brushes a kiss across those lips, feeling the sharply indrawn breath, before drawing away with the barest trace of Lex on his tongue.

"This is how it starts."

part 2