Archive of Our Own

"Mr. Luthor. This is a surprise. What are you doing here?"

Lex turned away from the newspaper clipping strewn wall and smiled. "My name is Lex, Chloe," he told her. "Just because we're at your school now instead of a coffee shop doesn't mean my name changes. Calling me 'Mr. Luthor' makes me feel old."

Chloe smiled, squinching her face into an interesting expression.

"What?" he asked.

"Oh, there are just so many responses to that comment, Lex, but there are a number of reasons I don't feel safe making them. The major one being I care for Clark a lot, and I don't want someone hearing me make one of them and taking it in the wrong way."

"The wrong way being the way it was intended to be taken."

She nodded, her smile widening. "Exactly. So. What brings you to my humble office?" She set her book bag down and walked closer to him.

Lex took a step back, subtly maintaining the distance as he turned back to the wall. "A few reasons. Your father is always raving about you, so I thought, since I was here, that I should check out your illustrious paper. And, I was looking for Clark."

Chloe bit her lip. "Ok, I know that you own, like, half of the known world and all, but even you might want to look up the word, 'discretion.' It may be a small and oblivious town, but there are plenty of people looking for a good scandal who will make one up on the barest hint of proof."

He rolled his eyes and smiled dryly. "I'm not that stupid. Just because I spent my youth begging for attention with scandalous acts doesn't mean I don't know how to be discreet when I want. I had a meeting with Principal Kwan this morning about the sad state of the schools computer lab. He told me I could stick around for a bit and see if there was anything else I might want donate money for. I know you and Clark are friends and hoped that, sooner or later, he might show up here."

"Very smooth. But, that's why Clark thinks that your picture is next to 'cool' in the dictionary, isn't it?"

Shrugging, Lex turned away. Cool was not what he wanted Clark to associate him with, but he really didn't think he should be saying that to a fifteen year old girl. He was corrupting enough youths at it was, although Lex had a sneaking suspicion that Chloe wasn't exactly an innocent when it came to sex. Even sex between men.

As for what she knew about his sex life, he wasn't sure. So, he asked, "What do you know?"

Chloe cleared her throat and began fiddling with the papers on the desk. "Well, Clark hasn't told me everything about your… fencing lessons, but he's told me enough."

"Enough?"

"Yeah. Enough to reassure me and to keep me from running to his parents."

Lex turned back, furrowing his brows.

Chloe sighed. "Look, he likes you, ok? And he's really happy. I want him to be happy; I mean, he's been moping after Lana ever since I've met him and, suddenly, he's got someone that makes all that go away. But, even so, I can't help but be worried, for obvious reasons. But, if what he's told me is true," and here she fixed him with a steely gaze, "and you've been teaching him how to fence at his own pace, well, then who am I to complain?"

After a moment, Lex told her, "You're a good friend, Chloe."

"I try."

"And a graceful loser."

She smiled wistfully. "I can kid myself all I like, Lex. I was never really in the competition."

He nodded, not necessarily in agreement, but in sympathy. Turning to the wall again, he said, "May I ask what this is?"

She went with the change of topic easily. "That is my Wall of Weird. It's a collection of everything strange that has happened in Smallville since the meteor shower. I think it's the most comprehensive one, considering that I seem to be the only person besides Dr. Hamilton who has traced the correlation between the shower and the odd occurrences."

Scanning the articles, Lex muttered, "Well, most people are too busy blaming Luthor Corp."

"Right, I know. And I'm not totally disagreeing with them, but.. it's just odd. Some of the stuff cropped up right after the shower, and Luthor Corp hadn't even begun doing anything yet. It was still a creamed corn factory, and it was closed." She hesitated, then asked, "What do you think?"

"Well, in my professional capacity, I can assure you that Luthor Corp is doing nothing whatsoever that would cause anything out of the ordinary to happen. We are one hundred percent safe and good for the environment and want nothing but the best for Smallville."

"Right," Chloe said dryly at the newsprint rich speech, "and personally?"

Lex sighed and smiled ruefully. Glancing at her, he shook his head. "I don't think anything we've ever put out would cause this." He made a sweeping movement at the wall. "Maybe an oversized carrot or two but not mutant boys or man eating cows. Or," he added in a softer voice, "even elevated white cell counts."

She nodded, moving towards the wall. "I've noticed that too. Actually, a reporter came out a few years back with some scientists, determined to blame Luthor Corp for the high rates of cancer, but couldn't find anything. Granted, I'm sure you guys are really experienced in covering up things, but I read her research."

"How?"

"Oh, she printed it on the web. I also cut out the articles. I connected the places she found the highest occurrences of illness, and compared them to the places that were hit hard by meteors. They tended to correspond. I think they're back here," she told him, digging through the articles.

Abruptly, she went still, one hand still buried in the paper clippings pasted to the wall.

Lex began edging away from the wall.

"Oh my God." Eyes wide, Chloe turned, gazing at Lex. "You?"

"It's nothing," Lex told her breezily, feeling his mask slide into place. It was so easy to hide, so easy to just pretend. Just like Dad taught him.

Chloe, though, didn't buy it. "Are you ok? I mean, do you have cancer, or are you just being tested?"

Meeting her eyes, Lex told her, "Drop it."

"Does Clark know?"

Angry now, Lex clenched his jaw. "No. And he doesn't need to know either. Got it?"

"Are you kidding? Lex, you have to tell him."

"I don't have to do anything."

"But. . ."

"Look," he interrupted, something burning in his chest, "you're a smart kid. I like you, I do. But don't screw around with me. Don't go poking into my affairs and meddling with my personal life."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is that some sort of threat? What, are saying that you're going to fire my father or something just because I think you should tell your boyfriend that you might have cancer?"

"Who might have cancer?" Clark asked, wide-eyed as he walked into the office. He stopped when he saw who was in the room. Swallowing hard as he met Lex's eyes, he glanced at Chloe, then Lex again. "What's going on?"

Lex closed his eyes and cursed under his breath.

"I'll leave you two alone. See you after school, Clark."

"Yeah. By Chloe," Clark responded vaguely.

The door shut, leaving the two men alone.

There was a long silence filled only by the tick-tick of the clock on the wall. Lex's life, it seemed, was run by clocks. By time. The grandfather clock in his father's office as his father, holding a paddle, gazed sternly at him from the other side of the desk. The one in his room that kept him company through long, sleepless nights filled with anxiety, The tick-tick of the watch he had worn to Club Zero to be perverse, ticking in time to his moans as he was fucked or blown in a back room. Clocks in the waiting rooms of hospitals.

And now. Face to face with his lover at the high school he attended. Tick. Tick. Tick.

"Lex?" Clark sounded close to him, his body heat reaching out to engulf Lex. "What did she mean? Do you have cancer?"

And here it was. A moment, a life changing moment that you read about and never expect to really come across. Lex had come across plenty already, and here was one more. One more challenge, one more test. He stood on the edge of that cliff he'd been flirting with since he met Clark; all he had to do was step off and he'd be his own man. Free of his father's upbringing. Free of the lessons life had taught him. Free of... himself. If he could just take that step.

But he couldn't. Even as he took the breath to say it, the words choked him and he knew he couldn't do it. Couldn't take that step.

Lex opened his eyes.

Clark flinched, stepping back. Inhaling nosily, his fist clenched convulsively on the strap of his backpack, knuckles turning white. Clark was a smart boy; he could read Lex easily now. Could read the deadness in Lex's eyes, see the mask that Lex had donned.

"It's nothing you need to concern yourself with, Clark," Lex said, voice icy cold.

Clark blinked, as if he had known the words were coming, yet couldn't bring himself to believe them. "What?"

"Really, it's none of your business. My private life, that is."

"But . . but . . .you're my . . . "

"Your what?" Lex raised an eyebrow. "Friend? Playmate? Fucktoy?" He smiled condescendingly. "Yes, I know. But that doesn't mean that you . . ."

"Shut up!" Clark shouted, closing the distance between them. He grabbed Lex's arms, and Lex flinched in real fear, afraid that Clark might crush him.

His hands were like iron, unyielding and solid. Reflexively, Lex tried to pull back, but Clark wouldn't let him go. But, as strong as Clark was holding him, he wasn't crushing Lex. There was control in the teen's face and hands, control that was lacking when they had sex. Somehow, that frightened Lex most of all. To know that Clark was angry - so angry it turned his eyes midnight blue - but he still had control over his freakish strength. Control enough not to hurt Lex.

