Like Shifting Sand (Part 2/3)
Title: Like Shifting Sand (Part 2/3)
Author: hoperoy
Fandom: Smallville
Rating: R
Pairing: Clark/Lex, Martha/Lionel
Word count: 3,832
Warnings: Spoilers for Insurgence and other Season Two episodes
Summary: What if the baby wasn't Jonathan's?
Author's Note: Thanks to acampbell for the fantastic beta.
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PART II: Clark
Clark’s thoughts and emotions were reeling. His life, while always complicated, had still been as normal as it could ever be for someone like *him*: a teenage alien from a doomed, destroyed world. He wasn't sure he'd ever understand why the universe had picked the moment his father was killed to wash his life away as effectively as the waves of the ocean did shifting sand. Why did his relative normalcy shatter at that particular moment? Why had everything happened *then*?
Standing in the driveway as he watches his possessions--his bed, his books, his pillow. His *life*--being loaded into a moving van, he doubts he'll ever get answers. Fate is strange like that. Things change when you least expect them to. Fate shakes things up and leaves destruction in its wake.
Clark isn't sure anything will ever be right again.
"Clark?"
Lex sounds worried, as though he thinks Clark might be about ready to commit suicide at any moment. Clark hasn't bothered to dissuade him of that notion. He *likes* how attentive Lex has been, and if he's honest with himself, it makes him feel secure to know that, should he snap, someone will be watching him closely enough to talk him out of doing anything horrific.
"Yeah?" he asks quietly, turning away from the van.
"We need to go."
His mother is already waiting beside the limo. He can tell she’s as concerned about him as Lex is, though she has an entirely different way of showing it-she's so much more overt in her worry. Lex is subtle, watching him quietly and taking everything in. His mother is far more obvious, always looking at him with that clear concern. She's his mother--her concern for him will always be different from everyone else's, and even if she's dealing with as much as he is, he knows she loves him the way only a mother can.
Clark allows Lex to lead him to the limo and guide him inside. All he's been told is that they're going to Metropolis--that without his father, his mother doesn't feel like she can run the farm. They'll be keeping it, but it will be run by other people in their absence. According to his mother, Lionel has graciously offered them a place to live. She's his personal assistant, after all-Lionel provides only the best for Luthor Corp employees.
Clark feels his stomach roll over.
They ride in silence for the first ten minutes. Clark loses track of time after he curls up in the corner, Lex beside him and his mother seated across from them. He likes the silence. It gives him time to think, and he's thankful that Lex understands that sometimes words don't make things better. His mother doesn't usually see that--she believes in talking things out--but she's quiet for the time being.
He's not surprised when she's the one to break the silence. "I need to tell you something, Clark," she says quietly.
Next to him, Lex stiffens.
"Okay," he says blankly. It's probably another concern about life insurance or about him switching schools in the middle of the year. Maybe it's another talk about how she's sorry all the change is coming at once, but that they just can't wait. There have been a lot of those talks lately.
"I--three months ago..." she begins slowly, like she's not quite sure what to say. "Clark, I'm really not sure how to tell you this."
Three months ago, his father was still alive. Suddenly, Clark is marginally more interested. Enough, certainly, to recognize how still Lex has gone beside him.
"I thought I couldn't have children," she begins again. It's odd how drawn and pale her face looks. Clark wonders if that's just happened recently, or if maybe he just missed it before. "I--"
"You're pregnant, aren't you?" Strangely, the accusation comes from Lex. He sounds *angry*.
Clark freezes, even as Lex sits up straighter next to him. Pregnant? No, not now. This can't possibly be happening *now*...
His mother's eyes lock with Lex's. "Yes."
"Convenient timing, isn't it?" Lex says slowly. The way he's talking--Clark can tell he's choosing every word deliberately. Clark doesn't understand what's going on. Logically, he knows that something is happening that is beyond the conversation-that there's an inside conversation occurring--but he still can't get beyond the obvious.
His mother is pregnant.
"Lex..." she says, her voice low and filled with warning.
Just like that, Lex leans back. Clark doesn't like how he does it--how he's bitterly smirking and looking at her with the least respect Clark has ever seen him regard her with. "Don't worry," he replies, his voice dripping with bitterness. "It wouldn't be worth it, and *I* intend to be *faithful* to the people I love."
Just slightly, his mother winces.
"Pregnant?" Clark repeats, leaning back into the seat. "How--*now*?" Fate is a cruel, cruel thing.
"I'm three months’ along."
