Corner of the World 2: Dinner and a Movie

Lex's castle was nothing short of amazing. It was the coolest building that Clark had ever been in by far. After all, it was a castle. Castles were where knights lived, heroes of old, and where true love was the law of the land. It was a place where people lived happily ever after.

Except that Lex's castle didn't feel much like happily ever after. It felt lonely and cold. Distant and showy. Like the place the villain was sent to live after he was defeated. No, scratch that; it felt like the place the hero was sent by a villainous relative to waste away.

And Lex seemed to be doing just that. Not wasting away, exactly, but certainly not *living *. There was nothing in the castle that _felt _ like Lex to him. Not that Clark actually knew Lex all that well, but, well, there was that old saying, "I'll know it when I see it." That's how Clark felt about the whole situation. He didn't know Lex, but he knew that all this formality, all this cold show wasn't Lex.

The only place that had any personality was the kitchen, and all that was due to the new cook., Mabel, who was gone for the week-end, had taken the expensive and, frankly, amazing kitchen and made it hers. It was the only place in the entire castle that felt like someone lived there. The only place that felt like a home.

And that was the problem. To Clark, it didn't feel like Lex really had a place where he belonged. The Luthor manor wasn't a home like Kent Farms was to Clark. It was just some place where Lex existed.

Clark wondered what it would take to make the castle feel like it should. Like Lex lived there, belonged there. Like it wasn't someplace that Lex could leave on a moments notice. Take off for Metropolis or another country or a better opportunity and leave no trace behind.

That was a strangely painful thought. Clark's stomach twisted at it, the thought of Lex leaving. If he ever did, Clark hoped there would be someplace remaining in Smallville that would remind him of Lex. Somewhere besides the bridge. Somewhere more personal and with happier memories.

Clark glanced out the door of the cook's office and into the kitchen. From his seat behind the desk covered in recipes, pictures, and knick-knacks, he could see Lex. The older man was standing with his hands on his slim hips, scowling at the oven

When they had arrived, he had assured Clark he could take care of dinner.

"Mabel left me detailed instructions on how to order pizza or heat up anything in the freezer. I'll be fine. You call your friends," he had told Clark, gently pushing him towards the office.

"You sure?"

"Go." The last had been whispered in his ear, causing strange things to tighten in Clark's abdomen. Lex had given a final shove before going to deal with dinner.

And that was how Clark found himself sitting at the desk, trying to explain to Pete why he wasn't going to be able to meet them tonight.

"I can't believe you're ditching us," Pete said flatly, his disapproval and hurt ringing clearly over the phone line after Clark finished his explanation.

Clark shook his head, perfectly aware that his friend couldn't see him, but too intent on the discussion to care. "I'm not ditching you. I'm just. . .hanging out with someone else."

"Which, in my definition of the word, is ditching. You had plans with me and Chloe and when something better came along, you decided to go with that."

"I never said Lex is better or more exciting or anything. To tell the truth, I didn't feel much like going out before I bumped into him anyway. I'm, I don't know, in a bad mood or something. I just don't really feel like going out where there's a lot of people tonight, that's all."

"We could just hang at my house. Chloe can bring a movie, we could sit and watch, order pizza, drink soda."

Clark sighed. "Pete, we do that all the time. I see you two all the time. And I don't mean to make it sound like I'm sick of you or anything, but, well, I never get to see Lex. I've never really gotten to hang out with him. I like him a lot, and I want to be friends with him. But we've never gotten a chance to just be alone and talk or hang out or anything. When he asked me over tonight, I realized that it'd be a good chance to really get to know him."

"I don't trust him. I mean, he's rich, a stranger and. . .and he's older than you are."

"What does age matter? I mean, I saved his life. Surely that counts for something."

"True. I just... I wish that, I don't know, I was the one over there, I guess. That I had the rich guy who wanted to be my friend."

Clark raised an eyebrow. "Pete, are you jealous?"

Pete laughed slightly. "Me? Jealous of the fact that you get to hang out with a cool, rich guy who bought you a truck, wants to be your friend, and lives with a castle? Who probably has all the latest DVD's and a big screen TV? Hell, yeah. I'll let you ditch us tonight, but you have to tell me everything about the place and what goes on. Got it?"

"Got it," he answered, grinning. "I swear I won't leave anything out."

"All right then. You have a good night."

"Yeah, you too. And thanks for understanding. Bye." With that final parting, he hung up the phone and sighed. For a moment, he gazed at the phone, deliberating his next move. He could call his parents and probably be ordered to return directly home, or he could lie and pretend he was at Pete's.

And if something happened and his parents called Pete's house, he'd be grounded for life.

Being fifteen sucked.

Clark looked up from the phone into the kitchen. Lex was now glaring at the oven as if it wasn't behaving. His forehead was wrinkled and his lips bunched up attractively. And the eyes... well, Clark could only see Lex from the side, but the blue beams were fixed intently on the oven, concentrating hard.

Clark wondered what else Lex could concentrate that hard on.

Horrified at himself, Clark looked away, a flush rising to his cheeks.