Clark's eyes were angry, hurt bleeding through the blue. "Why are you doing this, Lex? I thought we had moved past this."

Swallowing hard, Lex managed to say, "Past what?"

"These stupid masks. Don't hide from me. Just tell me, please." Clark's mind was rushing frantically. Lex couldn't hear any distinct thoughts, but Clark's turmoil was pounding into him, trying to shatter his mask by sheer force.

It took strength to block him out, but Lex managed to. His eyes had screwed shut as he fought to keep Clark out, knowing that if he allowed himself to feel Clark's anguish, his fear, he wouldn't last. He had to be strong. He had to do this because this was the only way to stay detached from everything. And he had to stay detached or else he might go insane.

"You don't know me, Clark," Lex finally said, opening his eyes. His voice was flat and emotionless. "Just because we've fooled around a bit doesn't mean I owe you anything. Or," he swallowed again, and licked his lips, "or that you owe me. So just don't."

"Don't what?"

"Care."

Clark looked stricken. "Don't care? That you have cancer? Lex, I. . . I have to care."

"I don't. Why should you?"

The teens hands tightened. "Because, I care about you. A lot. And I know you care about me too. Jesus, Lex. Even if I were just your friend, I would care. But you're so much more to me." Clark caressed Lex's cheek with his knuckles. "So much," he whispered again, his eyes wells of sadness and. . . something. "Please. Tell me what's going on."

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Closing his eyes, Lex steeled his heart, searching for the icy cold detachment that he had worn to face his father so many times. "My doctor is concerned at how easily I seem to be bruising. He did some blood work which, because I was sick, came back inconclusive. So I had a biopsy yesterday, and am waiting for the results." Opening his eyes, he said, "Apparently this is common in Smallville. Elevated white cell counts. Cancer. It's not Luthor Corp, I know that much. Chloe thinks it's the meteor rocks and, you know what, I'm beginning to think it might be them too."

Deep inside Lex, the conscience that Clark had breathed into him began screaming and pounding small fists into what he assumed to be his heart, wanting to know how he could use Clark's worst fears against him. Ruthlessly, Lex squashed it down.

Clark released him, falling back against the table. His chest was heaving as he fought around the tears Lex could feel building in Clark's eyes. But, Lex had to say it, had to make Clark hurt as much as he was. To be as scared as he was.

"Lex," Clark whispered raggedly, "I'm so sorry."

"Well. What's done is done," Lex replied, not forgiving Clark. Clark caught that, grief flooding his eyes and face.

Lex cleared his throat. "To tell the truth, I don't really care. It's just a little illness, nothing I haven't faced before." His voice trembled, and he broke off, fighting again for control. Facing Clark with cool, blank eyes, he said, "Maybe you shouldn't come over anymore. I have a feeling this isn't working for you the way you wanted it to." He turned and walked to the door.

Clark's voice stopped him. "You're what I want, Lex," Clark said raggedly.

"You're only fifteen, Clark. You don't know what you want."

"I do."

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Very softly, he said, "Then maybe I don't." Lex walked out the door.

Clark screamed in his mind, mental anguish rolling off him in waves down the hall, threatening to drown Lex. With considerable effort, Lex tried to block it out. Tried not to care.

Tried, but didn't succeed.
***
Clark flung the kitchen door opened, hurling his backpack on the table. It slid over the smooth surface and flew across the room, slamming into the far wall with enough force to shake the house. Clark didn't give it a second glance; he was already buried in the refrigerator, blindly shoving bottles and cartons around in a frantic search.

"Clark?" Martha said from behind him. She sounded worried.

"I thought we had soup." Clark shoved the milk out of his way, upsetting it. Righting it again, he put it aside and pushed away the orange juice.

Martha cleared her throat. "We do. It's in the yellow container."

The soup was hiding behind last night's leftovers. Pulling it out, Clark slammed the door to the fridge shut, just to hear the angry sound. Then he stalked to the stove.

His mother had already pulled a saucepan out. She placed it on the stove, then reached into the drawer for a spoon.

Clark dumped the soup out and turned the heat on full blast. The flames licked on the outside of the metal pot. "Thanks," he said shortly. "You can go work or something. I'll be fine."

"Right," Martha said, her voice dry. "I can tell you're fine by the fact you're making the house shake and threatening to burn down the kitchen." She turned down the pilot. "I think I'll stay, if that's all right."

"Fine." Clark leaned against the counter, scrubbing his face with is hand. Then he began glaring at the soup, his eyes stormy.

Martha stirred it slowly. "How was your day?"

Clark laughed bitterly. "Oh, it was just great." He scowled, then said, "You know what? People suck."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." He gnawed on his bottom lip. "They act like they care for you and that you're important to them and then, when things get bad, they push you away and act like you're just an annoyance. Like they hate you, or that, that they didn't really care in the first place. And maybe they didn't; maybe they were just pretending to like you so they could get what they wanted, and when they're done, they throw you away. And all you want is to be their . . .their friend. And help them and all. Comfort them. But no, they have to get on their stupid high horse and remind you that you're just some stupid kid from the middle of nowhere and they are so much above you. All sophisticated and cool and... aloof. Stupid, arrogant jerk!" He kicked the counter with his heel, causing it to tremble.

Martha grabbed his arm and squeezed. "Clark, don't break anything."

He had the decency to look a little ashamed. Ducking his head, he mumbled, "Sorry."

"It's ok." Releasing her hold, Martha stroked his arm a few times, soothingly. Leaving her left hand on his arm, she stirred the soup with her right, testing it. "Are we talking about people in general, or someone in particular?"

"Does it matter? They all suck." Clark's lips trembled and he ran his hand through his hair roughly. "And Lex sucks most of all."

Martha's head snapped up. "What did Lex do?" she asked, sounding worried.

Clark sniffed. "Nothing. Nothing but come into my life and act like we're friends then act like an jerk when something bad happens. Is it ready?"

She tested it again, and nodded. "Yes; can you hand me the ladle?"

He did; she filled a bowl with soup and handed it to him.

Grabbing a spoon, Clark sat at the table, attacking the soup with a vengeance.

Martha sat across from him. "Is Lex upset about your father taking out a loan instead of taking Lex up on his offer?"

"No." Clark sniffed. "I mean, yeah, he's upset. I told him Sunday, and he wasn't happy, but he didn't take it out on me." His cheeks warmed slightly. "He was pretty cool about it. Hurt, but cool. Thinks Dad's an idiot, though, and isn't afraid to let me know about it." He sniffed again, eating the soup intently.

"Ok, so it's not the loan. Did you to get in a fight? Clark?" she asked in alarm, seeing his expression. "What happened, honey?"

Clark hiccupped. "He might have cancer." He dropped the spoon and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

There was a moment of silence followed by the chair scraping on the kitchen tiles. Putting her arms around her son, Martha pulled Clark to her, his resting head on her shoulder. Stroking his hair, she ordered gently, "Tell me."

"He. . . he, he was at school and talking to Chloe. I don't know why. He was just there, and I walked in when Chloe said something about having cancer. And then I saw him and I knew, but he was acting like it wasn't any of my business. He wasn't even going to tell me, Mom; if I hadn't walked in… And he was so mean about it, too. He said I shouldn't care, and I," he took a deep, hitching breath, "that I was nothing to him. And it was none of my business and to just leave him alone. And. . .and... and he said he thinks it's the meteor rocks fault. Which makes it my fault and why won't he just let me worry with him?" Clark was stiff in his mother's arms, his arms wrapped tightly around his own body.

Still stroking him soothingly, Martha told him, "Lex is probably frightened, honey. It's a scary thing, to think you have cancer. Very scary. It's not just dying, it's being sick and the treatment. Lex doesn't seem to have many friends or even family who care a great deal for him. So, on top of being sick, he's afraid he'll have to go through this alone."

"But he has me." Clark rubbed his face.

"Yes, he does. But he's probably not used to that. You care for your friends so much and so deeply that they've all grown used to it. You are the person everyone counts on to take care of them. Lex is new. He doesn't know you as well."

"Then why tell me not to care? Shouldn't he want me to?"

She nodded. "You would think that. But, honey, sometimes when people get very frightened, they say cruel things to people they care for. People that they know care for them. They know that those people are the ones who will always forgive them, no matter what they say." Martha hesitated, then carded her fingers through his hair. "Maybe it's testimony to how much he likes you that he was so mean to you."