Clark can feel a lump rising in his throat. "After all the time you and dad wanted a biological child, how can this happen now that he's... dead?" He hates how that sounds. It's like saying the word makes it real. "He'll never see his child, never meet--"
Clark leaves off, stopping before his voice becomes too choked up to continue. He hates his weakness, hates it so much that sometimes he hates himself for having it.
Lex's eyes are icy cold as he looks at Clark's mother. Clark doesn't understand why, but he doesn't feel like he can think about it right now. He *knows* there's something there that he needs to consciously realize, but some part of him doesn't feel ready. He doesn't *want* to know.
"I can't--how?" he gasps, feeling the tears coming again. He *hates* crying. He's done it so much lately, and it makes him feel like a girl, but everything just hurts so much, and--
Lex pulls him in against his chest, rocking him gently. It feels good, comforting in a way he needs. He wouldn't have ever thought Lex was capable of it, but he's so glad that he's proved that he is. He *needs* Lex right now.
"Everything is going to be all right, Clark," he whispers, more determined than Clark has ever heard. "I'll make it all right," he murmurs, still rocking him.
Clark wants to believe him. It would help to believe him. He'd feel better. So badly, he wants to believe, even if he knows that Lex is promising something that's nearly impossible.
He believes anyway.
------------------------
Clark doesn't like Lionel Luthor. He doesn't like how he speaks to Clark's mother; how he leans in just a little too close to her; or how he pauses over her name, like he's particularly enjoying the way it feels on his lips. He's a lying snake, and Clark can't understand why his mother would bring them here to live with him. Maybe, if he felt more up to it, he'd protest.
Honestly, he's not sure he needs to. Lex seems to be engaging in enough subtle emotional warfare for the both of them. The sharp words to Clark's mother-the hints that this isn't the best place for Clark seem to be a constant thing. The looks alone are enough to get Lex's point across.
Clark is oddly thankful that he's protesting enough for the both of them.
Clark has never been more thankful for Lex. Before this, he's never seen Lex as a particularly demonstrative person, but now he's so willing to give Clark his affection-a simple hug, a smile when Clark needs it, even time where Clark curls up against him on the couch while they're watching a movie--any time and any place that he needs it. Maybe, if things were different, it would have been awkward. The way things are now, it's just a relief.
"Lex?" It's one in the morning, the night of the day he and his mother moved in here at the penthouse. Lex has come to stay with them also, citing the reasons that it was just as easy-if not easier-to work from Metropolis, and that, more importantly, Clark needed help adjusting.
Clark has been lying awake in his own room for three hours, memories rushing through his head. It probably won't help to wake Lex up, but he'd like to hear something other than the ghosts of memory in his mind and, in all honesty, it was just so easy to leave his room and come seek refuge in Lex's.
"Clark?" The reply comes too quickly for Clark to believe that Lex was really asleep. "What's wrong?"
"I can't sleep."
Just like that, Lex peels the covers of his bed back. Grateful, Clark takes the invitation and slips down in next to him.
"I'm sorry to wake you."
"I wasn't sleeping, Clark."
“You too, huh?”
The situation likely should be awkward, but Clark feels nothing except relief when Lex begins to stroke his hair. He's well-aware that these actions fall in a category that is very clearly not platonic, but he doesn't need another thing to analyze right now. His relationship with Lex is what it is. It'll become whatever it's meant to be.
"What were you thinking about?" Lex asks him after a few minutes.
"How much I hate your dad."
Lex snorts softly. "I'd imagine."
"I don't understand why Mom would move us here."
The stiffening of Lex's muscles is barely perceptible, but Clark catches it. Lex has been doing that a lot when Clark has brought up his mother's motives. "Is there something you're not telling me?" he asks slowly.
Lex laughs and gives him a friendly pat on the cheek. "Clark, I'm not quite sure that's a question you have the right to ask me."
It's not. It's really, really not, and all of a sudden, Clark is sick of the lies. Lex has been there for him--has all but taken care of him since Clark's dad died. Why the secrecy? If Lex wanted to betray him, he'd probably have done so by now. If he were to release the findings of the accident to a lab--if he confided his suspicions to them--Clark would be under the microscope.
Even if he does betray Clark's trust, Clark can barely find it in himself to care. If Lex betrayed him, he'd probably wish he was dead anyway.
"You hit me on the bridge," he says. Just like that--no preamble, no nothing.
Just truth.
Lex's hand stills in his hair. "Clark--"
"I can bench press the tractor. I can run faster than you can see. I can see through walls. I can start fires with my eyes."