"I have _got _ to stop thinking like that," he said softly.

Ever since the accident, Clark had been having these intense dreams about Lex. Really intense, unlike anything he had every experienced before. He thought he had had wet dreams in the past, but it was different. Weird.

Before, his sex dreams had always been hazy. Romantic. Images of Lana, lying in the grass, the two of them rolling together, kissing, under the sun or the stars. She would whisper words he had longed to hear, kiss him tenderly, and when he woke, he might be hard, but just as often, he wasn't. They were romantic dreams. Normal dreams.

Dreams of Lex, on the other hand.... Erotic was the only way to describe it. Images of naked limbs and harden members, sensations of flesh on flesh, bites and caresses, moans and cries of pleasure. The feeling of a hand on his cock, a tongue in his mouth, and a body writhing beneath his.

Almost every morning since pulling Lex out of the river, Clark had woke to find his pajamas and sheets a mess.

All because of Lex Luthor. A guy of all things.

"Fucking Christ! How hard can this thing be?" Lex swore suddenly.

Clark looked up, banishing his darker thoughts to the corners of his mind. "Lex? Do you need help in there?"

Lex glanced at him, his normally pale cheeks pink. "No. I'm good. I'm just trying to figure out how to work the fucking oven."

"I thought we were going to get pizza."

"I have pizza. Frozen pizza. I thought it'd be easy to heat it up. I didn't realize that I had the oven from hell."

"I can help you. I actually know how to work one."

Lex looked at him gratefully. "Could you?"

Clark went into the kitchen and stood besides Lex, gazing at the oven. "Wow. It's . . not like we have at home."

"State of the art. The best money can buy," Lex responded ruefully, making a grand, sweeping gesture with his hands. His shoulder brushed Clark's. "I, of course, don't know how to use it. Mabel does, but that's what I hired her for. I don't get cooking. Microwaving, yes. Punch a few buttons, wait a few seconds and, viola! Food. Or, something resembling food at any rate. But pre-heat at 200 degrees, chop, mix, and cook? Not a clue. What I really understand, better than anything, though, is room service." He grinned at Clark, eyes dancing.

Clark returned the grin, his stomach fluttering in a not unpleasant way. "I've actually never gotten to experience room service. Dad always said it was an luxury that we didn't need."

"The Luthor's can't do without it. We were raised from the cradle depending on servants to attend our every need. For the first eight years of my life, I thought food grew on silver trays." He smiled again, tilting his head to study Clark. "You should stay over sometime when I have an actual staff in the kitchen. Then you'll experience room service at its finest."

Images flew wildly through Clark's head, but he managed to keep from blushing. Or, rather, he managed to keep from turning beet red. But the picture of him snuggled in Lex's bed, cuddled against his pale body, eating breakfast from a tray was as attractive as it was unprecedented for the heat not to rise to his cheeks.

Lex narrowed his eyes. "Are you all right, Clark?"

"Uh, yeah. Let me do the oven." Clark turned his attention back to contraption, trying to ignore the heat spreading in his lower regions. After a moment of contemplation, he found the heat setter. "What setting do I need?"

Lex looked the box. "It says 350."

He made the appropriate adjustments. "Ok. Stick it in and I'll set the timer."

"That's it?"

Clark smiled. "That's it."

Lex slid the pizza into the oven, the move bringing him very close to Clark. He turned, bringing their bodies almost flush. A strange smile played along the older man's face. "My hero," he said throatily.

Clark stood frozen, unsure of what to do. Was Lex flirting with him? No. It was impossible. Lex couldn't be gay. Could he? And what did he care; he wasn't even gay. Was he? Was it normal for a straight guy to have dreams about another guy? And what about Lana? And, further, even if Lex were gay, what would he want with Clark? Fifteen, geeky, unsophisticated, farm hick Clark Kent? Superfreak of the galaxy?

And yet... he was so close and his eyes were so intense.

"Clark?" Lex whispered, leaning closer.

Clark closed his eyes, his body swaying into Lex's, out of his control. The smell of Lex filled his nose, heady, warm, rich. Seductive.

"Uh," he stuttered, trying to think of something to say. What did you say in a situation like this? 'Lex, can you kiss me so I can see if I'm gay or not?' Somehow, that didn't seem quite right. So, he fell back on something familiar and comfortable. "I should call my folks and let them know where I am." He opened his eyes.

The intense blue stared back at him, disappointment and something unreadable, something frightening, in their depths. And then, abruptly, they shut down completely.

Lex stepped back in once graceful movement. His eyes were perfectly blank, body somehow closed in on itself. As if he had flipped a switch and whatever had been happening a moment before was gone.

Like Clark had imagined it all.

"Of course. Go call your parents," Lex said, his voice carefully controlled and very, very adult.

Clark ran a hand through his hair, backing up slowly. "I'll just be a minute."

"Go." Lex waved a dismissive hand, looking through the refrigerator. Like Clark had been put from his mind, completely dismissed. As easy as brushing away an annoyance. A nuisance. A child.