Clark's laugh was a bit hysterical. "Right. He really cares for me," he said. He pulled away. "I'm just so scared. Everything about Lex scares me but… I like him, Mom. A lot."

An unreadable look passed through her eyes, and Clark was afraid he had said too much. But it passed. Martha took his hands in hers and looked into his eyes, smiling a small smile. "Then you have to be patient. Go back to him. Show him that, no matter what he says about this, you are going to care. Darn it."

"You think?"

She brushed a lock of hair off his forehead and nodded. "When you really, truly care about someone, that's what you have to do. Forgive the casual cruelties he says in an effort to protect himself. Because that's what he's really doing. Preparing to be rejected by you somewhere down the line."

He shook his head. "I'm not going to," he told her, wiping his eyes.

"Don't tell me, sweetie; tell him."

Clark nodded and sighed. "It's my fault, Mom. Everything. Lex's cancer, everyone." He looked at her seriously. "Chloe thinks she can link everything weird in Smallville back to the meteor rocks and Lex said he thinks she might be right."

"You don't know . . ."

"Oh, come on, Mom. Jeremy was in the cornfield during the shower and he turned into electro man; Greg turned into a mutant bug. Sean, Coach., Tina... everyone. They've all come in contact with the rocks and something happened to them. And Lex... he's already been hurt by them; he shouldn't have to go through this too."

"What do you mean? How else was he hurt by the rocks?"

"He was in Smallville, Mom, during the shower. With his dad, to visit the plant. Lex was in Riley field when it happened, right in the middle of it. God," Clark swallowed, "it could have been me. I mean, I could have hit him or something."

Martha took his hands and squeezed them tightly. Leaning forward, she said, "Clark, listen to me: the meteor shower was not your fault. You were a baby. You didn't do anything to cause it. You came with it. That's all."

"But if I hadn't come . . ."

"But you came. We don't know why, we just know you did."

"What if . . ."

"Don't. Just don't. We don't know why and there's a chance we never will. Maybe you were attacked, maybe you were in danger and your parents sent you away so you could be safe."

"Was my safety worth the life and health of the people of Smallville? Is my life worth Lex's life?" he demanded, staring her in the eyes.

Shaking her head, Martha caressed his cheek, still holding one of his hands tightly in hers. "Honey, I can't answer that. All I can tell you is I wouldn't trade you for the world. I can't say I've never questioned the motives, but I've never been unhappy with the results. And, even if the rocks are causing people to get sick, it's still not your fault. The sins of the father do not reside in the son. Not in you."

Clark laughed bitterly. "Right. Dad believes that too, which is why he likes Lex so much."

"Let's not bring your father into this right now. Personal injuries are harder to forgive than… your situation." She sighed. "Clark, I'm not saying what Lex said to you was right, but do you understand why he might have said it?"

"I guess," he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "It just hurt so much. Still does." He bit his lip. "I didn't deserve to be treated like that."

"No one does. But you have to decide what you're going to do about it."

Kneading his bottom lip, he sighed. "I'm going to forgive him. I have to. I like him too much to let him push me away. I'll go over tomorrow night and… oh, wait. I'm starting at the rest home tomorrow."

Martha rose and went to the refrigerator. "You have a produce delivery over there in a few days. Unless you want to go tonight."

Clark sighed and turned back to his soup. "I think both of us need a day or two to calm down. Maybe he'll start to feel sorry or something. And come to me."

"I wouldn't count on it, honey; Lex seems like the type who needs proof that others care before he puts himself out there."

"Well, hope springs eternal." He stirred the soup. "I'll call tomorrow and let him know that… that he can't do this to me. Expect me not to care." He sighed. "I should get his e-mail or something. Write him. Dear Lex, I think you're a jerk. But I still like you. Can I come over and," his cheeks burned, "play pool? Clark."

"Ask next time you see him."

"Maybe I will." He stirred his soup harder, then said in a broken voice, "I don't want him to die, Mom. Not with this; not with something that I can't save him from."

She went back to him and wrapped her arms around her son, hugging him hard. "I know, Clark," she whispered. "I know."

***

Once upon a time, Lex had been the master of evasion. If ever there were anyone he didn't want to see, he avoided them with ease. He had a knack of knowing where not to be and when not to be there. It was a skill he had often used in the past, given his activities. He had a tendency to litter his path with scorned lovers, demanding dealers, frustrated submissives, displeased dominants, and the occasional angry mother.

His best evasion had been on his eighteenth birthday. It had fallen the day before his cousin's wedding to a beautiful and virginal debutant, just waiting to be spoiled. As a present to himself, Lex had done the honor of deflowering the virgin after arranging a wild bachelor party for the groom. The girl's mother had found her daughter the next morning, well fucked and very well pleased. The girl had gone through the wedding as planned, but the mother had searched all day for Lex. He managed always to be one step in front of her and always hidden from her view, even though he was at the wedding and reception. As evasions went, that one was definitely the highlight of his career.

And this must be the low point, he sighed silently. Scalding coffee dripped over his hand, leaking from the supposedly spill proof cup given to him by the Beanery. His heart was pounding from being startled and, standing not two inches away, glaring at him with accusing eyes, was Martha Kent. Mother of a Scorned Son.

"Mrs. Kent," he said hollowly, licking the coffee from his burned hand, "You took me by surprise. I didn't see you there."

She raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips. "I'm so sorry. Next time I'll try not to startle you by standing in the middle of a public sidewalk in broad daylight."

The corner of Lex's mouth twitched. "Sarcasm is not something I ever expected from you."

"I'm full of surprises."

"So I see." He sucked on his bottom lip. "So, do I need to ask to what I owe the honor of this totally random bumping into you today or can I guess?"

Martha smiled wryly. "If you're the man I think you are, rather than the one my husband believes you to be, then you probably already know."

He raised a surprised eyebrow. "Was that a compliment?"

"A sideways one, yes. You do know why I'm standing out here, waiting for you instead of running my errands, right?"

"Yeah." Lex sighed and took a drink of his coffee. Keeping his eyes on the white plastic top of the drink, he asked, "How's Clark?"

Martha shifted her weight, sighing. "Upset, of course. Throwing your typical, teenage, 'the world sucks so I must destroy everything,' fit."

Lex looked up. "Did he break anything?"

Looking surprised, she shook her head. "No, he didn't. He almost burned the house down, but nothing broke."

"Burned the house down?'"

She waved a hand in dismissal. "He hasn't quite learned the settings to the pilot and had the stove turned up too high. He wasn't doing anything on purpose."

"Oh." He sipped his coffee, then asked, "Did he calm down?"

"From the initial anger, yes. But he's still upset." She hesitated, then said, "He's worried, Lex, and hurt that you won't let him worry. I tried to get him to understand that you're probably scared, and . . ."

"What? Now you have some infallible radar that allows you to see my innermost thoughts and feelings?" Lex interrupted harshly.

Clearing her throat, Martha told him, "First, please don't speak to me in that tone. You may own this town, but I am your elder and I deserve some respect."

Lex glanced at her, then fixed his eyes on her shoulder. "Sorry, Mrs. Kent." He tried to sound sincere, which was hard, since he was angry.

"That's okay. Second, I did take a few classes in psychology in college, so I have some idea of how the human psyche works and, last I checked, you were human. And, third, I'm a mother. Of course I have an infallible radar with this kind of stuff. Maybe not your innermost thoughts and feelings, but basic level reactions that every child, no matter how old, has."

A chuckle rose in Lex's throat and he looked at her under lowered lids. "I'll keep that in mind." Then, he bit his lip. "What did he say? I mean, after you got him to understand."

"That he didn't deserve to be treated like you treated him, but . . .wait, no. I only meddle so far in my son's affairs with his friends. I'll leave the rest for the two of you to discuss. And you are going to talk to him, right? Lex?"

Lex nodded, sighing. "Yeah. I mean. . . I know I was harsh. I just didn't expect him to care so much."

Martha sighed. "Well, that's how Clark is. He cares for his friends with all his heart. If you really want to be his friend, you have to understand that he's going to be that way about you too. And if you can't handle that, maybe you should let him know. Gently, if possible."

"I want to be his friend. He saved my life." But he can't save me now, he finished silently.

Stepping closer to him, Martha put her hand on his arm. "He can't save you now, but he can make sure you don't go through anything alone. And you shouldn't have to, Lex; no one deserves to go through something like this alone."