"Oh, fuck, Clark--"
"If you want, I'd let you."
"Clark, *stop*." Carefully, Lex shifts until he's on his side. He pulls Clark with him, holding him tightly enough so that if Clark was human, he'd probably have bruises. "Don't do this just because you're upset. I want you to *want* to give me these secrets."
"I *do*." It's the truth. The circumstances might have dictated it, but he wants Lex to know everything about him.
Lex nods, leaning down and beginning to laugh against Clark's shoulder "All right," he says a little breathlessly. "It's not funny, I know, but why now, Clark? After everything I've done to try to get you to tell, why would you choose a time when I didn't want to pry the information out of you? I truly didn't want to use this situation to get your secrets, so why would you choose to give them to me now?"
Clark sighs. "Truth? Because I need you. Because I owe you the truth. Most of all, because you're important enough to me that you *need* to know. You've done so much for me-you have the *right* to know."
Lex's mouth opens just a little, as though he's about to speak. Clark doesn't want to hear . Sometimes, there are better ways to express things.
He leans in and presses his mouth to Lex's.
Lex's intake of breath is sharp, but when he realizes what's happening, he immediately gives in and begins kissing back. Clark gives up control of the kiss instantly. Lex won't hurt him--he trusts that he won't--and he wants Lex to make him feel safe. He likes feeling like he's not in control of this.
"Don't do this because you feel like you're obligated," Lex murmurs when he finally breaks away. "This is only if you want it, Clark--"
Clark silences him with another kiss. When they break away, he whispers, "I want it."
To be completely honest, he's not sure he's ever wanted anything more.
------------------------------
Clark is sure that his mother knows what he's doing with Lex. He sleeps with Lex, after all-from the first time that she went in to check on him in the morning only to find his bed untouched, she must have realized *something*. He worries about it a little, because he doesn't want to make things any harder for her. She's suffered, too.
She finally addresses the issue when they have been at the mansion for one week.
His mother walks in on him while he's watching TV in the entertainment room. She's still dressed from work-her position with Lionel--except that she no longer looks quite as crisp as she once did. He considers that it may be due to her growing stomach. "Does he make you happy, Clark?" she asks as she walks in front of him, blocking his view of the TV.
He doesn’t have to stop and wonder what she's talking about. He already knows. His relationship with Lex is the only thing it could be.” "Yes."
"And you trust him?"
"You do," he points out, turning off the TV and sitting up. He's well aware that his mother delegated Lex to take care of him while she called in the coroners to take care of his father's body. She trusts Lex with him.
"But do *you*?"
"Yes." He trusts Lex with his life.
She nods absently, looking away from him as she comes to sit down on the couch. He moves his feet out of the way to make room for her.
His mother looks tired, he realizes. She's pregnant, yes, but there's something more to it than that. It's the loss of her husband, definitely, but maybe even something *more*. Clark isn't quite sure.
"I--Clark, I've tried to be a good mother, but I've made mistakes. Sometimes I… think I should have done things differently. Especially now, I'm happy that you have someone to trust."
So is he. He trusts his mother, certainly, but since his father's death, it seems as though there's been an irresistible force pulling them apart. Clark doesn't know how to stop it and, quite clearly, neither does his mother.
They're silent for a few moments. It's not comfortable silence such as he often shares with Lex. "What am I going to do about school?" he asks finally, just to break the silence. He hasn't thought a lot about school, really. It feels so secondary and trivial after everything that has happened. He does miss his friends, but with all the problems in his life, he hasn't had much time to dwell on it.
"I thought of home schooling. You've only got a little less than three years left. It's enough to start you somewhere else, but I just don't know..."
The thought of going to a new high school is revolting. He doesn't want to make new friends, and the idea of having to try to fit in with new people in a new place isn't appealing. It hardly seems worth his time to try.
"I like the idea of home schooling."
She smiles tiredly. "Good. If it's what you want, I'll have Lionel set something up with a tutor--"
Lionel. Always Lionel. "Why are you spending so much time with him, Mom? Why did we even accept his offer to stay here? I could have kept the farm running."
It's impossible to miss the look of guilt that darts over her face. "Oh, baby, I know, but living on the farm without your father--I'm not sure I could have done it. It would have hurt too much. Lionel--Lionel has helped."
Helped himself, most likely. Clark refuses to believe that the man does anything without an ulterior motive.
"He has, Clark," she says softly, reaching down to brush his hair back. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but he's been good to us."
