Summary: Non official sequel to Closer to Breathing. I was entertaining myself.
Dedication: Peggy aka Raincitygirl.
Disclaimer: I don't own them. I accept this with very little equanimity and much pulling of the hair and grinding of the teeth. Metaphorically speaking.

You Know

by jenn

There was something just very, very odd about waking up to the rather calm realization you'd had your first sexual experience in a closet.

During a party.

With your parents in the next room.

And, to top off the level of decadence, with a guy.

While drinking.

It was like an entire season of Dawson's Creek trapped in one very odd hour of real time--except, you know, no annoyance of Dawson. God. Clark rolled over on his back, pulling the old quilt closer to his chest and pondering the situation.

Lots of situation to ponder.

A closet, of all places....

And no, he totally got the symbolism of making out with Lex *in* a closet. Thank you pop culture and English class.

Getting out of the closet last night had been tricky (hehehe), and Clark had the rather interested idea that it wasn't any easier when it was metaphorical. Not that he planned on advertising his most recent adventure--after all, he was an old hand at the entire double life thing already, so adding a third life in wasn't gonna be that weird--

--oh, and when had he decided that there *was* going to be a third life?

And when, exactly, was it the correct time to panic? Because, face it, this was rather big, and he should be taking this more seriously, or at very least, with more gravity. Or something. Instead, somewhere along the line during his meta-ing, his hand had, of its very own accord, dropped down to check out how the morning erection thing was going.

Very well, thank you, and cheery thoughts of closet-time were making sure the situation only improved.

Slow, thoughtful stroke beneath his sweats, remembering how Lex felt against him, on him, licking him--doing things. Things illegal in the state of Kansas, especially illegal with teenage boys, and probably vaguely a bad idea with teenage anyones. Though definitely fun, and definitely something Clark was more than willing to try again.

Assuming the other participant, now far more sober, wasn't exercising his post-orgasmic prerogative to deny the entire thing.

The thing was, he didn't know Lex that well--or, to put it a different way, he didn't know every part of Lex. The normal part, the part that wandered around Smallville coffee shops and had, in fact, been caught at the grocery store studying the variety of cookies available--Clark was relatively comfortable with him. Clark also had a few glimpses into the another part, the coolly capable businessman, and yes, say it, you can, the highly manipulative kid who got a huge kick out of rearranging the world and its people just for the fuck of it.

Frankly, that particular section of Lexian personality creeped the hell out of him, but in a strangely endearing way. He was aware Lex wasn't *just* trying to get him with Lana from that Lex-specific variety of gratitude; it had also, at some point that Clark couldn't quite define, a sort of challenge to Lex's ingenuity.

So.

He didn't know which part of Lex he'd been cavorting with a few hours before, and that may make all the difference as far as this went.

Aware that the sun had long since risen, Clark reluctantly pulled his hand free of his boxer shorts and pushed the covers back, vaguely surprised his parents hadn't gotten him up earlier--they'd given up forcing him to church on Sundays, which was all kinds of good as far as he was concerned, but it was nearing eleven and surely they were back by now. Walking downstairs, he rubbed vaguely at the back of his head and stumbled into the kitchen, and had already opened the refrigerator to look for something that didn't require cooking before it penetrated that there'd been a note attached to the door.

Huh.

Grabbing an apple, he pushed the door closed and pulled the notebook paper from beneath the happy ladybug magnet. His mother's precise schoolteacher script was neatly centered on the page.

Right. Going to look at new stock. Brand new code for getting alone-time, so to speak, though Clark's mind did its level best to shy away from the implications of that. Crumpling the note up, Clark dropped it in the trash as he took another bite of the apple.

An afternoon free. Do some chores, do some thinking, do some stalking of the guy in the castle.

Perhaps in that order.

With a grin, Clark trashed the core of the apple and went up to take a very long shower.

The castle was still showing the effects of the party the night before--random people wandering hither and yon carrying various oversized crystal bowls and cutlery, and there was the faint hum of conversation from the ballroom as Clark was led through the halls by a tall man he didn't recognize.

It was in progress, as if clean-up had started the second the last guest--that being Clark, come to think of it--had disappeared out the door, and Clark leaned into the doorway to watch Lex getting what amounted to being down and dirty with the help.

Or maybe he just couldn't resist the prospect of a group of people to order around.