Lex stiffened under her touch, but didn't pull away. Instead, he took another sip of his coffee, feeling it burn as it went down.

Sighing, Martha began rubbing her hand up and down his arm. "Have you heard anything yet?" she asked softly.

He shook his head. "No. My doctor said he should have the results tomorrow. He's going to call me in the afternoon."

She cleared her throat. "Do you want to come to dinner tonight? You might feel better if you weren't alone in that monster of a castle."

Shocked, Lex looked up at her. Martha gazed back with clear eyes, completely sincere.

"Uh, thanks," he managed to get out. "But I have a business dinner tonight in Metropolis. I'm actually on my way now; I," he made a slight face, "have to meet my dad for lunch."

"At least he's . . ."

"No, no," Lex interrupted. "It's a business lunch. Don't give him any credit; he doesn't deserve it."

Taken aback, Martha nodded, squeezed Lex's arm, and stepped back. "Well, if you ever need to be with people, or ever just want to talk, come over. Our door is always open to you."

"I'm sure you're husband will love that," Lex said dryly.

"Lex, Jonathan . . . He had a bad experience with your father. And I realize he's taking it out on you, which isn't fair, but he's just being protective of Clark. As for me. . .well, Clark's been having a bumpy time adjusting to high school. He seems to find some sort of comfort hanging around with you; you make him feel like he belongs somewhere, I guess. Beyond all that, you have been nothing but kind to our family. And I would like to repay that." She touched his arm again. "I want to help Clark's friend." She looked into his eyes, one eyebrow raised. "Please. Come over whenever you need."

Lex tried to hide his smile, but it still appeared on his face. He hoped that he didn't look as grateful as he felt and, at the same time, mentally kicked himself for feeling that way in the first place But he couldn't help it. He hadn't expected such openness from the adult Kent's.

Of course, if she knew he was having sex with her fifteen year old son, she might not be as friendly, but he wasn't going to mention that now.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

"You're welcome, Lex. Now, I'll let you go; don't want you to be late. I'll tell Clark that you won't be home tonight; he was going to call you after he got home from his volunteer hours. But talk to him soon."

"I promise." He looked at her for one more second, then smiled. "Bye, Mrs. Kent." Stepping around her, Lex jumped into his car and sped away "Well," he muttered to himself over the blaring music, "two out of three ain't bad. That is, if I can get Clark to forgive me. If."

But, one problem at a time. First, he had to deal with Dad; then he could worry about Clark.

***

Dress. Style. Cut. Movement. Color. Polish. Shine. Carriage. All true marks of a gentleman. A successful man. Dressed to impress and never for comfort, clothes, style, carriage should all broadcast to the world what a man is worth. Who that man is. Where that man is going.

Luthors dressed to kill. They dressed as if they owned the world, with restrained emotion and a lot of power. They never showed unseemly emotion or excess in their clothes, only strength. Style. Power. Restraint.

Lionel was always the picture of the perfect business man. The lines of his clothes were so sharp they could stop a man in his tracks, informing all the world that Lionel meant. Business. War. But. He never made a spectacle of himself. The clothes complemented him, they didn't define him.

Lex. . . Well, in his opinion, Lex has a better sense of style than Lionel. After all, Lex dealt in masks and what to wear and who to be. He knew the rules better than anyone, even Lionel, who had beat them into him for years. Lex knew what to do and what not to do.

All black to a lunch meeting was a definite Not to Do. All black indicated excess. Mourning. Sex. Emotion. Indulgence.

Which is why Lex wore all black for his lunch with dear old Dad. Just because he knew he shouldn't. Because he wanted to get the reaction.

He didn't get one. At least, not out loud. Lionel's eyes had raked over Lex's body with disapproval, his lips pressed together in a tight line. But, no words of chastisement passed his lips when Lex arrived, swinging his briefcase as he traipsed to the table, a smirk on his lips and mischief in his eyes.

No words. It was an improvement. Lex wasn't sure if he liked it.

Already in a bad mood, it didn't improve when he saw Dominic sitting at the table. It wasn't that Dominic didn't have every right to be there. Lex was just sour that he was there because Lex hated Dominic. With a passion. Bad enough they had once been lovers and that Dom hadn't been fired when Lionel had found out. No, Dad had kept him on and sent him to Smallville to lord over Lex like some evil henchmen. Even worse, he'd just been made Lionel's personal assistant, and that just. Scared Lex. Because, he suspected what Lionel's former assistant had been used for and the thought of Dom and Lionel was even more repulsive than the thought of Jonathan Kent and Lionel. Almost.

At least Lex hadn't fucked Jonathan, and he so did not want to examine any implications of Dom being Lionel's assistant right now. Ever, actually.

The wine was poured when Lex arrived and, as they mused over the menu, small talk was had. Of course, being Luthor's, there was no personal small talk. No. This was a business lunch, prompted by the fortunate coincidence that Lex was in town for the second time that week. Business, then, must be discussed.

"How is production this week?"

"It's up, Dad."

"I see that you have three employees out on indefinite sick leave."

"One's on maternity, actually; one had a non-work related injury, and the other's going though chemo. We're going to transfer him to a desk job when he's well enough."

"Good, good."

Dominic didn't join in. What he did do was decide the middle of the most expensive restaurant in Metropolis was the place to take his shoe off and run his socked foot up Lex's leg.

After orders were taken - steak for Lionel, salad for Lex, chicken for Dominic -the real business began.

"How is the compound coming along?" Lionel asked.

Lex cleared his throat. "Well, as I said in my report, it hasn't been going well. It'd be easier if you didn't keep insisting I needed to begin with an organic base and . . ."

"How many times do I have to tell you?" his father interrupted impatiently. "There is a demand for organic based fertilizers that make crops respond as they would to chemical based. People grow tired of having everything strictly non-organic these days. We will give them the best of both worlds."

"Yeah," Lex responded dryly. "I got that. And all I'm saying is, it'd be easier if you'd let me start with the right mix of chemicals, then figure out how to add the organic products."

"Why would that be easier?" Dominic interrupted. He rested his foot under the cuff against Lex's pants, toes curling against bare skin.

"Well," he replied, shooting Dominic a look; the Englishman gazed back blandly. "It's easier for me to start with a mix of chemicals, then see how it reacts when I add it to an organic based product, in this case, the fertilizer my plant is producing. Dad wants me to come up with something that will make crops grow faster and bigger, without totally engineering the compound in a lab. Because he is right: with all the backlash about hormones and everything, there is a demand for something more natural that will produce the same response. But Dad thinks I should just start adding stuff to the fertilizer and see what it forms. Last week I tried this and...well, it almost looked like it would work, but I remain unconvinced. See…" Lex pulled out a paper and pencil and scribbled an equation down, explaining as he went along.

"I read this in your report, Lex," Lionel interrupted, eyes scanning the page. "How close are you?"

Lex took a sip of his wine, shifting in his seat as Dominic's foot traveled back up, inching towards his crotch. "I'm getting closer. And, I've been experimenting a bit. I've decided to see if I can engrain a pesticide in the fertilizer which will grow into the base of the plant, allowing it to protect itself from insects. I've been running into some walls, but, I think I may have it. The entire deal, from the fertilizer to the pesticide. Because it's tied into each other. The formula came to me the other night in a dream. Now, I haven't had a chance to test it, but I think if I . . ." He got scientific again, warming to the subject. His heart was racing slightly, cheeks warm as he explained it to his father, writing as fast as he could.

"What's the added benefit of having the pesticide?" Lionel asked.

"The way I've got this particular one structured, all the chemicals disappear when the plant is cut down. So there's no risk, no hormones, no nothing. It looks like an organically grown crop."

Lionel's eyebrows hit his hairline. "How did you do that?"

"It's all right here." Lex began walking his father through the equations again, pointing out the relevant parts. "And then, when you add nitrogen, it reacts with . . ." He took off again, he mind racing as new ideas occurred to him. The entire chemical world began unfurling in his minds, structures and bonds taking over his vision, obscuring the note pad in front of him, the table, his father, everything. Lex was in the world of pure science, safe for the moment.

And then it ended. "Good, good. Put that away; I don't want anyone to hear you," Lionel said gruffly.

Jolted, Lex stopped writing, knocking his water over. Dominic took his foot off Lex's crotch and leaned forward, righting the water. He blotted it with his napkin. "There you go," he said softly. When he pulled away, his fingers trailed over the back of Lex's hand.