Clark blindly stumbled back into the office, his heart thudding so hard he could hear it echo in his ears. What the hell was going on? One moment, his life had been fairly normal. He was stronger and faster than the other kids, sure, but it was manageable. And he had a huge crush on Lana that made him wake up sometimes having to masturbate or something, but now even his lusts had spiraled out of control.

"Ah, man," he whispered. "He probably thinks I'm some stupid kid or... Dammit. I've blown it."

He threw himself into the chair; it creaked and shook dangerously, but didn't break.

The most frustrating thing was that he didn't even know what he had blown. If Lex was interested in him, great, except what did that mean? He was twenty-one years old and so much more mature. Smart, sophisticated, worldly: he was everything that Clark wasn't.

But he made sense to Clark. And that was the hard part. Except for this moment, up until now, Lex was the only thing that was making sense in his life. An anchor in all the weird stuff that was going and, truthfully, the only thing good that was coming from any of it.

Clark was powerful. He was fast. He was an alien. And saving Lex was something that had come out of all of that. And that couldn't be anything but good.

"I can't deal with this right now," he whispered, taking a deep breath. So, maybe he was gay. Or maybe not. Maybe it was just that Lex was new and different from anyone he had ever met and Clark was just feeling a little awe-struck right now. And, once the glamour faded and Lex turned into a normal guy, Clark's wayward libido would calm down too.

It was probably normal that, at least once in his life, he would lust after a guy. It probably happened to everyone. And if it wasn't... Clark laughed bitterly. "Hell, I'm an alien. Maybe it's normal on my planet."

Feeling calmer, he picked up the receiver and dialed his number. It rang twice before his mother picked up.

"Kent residence."

"Hey, Mom, it's me."

"Clark." The concerned, alert mother tone colored her tone. "Is something the matter?"

"No, nothing's wrong," he assured her. "I just wanted to tell you I decided not to stay over at Pete's tonight."

"Then where are you?"

He hesitated. "Uh, Lex's house." Closing his eyes, Clark held his breath.

Martha was silent for what seemed like eternity. "Clark?" Lilting, concerned, you-better-explain-yourself-young-man tone.

"Yeah, Mom?" Clark tried his best to sound innocent.

"What are you doing over there?"

Clark shrugged. "I don't know. I was kind of down and Lex found me. He asked if I wanted to talk or watch a movie or something. So I said yes. Is there something wrong with that?"

Martha sighed. "Well, no. Except for the fact that your father doesn't want you to have anything to do with him."

"But, Mom, I saved his life and... '

"Yes, Clark, I know," she interrupted. "And, while I don't agree with your father's reasons, I do have to wonder why you want to hang out with him. No, switch that; I want to know why he wants to hang out with you."

"Is it so hard to believe that he just likes me?" Clark asked hotly. "I mean, I don't know anyone his age that isn't in college or isn't working in some small job that has nothing to do with Lex. Or anyone older that either doesn't trust him or isn't working for him. He and I met and found out we get along. Sure I'm younger, but sometimes age doesn't matter between two people." Clark hesitated, unsure if he should go on, then took a deep breath. "I think he may be what I need right now."

"What do you mean?" Martha asked immediately. "Need him. What does that mean?"

Clark sighed and rested his forearms on the edge of the table. He glanced into the other room. Lex sniffing a carton of milk, a troubled expression on his handsome face. God, he was sexy. And so. . .right. It was right that Clark was here. He just had to convince his mother of that.

"A lot of stuff is happening to me really fast right now, Mom. I've always been different, but it's been normal different, you know? There are other kids with genetic freaks about them that make them stand out. And even though you and Dad wanted me to hide my powers, it was ok because I thought I was normal different. Like Chloe and Pete. They're different, kinda geeky, outsiders like me, but that's normal. You go to any school anywhere in the world and there will be people like them. But not me. I'm not human and so I'm not normal different. I'm weird different. And they can't really understand that. But Lex," Clark blinked, his eyes fixed on Lex intently, "I think Lex can. He's human, but I just have this feeling that he knows what it's like to be weird different. And I really need to be around someone like that right now."

Martha sighed. "All right, Clark. If Lex is what you need to make you feel better about everything, then I'm not going to stand in your way. Are you going to spend the night?"

Oh, he so did not need *that * image in his head while talking to his mother. "Uh, I don't know. We really didn't talk about it."

"Well, since you'd already planned to stay at Pete's, I see no reason to think any differently. If you come home, let me know, no matter what time it is. Otherwise, I'll just assume you're there."

"Are you going to tell Dad?"

His mother hesitated, then said, "Don't worry about your father right now. I'll deal with him. You just have a good time."

Clark grinned. "Thanks, Mom. You're the best."

"Love you, Clark. Have fun."

"Love you too. Night." Clark hung up the phone and leaned back. A grin was on his face. The night was looking up.

"Well, so far this night is off to a roaring success," Lex told a carton of milk. He opened it and sniffed gently, testing to see if it was still good. He honestly didn't think he'd owned anything long enough for it to spoil, but the one thing that college had taught him was that you always should check.