Lex looked like he hadn't slept, hadn't eaten, and hadn't taken a deep breath in about a year, wired up to the point of mania and indecent amounts of energy that even Clark, who'd discovered that his own reserves of energy were nearly inexhaustible, was impressed. Pacing the room like something caged and not liking it much, talking too fast, voice clipping slightly with audible proof of too many years in British boarding schools. Loose, long-sleeved t-shirt that had obviously seen far better days, faded letters spelling Princeton across the well-washed grey, jeans, looking so little glossy-magazine cover that probably no one would have dared recognize him. Mauve circles beneath his eyes and flickering movements of repressed energy like electricity was cycling through him at irregular intervals.

Frankly, he looked incredibly sexy. This was as close as Clark figured he'd probably ever see to Lex discomposed.

"Where the *fuck* are all the chairs that go in here?" Ah, Lex, always charming. Stalking to the middle of the room, pulling the clipboard from a surprised subordinate, one hand flickering back across his scalp in obvious sleep-deprivation irritation, and it probably said something that the various people on ladders removing mistletoe and little bells weren't even looking offended, just warily amused. Obviously, they'd either dealt with this version of Lex before or had been listening to this for awhile. "I don't have all fucking day--" Quick, graceful spin on the balls of his feet, and Clark saw the second Lex recognized who was watching him, and if there had been a rapier in his hand, it would have indeed been buried in the wall beside Clark's head.

Smiling, Clark tilted his head at the various workers.

"Need help?"

"Don't you have church or something?" Borderline rude, but lacking anything close to irritation--more like Lex's brain went into snarky autopilot while the rest of it gathered together to figure out what to do about the situation.

"Nope." Taking a step in the room, Clark gave the three brooms a quick glance--the very epitome of brooms, in fact, shiny and new and so clean that they'd probably never been used, on the off chance Lex was even aware of how to use one.

"I'm a little busy right now--" Less snarky, trying for dismissive, but he didn't miss the two step retreat toward the unfortunate soul Lex had taken the clipboard from.

"I can help." Big, sunny smile, and he knew the effect those had on Lex already--something between heat and distrust, because smiles were weapons for Lex and he was never sure what to do with one that didn't have motive behind it.

Okay, so he knew Lex Luthor better than he'd thought. Unbalance, flustered, and off his game, it'd be like shooting fish in a barrel. Clark made a mental note to surprise Lex more often--this was just loads of fun.

"Everything's under control," Lex snapped, handing over the clipboard.

"Then maybe you could take me for another ride?"

It wasn't meant to be innuendo-ish, Clark would almost swear--almost, because his subconscious sometimes had a mind of its own, and it really was worth the shock just to see the look on Lex's face. If he'd been holding the clipboard, he would have dropped it, and another tiny retreating step, before the commander in Lex took control and marshaled the inner troops for a defensive war.

He got the feeling offense was Lex's forte, though, and pushed another step into the room, quite aware of the help happily going about their tasks without Lex's orders to hinder *and* enjoying the novel sight of Lex stuck for words.

"I'm busy, as you can see," Lex answered slowly, and the clipboard holder took a few discreet steps away, as if to point out that Lex wasn't busy at all, that in point of fact, Lex was welcome to go riding with whatever teenage person showed up on his doorstep, please. Just get the hell away.

"You can take a break," Clark answered easily, giving up a little space to lean casually against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

"No I can't."

Clark shook his head and Clipboard Guy retreated a few more steps, watching from beneath his lashes while staring at the papers as if they were the formula for lead to gold in three easy steps. Entertainment for everyone. Always good.

"Didn't they teach you good manners in those hideously expensive private schools, Lex?" Waited while Lex's eyes narrowed to blue slits. "I want to talk. You want to do it here?"

Lex actually went pale.

"Perhaps we could talk later." It was a concession, but not defeat, and something in Clark wanted the victory, just this once. He'd been on the floor of a closet for his first sexual experience, dammit.

"Now would be good."

For a second, there was another tiny battle going on behind those blue eyes--trying to balance the threat against the likelihood of Clark backing it up. It could go either way, and Clark watched attentively as Lex reasoned it out, before the crack that said that Lex wasn't one to take chances unless he was sure there was a safety net. There wasn't time for one here, and Lex turned a look on Clipboard Guy.

"I'll be back."