Clearing his throat, Lex crumpled the paper and shoved it into his briefcase. Heart already beating faster than normal, his face was warm with embarrassment. He had forgotten everything while he had been babbling. It was good that Lionel stopped him; public was not a place to lose oneself in anything, even work.

He took another sip of his wine. "Right," he said. "Sorry." He shifted his hips as Dominic's foot returned to his crotch. For a foot, it was freakishly talented.

"You came up with all of that in your sleep?" Dominic asked, his voice low.

"Well," Lex replied, clearing his throat, "there isn't much to do in Smallville." He smiled weakly as Dominic's toes curled around his rapidly hardening shaft.

Lunch arrived.

"When do you think we can begin testing?" Lionel asked.

Lex picked up his fork and stabbed at a lettuce leaf. "A few months. Four if all goes well. But," he cleared his throat, swallowing hard. He was trying to keep his breathing even, but it was hard with all the activity happening beneath the table. "Well, this will be in my report, but I don't think we should test this in Smallville."

"Why not?" Lionel demanded, attacking his steak.

"It just . . .doesn't seem to be the best place to be experimenting with chemicals. There are already so many anomalies as it is."

His father narrowed his eyes. "I spent a small fortune on that land . . ."

"No you didn't, Dad; you swindled everyone out of their land."

"I spent money on that land," repeated Lionel, "and I intend to use it. Do you have any solid evidence that there is anything in Smallville that is causing these so called anomalies."

Lex licked his lips. "Well, no, just the fact there are so many. Enormous carrots, three h-humped watermelons, strange taaasting . . ."

"Nonsense. Every town has it's tall tales."

"Well," he said, shifting again, "there was the meteor shower and . . ."

"Don't. Until you show me any connections backed up with real facts, I don't want to hear it."

"But . . ."

"For Christ's sake, Lex, you are not sick because of Smallville. You probably inherited your condition from your mother. She did die of cancer you know!" Lionel exclaimed in exasperation.

At least that got Dominic's foot off his crotch.

Clearing his throat, Lex picked up his wine and drained the glass. It was cold and sour going down, leaving a bitter after taste.

Clark doesn't like wine, he thought nonsensically. Grasping onto the thought, he called Clark's image to his mind, tracing the soft lines of the boys mouth with imaginary fingers, running them along the planes of his beautiful face, then kissing the pouty lips softly.

Calmer and able to speak, Lex opened his mouth to defend his honor. "Dad, I . . ."

He was interrupted by his cell phone.

"Yeah?" he demanded into it.

"You've now been at lunch with your father for almost an hour," Damien said over the line. "Has any blood been shed?"

"I have to take this. Excuse me," Lex said, rising. He walked quickly from the dining room the men's bathroom. "Hold on," he said into the phone, rooting through his pockets for his money clip. "I will give you two hundred dollars if you leave for half an hour," Lex told the attendant, holding out the cash.

He took it and left.

Lex sighed. "Thank you, Damien; you saved my life."

"That's why I get the big money, sir."

He laughed. "Remind me to give you a raise." Lex glanced in the mirror; he was pale, sweat beading his top lip. He pulled a handkerchief out.

"What happened?" his assistant asked.

"Nothing. I just tried to advise against testing in Smallville with no more than a 'I have a bad feeling about this,' to back up my claim. Dad really didn't like that."

"No; it doesn't seem like something he would."

"I don't suppose there is any pressing reason to draw me away, is there?"

"I could always come up with one."

"No, it's ok." Lex sighed, and blotted his forehead. "Is my dinner still on?"

"Yes; seven thirty. Unless you want me to cancel it."

Lex shook his head. "No. There's no need."

"Sir. . ."
"There is no need," Lex repeated harshly. Then he sighed. "Look, I'm going to hit the gym after I escape from this lunch. I really need to work out or something. I'll be out of touch for a few hours. If anything happens, page me and I'll . . ."

The door opened and Dominic stepped inside.

Their eyes meet in the mirror. Dominic closed the door behind him and leaned casually against it.

"Sir?" Damien prompted.

Still looking at Dominic, Les finished, "I'll call you as soon as I get out. Talk to you later." He hung up without waiting for his assistant's response. Putting the phone in his breast pocket, Lex turned and leaned against the counter, watching Dominic with detached interest.

Dominic and Lex had been lovers years ago. Luthor Corp had hired Dominic right after he graduated from business school, and, soon after, Dominic had somehow caught the attention of Lionel. It earned him an invitation to a summer party at the Luthor mansion. Lex was sixteen, out of high school, but not yet in college, and bored out of his mind. To compensate, he fucked anything that moved. The older Englishman was attractive, and Lex had seduced him before the night was over.

The affair had been passionate, but brief. Dominic, even with his advantage in years over Lex, was far lacking in experience. Even though Lex had never promised exclusivity, Dominic seemed to assume it. At the very least, he never expected Lex to flaunt his many affairs, which was, of course, exactly what Lex did.

Lex took him to Club Zero. It hadn't been Dominic's typical scene, and he'd been obviously uncomfortable, but a quick blow job had loosened him up. Lex had left him, sated and drunk in a corner booth, while he sought other entertainment.
By the time Dominic found him, Lex was getting fucked by some stranger in one of the back rooms with a small audience. He also had broken Dominic's cardinal rule: no drugs. Lex was so high when Dom found him that Lex couldn't even remember his name.

Dominic had fled, and the affair had ended. Two weeks later, he found Lex in bed with his sister, Victoria. Various empty liquor bottles were scattered around the room, as well as evidence of the drugs the two teenagers had taken. They were fucking in a very loud and obnoxious way and hadn't noticed Dominic for several minutes.

Never the man of action, Dominic had simply stood there. When Lex left, he whispered in his ear, "She was a much better fuck than you, anyway."

Just to piss Dom off further, Lex and Victoria had become an official item. Both of them were twisted enough not to care whom the other slept with, just as long as public appearances were kept up.

It had been an . . .interesting time in his life. Lex knew that Dominic always regretted the affair. Regretted having it and, perversely, regretted that it ended.

Now, in the bathroom of the restaurant, Dominic locked the door. "I was worried so I came looking for you," he said, walking towards Lex.

Lex smirked. "Riiight," he drawled, watching his every move. Lex kept his posture relaxed enough to be just a touch welcoming.

Encouraged, Dominic moved closer, stopping when their bodies were inches apart. Placing his hands on either side of Lex's body, he said, "You looked upset earlier."

"Well, my father accused me of being a paranoid hypochondriac in the middle of a public place, then told me I caught cancer from my dead mother. It's not exactly the best day of my life."

"Don't listen to him." Dominic ran his thumb down Lex's jaw, watching the move intently. "Lionel can be a fool when it comes to people, especially you. He never has any idea what to say to you, how to behave. When to stop." His hand slid down Lex's body, stopping at his crotch. Eyes staring into Lex's, Dominic began to massage him through the fabric of his slacks.

Lex bit his lip, holding back a moan. His cock was stirring under Dominic's ministration. "You, of course, know exactly what to do and say around me."

"I'd like to think that I know you better than him."

"More intimately, at least." Inhaling sharply, Lex rocked his hips into Dominic's hand and said, "May I ask what the fuck you were doing out there?"

"Trying to get you to relax. You're much too tense." He undid Lex's fly, sliding his hand down Lex's boxer's for more direct contact with the hard flesh beneath.

Lex's arms uncrossed so he could grip the sides of the counter. Dominic was building a stead rhythm that his hips seemed compelled to follow. "And coming in my pants in public was supposed to accomplish that?" He swallowed hard, licking his lips.

"Your coat's long enough; no one would have seen." Dominic licked along Lex's jaw. Then he nuzzled Lex's cheek, eyes falling shut. A purr resonated in his throat.

Lex jerked his head away. "If you kiss me, I will bite your tongue off," he warned.

Dominic's blue eyes were dark, his arms stormy. "Lex, please." One arm wound around Lex's waist, drawing their bodies together. "It's me." His finger swept over the head of Lex's cock and he rubbed his face against Lex's again. "God, your skin is soft." He pressed a kiss against Lex's cheek. "Let me kiss you."

Lex pulled his face away; the other man moved forward, following him. "Why the sudden change, Dom? You haven't been this interested in me since I was a kid."

"You were never a kid," he murmured into Lex's lips before capturing them, tongue pressing into the crease.

Lex opened his mouth and bit Dominic's tongue. Hard.

"Fuck!" He pulled back.