College had been. . . interesting. That was when he had learned the joys of microwaved food. His last year of college, Lex's father had decided that Lex needed some experience living on his own and almost completely independent. So, he had cut Lex's allowance to one thousand dollars a month, and forced him to get his own apartment, complete with roommate, bills, roaches, and no servants. Lex was forced to deal with everything on his own, from picking up his 'paycheck' every few weeks at his father's office, to finding his own apartment, to figuring out how to stretch the money without the luxury of any additional income. Lex worked for Luthor Corp. and if he didn't get enough from then, he would have to learn to budget more carefully.

It was a character building exercise, Father claimed. It was a new form of torture, Lex contended.

It didn't matter how many character building exercises that Lex passed, or how old he got; Father still viewed him as a child. And not a very bright one at that. Lex could rack up all the honors he liked at school or win as many fencing tournaments or make as many ruthless business deals as he liked. Nothing changed. To Father, he would always be the frightened, stupid, freak of a child that he had been born.

Lex realized he had now been standing with his nose in the milk for over a minute. It wasn't spoiled, but it definitely wasn't tempting. Very few things were when they were inhaled for too long.

Clark was, though.

The thought flashed through his mind unbidden and entirely unwanted. Growling deep in his throat, Lex slammed the milk back on the shelf.

It promptly exploded out of the container, coating his hands.

"Fuck!" Slamming the refrigerator door close, Lex fumbled around his kitchen, in search for a towel. Technically, it was his kitchen, but the reality was he'd only set foot in it twice. Once when he took a tour of the place and once when he had hired Mabel. She had been responsible for unpacking all the china, dishes, glasses, mugs, etc. Most of the stuff, he could find. Towels, apparently, were something to be hidden and hoarded and not to be found easily.

Kept on the top shelf of what was, apparently, they cleaning supplies cabinet. Which made sense, to someone who knew what a kitchen was supposed to look like. "Finally," Lex sighed in relief, pulling down a towel.

He washed his hands and dried his hands slowly, thinking about what a disaster the night was turning into. Clutching the towel tightly, he sighed and leaned against the counter. "Can nothing go right tonight?" he asked himself.

Bad enough he made a complete ass of himself with the oven. No, that couldn't have been the worst of it. After all, he was rich and spoiled. It was expected that he knew everything about business and money and nothing about basic necessities. Clark might understand that. After all, his father hated Lex enough to paint him like a spoiled, pampered, idiot who didn't know how to turn an oven on. The boy was probably expecting it.

But Lex couldn't have stopped with that. No, he had to go and make that stupid attempt at kissing Clark. What made it stupid was he knew it wasn't the right time. Clark was like a field of corn. Before he could be harvested, he had to be cultivated carefully. Lex couldn't just rush in and start yanking ears off the stalk (images of tearing Clark's clothes to shreds dance wildly through his mind).

No, first Lex must prepare him, get him used to the idea. After all, what does a farm fresh, wide eyed, innocent boy of fifteen growing up in the middle of Smallville, USA know about the joy another man's body could bring? Nothing, at the very least. Vague rumors and images of two men jacking each other off - locker room stuff. Not the serious intercourse that Lex was thinking about. Not fucking.

But Lex was willing to bet that it had never even occurred to Clark that he could even be attracted to another man. Could _ be_ with another man. So, it was Lex's job to show him the light.

"Slowly," he said aloud, tossing the towel next the sink and going back to the 'fridge. Then, reviewing his thoughts, he laughed softly. "You've definitely spent too much time here, Lex. He's a field of corn? Just a few months ago, it would have been wine. He's like fine wine, to be aged to perfection and savored as he goes down the throat. To be petted and pampered and sipped and... "

"Who's like what?"

"Fuck!" Leaping about a foot in the air, Lex whirled to face his guest. His heart lodged securely in his throat, beating wildly, and halting the progression of his breath.

It wasn't that he had _forgotten _ that Clark was there, it was just that he wasn't used to having anyone walk in on him when he talked to himself anymore. A bad habit that he would have to break himself of, he reflected as he looked through wild eyes at his boy.

Clark's eyes were wide, knuckles white from clutching the doorframe. He looked like a startled deer, ready to bolt at the crack of a twig. "Did I do something wrong?"

The older man smiled slightly, brushing his hand over his heart. "Just almost give me a heart attack, that's all. But, no harm, no foul." Except, he was incredibly flustered by being caught. So flustered, in fact, that he found it hard to catch his breath. That hadn't happened in a long time.

Lex stumbled back a few steps and leaned against the cool metal door of the refrigerator, allowing his head to rest on it. He closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths. The last thing he needed was to pass out in front of Clark; he had spent too much time unconscious in front of him as it was, in Lex's opinion. This night was going bad enough as it was.

"Lex? Are you ok?" The voice was closer now, concern coloring the tone.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Really." ^In, out, in, out. Remember to breathe, Lex. Remember _ how_ to breathe, dammit.^

"You don't look fine."

Lex's eyes flew open when Clark's body heat hit him. Clark was standing a few inches away, those lovely eyes widened with anxiety and a touch of fear. Over Lex.

How ironic. The whole thing started over Clark in pain and now here he was, hovering over Lex. Who was in pain.