"Yes, sir." The relief was so palpable Lex shot him a second look that promised several unpleasant things.

It was good to win, Clark reflected.

Graceful in victory, Clark let Lex lead the way--to his office of course, which was just about what Clark could have expected. Quick, uneven steps into the room, and Clark shut the door behind them.

"What the hell are you doing, exactly?" No sophisticated Lex, or suave Lex, or even manipulative Lex, since all of them required sufficient sleep and thinking time. Clark locked the door and as he turned around, he got a quick flicker of--something--before Lex was pulling together his usual self from the shreds floating beneath the surface. It wouldn't be a complete job by any means.

"I don't know. I'm trying to decide whether to be offended or just really amused." There was that nice comfortable couch, and Clark had no problem taking up residence in the center while Lex leaned back against his desk. So symbolic that it was almost predictable.

"What did you want to talk about?" Cool, controlled, and Lex was finding his comfort zone again, or at least a reasonable illusion thereof.

And--wow, see, he'd been wondering if he'd have to--well, talk about it. Maybe some half buried hope Lex would just go with it and they *wouldn't* have a little morning--er, afternoon-after discussion. Granted, Clark had seen them on television, so he knew how they went, but they seemed so--awkward.

And Lex wasn't at his most approachable right now, as if he hadn't had those slim hands down Clark's pants last night or done his level best to suck Clark's internal organs out through his cock. Which was, wow, a *hot* image, and Clark sucked in a little breath before fixing his gaze on the window at Lex's right, which looked a hell of a lot more welcoming than Lex right now.

"You trying to brush me off or just pretend it didn't happen?"

"Both."

It might have hurt--okay, it did hurt--but Clark decided to ignore it. For now. "Why?"

From the corner of his eye, he saw the tiniest crack in Lex's carefully repaired composure, and one hand slid back around his neck in obvious discomfort.

"You thought I'd just--ignore it? Chalk it up to alcohol? Puberty? Mistletoe poisoning?"

Little shift on the desk, and Lex *was* off his game, because he'd never, ever seen Lex squirm under pressure. This was the man, after all, who treated possible death like an inconvenience.

"This is a bad time."

"If I give it more time, you'll figure out a way to rationalize or something." Given too much time to think, he had no doubt Lex would find some fabulous arguments and sundry, and that closet would be *it*.

"I didn't think you'd be this--aggressive."

"I didn't think you'd be this cowardly, so I guess we're even."

Lex's head snapped up with an almost audible crack in the office. The silence was long and verging on trying to be uncomfortable, uncomfortable enough for Clark to give up and walk out, and it was tempting, because while he'd figured Lex might be reconsidering the actions, he hadn't really thought--thought about what it would mean in terms of conversation.

He really wasn't cut out to do this sort of thing.

"It was a mistake."

Clark felt his own smile widen into something hard and unfamiliar.

"I'm glad to know the first time someone fucks me, it was a mistake. Makes it special."

Lex flinched--no other word for it, no other way to describe it. Hands braced against the edge of the desk, knuckles going silvery-white under the strain of his grip.

"That's--not what I meant." Like the words were forced between his teeth. "Clark--"

"You were drinking, I was drinking, and it was one of those things that we can just forget about in the nice clean light of day. Right?"

Silence could be agreement, but it wasn't agreement. Not really. Not for Clark, who had a preference for things spelled out, preferably in indelible ink or blood, perhaps on rock or carved into flesh and bone. He wasn't picky--too much of his life was too ephemeral for him to not value things that were written in stone.

"Clark, look--" Maybe a trace of defeat there, but Clark chose not to hear it.

"If you even try that bullshit about still being friends--I mean, really, Lex, when have those words ever worked in the history of mankind? We were screwing around last night and all this denial crap really doesn't change anything--and I *wasn't* drunk, so just take that and spin it somewhere."

"I know." And Lex just sounded, of all things, annoyed. "You can keep throwing this ridiculous temper tantrum, or you can give me a few minutes to think."

"You've had time."

"Ten minutes since you sailed in. I thought--" Lex stopped, a strangely thoughtful look on his face, before he gave Clark a sideways glance that had a lot of irritation. "You make things complex. I don't like that."

"Welcome to the club."

"Point taken." Lex pushed himself away from the desk, pacing to the center of the room. "I apologize for saying it was a mistake. It was more bad timing than anything."

