Lessons in Deception (1/2)
Disclaimer: They're not mine.
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Rating: NC-17
Series: This is a sequel to Birthday Wishes.
Acknowledgment: Thank you to Peggy for her beta. Without her help this story would make a whole heck of a lot less sense. Thanks to Teri for encouraging me to write even when I felt like I couldn't do it. And lastly, thanks to everyone who emailed me and said they needed to read this. It might not have gotten finished without you.
I've been watching Clark the entire way back from Metropolis. He's curled up in the seat next to me, and I almost think he may be in some kind of shock. He's pale and nervous and tense. Currently his eyes are closed, as if he's trying to block out reality. Earlier, when they were open, they were stormy, troubled and so full of hurt. I'm almost glad he closed them so that they can't tear at my heart anymore. I want to reach out and touch him, tell him everything will be all right, that it will all work out in the end, but I can't. I can't because I don't know if the words will be true, and I don't want to lie to him. I still don't know what's really going on here. There had been a piece of paper in the envelope with the picture, but all that was on it was a phone number and instructions to call before eight this morning. I want to get on the phone and make that call, but we need to handle Clark's parents first. Then, I can start dealing with whatever this asshole might want from me.
Clark's parents, shit, that's going to be a scene. They were furious. I had rushed back into the living room of the hotel suite to see Clark seated on the couch, bent over so that his head was almost touching his knees. He was listening to someone on the phone and cringing. I knew right away that he wasn't hearing anything good. I knew, I just knew, that his parents had received a copy of the exact same picture that I had just found inside that goddamned envelope.
"I'm sorry," Clark said, his voice small and sad. I moved over to the couch and climbed on to sit next to him. Instinctively my arms wrapped around him and held on tight.
"No. Dad, it's not like that. It really isn't. No. No. No, he didn't. Dad, please. I'm sorry." I could feel Clark shaking under my hands, and, by the time I heard him say he was sorry the second time, I could tell he was crying. I decided that was it. I didn't care what his father thought he was doing, he wasn't going to make Clark cry over this. I reached down and removed the phone from Clark's hand. He turned to look at me when I did so. I just nodded encouragingly and he gave it up without protest. Before talking to his father, I maneuvered Clark so he was sitting up and leaning back against me. I wanted to be able to hold him while I spoke to his father.
"Mr. Kent," I said smoothly into the phone. I sounded much more collected than I felt.
"Lex," he spat like my name left a bad taste in his mouth. Maybe it did at that. "What the hell do you think you're doing with my son?"
I took a deep breath. "I don't think we should talk about this on the phone. We're going to leave now. I'll bring Clark home and then we can all talk together," I told him calmly. My right hand was running through Clark's hair. His head was resting on my chest, and he was holding onto my right arm like I was the only thing keeping him grounded in the world.
"You'll be lucky if I don't have the sheriff waiting here for you when you get back," Clark's father snapped at me. I didn't think it was terribly smart of him to show his hand like that, but I also thought he was mostly bluster about it as well. There was no way he'd really want everyone in town knowing about my relationship with his son, and that is what would inevitably happen if he called the police.
"Mr. Kent," I said, again smoother than I felt. "Please, let's hold off on that. We'll be back in three hours. We can discuss all of this then." This was my business voice, the mask I used when I expected to be listened to and get my way. It worked.
"Three hours," he growled into the phone. "Any longer and I swear I'll send the police out after you."
I nodded slowly. "We'll see you then," I told him. I hung up before he could ask to speak to Clark again. There was no way I was going to let him speak to Clark when he was so upset already. I tossed the phone onto the table and then wrapped my left arm around Clark again.
"I'm so sorry," I told him.
"Not your fault," he mumbled into my shirt. "What's happening?"
"I don't know yet," I told him. I wished I did know. I wished I could get on the phone right then and start figuring this out, but I couldn't. We needed to get Clark home to Smallville and get this situation with his parents taken care of. I only hoped that by the time they were done yelling at me, I would still be allowed to see Clark.
Clark just nodded and held onto me. He needed the comfort and truthfully I did too. I didn't want to go back to the reality that was waiting for us at Clark's house. I would have stayed in that room with Clark for the rest of my life if I thought I could.
We stayed curled up on the couch together for about ten minutes before I finally made us get up and leave. I didn't want to give Clark's father any more reasons to be angry, and if we didn't start heading back, we wouldn't make it in his three-hour time limit.
We headed downstairs, checked out, and got in the car. I was driving this time; I wouldn't have let it be any other way. Clark was too overwhelmed to drive. I was shaking, but I've dealt with impossible situations in the past, so I knew how to get through it without getting us both killed in the process.