Only it wasn't his breathing that hurt at the moment.

"I lost my breath for a moment," Lex told Clark, easing away from the refrigerator, needing to put space and a solid object between them. If kissing Clark too soon was a no-no, allowing him to see the hard on Lex had in response to his mere presence was a strict taboo. "I have asthma. It used to be worse, but it often is in children. I can generally get by without having to rely on my inhaler too much, but it can be a fight. You startled me and I... well, it took a moment to regain my equilibrium. But I'm fine now. Really." He hid behind the counter.

Clark looked uncertain. "If you say so."

"I do."

Their eyes met and for one electric moment, time stopped. There was something in Clark's eyes, something so much more than concern or friendship; it was a look that Lex got from a lot of people, both men and women: desire, attraction. Lust. But, with Clark, it was different. More innocent and pure. Wondering.

A low hum filled Lex's ear and a dream like haze settled on him. His chest began to rise and fall in rhythm with Clark's. It was almost as if they were connected somehow, that Lex could _feel _ Clark inside his head, thrumming along his veins and through his body.

Images flooded Lex's mind, unbidden: a bed that wasn't his, sweat slicked skin pressed on sweat slick skin, hair in places he had only dreamed, a hand stroking him, his hand on darker skin and someone else's cock. All coalesced in colors and sounds and the feeling of helpless passion found only in expensive porn and drug induced wet dreams.

A heated flush swept up his body and he smiled slowly.

And Clark returned the smile. Slowly. Filled with heat.

What the fuck was going on?

And then, suddenly, it hit him. This feeling, this need in him to have Clark - to hold him, to touch him, to fuck him -- wasn't just about possession. It wasn't simply about wanting to have him like an expensive toy, a beloved pet. This was about something. . . Deeper. More intimate than sex could ever be.

There was a connection. A real one and it was based on something more than lust, more than physical desire. This was something more.

Clark's breathing quickened and broke the rhythm. His cheeks flushed deep red. "Lex? What's going on?"

"Do you feel something?"

"Something, I... " He took a hesitant step towards Lex, eyes still firmly held by his.

Lex, pulled by Clark's body, every inch of him feeling Clark's absence, stepped from around the island counter, towards him. He nodded. "Yeah. Something. I... ."

The oven timer went off, interrupting him.

Lex gasped, falling a step back. Whatever had been going on was broken completely. Over before it could be properly explored. Blinking the haze from his eyes, Lex looked back at Clark, regaining his balance. He cleared his throat and said in as steady a voice as he could manage, "So, dinner's ready. Are you staying, or is your father swooping over to save you from the evil clutches of Lex Luthor?"

Clark hesitated a moment before answering, as if he wanted to talk about what had happened in That Moment, but let it drop.

Lex willed him to let it drop. He didn't want to get into it; it was too scary. Lust and desire, he could handle. Liking the person he fucked, he got. Being connected with them, having real empathy, true sharing. . . it was new and frightening. And something that he didn't want to explore with words. Not out loud.

"Uh, no. Mom said I could stay," Clark said.

Lex smiled. "Really? And what time do you need to be home?"

The blush returned to those sculpted cheekbones. "It doesn't matter. I mean, I know we didn't talk about me staying over or anything but, well, I was supposed to spend the night at Pete's. And she said that if I wanted to stay out all night that'd be cool."

"Really? So, you want to spend the night?" That sounded so sinful and so utterly delicious.

"If it's no trouble. I mean, I could always go home and... I wouldn't want to assume anything."

"Clark. I live in a castle. All alone. Lots of rooms and just me. It's lonely and I like you. I would love the company."

The boy's face broke out into a blinding grin. "Great. Thanks."

"Thank you. No, wait, thank your mother." He went to a cupboard and pulled some plates down. "Incidentally, what did your father have to say about all this?"

Clark moved to help him, grabbing a few glasses and unearthing a tray from the highest shelf. "Mom's going to tell him later. Like tomorrow morning or something. She told me not to worry about him."

"Remind me to get your mother a present. Maybe something in diamonds?" ^After all, she gave me a treasure, at least for the night.^

"I don't think she really needs anything. But I'll tell her you said thanks."

"Yes, please do. Now," Lex rubbed hands together briskly, "shall we get the pizza, grab some drinks, and adjourn to the entertainment room?"

Clark nodded and moved towards the oven. "Sounds good. You get the drinks. I don't trust you around the oven right now."

"If you had seen me with the milk earlier, you probably wouldn't trust me with the drinks either. Speaking of which, do you drink?"

Clark blinked. "Uh, only when I don't want to die by dehydration."

"Yes, of course. And, do you drink alcohol as well?" Lex pressed on smoothly, charmed by Clark's innocence.

He flushed, realizing his mistake, and shook his head. "No. I mean, I haven't. I'm underage."

"And the perfect child. I forgot."

"I'm not perfect!" he protested hotly. He turned from the oven, the pizza in his hands. Placing it on the counter, he scowled. "I do things all the time that my parents wouldn't necessarily approve of. I'm not some mindless person, you know. I'm... "he trailed off a moment, then finished, a trifle lamely, " a teen-ager."