Clark shifted uncomfortably.

"That doesn't sound much better."

"Trust me, there's a difference. You--caught me off guard today. I thought I'd have more time. And don't look like that. I was planning to call you--"

"--that doesn't sound cliched--"

"Stop it." Real irritation, and Lex was pacing--well, nothing so organized as pacing, really. More just instinctive movement, and Clark would bet Lex had been one of those kids that drove teachers crazy because they couldn't sit still at their desks. Still that energy radiating off of him, badly in need of a target or a rapier, and it was just unlucky that Clark didn't fence, because at this point, he'd almost have suggested it, just to get the tension cleared out a little. "I'm not at my best right now."

"Didn't notice."

That got him a dirty look, and this was almost turning fun again, in some weird, possibly sadistic way. Clark relaxed against the couch.

"What would have been good timing?"

"Three years or so." Lex was back at his desk--his immaculate desk, actually, which told Clark some interesting things about Lex's state of mind, since in his admittedly limited memory, there were *always* papers and other sundry stacked around it like offerings at some capitalist shrine.

"Oh." Huh. He hadn't exactly thought clearly on that part. Of course--well, face it, Clark--it wasn't so much not thinking on it than not really caring enough to examine. This was one of those adult moments, he supposed--fifteen was pretty much the no-consequences part of life. He was at least two or three years away from worrying about the future as something concrete. "Maybe you could ignore that part."

That got him a long, intensely personal look--interesting, unreadable, obviously searching for something. Like sanity, maybe.

"What a wonderful idea. And when the nice Smallville PD come to discuss molestation of a child--"

"--God, Lex, you're a pessimist--"

"--I'll just point out I was ignoring it."

Clark narrowed his eyes. "There's this word I learned in English class--"

"High school." Lex sounded--a little more hyper. Like he'd be pacing again if there was any way he could do it while perched on a desk.

"--high school, right, called 'discretion'. You've heard of it, right, Mr. College Graduate?"

That got him a cracked smile--not quite accepting, more like conceding the moment. "It's a bad idea right now."

Clark cocked his head. "It wasn't last night, though."

A little shift on the surface of the desk, and it seemed to come together, just a little. Well, maybe not at all, but this was Lex, after all. He who brought a brunette hooker--be nice, Clark, I'm sure she was a nice girl, even if she wasn't wearing underwear--to a high school party. He'd categorized Lex in some strange places, but sex just wasn't a place he thought Lex felt particularly vulnerable.

"I'm sorry I forgot to let you control *everything* that happens between us, Lex. Of *course* I should have waited until you were comfortable before bringing it up--what was I thinking?"

"You're being a smartass."

"You're being weird." Which was the best he could do right now. It's not enough, and it's like a highlighting of what Lex said--he *is* young. Really, really young, and that's fact as anything else. Lex's hand, locked on the edge of the desk, fingers white with tension. "Is it--" Stops.

"I have a record."

It dropped between them like a brick, and Clark saw Lex's eyes fix on the far wall.

"...record?" Something was in the room with them now. And it wasn't anything Clark had been ready for.

"It's--complex." Lex wiped a hand across his head. "There's a reason I'm in Smallville, Clark."

A light clicked. Or something like it.

"You--someone--"

"Charges were dismissed." His voice was very low. "Because of my name. Because of who I am." The blue eyes slid up, guarded. "It was at a club. It ended badly. I didn't know how old she was, and in retrospect, it wasn't the worst thing I've done."

Oh. *Oh*.

"But--"

"Stop." Lex was as tense as wire, and his fingers were *digging* into the desk now. "It wasn't--prosecuted. Any of it. But one slip, even a rumor--that would be enough. I can't--I can't afford that. You can't either, Clark, unless you want to be testifying in Metropolis that you fucked a guy and get the fun of being outed at fifteen. In *Smallville* of all godforsaken places."

"I wouldn't--"

Slow smile. "You have any idea how much information like this would be worth?"

Okay, that was it.

"I wouldn't--God, Lex. You'd *give* me money if I wanted it! You--I mean, you already offered it to my parents, and don't give me the same crap you gave them about your reasons." Little pause. "You can't--you can't believe I'd do that. Or that--" God, what could he say though? His parents would go to the police, though--oh definitely. No way they'd hold back, and this wasn't something he'd thought about, like, at all.