Clark retreated inside himself almost immediately. It worried me, but I decided to leave it. He needed time to sort out and try to understand what was going on. He wasn't used to feeling like he'd disappointed his parents. He wasn't used to lying to them and being found out. He needed to figure out how he wanted to deal with that. I watched him and touched him periodically during the drive to make sure that he was okay. When I stopped for gas halfway back to Smallville, I bought him a ham sandwich and made sure he ate it. I ate one too, nasty highway food, but it killed the hunger that had been building since this morning when we both missed breakfast.
Now we're all the way back to his house and I don't know quite what to do. I stop the car as I reach the turn off to his parent's farm. Just down that road lies something I had hoped to avoid for a while yet. I had wanted to protect him from this forever, even though I knew that I couldn't. Truthfully, I had wanted to protect myself as well. Somewhere along the line having Clark's parent's approval has become important to me. I want to make them happy. I want Clark to feel proud to be with me.
"How are you doing?" I ask him softly. I reach over and touch his cheek with my fingers. He leans into my hand. Thank god he didn't pull away. I was so scared that he might.
"I'm scared," he admits after a few moments of silence. "What if they hate me?"
"They're your parents, Clark. They aren't going to hate you, no matter what. They may be angry or not understand or not like what you're doing, but they love you. That's not going to change." I'm so sure of that. I've seen the way the Kents treat their son, the fierce love and pride they have for him, and I don't think anything, not even me, could ever corrupt that.
Clark just looks at me pleadingly. He wants me to be right. He can't bear to think that they would ever stop loving him. I can't bear to think that either. If the Kents to stopped loving their son, it would mean that everything I'm come to believe because of them is wrong. It would mean that friendship and love and family mean nothing.
"Do you still?" Clark asks me eventually.
I know what he's asking but I don't know if I can give him what he needs. The words came out once, but my guard was down, and I was vulnerable. "Clark," I sigh softly.
"Lex," he returns with a pleading note in his voice. He needs to hear it. He needs to make it real for himself before we go in there, and he possibly destroys his relationship with his parents. He needs to know why he's doing it. That the risk is worth the benefit he will be getting. He needs to know that he will be getting love in return for breaking his parents' hearts. And I need to give it to him. I need to give it to him, or who am I to call him my friend, let alone my lover?
I take a deep breath, lean over in the car, and pull him into my arms. It's awkward in the small space. We're both big guys, especially Clark, but we manage. "I love you, Clark," I whisper into his ear. It's quiet but I know he hears it. It's like a secret just between the two of us. Special.
He holds me tight and I can feel his smile against the side of my face. "I love you too, Lex," he tells me. Clark pulls back slightly, and then leans back in to kiss me. It's soft and sweet and gentle. It's not a kiss of passion; it's a kiss of promise, the promise of a future together. The promise that no matter what happens, we're going to come out of it stronger. I've never experienced anything like it before.
"Are you ready?" I ask him once the kiss ends.
"No," he says softly and shakes his head. "But I need to be anyways. What are we going to tell them?"
"The truth," I tell him simply. Just like Clark deserved the truth, they do too. Who would have thought that the only three people in the entire world that I couldn't lie to would be some farm kid and his parents?
"That you resisted me, but I insisted?" Clark asks softly. He sounds a little hesitant about that. Gee, I can't imagine why. I know his parents don't want to hear that, don't want to know how sexy and seductive their fifteen-year-old son had been.
"No," I say and shake my head. Honestly, I don't know where some of his ideas come from. "That we're..." I trail off and gesture between us. I want him to help me out here; I don't think I can say it again just yet.
"In love?" Clark supplies.
"Yes."
Clark smiles broadly. He looks like his face is about to split apart. I lean in, kiss him one more time, and then settle back down in my seat.
"Okay," I say with a sigh. "We can do this." I start the car back up and then take us off the main road and down the lane towards the Kents' farm. Clark doesn't say anything in response. He just nods and watches the road in front of us. He's nervous. So am I.
My car has a distinctive noise and Clark's parents have likely been watching for us, so I'm not surprised when they both come out to stand on the front porch as we approach the house. Clark's father looks just as pissed off as I had expected, but his mother just looks tired and worried. Neither of those looks is promising, but I really hadn't expected anything else. I pull up close to the porch and turn off the car. We climb out at the same time. I move around to stand in front of the vehicle. Clark looks like he's going to join his parents on the porch, but stops when his father steps down into the driveway.
He's staring directly at me, and he strides purposefully towards me. Fuck, he looks dangerous. "Clark, go inside with your mother," Mr. Kent growls to his son. His eyes never leave my face. He's physically intimidating, but I refuse to allow him to see that I'm scared. Luthors don't get scared, and I wouldn't want to ruin that image. I return his gaze as he approaches me.
"No," Clark says. His voice is steady and sure, and his defiance of his father is stronger than I had expected.