For a moment, he considered asking what Clark had been going to say before he decided on 'teen-ager;' it was something big and grand, obviously, judging by the amount of intoxicating pain in his eyes. But, as much as he could drown in that pain and a small part of him wouldn't mind prolonging it, Lex really didn't want to push Clark away. Not so soon. He'd rather the relationship ran its inevitable course first.

So, he nodded slowly and went to the wine closet, letting the secret lie between them for now.

"I know you aren't perfect, Clark. I also know that you're underage and can't exactly waltz into the store and buy beer or something. Still, there are places that teenagers can find all kinds of stuff. I'm sure that football player, Whitney, was drinking by the time he was your age. You just need to know where to go." He pulled out a bottle and showed it to Clark. "We'll start you off slow."

Clark looked uncomfortable. "Yeah, ok."

Lex paused, then said, "There's Coke in the fridge."

"Wine and Coke?"

"That's blasphemy, by the way, but I'll let it slide due to your alcoholic virginity. I have rum upstairs, if you would like to mix the Coke with something, but I just meant that if you'd rather, I have Coke for you to drink. You needn't break any rules for me."

"No, it's fine. I can drink wine."

"Clark, I don't want you to feel pressured here."

"And I don't want you to think of me as a kid." He said it as if it were the bravest thing he had ever said in his life. It was adorable.

Ah. So the age difference was bothering him or, at least, had been pointed out to him. He was questioning his place in Lex's life.

Lex was questioning Clark's place in his life too. But the one thing he was sure of was he wanted Clark, no matter what age he was. He was too young, too innocent, and too naive to fit in Lex's life perfectly but he just Made Sense. More sense then anyone who had been older, corrupted, and cynical. And Lex wasn't willing to let him go, not yet. He just had to make Clark understand.

"I can't think of you as a child, Clark," he told him slowly. "You saved my life. You're incredibly mature and charismatic and... and attractive. It's impossible to fit all that into the guise of a child." He held Clark's eyes for a long moment, the heat and intensity of before replaced by frank sincerity. It was new for him, but not altogether unpleasant. "So, do you want me to put the wine away?"

Clark took a deep breath and held it for a moment, before shaking his head. "No. I could try it, at least. Something new."

"Tonight is the night for trying something new." He grinned. "Now, grab some plates and we'll go upstairs."

He did so, balancing the pizza, the plates, and a couple of glasses on the tray. Making sure Clark was following, Lex led the way through the corridor of the castle and up the stairs to the entertainment room.

The night was looking up once more.

Clark arched his neck back and tossed an M&M into the air. His aim was just a little off and the candy sped down towards his chin. Undaunted, Clark extended his tongue, blocking the path of the descent and catching it neatly.

Lex laughed deep in his throat, the sound somewhere between a growl and a purr. "You haven't missed a single one yet," he remarked, taking a sip of his wine.

"What can I say? I'm talented," Clark responded with a grin. Stretching, he reached to the table next to him and picked up his drink. Wine was not his favorite drink, he had discovered; too tart and bitter. He supposed if he drank enough, he'd get used to the taste, but with rum and Coke so handy and so good, he didn't quite see the point. Idly, he wondered when he was going to start feeling drunk. Halfway through his third drink, he was feeling pleasantly relaxed, but not drunk. Of course, he didn't exactly know what drunk felt like, but he expected it to be more dramatic than this.

He stretched, pointing his socked feet and leaning slightly towards the left as he did. His finger once again brushed against the smooth skin of Lex's neck. It was a pleasant feeling.

Lex, who about fifteen minutes into the movie had turned those incredibly blue eyes to him and had been watching him every since, leaned over to the candy bowl and took a few piece. "So, I never got a chance to ask. Did you give the lovely Lana Lang her necklace back?" He leaned against the back of the couch, facing Clark, his bare feet drawn underneath him. He had changed soon after they had brought the food upstairs into a pair of black silk pajama pants and black silk robe that was tightly closed around his icy pale skin.

"Oh, yeah." Clark shifted uncomfortably, really not wanting to think about Lana right now. She didn't belong here, in the same room as Lex, at least not like this. Not when he was so confused about what the hell was going on with him and Lex and his feelings in the first place.

"And?" the older man pressed. "Was she grateful? Did she thank you? Is she in love?"

"No. I mean, she was grateful, yeah, but... well, uh, see, she doesn't know I gave it to her. I kinda just left it on her doorstep and ran."

Silence. And that eerie sensation that Lex had disappeared. It the same as before, in the kitchen. One minute, Lex was there oozing life and the next, nothing. So easy and simple, this shutting off of himself. As if he had years of experience doing it.

It was scary.

Clark risked a look out of the corner of his eyelashes.

Lex's expression was unreadable. The eyes perfectly blank. He was sitting stiffly, his side against the arm of the couch, facing Clark, legs crossed in front of him. Perfect lotus position, perfectly straight, perfectly controlled.

"Lex?" he whispered, his heart pounding. What had he done wrong now?