Copper taste of blood in his mouth, Lex slid his hands down Dominic's back and cupped the other man's ass. "Did my father send you in here? Is he paying you to fuck me?" Striking forward, Lex bit Dom's jaw, leaving a lovely deep read mark. He continued to bite along the skin, up towards the other man's ear.

Dominic's hand began working faster, each stroke rougher than the last. Squeezing Lex's dick, making him gasp in pain, Dominic said, "I'd do it for free, you know that." He tried to nuzzle Lex again.

Releasing Dominic's ass, Lex places his hands on Dom's shoulder's, trying to keep the older man back. His began to fuck Dominic's hand as he ground out, "But. He paid you." His stomach was tying itself in knots, only partly from arousal.

He leaned forward. Lex bit him on the bottom lip, drawing blood.

Jaw twitching, eyes unreadable, Dominic answered, "Yes."

A very old and long unused mask slid over Lex's face and he smiled. Threading his fingers through the Englishman's hair, he squeezed as hard as he could.

Dominic gasped in pain, twisting back. Lex forced him down.

"Then on your knees. Whore," Lex ordered.

Gritting his teeth, Dominic stopped fighting and landed on the floor with an audible crack. An exclamation of pain escaped him, but he dutifully reached up and began pulling Lex's pants down.

A heady feeling filled Lex's head, and he fought for breath. Need like lightening flooded through him, followed by something dark and heavy. Poison ran through his veins, and Lex pushed away the thoughts, pushed away the guilt, pushed away the conscience, pushed away the image of a farm-fresh face that gazed at him through eyes painted the color of betrayal.

And then, over his panting and Dominic's grunts of pain came the Tick. Tick. Tick of his watch, echoing against the tiles of the bathroom.

He blocked it out and demanded of the whore in front of him, "What are you waiting for, harlot?"

Shame flooded Dominic's eyes as he pulled Lex's cock free of his boxers and nuzzled it with his nose.

And Clark was there, on his knees of the bathroom. On his knees like a whore, like a tramp, like a slut.

Like Lex.

He gagged, bile rising in his throat.

Lex pushed Dominic away so hard the older man fell back, his head cracking against the floor.

"Out! Now!" Lex shouted, yanking his slacks back up.

"Lex. . ." he started, sitting up.

Lex kicked him away. "Get out of here you fucking bitch! Tell my father I don't need his dirty whore, got it?" Swallowing hard, Lex stumbled to the nearest stall. He made it to toilet just as he lost his breakfast and what little he'd had since. He kept heaving into the toilet even after his stomach was well past empty. Heaving and retching, but not able to purge the sickness within him.

He didn't know how much time had passed before he finally stopped. He did know that his father was there, as well as the manager of the restaurant. His father was shouting something about poison, and bad cooking even though Lex knew Lionel knew Lex hadn't eaten anything. But Lionel stood there, roaring about how he was going to sue the restaurant for trying to kill his son.

His son. His weak, sick son who was probably dying anyway.

Ignoring both men, Lex rose and stumbled out of the restaurant. He was vaguely aware of the crowd that had gathered, of his whore's eyes following him, hands reaching for him. Lex pulled away and made it to his car. Then he drove. Just drove, needing a drink. Needing something . . .something he could never have, not really.

Cleanliness. And Clark.

***

"Clark?"

"Yeah, Mom?"

Martha sat next to Clark in the barn, handing him a cup of coca. "I thought you might need this."

Clark sipped it, getting whipped cream on his upper lip. "Thanks."

"How's your homework?"

"Done. Can you proofread my English essay? It's due in two days."

"Of course."

"Thanks." Clark sighed, a puff of condensation hanging in front of his face.

"Clark, don't let it get to you. No one can tell the future," Martha said, taking his hand and squeezing it.

Clark nodded. "But she was so convincing. And with Lex sick and all . . ."

"We don't know he's sick. He's getting the results tomorrow." She sighed. "Listen, when you deliver the produce tomorrow, tell him I'd like him to come to dinner. No matter what the news, he shouldn't be alone."

"He won't want to."

"Well, if he doesn't, you stay with him."

"He doesn't want me."

Martha shook her head. "I told you he knows he shouldn't have treated you the way he did. Clark, he's your friend and he knows he was wrong. And, trust me," she told him wryly, "getting someone to admit they're wrong is no mean feat. There are things about you that he needs to accept, but there are things about him that you need to accept too. Relationships are a two way street." She ran her fingers through Clark's hair, brushing it away from his face.

Clark blushed. "He's just my friend, Mom."

Her fingers paused for a split second, so infinitesimal that Clark was sure he imagined it, before she continued the movement. Clearing her throat, she replied, "Friendship is a type of relationship too."

"Oh. Right." He bit his lip. "I'll ask."

Martha nodded and kissed his cheek. "Good."

***

"Sir?" Damien called through the clouds of steam hanging in the bathroom, obscuring his sight.

"Yeah?"

He cleared his throat. "You've been in the shower all morning. If you want to get to work by your first meeting, you should get out now."

"Yeah, ok."

Damien counted to thirty, then said, "Sir?"

"What?!"

"If you do not get out now, I will come in and get you."

The water shut off. A moment later, Lex's scared voice came through the fog.

"Damien?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I've got blisters or something. And I'm bleeding."

Damien sighed. "I'll get the first aid kit. I'll meet you in your room."

"Ok."

Sighing and shaking his head, Damien left to fetch the kit. Lex had gone to his dinner meeting the night before, but had disappeared afterwards When he had gotten home at three in the morning, he was mildly drunk and very tense. His neck, back, and arms were so tight, they were trembling with fatigue. He'd waved off any offers for help tersely.

Ever mindful of his duties to his employer, Damien had tactfully offered himself as a way to help Lex relax. He'd gotten a drink thrown at him for his efforts.

"You're not a whore," Lex had announced loudly, "and you're not doing that anymore." Then he had gone to bed.

Damien got the kit and went back to Lex's room. Lex was sitting on the edge of his bed, blisters covering his chest, the skin on his arms rubbed raw. He sighed again, mentally reviewing the day's schedule; delivery day. The boy was coming.

Hopefully, he would take care of this, since obviously he was the only one Lex wanted.

***

Chewing on his lip, Clark watched as Lex ripped up his driveway at about a hundred miles an hour. His heart was racing, both from anticipation and fear. Lex had to be the one Cassandra was talking about; it was just this feeling that Clark had. And if it wasn't cancer, well, Clark kept expecting the car to burst into flames, too fast for him to save Lex. Then he would lose him. Forever.

Stomach twisting, Clark shifted the box of produce in his arms.

The car didn't explode and Lex didn't crash. He jerked to a halt a few feet in front of Clark. But he didn't get out. The car remained silent, Lex inside, staring at the steering wheel.

Unsure what to do, Clark simply stood there. He so rarely got into fights with his friends, he didn't know what was expected of him. If he should go to Lex, stay where he was, or what. If he was allowed to hug Lex as soon as he dropped off the produce because, as angry as he was, he needed to assure himself that Lex was still there. Still solid flesh and blood and not the ethereal being he'd seemed in the office of the Torch, and still seemed now. So fragile and brittle.

But he didn't know what was allowed. With Lex, he never knew.

The door opened and Lex got out. Looking at Clark though haunted eyes, he said, "Hello, Clark."

It wasn't a mask, but it wasn't quite Lex. Or, rather, it was, but he was exhausted.

Taking a deep breath, Clark answered, "Hey, Lex," softly.

Lex walked forward. "Delivery day, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Well." He stopped in front of Clark, just on the other side of the box. His eyes darted around Clark before landing on his face. "Let's take it into Mabel."

"Yeah. Ok."

Lex lead the way. His shoulders kept twitching, like he wanted to slump, but kept fighting to keep them back. Keep them square. He looked tired, screamed tired from every pore. Clark wanted to. . . to touch him. Give him strength. Tell him that he . . . but he couldn't.

Lex didn't want that. Probably.

The kitchen was warm and homey, smelling like chicken and chocolate. It should have been repulsive, but it smelled too much like comfort.

Mabel was standing over the stove, her face pink from the steam rising out of the pot she was stirring. Her eyes lit up when Clark and Lex walked in.

"Clark! It's so good to see you, dear," she greeted jovially, walking across the room to him.

Clark smiled. "Hey, Mabel. Good to see you." He handed her the list.

She scanned it, checking each item as she did. "How's school?"