"Clark," his father says sharply but still doesn't look in his son's direction, "now."
"No," Clark says again. He starts walking towards where I'm standing in front of the car. He and his father reach my location at almost the exact same time. Clark reaches out to place his hand on my arm. It's incredibly possessive. He stares at his father like he's challenging the older man to make a move to hurt me. Mr. Kent grimaces when he sees Clark grab me, and I feel sorry for him. He thinks he's losing his son, but he's not. Clark loves him more than I can even begin to understand.
"I trusted you with my son," Clark's father snarls at me. He is so close to me that I can feel his breath on my face. Clark's hand tightens on my arm and pulls me back slightly. "And then I get this." He pulls the picture out of his pocket and holds it out for me to take.
I reach out and take it from him. Like I expected, it's the same picture I received at the hotel. Clark reaches out to touch the edge of it. He hasn't asked to look at it before now.
"I want to know what the hell is going on," Clark's father demands.
"Dad," Clark protests before I can even begin to think what I'm going to say. His father and I both turn to look at him. "It isn't what you think."
"Really?" his father asks. His voice is thick with sarcasm. I don't think I've ever heard him speak that way before. "You're telling me that's all it was," he snaps, and points sharply at the picture I'm still holding in my hand, "just that one kiss. Did he push you away, Clark? Did he tell you no?"
"Dad," Clark protests again, and I know that he's going to lie to his father. I can't let him do it. I can't let him lie to his parents, and I also can't let him deny what we have. It isn't wrong. It's so right. So much better than anything I've ever had before. I won't deny it and I won't let him deny it either.
"No," I say quickly and cut Clark off before he can make his mistake. Both Clark and his father turn to look at me. Clark squeezes my arm. He must intend it as a warning, but I'm not taking it. "No," I repeat, "I didn't stop him, and yes, we are involved."
"But it's still not what you think, Dad," Clark insists.
"How?" his father demands. "How is it not like I think?"
"Because I love him." Clark tells his father.
"Fuck," Mr. Kent says softly under his breath, and closes his eyes in what looks like pain.
Clark's mother gasps and for the first time I notice that she's come to stand next to Clark. "Clark," she says softly. Her voice is full of concern. She places her hand on his arm.
"And because he loves me," Clark continues. He's still staring down at his father challengingly.
Clark's father snorts and laughs harshly. "Did he tell you that?" he demands. He waits for Clark's small nod before continuing. "And what do you think that means coming from a Luthor?"
"I... He loves me, Dad," Clark insists. "I know it."
His father just snorts again and looks disgusted.
"I am not my father," I protest. I'm so tired of having to tell people that. Will there ever be a day when people judge me on my own merits? And if so, can I just skip through my life to that day so that I don't have to deal with this crap any longer?
"You know, Lex, you really had me believing that. That's why I allowed you to take Clark into the city. But you are exactly like him and I won't let you fuck around with my son."
"I am not fucking around with Clark," I yell. It's louder than I expected but it's been a trying and frustrating day. I take a deep breath and struggle to gain control of my emotions again. "I'm not," I insist.
Clark's father takes a step forward, and for a moment I think that he might punch me. Clark must be worried too because he steps forward and places his body between his father and me. Mr. Kent sighs heavily, throws his hands up in frustration, then turns his back to us, and steps away. He walks towards the house, stops for a moment, and then turns around to come back to where the rest of us are standing. He sounds like he's muttering to himself softly.
"Dad, you have to understand..." Clark starts to say but his father interrupts him before he can finish.
"I don't have to understand anything, Clark," his father cuts him off sharply. "Right now I don't want to understand anything that involves him," he glances at me like I'm the devil incarnate. "All I want to know is what's going on with that picture," he says and gestures at the picture I'm still holding.
"I assume you got a note with it too?" I ask him.
"Yes," Clark's mother says, and passes a folded piece of paper to Clark, who hands it over to me. I unfold it and read what's written there. All it says is 'Tell Lex how serious I am'.
Fuck. This bastard is seriously pissing me off. He's going to be a pain in the ass. There's no way I want to end up paying this asshole off to make this disappear, but I think I just may have to. I don't want the picture to get out anymore than the Kents do. I don't care about myself, people pretty much know what I am, but I don't want Clark to go through three and a half more years of hell at high school over it. And, of course, there's my father to consider in all of it. He sent me out here to clean my image, to make people forget all about my unconventional past, not so that I could stir up even more controversy. I'm definitely not here so that I can get involved with farm boys of questionable age. He'll want this buried, sure as anything.
"It came this morning?" I ask them.
Mr. Kent nods. "They must have parked out on the main road and walked in, because I didn't hear the vehicle. I wasn't here when I went out this morning to work, but when I came back in just before ten it was propped against the back door."