But--Clark stopped, thinking. No, his parents might want to, but they couldn't take that sort of thing public. Too much possibility of someone finding out about him, he knew that much, and in any case, well, they'd have to find out, and he--well. He'd been lying for twelve years to everyone else. He knew how to keep a secret.

"I can't take that chance." The finality was *there*. Closed and end of conversation and Lex was pushing himself away from the desk, pacing to the door.

"What if--" Clark paused. Lex did too, surprisingly enough, and Clark tried to gather his thoughts. "What--what would it take for you to trust me?"

Little smile. "I trust you, Clark. But not--"

It was balance, he thought a little wildly. Little spurt of adrenaline, and there. He could do this.

"I can outrun your car." Weird, how easy it was to make a decision. Or something like one. Lex blinked, staring at him. "You hit me with the Porsche. I got rid of the roof. Now tell me which one of us has the most to lose."

Lex didn't move--didn't even seem to breathe.

"Clark--" Uneven voice.

"It's Smallville. I've managed for twelve years to hide what I can do. You don't think I could hide--this?" Clark found his footing, standing up--and it was a lot like freedom and a little like a death wish to be doing this, but it was--well, sort of inevitable, he supposed. It was one thing to hide from a friend--but from someone you're, uh, doing stuff with? It just didn't seem fair. Or right. "Lex--"

"You lied to me."

Clark tilted his head just a little. No heat in Lex's voice, just--well, shock, of course. And other things he couldn't define, but nothing that could scare him. Yet.

"It's--sort of even now." Clark took a step closer and it was--God, such a relief, even if it was a scary one. "If--I can keep a secret. I know how. And--you have the goods on me now, too."

"I wouldn't use it like that!" Now there was heat.

"Neither would I." Clark tilted his head, waiting. Lex just *stood* there, unmoving, maybe unbreathing, then this--a grin. Small, strangely tense, and not quite amused, but something close to it. "Lex--it's--I know what I'm doing, okay? And--you don't have to worry. About that. I won't--I wouldn't do that to you either. Not for anything."

It was a meaningful pause--Lex was good at those--then this slow series of steps, like Lex was watching for landmines, before they were only inches apart. Studying him hard and long, looking for something.

"That--why?"

Because--God, why?

"I--I want you to trust me," Clark answered slowly. "I want you to know--to be sure--that I wouldn't--that I'm not like that. I don't care about money or power or whatever you did in Metropolis, okay? Just--just you."

Lex shook his head slowly, but he wasn't moving away.

"Clark. Fuck." Stared at him. "You--think that's an even trade? God--I could--what the hell are you thinking?" And okay, not the reaction he was expecting. "You don't know--God, you don't know I won't use this. You're--"

"Alien."

"Fuck." Lex, looking him up and down as if expecting something to appear visibly, like maybe--antenna?

"You've seen all of me now, Lex." Frighteningly literal, that. "There's nothing weird. Except--er, the strength. And the speed. And you know, x-ray vision--"

"X-ray--"

"Yeah. And floating, but that's just when I have weird dreams, and um--" Clark trickled off. Lex was looking at him like he was insane.

"You're telling me this so I'll--feel comfortable fucking you?"

Lex made things sound very odd when he put it like that.

"No. Well, a little, but mostly--" Clark reached out, touching one limp hand. The fingers closed over his. "It's. Important. That you know. I mean--even if you were cool with everything, I'd have to tell you eventually. I mean, you'd notice--um, things. After awhile." Clark flushed a little and the fingers on his tightened. Little rush.

"I could tell the world--" Lex said slowly. "Or kidnap you, take you to a lab, or hell, my lab for that matter--"

"Heh. Needles break on my skin." Clark smiled as Lex blinked.

"Blackmail you or use--Clark--" Stopped, staring at him. "You trust me that much?"

"Yes." No question, not now. Clark took a breath, letting it out slowly as Lex tangled their fingers, staring down blankly for a few minutes. "I--you know. How to live with secrets. How to keep them. You'll--you'll keep mine."

Lex--smiled. Little, sharp laugh, but it wasn't meant to hurt anyone, and then Lex shook his head, and the fingers in Clark's tightened reflexively.

"So, you know. Um. Want to check out some other closets?"

It was very cool to watch Lex laugh.

the end