"Good. I'm getting straight A's so far."

That earned him a smile. "My, aren't you a smart boy?"

"Naw. The classes are easy, that's all."

"Don't. No self-deprecation allowed in my kitchen. How are your friends?"

"Fine. My friend Pete and I are volunteering at the rest home now."

"How civic minded."

"Well, it's required." Clark shot a sideways look at Lex, remembering what Cassandra said.

Lex was leaning against the counter, looking bored. Well, trying to look bored, at least. He actually looked like he was fighting off sleep.

"This all looks good," Mabel announced. "Tell your parents I need a delivery of apples if they have for next week, and the usual in two."

"I will." Clark took the signed paper back and shoved it in his pocket. "What are you cooking? It smells great."

"Chicken dumplings, macaroni, and brownies, Mr. Luthor's favorite. Don't tell anyone, though; he pretends to like fancy food, but this is what he likes best." She cocked her head as if an idea had just occurred to her. "You should stay for dinner, Clark; there's going to be plenty."

"Oh, uh. . .I don't know." Clark shuffled his feet and shot Lex a look.

Lex scowled. "I thought I told you I didn't want dinner."
"You're only allowed to skip one meal a day, sir, and that was breakfast today. Damien swore he would shove lunch down your throat, so I don't want to hear any different." Mabel turned back to Clark. "He'll eat if you stay."

Clark smiled. "Maybe I will then."

Lex grabbed his hand. "I could fire you for this," he growled, pulling Clark from the room.

"You could, but you won't," she replied cheerily. "It was nice to see you, Clark!"

"You too!" he called back, allowing Lex to drag him upstairs.

He pulled Clark past the entertainment room and into his bedroom. Slamming the door, Lex released Clark and glared at the wood paneling. "I wish she wouldn't do that. I like to think I have some authority in this house. I am in charge, right?"

Clark shrugged. "She's just looking out for you."

"I don't need her to look out for me. I need her to listen to me!"

"Jesus Christ, Lex, what the heck is your problem?" Clark asked hotly. "People care for you, ok? You're not all that unlikable except when you go around acting like a complete and total jerk. If you don't want people to care, then don't let anyone close. Don't hire people who like everyone they meet. Don't . . .don't act like you care for me, like you want me, and then expect me not to care."

Lex turned away from the door, looking at Clark. His eyes were blank, dead, revealing nothing. If he hadn't been so tired, Clark knew that Lex would have 'disappeared' by now. Shut himself off and hid behind one of his expensive masks.

Clark sighed angrily, something in him breaking. "I'm going home."

Lex caught him by his arm. "Don't," he said quietly.

Staring at the door, Clark asked, "Why not?"

The hand tightened. "Because I... I need ... "

"Need what?"

The word was whispered so softly it was like a sigh on a breeze, "You." And Lex let Clark go, walking across the room quickly.

Clark turned from the door and leaned against it. He watched as Lex stood in front of the open window. The day was slightly balmy, warm currents riding the breeze, giving them a reprieve from the cold of the week before. Lex stood at the window holding himself, body so tight that any movement threatened to break him.

It was Clark who broke the silence. "Do you think it's not the same for me?" he asked. "Do you think that this is a one sided thing? That you can come into my life, show me this whole other world, take my virginity from me one bit at a time, and think that I'm not going to need you?"

Small, almost imperceptible shake of the head. "I didn't think I would need you."

There was a strange burning in the vicinity of Clark's chest and he dashed at his eyes angrily, feeling betrayed by his own reaction. "So this was just a casual thing for you."

"No." Lex turned, still holding himself. "No. I didn't know what this was. I just knew I couldn't stop. You . . . you made sense to me, Clark, and I needed that. Needed you." He shut his eyes, shaking his head again. "I need you." He took a deep, hitching breath. "And I'm not used to this. I've never needed anyone and it's . . .not easy. None of this is and I don't know what to do." He bit his lips, chewing on them as if to keep his words in, keep himself from spilling out. "What I said. The other day. I was wrong. I do know what I want, but I can't." His last word was whispered brokenly, and he shook his head hard. "My life. No one's taught me how to . . . to be open. And. I needed to protect myself. From you."

Clark began walking slowly towards Lex. "Look at me," he ordered. "Lex."

Taking a shuddering breath, Lex opened his eyes.

"You will never need protection from me. I will never do anything to hurt you. No matter what happens, I won't hurt you. I swear."

"But . . ."

"No. No buts. I mean it. I . . .I ..." Clark faltered, searching for the words he needed without throwing himself off a cliff so high that he was sure to crash.

But Lex heard him. Heard the words that Clark was too scared to even think even though he knew his feelings. And, looking into Clark's eyes, a small, sad smile curving his lips, Lex whispered, "Yeah. I do too."

Stopping in front of Lex, Clark reached out to run his fingers down the downy smooth cheeks. The words remained unspoken, yet Clark had just discovered how to fly. But, judging by the fear and indecision in Lex's eyes, there was still more to be said. "What's wrong?" he asked, wondering why he felt compelled to speak softly.

Lex licked his lips. "I'm trying to say that I'm sorry, but I don't know how."

"That's fine." Clark kissed him quickly, drawing Lex into his embrace. "That'll do."

Lex's kisses were long and desperate, as if he thought he could climb inside Clark and hide. Clark began walking them back to the bed, finding it by memory, his concentration on the man in his arms. He could feel Lex's heart pounding against him, and the tension that strummed through Lex's veins. All Clark wanted to do was to make him relax, make him forget. Forgiving was the easiest thing Clark had ever done.

He bumped into the bed and lay back, tugging Lex onto his body.

"I missed you," Clark murmured, breaking their kiss. He brushed his lips over Lex's cheek.

"I thought I had pushed you away for good. I thought that was what I wanted." Lex pressed a kiss into his lips, then trailed down his cheek, to his jaw. When he hit Clark's neck, he went still, hiding his face.

But he had more to say. Clark could feel the words buzzing against his skin as Lex told him, "I pretended I was protecting you. From me. From my life. My weakness. But I didn't even fool myself. And then your mother. . . "

"She told me she saw you." Clark ran his hands up Lex's back, rubbing in soothing circles.

"She was the start of a very bad day. But she tried to get me to see that... that I hadn't lost you yet."

Lex's skull was smooth, almost silky. Clark liked the way it felt on his lips as he brushed them over and over the satin skin.

With a sigh, Lex's muscles began relaxing, his entire body melting into Clark's. Clark continued to caress his lover's back, rubbing his hands up and down the incredible skin, trying to draw the last bit of tension from the body on him.

Of course, that was when the phone rang.

Ring.

Lex turned to stone in his arms.

Ring.

"Is Damien going to get that?" Clark asked.

Ring.

"Do you want me to get that?"

Ring.

"Lex."

Lex picked himself off Clark and crawled across the bed to the phone. Taking a deep breath, he answered it and stood next to the bed.

"Lex Luthor speaking." Silence. "Yes." Silence. "Oh." Silence and. . .relief? But it was gone too quickly, replaced by an expressionless mask. "I see. Yes. No, fine. Yes. Really, yes. Oh?" Beat. "Really? Hmm. No, I don't. No, I don't." Beat, then, more annoyed, "No. I don't. No, that's fine. Yes, I understand." Exasperated sigh. "Yes. I understand. I got it. No, call Damien; he knows my schedule better than I. Ok. Ok. Ok." Small pause, then a quick, "Thanks." Then Lex hung up.

Nervously, Clark watched Lex. Clark was propped up on one elbow, one hand clutching the comforter convulsively while he gnawed on his bottom lip. His heart was hammering hard against his ribs, blood racing through his veins.

Lex was staring into space, phone hanging loosely at his side, giving away nothing.

"Well?" Clark finally asked.

The blue eyes returned from infinity, finding Clark's face as if in a dream. Lex swallowed. "It was negative," he said, voice hoarse. "I'm ok." He swallowed again. "Excuse me." Dropping the phone on the bed, Lex went quickly to the bathroom

Relief made him weak. Clark fell onto the bed, joy spreading through him, making his stomach twist. He rolled onto his back and grinned at the ceiling.

"He's all right," Clark whispered, needing to hear the words again. It was really too good of news to share only with the room. He considered running out and telling Mabel and Damien, but that would mean leaving Lex. He needed something closer.

Reaching over, he picked up the phone and dialed home.

"Hello?"

"Mom, it's me. Lex is ok." His voice cracked.