"And you didn't notice anyone around the house?" I ask Clark's mother.
She shakes her head. "I was working at the other end of the house. Cleaning. I was vacuuming at one point. That might have been when it came."
"Okay," I sigh. My hand travels inadvertently up my body, and I run it over my baldhead. I catch Clark watching the movement, and know that he knows what it means. I smile at him in what I hope is a reassuring way. "Can we go inside?" I ask both of Clark's parents and hope that one of them is inclined to let me into their house again. I'm mainly routing for his mother on this one.
"Why?" Clark's father demands. He sounds suspicious, and I have to wonder what he thinks I'm going to do in there.
"Because it's cold out here," I say, even though I know he's like Clark and doesn't feel it. Clark's mother isn't so acclimatized, so she's probably feeling it as well, and though I know my comfort means nothing to him, I'm sure his wife's does concern him. "And because I'd prefer to make this call in the house." Not that it probably matters, mind you, the farm really is in the middle of nowhere, and it's not like anyone's going to be hiding in the bushes waiting for the latest details on our situation. Mainly I'm just cold, and I would really prefer not to be. I definitely was not built for this type of climate.
Clark's father is still glaring at me but Mrs. Kent saves me. "Of course," she says reasonably. "There's really no reason to stay out here." She turns and heads back to the house. As she passes her husband she touches his arm, and he follows her inside after one last glare at me. The ease at which she gets him to do what she wants would be comical if our situation wasn't so serious.
It's interesting. Clark's mother seems less disturbed by our relationship than Clark's father. I had guessed that she suspected something was up between us. I didn't know if she had any idea exactly what it might be, though. Now I think she knew all along, maybe even from that night when I came over to have dinner with them. If she has, that means she's probably been covering since then and we likely have an ally. I wonder how much of an influence she'll be able to exert on him in our favor.
"We'll just be a minute," I tell them as they walk away. "We're just going to grab Clark's stuff from the trunk." Mrs. Kent nods at me as they step into the porch and then into the house. Clark's father can't very well argue with bringing Clark's stuff inside, and it's not like we're going to take off. What I really want, though, is a moment to speak to Clark alone. They probably know it, too.
"Clark," I say and turn to face him as soon as his parents step inside the house. I wrap my arm his waist and pull him into a light embrace. "Are you okay?"
"I think so," Clark says hesitantly; he's shaking just a little bit. "He's really mad."
"He is," I agree with a nod, "but he's not angry with you, not really. It's me, and really he has a right to be. I went behind his back," I tell Clark.
"We both did," he insists.
I know he wants me to let him take half the responsibility here. That is something I really like about him. He's always ready to accept responsibility for his actions, and doesn't ever try to pass it off on other people like so many others I know. At the end of this, though, Clark's really just a kid. I'm the adult; I should have taken responsibility for this relationship a long time ago. I don't know why I thought I would be able to hide it indefinitely.
"Clark," I protest with a shake of my head.
"Fuck you, Lex," Clark snaps and pulls away from me. I don't know what shocks me the most, the fact that Clark just swore at me or the fact that he just pulled away from me while I was trying to comfort him.
"Clark?" I ask. I can hear the uncertainty in my voice and I'm sure he can pick up on it too.
"You can't treat me like that," Clark protests loudly. "You can't treat me like an adult only when it suits you, and then treat me like a kid the rest of the time. That's not fair. And to tell you the truth, it's a little creepy."
I don't respond right away. Clark's obviously angry, and I get the feeling he's been thinking about this for a while. What's coming out of his mouth isn't just something he's thought of right now, it's something that's been stewing inside him, and just waiting for the right time to come out. Do I really treat him like that? I think back over the last few weeks, thinking of the times I've protected him and the times I haven't. I honestly thought I just did it because I cared for him, but maybe he's right, maybe I'm protecting him from things I wouldn't if he were older. But that's it, if he were older. He's not. He's still only sixteen, and there are still things I need to protect him from, but maybe his father's anger isn't one of them.
"Okay," I tell him. "I'm sorry. I promise I'll let you take part of the blame here." I smile slightly at the absurdity of what I'm saying, but not enough so that he might think I'm making fun of him.
Clark watches me for a moment. I assume he's gauging the seriousness of my words. Eventually he nods and then steps back towards me. He wraps his arms around my middle and snuggles up against my chest. "Thank you," he says softly.
"You're welcome, I guess," I tell him and smile at him again. He really amazes me sometimes. Who else do I know who would voluntarily take part of the blame for my actions?
Clark looks up at me with a smile in his eyes, and I know I'm in for it. "Do I get to hear about the clubs now?" he asks me. His voice is serious, but his eyes are dancing.