Lex blinked, the first sign of life in over a minute. "You left it on her porch."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I couldn't... Ah, man." He gently hit the back of the couch, his fist imprinting on the fine leather. His emotions were starting to run high. It helped to have to concentrate on controlling his strength; it took his mind off what he was feeling. "It wasn't that your plan wasn't good. Because it was and I am so, so grateful to you for thinking it up for me. Manipulation and all that? I'm not good at. And maybe I should have done it but, when it came down to it, I just didn't want to anymore."

"Why not? Did you decide she wasn't worthy of your affections?" Wine glass lifted to his mouth and slides smoothly in. He could even make drinking sexy.

Clark licked his lips. "No. I still like her but... Ok, this is hard to explain and believe, but just bear with me. Things can get really weird in Smallville."

"So I've noticed."

"Right. Anyway, this guy from school went crazy. He either thought he was a mutant bug or he really was a mutant bug." It was somehow easier to explain it like that; Lex didn't ask him to elaborate, just continued to gaze at him through eerily blank eyes. "So, all drunk on power, he kidnapped Lana to mate with her."

"My, she really is one popular girl."

"Is it any wonder?" Clark asked.

An amused smile graced Lex's lips. Amused, but distant. "Do you want me to agree with you, or do you want my honest opinion about Ms. Lang?"

He blinked; it never really occurred to him that someone in the world wouldn't like Lana. *Everyone * liked Lana. Well, maybe not Chloe, but, then, she didn't like most people in Smallville.

"Uh, no, I get it," he told Lex. His mind tried to grapple with the concept a few more seconds, but he shook his head, giving up. "The bug guy liked her and took her. While I was trying to stop him, lure him away from her, Whitney came over and saved her."

"It sounds like you saved her; he just did pick up duty."

"It doesn't matter, Lex. The point is, Whitney is who she wants to be with. Whitney. Football star, handsome, caring. I mean, he does like her. He's not just some jerk who wants a model on his arm. He likes her. And using the necklace as trump card. . .just doesn't seem worth it." Clark sighed and rested his head on the couch. "If she doesn't want me because I'm a nice guy, then I don't see the point in trying to manipulate her into liking me. If it happens, great, but until then.... I'm fine."

There was a moment of silence before the older man said quietly, "Every moment longer I know you, the more and more convinced I become of her utter idiocy. If she doesn't want you, then she is deaf, dumb, stupid, and blind."

Clark smiled up at Lex. "Thanks, Lex. That means a lot."

Lex smiled back at him, a little more life - humanity - leaking back into his body. "And," he asked, sipping his wine again, "has she said anything about the box? I don't want her to think that _ I_ had anything to do with the necklace being returned."

He frowned, furrowing his brow. "I didn't give her the box. I... oh," he breathed, a light dawning. Lex wasn't upset that he hadn't taken the older man's advice; he was upset because he though Clark had given away his mother's box. "No, I kept that. I wouldn't have given away something that important to anyone. You probably want it back, though, huh."

"No," Lex started, but Clark had already risen to his feet, going for his backpack.

Now the drunk feeling was starting. He felt very lovely and light while the world swayed softly around him.

Managing not to stumble, Clark made it to his backpack and pulled the box out from the pocket. Turning back around, he told Lex, "I've been carrying it around with me." It occurred to him that he should blush at that; after all, he had carried it around because it was a part of Lex, but somehow, it just wasn't as embarrassing as it should have been.

"If you've been carrying pencils in it, tell me now so I can close my eyes. The box wasn't cheap and, further, it's more valuable than the monetary price."

Clark shook his head, causing the world to sway more violently. He flopped on the couch, facing Lex, and copied his position, loose and comfortable where Lex was straight and stiff. "No, not pencils. Rocks. Stones." He opened the lid. "Non-pricey, but valuable stones."

Lex leaned forward, peering inside. "Any of the famous meteor rocks?"

"No. I don't... I don't really like those." Clark shook his head, watching as strands of his hair brushed against Lex. "They're pretty, but, I don't know. I just don't want any. This," he picked one up, "is a moon rock. My dad bought it for me a few years ago for Christmas. I like astronomy," he added looking through his lashes into Lex's eyes.

"Ah."

"Yeah."

"And this one?" Lex asked, picking up another rock.

"Obsidian. I just like it because it's so black and hard. I don't know, it always felt like looking into eternity or something. Space."

"Or someone's heart."

"No one could have a heart that hard, Lex."

Blue eyes looked up into his, one invisible eyebrow raised. "Oh no?"

Clark shook his head earnestly, catching Lex's implication. "I don't believe it. Humans have a great capacity for love and even if they don't use all of it, it's still there."

"Then what you're saying is, in the end, we are all weak."

"Love isn't weakness, Lex. It's strength. It's, uh, super-strength."

Lex smiled at that. "Super-strength. I don't know if anything is really that strong."

"I know it is."

"Such convictions. And so very, very young," he sighed. Reaching back into the box, he pulled out a dark blue stone. "And this?"