"Oh, honey! That's wonderful. Where is he?"

Clark glanced at the bathroom, wincing as he heard the sound of retching. "Uh, throwing up, I think. Look, I'm going to stay here for dinner. Is that ok?"

"Of course. Just be home by ten-thirty. And tell him . . .tell him I'm happy for him. And that I still want him to come to dinner sometime."

Clark grinned. "I will Mom. Bye." Hanging up, he went to the bathroom.

Lex was next to the toilet, throwing up brown fluid. Beads of sweat rolled down the side of his face, his knuckles white as he gripped the bowl.

Without a word, Clark went to the sink and got a glass of water. Placing that besides Lex, who was now dry heaving, Clark walked to the linen closet to retrieve a wash cloth. After wetting it, he sat on the floor by Lex.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Lex sat up. Clark handed him the water, which he took gratefully. He rinsed and spit, then drank the rest down. "I tried to eat lunch, but I couldn't. I forced down a piece of toast, then scraped the rest into the trash can when Damien wasn't looking. I didn't think I had enough in my stomach to throw up; looks like I was wrong." He flushed the toilet.

Clark scooted so his legs were around Lex, drawing the older man into a protective circle. Sponging off his lover's forehead, Clark said, "You're all right." He couldn't keep the grin off his face.

A smile spread over Lex's face. "I am," he marveled. "I don't have cancer." He sighed, his face taking on a distant expression. "There were times yesterday when I thought . . .I thought that the verdict had already come in. At lunch. . .Dad was just so weird. Like he had been around Mom. Just not quite comfortable with the stench of death clinging to us. And I thought, well, that's it. I'm dead. Just like her." He swallowed hard and glanced at the toilet. "I tried to get drunk yesterday, and couldn't. I tried to lose myself and . . . I couldn't. I couldn't betray you just so I could forget a few hours."

"What do you mean?"

But Lex shook his head. "Nothing. Don't... you probably don't want to know. Just know that I… I'm trying my hardest not to hurt you. Ever."

Lex's eyes were transparent, like glass. In them, Clark could read the sins he had committed, the people he had slept with, the people he had used, and the people who had used him. And Clark forgave it all. Because he could. Because, he . . .

"But," he said, shying away from that thought, "you're not sick." He beamed, a new idea taking hold. "You're not going to die. You're probably not the one she was talking about."

"The one who was talking about?"

He hitched a shoulder. "There's this woman at the rest home I'm volunteering at who can tell the future. Cassandra. She told me that someone very close to me was going to die soon. I, I was afraid it was you."

"Clark." Lex ran his hand up Clark's leg, squeezing his thigh. "People can't see into the future."

"You sound like my parents."

Lex smirked. "That's a first."

Clark smirked back. "Thank God." He took Lex's hand, threading their fingers. "You're not sick."

"You've said that."

"And I'm going to keep saying it until I know it's real."

"Then keep saying it," Lex said throatily.

"I have to kiss you."

"I just threw up."

"I don't care." Clark leaned forward and kissed Lex, tongue pushing into the wet, warm mouth. Then he pulled back, making face. He shuddered at the rancid taste on his tongue. "Ok. That was really disgusting. Go brush your teeth so I can kiss you the right way."

With a tortured sigh, Lex rose and went to the sink. "Only for you, Clark."

Clark smiled. "I feel so special."

"You are," Lex whispered before shoving his toothbrush into his mouth, brushing hard, working up a lather.

Blushing hotly, Clark looked away. "Mom wants me to remind you that you're invited for dinner. Tonight or. . .or whenever."

Through a mouthful of foam, Lex tried to laugh. "I can' believe she's trying to ge' me to comb." He spit into the sink, rinsing his mouth. "You're father hates me and she is still encouraging me."

Clark stood. "Well, she knows you're important to me."

"Does she know how important?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No. Just that you're my friend. Not my...lover." He blushed.

Lex walked back over to him. Winding his arms around Clark's waist, he smacked their lips together. "There. Minty fresh."

Clark curved his hand around the back of Lex's skull and held him. Lex's lips were silky, almost liquid against his own. They parted easily, drawing Clark in, surrounding him with hot, wet heat. Their tongues slid together like old friends, rubbing against each other with growing urgency and heat.

"Would it," Lex panted, breaking the kiss, "seem terribly co-dependant of me, or speak of badly of my coping skills if I said I really needed to have sex right now?"

Clark laughed. "No. We just got good news. I say we have to have sex. But . . .can we go back into the bedroom?"

"Please."

Arms around Lex's waist, Clark lifted the older man up and walked quickly into the other room.

Lex gasped, his hands tightening on Clark's arms, not relaxing even when Clark set him down. His eyes closed, body stiff in Clark's arms, fingers digging into Clark's skin hard.

"Sorry," Clark said, cursing internally. He was getting sloppy when he was with Lex, showing off his strength at bad moments. Lex wasn't heavy, but Clark still shouldn't have lifted him.

Lex's his eyes opened, caution and a little bit of fear lurking in the cerulean blue depths. He started to say something, then shook his head sharply, stopping the thought.

"What?" he asked hesitantly, dreading what was to come.

Lex shook his head again. "There's something . . .but not now. I'm not in the mood. And... and I trust you, Clark. Not to break me."

He laughed shakily. "Don't be crazy, Lex. Break you?"

"I trust you," Lex said again. "Leave it there for another day. Please."

Clark thought about pushing; he wanted to know what was going on. Wanting to know why Lex wasn't pushing; it didn't seem like something he would casually ignore. But, seeing the desperate edge in Lex's eyes, he decided to let it go. For today.

"I trust you too, Lex," Clark said before tugging Lex's shirt over his head. "Jesus, Lex. What's this?" He dropped the shirt on the floor, running his hands over the row of tiny blisters on the smooth skin.

Lex whimpered, closing his eyes. "Not now! I want to come!" He bounced a few times.

"But ..."

Growling, Lex began tugging at the hem of Clark's shirt. "I was in the shower too long this morning and it was too hot."

Clark allowed himself to be stripped to the waist, before returning to Lex's hurts. "And these?" He traced his fingers over the raw marks on Lex's wrists.

"Rubbed too hard. I . . .did things yesterday, Clark, that I had to clean myself of today. I was crazy. I'm fine now. Please." He pressed his lips against Clark's trying to force the teen onto the bed.

Clark sat, but held Lex off him. "We need to talk."

"Not now," Lex insisted, mouth latching onto Clark's neck and sucking hard.

"No," he managed to say firmly, which was hard with a beautiful man attached to his body. "Now."

Sighing, Lex pulled back, crossing his arms over his chest. "What?"

Licking his lips, Clark said, "I want you to stop trying to kill yourself."

"Clark, that's. . ."

"No, it's not. You act like someone with nothing to live for. Like someone who doesn't care if they live or die. You've said that you're happy you got this second chance, but you still take too many risks." Clark ran his knuckles over the satin of Lex's chest. "You drive like a maniac, you drink a lot, you burn yourself in the shower. It's like you're trying to passive aggressively hurt yourself. Like you don't mean to, but you just do it." He bit his lip, pressing a kiss to Lex's neck. "I mean, Lex. I get that there are people who like pain, but . . .I only understand it when it's tied to sex. Because people have their kinks. But what you're doing is just . .. random." He slid his hands up to Lex's shoulders. "Just because you're not dying of cancer, doesn't mean that you shouldn't be more careful. I mean, you still might get in an accident and I won't always be there to save you, no matter how hard I try."

Lex rested his forehead against Clark's. Holding onto his biceps, Lex said, "Clark. I am not going to die. I swear."

"Then take care of yourself."

Lex sighed. "I'm not trying to kill myself. I don't want to die."

"Then promise. I have to hear it." Dropping his voice, Clark whispered, "Promise. For me."

Nodding, Lex swore, "For you, Clark, I would promise the world."

"I'm not asking for the world. I'm asking for you."

"Then that's what you have. I promise I will take care of myself."

Clark studied Lex for a moment, reading the sincerity in the older man's eyes. Nodding in satisfaction, Clark wrapped his arms around Lex and laid back, drawing his lover down with him. "Thank you, Lex."

Lex kissed him, passionately, Lovingly. "Thank you, Clark. I . . ." he broke off, kissing Clark again, allowing himself to be rolled onto his back so Clark could hold onto the sheets more easily.

But Clark heard what Lex was going to say anyway. And he glowed.