"No," I tell him seriously. I know I'm going to regret saying anything at all about that subject. I withdraw slightly and hold him at arm's length. "Still too young."
"Lex," Clark draws out my name into a plea.
"Nope," I tell him. I release him and walk around him towards the rear of the car. "I'm in enough trouble already without adding that." I reach the trunk and unlock it.
"You're not making me want to know any less, you know that, right?" Clark complains as he comes to meet me at the rear of the car. I open the trunk and he reaches in to extract his bag.
"I'm not?" I ask him. I know I shouldn't be teasing him about this but I can't seem to help myself. Once Clark has his bag, I close the trunk and we both head towards back towards the house.
"No, you're not," Clark tells me and reaches out to poke me in the side.
How did we go from being yelled at by his father only minutes ago to this laughing, teasing happiness? Being alone with him always seems to be able to do this to me, to make it as if the entire world has disappeared from around us. It's just him, me, and this thing between us. Whatever it is. It's almost too good to believe.
"We should go in the back," Clark tells me as I start to head towards the front door where his parents entered the house. I shrug and then follow Clark. I'm really not sure what the difference is, but if Clark wants to go in via the kitchen entrance, I'm not going to argue.
When we enter the house, Clark's parents are waiting for us at the table. They're both sitting and speaking quietly. When Clark opens the door they turn to look at us. They look much the same as they did outside, upset and worried, although both seem to be somewhat calmer now. Clark's father scowls when he sees the smile on my face, and I quickly cover it again with my business mask. Clark drops his bag on the floor by the door, and then we both head over to sit down at the table with his parents.
"I still want to know what's going on here," Clark's father tells me.
I sigh and reach into my pocket to pull out the photo and note I received earlier. "I really don't know yet," I tell him honestly. "I got the picture last night, but didn't look at it until this morning."
I see Mr. Kent's mouth open to ask me why I hadn't looked at it last night. I can only hope that he figures it out himself because I really don't want to have to tell him. He must manage to get some idea because he seems to stop himself just before words start coming out of his mouth. He flushes slightly, but it looks more like anger than embarrassment. He just nods for me to continue and I do.
"It's the same picture," I say as I set the glossy paper down on the table. "Probably the only good shot the guy got," I tell them casually. I'll let them make of that what they will.
"So what is this? Blackmail?" Clark's father demands.
"Oh, most definitely," I agree with a nod. "This guy's looking for a pay out, probably several of them actually. Clark's here for at least the next three and a half years and small towns aren't exactly known for their tolerance about these types of things."
Clark's father snorts at me and I'm a little taken aback by his response. "Don't make this sound like it's about protecting Clark, Lex," he accuses me. "You're protecting your own ass here, too. You certainly wouldn't want your father knowing about this little dalliance, would you?"
I glance at Clark to try and see how much I should reveal here, but Clark isn't offering any help. I quickly decide to go with the truth on this point as well. I'm already in so deep, what can it really hurt? "He already knows," I say with a soft sigh.
"What?" the older man shouts at me. "How?"
"That's not really important," I tell him. I catch my hand going to my head in mid-swipe. This conversation is making me uncomfortable enough as it is. I really don't want to have to relive that particular scene with my father. "The only thing that's relevant is that he knows. He's not happy, but he knows." That doesn't mean that he wants this getting out to anyone else, of course.
Clark's father mutters under his breath. I'm not sure, but I think he might be swearing. "So, what are you going to do?" he asks me eventually.
"I'm going to call this asshole and see what he wants," I say fiercely.
Clark's father nods. He seems to be granting me permission to carry out my plan, not that I really needed it from him. I haven't needed anyone's permission to conduct my own business for years. I pull my phone out of my jacket pocket, and then push my chair back from the table a little bit. I want to get comfortable so that I can feel that I'm doing this on my own terms, at least a little bit. It's important for me to be in control. I glance over at Clark and he smiles slightly. He reaches out to take my hand, and I let him. I hear his father's grunt of disapproval at that action, but I ignore it. If he has a problem, he can give voice to it or he can just ignore it. I'm not going to let his pre-verbal grunts run my life. I dial the number on the note and wait as it rings twice before it's answered.
"Ah, Mr. Luthor, finally," the person on the other end of the phone greets me smoothly. I must be the only person he's given this number to.
"Yes, what do you want?" I ask coldly. I know this voice. I just can't quite seem to place it. If I can keep him talking, I know it will come to me. I have a memory for these types of things.
"Did your boyfriend's parents like their delivery this morning?" he asks me and laughs slightly. He's amused with himself. It's that little laugh, though, that lets me know who this is. It sounds like he's choking on his own tongue when he does it. There's only one person I've ever met who laughs quite like that.
"I'm not amused, Cooper," I tell him.