Clark flushed, cheeks burning. He took the stone from Lex, their fingers brushing; tingles spread from his fingertips and headed towards his groin. "I'm not sure of the technical name. I got it at the general store, nowhere special. I just thought it was pretty. And it reminded me of something."

"What did it remind you of, Clark?"

The purr was back in Lex's voice; it rubbed against Clark, the sensation spreading across his stomach, warm and pleasant.

His mouth went dry. Clark reached for his rum and Coke, taking a big gulp.

Your eyes, he wanted to say but, after draining the glass, he managed, "The sky. On a summer day. I figured that I probably won't always be in Smallville and, anytime I'm gone, I can pull it out and look at it and be reminded of you. Of home! Of home."

And there it was. The deep, dark secret out in the open. Clark wanted something to remind him of Lex. It was innocent on the surface; after all, they were friends. But Clark knew there was a deeper meaning. This attraction, this *thing *, whatever it was, that he felt for Lex. It made him want to keep a part of the other man near him, to hold and stroke, and squeezed in the palm of his hand, closing his eyes and just imagining Lex near. No; to him it wasn't an innocent thing.

And Lex seemed to know that. Because it hit him, tearing the mask that he had donned and allowing Clark to see straight into him. In his eyes was plain astonishment. Honest, raw, pure emotion. The cool formality that Lex had been wearing since the kitchen had vanished.

Until he had made his slip, Clark hadn't even realized that there _was _ a mask. But now it was so clear; Lex had been hiding behind his breeding and emotional restraint that had been instilled in him since who knows how long. Clark had just managed to shock him out of it.

Without thinking, he asked, "What were you hiding from?"

"What?" Lex asked.

Clark shook his head, trying to clear it. The drunken haze had settled firmly around his brain, enticing him to forget about the conversation and let his fears go. But now wasn't the time; it wasn't the time to act on his attraction or pull off his clothes and dance wildly about. He needed to think; he needed to find out why Lex had gotten... nervous, he guessed.

With incredible willpower, he managed to push the drunkenness away. The haze lifted, leaving him with a clear mind.

"I just... .you look different. Before, you were hiding behind this mask. It looked like you, but it wasn't. Not the Lex I know. You were formal, somehow. Really, really grown up. And now, just now, it disappeared. So, what I want to know is, what were you hiding from?"

Lex pushed away from Clark, scooting to the other end of the couch. Shaky hands lifted the wineglass to his lips. After finishing what was left, Lex, not meeting Clark's eyes, said "I've just been nervous, that's all. We're friends, but we don't know each other all that well. I know how I live. I like how I live. But I kept thinking that maybe you wouldn't. That it would be too rich and formal for you. So, yeah, I've been hiding behind something that... "

"That you weren't sure I'd like," Clark finished for him.

"Yes," Lex whispered, his eyes meeting Clark's.

"You were showing me someone that I might not like so, if I never called you again, you could just shrug and say, 'Oh well. Hick farm boy just couldn't handle who I really am.' But that's not who you really are."

Lex hitched a shoulder. "Sometimes I'm not sure if I've really found out who I am yet."

"Me neither."

"But it's expected in you. You're still a teenager. I'm twenty-one, a college graduate, and in charge of a fertilizer plant. I should know who I am."

"I don't think there's an age limit on it, Lex. You know what that guy said on the speech, right? About how some of the most interesting people still don't know what they want to be when they're forty years old?"

"That's what they want to do, not who they are."

Clark shrugged. "You're Lex Luthor and my friend. You like to fence, you're good at business, you like to drive fast, you're really insightful, and you can't cook. Let's start there."

Lex let out a shaky laugh. "Is it really that simple?"

"I don't see why it has to be much more complicated."

"At least until Father comes." Lex sighed, resting his head on the back of the couch. Gazing up at him through stormy blue eyes, he asked, "Who are you, Clark?"

Clark shrugged. He picked up the blue stone, rubbing it with one work callused thumb. "I don't know. Things are in transition for me, really. I thought I knew who I was and then suddenly, I didn't."

"That's what growing up is like."

If you only knew, he thought, a trifle bitterly. Out loud, he responded, "Yeah. I guess. But, to lay a foundation, I'm Clark Kent. I like astronomy. I . . "

"Have an unrequited crush on a certain cheerleader. And save lives on a regular basis."

"Right." Another flush rose to his cheeks and he licked his lips, hoping for courage to get the next part out. "And I'm getting to know a new friend, Lex Luthor, who seems like a really good guy. Which is why I have a stone that makes me think of him."

Blue eyes caught his and a lazy smile spread across Lex's face. "It seems hardly fair that you have something that reminds you of me -two things, if you count the box, which I want you to keep- and I don't have anything that reminds me of you."

Clark grinned and handed him the moon rock. "Here. It's been mine for a few years. I like space. I'm spacey sometimes. It's the best I can do."

Lex's hand closed over the rock. "This will do. For now." He slipped it into the pocket of his robe, then extended his hand, still looking into Clark's eyes, studying him. Memorizing him. "It's very nice to meet you, Clark Kent."

Clark took it in his and squeezed it firmly. "You too, Lex. It's very nice to meet you."