"Shit," he says. It's muffled, so he must have pulled the phone away from his face before he said it, but I still hear it.
"What? You didn't think I'd figure it out? I assume you heard what happened to Nixon when he tried this on me a little while ago?"
Cooper snorts and laughs at me. "I'm not quite as stupid as Nixon, Lex. You're not nearly that powerful, and I know how to use a cell phone dampener as well as you do," he says. Okay, so he's just called my bluff. It worked so well on Nixon, too. He'd eventually figured it out, I'm sure, but by then I had what I needed on him and his brother. I'm absolutely sure that Nixon won't be crossing me again in the future.
"Well, then what do you want, Cooper?" I ask flatly.
"Same thing Nixon did."
"I want the negatives," I tell him.
He laughs at me. I was pretty sure that he would. "You'll be lucky when your friends at the Inquisitor don't get it for their front page on Monday, Lex. I can just see it now. Lex Luthor's underage lover."
"He's sixteen," I growl. "You should have done a little more research."
"Oh really? That's not what I heard," Cooper taunts me.
"And who is this oh-so-great source of yours?"
"Yeah, right, Lex," Cooper snorts.
"Look, you'll be getting a lot of money in this deal; you owe me."
Cooper laughs again. I wonder if he's killing himself on his own tongue. "Let's just say that your father should be more careful about the lawyers he hires."
Fucking Donolson. That's it. This time he has gone way too far. He's gone as soon as I get on the phone with my father. I should have gotten rid of him a long time ago.
"So we have a deal?" Cooper asks me.
"There's no deal unless I get the negatives. I'm serious about that Cooper. You're not coming back after me next month for more of the same," I tell him flatly. I'm serious. I won't pay him that much money if I don't get the fucking negatives.
He's silent for several long moments, probably while he debates my resolve. "Fine," he eventually snarls, "you'll get the damn negatives, Lex. Do we have a deal now?"
"I'll call you back," I tell him.
I'm about to hang up when he tells me, "Don't take too long, Lex. I'm serious about the Inquisitor. They may not pay me as much, but they'll definitely pay me."
I hang up violently and toss the phone on the table. Fuck. I run the hand not attached to Clark over my head and breathe deeply. This is not fucking good. I think I may have said that out loud because Clark's mother is looking at me like she wants to tell me to watch my language.
"So?" Clark's father asks me pointedly after my little display of anger is over.
"Raymond Cooper. He's a photographer. Often sells his work to the Inquisitor when he can't manage to extract the price he wants from people. I've had run-ins with him before," I tell them quickly. Clark's hand tightens around mine while I speak. It actually becomes tight enough to hurt mildly, and I glance down at him curiously. He immediately drops my hand. He has a guilty look on his face. I don't think he meant to hurt me, he's just upset and not totally in control.
"And what price does he want?" Clark's father asks me sharply. The edge in his voice draws my eyes away from Clark and to him. I think that's exactly what he intended. He's trying to distract me from thinking about Clark's strength. This is some kind of family secret. I bet they know about his incredibly high pain threshold as well. I wonder what other family secrets they're hiding.
"Lex?" Clark asks me when I don't answer right away. I glance at him and then back at both his parents. They look worried and more so than before. I think they know that I'll eventually figure out their secret if I continue to see Clark. I bet that worries them as much, or perhaps even more, than the fact that Clark may be gay.
"A hundred thousand," I tell them evenly.
"Shit," Clark whispers from beside me. The word is no sooner out than he flushes and slaps his hand across his mouth, embarrassed to have cursed in front of his parents. For their part, his parents just gasp at my words and seem to ignore Clark's slip completely.
"We'll have to sell part of the farm. There's no way we can get another loan," Mr. Kent says softly to his wife. There are tears in her eyes, but I can see her nodding. I know I wasn't supposed to hear that.
"What?" I snap, and now it's my mouth that's ahead of my brain.
"We can't pay you back right away, Lex, but you'll get every cent we owe you," he tells me earnestly. There's resentment and anger in his eyes. He's willing to do it, though. I can tell he would give up everything he owns, if he had to, in order to save Clark from the embarrassment of being labeled as my lover.
"No one is selling anything," I insist, "and if anyone is paying anything it will be me, and you will not owe me anything." My voice is louder than I had intended, and I can feel that my face is flushed with anger. Another damned over-emotional reaction. I take a deep breath and tell myself that I'm in control here. I need to be in control. I know I'm not, though, and that scares the hell out of me.
"You've made it clear you have nothing to lose here, Lex. There's no reason for you to have to pay to make this go away," he tells me.
Fuck, why is he always so prideful about these things? Can't he see that if I weren't involved in this the situation wouldn't even exist? No one blackmails an organic farmer in the middle of nowhere. They blackmail people like me, people who have money and things to hide. People like them who only have things to hide and no money make very poor targets indeed. The money means nothing to me. I've spent more on cars I barely use. To them it's their entire lifestyle.
"I have everything to lose here," I blurt out angrily. I may as well just give up with the hope that I'll stop acting emotionally anytime soon because it simply isn't going to happen. "Look," I say with a sigh a moment later, "I know you don't believe me, but I really do care about your son. The last thing I want is for him to be hurt. Just let me take care of this, please?"
I know Clark's father isn't going to agree to that, but luckily his mother chooses that time to assert her influence over her husband. "Okay," she says and places her hand over her husband's on the table. "Please just make this go away, Lex." There's pleading and fear in her eyes. It's not fear of me, though. It's fear of what could happen if I don't succeed. I won't let that happen, failure is not an option here.
I nod slowly and then turn back to look at Clark. I reach out to take his hand again, and he gives it to me. I can see his father scowling at me from across the table, but I don't let it stop me from connecting with Clark. It's unlikely that his father can think any worse of me than he does right now anyhow. "I need to go and take care of this," I tell him softly. "I'll call you tonight."
Clark nods. "Okay," he says. His voice seems to stick in his throat. I never wanted to make him feel this way.
I stand up and let go of Clark's hand. "I'm so sorry," I tell his parents. His mother nods slightly. His father just continues to stare at me like he wants to come across the table and punch me.
I turn and walk out the kitchen door. I'm almost all the way back to my car when I realize that Clark's right behind me. He wasn't there a moment ago so that means he's moving faster than I expected again. I stop and turn around to look at him. "Clark," I manage to get out before he wraps his arms around me and pulls me in tight against his chest.
"Lex," he gasps against my ear.
"Clark, it's going to be okay, I promise. I'll take care of this and then I'll call you later."
"Promise?" he asks and I don't know if he's making me promise that I'll call or that I'll make everything all right again.
"Yes, I promise," I tell him.
"Okay," he says and hugs me tighter before letting me slip from his arms. "Love you Lex," he tells me.
The fact that he can still say that and mean it tears at my heart. What he feels for me is so incredibly strong. I have done nothing in my life to deserve this type of devotion from anyone.
"Love you too, Gorgeous," I tell him almost without thinking about it. It's amazing how easily the words seem to come out now that I've said them before. He knows already, it's not a secret. He loves me, he's safe, and it's okay.
I walk the rest of the way to my car, get in and then drive away. I watch him watching me all the way down the lane and to the main road.
I end up paying off Cooper because it's the only thing I can think of that will protect Clark and his family without turning me into the type of monster that Clark would never be able to love. I have nothing on the guy; he's disgustingly clean. I can't play him the same way that I did Nixon. I briefly consider having him killed, but it's a passing fancy at best. A couple of months ago it might have been a serious consideration, but now there's Clark, and he's changed me into this whole new person that I barely recognize just by wanting to be with me. I can't cross that line anymore. If I did, he couldn't love me, and I could never live with that.
I call Cooper when I get back to the mansion. He picks up right away, and it's pretty obvious that he's been waiting for my call. We arrange to meet at a restaurant in Metropolis, which means I need to head back to the city right away. The money is easy enough to obtain. I still have the briefcase from when Nixon tried this in November. At the time I had kept it because I was insanely proud of manipulating the man into doing what I wanted. Now I'm just glad I did so that I don't have to go down to the bank again and deal with the manager who still looks at me like he thinks I might try to rob them.
We meet at the restaurant at six. I bring the briefcase and he brings the negatives. We eat, casually, as if nothing is going on. He checks the briefcase discretely and then hands over the envelope with the negatives. He's smiling broadly. I want to strangle him. I pull out the negatives and check them. In addition to the picture he sent to us there're a couple of others of Clark and I touching and kissing. There's even one of me pushing him away when I told him that we were there to watch the game, not to make out. I nod and then give him a look that says if he tries this on me again I really will kill him. He seems to take it seriously because he looks damned scared. We shake hands and then part company.
I drive back to Smallville in a haze of anger. I call Clark from somewhere on the road. It's eight. His mother answers and when I ask to speak to him she tells me he's sleeping and that she doesn't want to disturb him. I want to believe her, but I also remember the last time she lied to me about the fact that Clark was grounded. I ask her to tell him that I called and she promises that she will. I hang up and turn on the stereo. It's loud, almost loud enough to drown out the little voice in my head that's telling me that I will never see Clark again.
I wake suddenly and sit straight up in bed. It's dark; the sky must have clouded up since I went to bed because no moonlight is coming in the windows. My heart is beating fast. Someone's in my room. I know it the same way I know my first name or what day I was born on. It's instinctive knowledge. I don't have to think about it or find it somewhere. I just wake up and I know: someone's in my room.
I fumble for the light on the bedside table to turn it on, but before I can reach the switch a large hand lands on my shoulder and holds me in place. "It's okay, Lex. It's just me," he tells me in a low voice.
Clark. I sigh in relief, and then actually manage to switch the light on. "Shit, Clark. Don't sneak up on me like that," I snap at him.
He smiles at me sheepishly and then swoops in to steal a kiss. It's soft and gentle and sweet. "Sorry," he tells me when he pulls away.
"'s okay," I tell him softly, and glance down at the time on the clock on the bedside table. It's well past midnight, in fact it's quickly approaching one o'clock. "What are you doing here?" I ask him curiously when I turn back to look at him.
"Wanted to see you," he tells me, kicks off his shoes, and climbs onto the bed next to me. He's still on top of the comforter, but he snuggles into my side the best he can.
I smile and thread my fingers through his hair. "I don't know if this is a good time to be sneaking out of your parents' house, Clark," I tell him softly. I love having him here but I'm worried about what will happen if his parents find out. As if things aren't bad enough right now. If I'm ever going to get back into their good books, I'm going to need to be extra careful with Clark.
"Are you going to send me home?" he asks me pointedly, and stares up into my eyes.
"No," I confess and draw him closer to my chest.
"So, then don't waste our time telling me how bad an idea this is. I've heard enough of it tonight to last me a lifetime." Clark leans down to kiss me and I let him.
I was so worried when I wasn't allowed to speak to him earlier and now here he is, back in my bed. I feel relieved. Eventually he pulls out of the kiss and then settles back down at my side. I run my fingers through his hair, stroking the silky strands and gently massaging his scalp. He closes his eyes but I can tell he isn't even close to falling asleep.
"Were they hard on you?" I ask softly.
"I don't know," Clark tells me with a sigh. "Dad's angry, but you were right, he's mostly angry at you. He just keeps telling me what a bad idea it is to get involved with you, that you'll end up hurting me or leaving whenever you find something more interesting. Mom's worried that I'll get hurt because you're so much older than me. That seems to bother her more than the fact that you're you," he says, and looks up at me with a smile. "I think Mom secretly likes you."
"I think she does too, imp," I tell him with my own smile. "So, they didn't ground you?"
"Well, no," Clark tells me. "I'm just not supposed to see you until they decide what they want to do about the situation."
"Clark," I say in renewal of my protest of his being here now.
"Lex," he returns in exactly the same tone I used. "I want to be with you. I know it's right. I'm not going to stay away from you, even for them." He tells me this like he's thought it out.
I stare at him for a long moment and then shake my head. "I'm a bad influence on you," I tell him with a laugh.
He rolls his eyes. He's heard that a number of times tonight as well, I'm sure.
We're silent for some time after that. He snuggles tightly into me and I stroke his hair. It's comforting. It's what we both need right now. "You going to stay?" I ask him after about five minutes of silence.
"For a while," he tells me, "if you'll let me."
Of course I'll let him stay. "You plan on getting under the covers, then?"
"Umm, yeah," he says and climbs off the bed.
I pull back the cover, and he moves to get in. "No," I tell him firmly and he stops in mid-movement. He looks up at me in mild confusion. He thinks I've just told him two different things. "You're not getting in this bed with your clothes on," I tell him. The thought of his jeans rasping against my bare flesh is almost too much to even consider.
"Oh," he mouths and then looks down at himself. He almost looks surprised to find that he's wearing clothing. I can only wonder what he had expected to see. "Sorry," he tells me.
"'s okay," I tell him. "Strip, get in bed, stop making me wait for you," I tell him good-naturedly.
"Okay," he says and starts pulling at his clothes. He's undressed in a matter of seconds, and then crawls into bed next to me.
"What time does your father get up?" I ask him, and reach over to grab the alarm clock.
"What?" he asks me. He sounds confused.
"Your father. So I can set the alarm in case we fall asleep."
"Oh," he says with a smile. "Five-thirty."
"I'll set it for four-thirty?"
"Sounds fine," he tells me and settles down in the bed.
"Okay." I set the alarm and then roll back over to lie next to him.
Clark pulls me close to him and maneuvers me so that I'm lying on his chest. Usually I don't enjoy being manhandled, not even by Clark, but apparently he's feeling possessive and I'm unsettled enough that I'll go with it. I allow myself to be pulled into his arms and I rest my head on his chest. I use my right hand to gently explore his chest. Clark moans softly and runs his own fingers over my head and then down my back.
"Mine," he whispers and I laugh softly in response.
Yours for as long as you'll have me, Clark.
I sigh contentedly and close my eyes. The last thought I have before I fall back asleep is how nice it is just to be with someone and have no expectations as far as sex goes.
Part 2