Clark forces himself to nod. He doesn't understand why his mother seems to like Lionel, but he doesn't want to argue. It's just not worth it.
"Sometime this week, maybe just the two of us could go out for ice cream?" she suggests, giving him a small smile.
He nods-getting ice cream was what she used to do with him when he was younger and was upset. He doesn't really want to, but it's clear she wants to spend time with him. "Sure."
"Okay," she says, rising from the couch. She moves slowly, as though reluctant to bring their conversation to a close.
Clark doesn't say anything more, but merely watches her leave the room. Even after she's gone, he still doesn't turn the TV back on. There's too much to think about.
Maybe, someday, he'll get it all figured out.
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When Martha insists that Clark gets a new wardrobe that's more appropriate for the city than jeans and flannel, Lex is the one who takes Clark shopping for clothes. While it likely would have been comfortable at any point in their friendship, it's especially so now. He spends minutes at a time kissing with Lex--he sleeps in Lex’s bed. Letting Lex pick out clothes for him is something at which Clark scarcely bats an eye.
"Green is a good color on you," Lex says absently as he smoothes out the fabric over Clark's shoulders, chasing away the wrinkles of the expensive button-down shirt Clark is trying on. "Brings out your eyes."
Clark feels a tiny smile pull at his lips. He hasn't smiled much since his father died, but when he does, it's typically for Lex. "You really are gay, aren't you?"
Glancing up at the mirror, Clark sees Lex smile behind him. "Clark, my father could tell you the same thing. When you belong to a family as prominent as mine, you learn how to dress. You should be thankful--you certainly need the help."
Clark's grin widens. "You like it when I wear flannel to bed." When he wears flannel pajama pants, Lex seems incapable of keeping his hands away from Clark's legs.
Clark wears his flannel pajama pants every chance he gets.
"We're buying this shirt. Try the red one on," Lex says with a soft smile.
Clark undoes the buttons, pulls the shirt off and casts it aside. He could care less about these clothes. He doesn't even *like* them--he's only letting Lex buy them for him because he's not allowed to dress in flannel anymore. His mother never gave him a reason, and when he brought it up to Lex, Lex had gotten a troubled look on his face and had told him not to ask. He knows he should press the subject further, but he's afraid the answer will hurt.
He doesn't want to hurt any more.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Clark knows there's a large piece of information that he's missing. He's sure it's vital--is sure that, whatever it is, it would let him see the whole situation with Lionel, his mother and her pregnancy in a different, clearer light. He's also sure it would hurt more than anything he's ever felt, and for that reason, he's not working to discover what he's missing.
He knows that when he finally does find out what's happening, things will never be the same.
"What's wrong, Clark?"
Clark glances up at Lex, who looks worried. "Just thinking. About everything, you know?" If possible, Lex's expression darkens more, settling into something halfway between pity and anger. Clark knows the anger isn't at him. It never is. "There's more about what happened that I don't know, and I'm aware of that. Sometimes, I think that maybe I should try to figure out what it is. Other times, I don't want to know. *Most* times I don't want to know."
"Because the knowledge would hurt," Lex deadpans, helping Clark slip on the red shirt.
Clark nods. "You know what it is, don't you?"
"You know that I do. You also know I won't tell you. If you're willing to accept the hurt that will come with knowledge, you'll have to do it yourself. I won't do it to you. I won't hurt you like that."
"But there *is* something to know."
"Clark, you don't need to ask me that question. You already know the answer."
There's a sharpness in Lex's voice that lets Clark know the conversation is closed. Lex isn't angry with him, but there certainly isn't room for Clark to push. He's gotten all the information he's going to get today. Pushing any further now will just get him silence... or maybe a twisted, glazed-over version of the truth that would be no better than a lie.
Regardless of their past, Clark doesn't think Lex would lie to him now unless he feels that he absolutely has to. Even if he's wrong, Clark doubts he'll ever know it--if Lex is lying, Clark will likely never be able to tell.
He'd rather have no answer than a half-truth. He stops pushing.
"I think that's enough shopping for now," Lex announces. "Let's take a break for lunch."
Clark allows Lex to help him out of his shirt. The thing is cashmere-or so Lex tells him--and while it's smooth against his skin, he feels uncomfortable in it. It's some designer label sweater that he's only ever seen in Lex's closet-it doesn't seem right for him. What would his father think if he ever saw him dressing like this every day? If he ever saw him living life in the Luthor world?
Sighing, Clark hands Lex the shirt and follows him out of the dressing room. It's in situations like these that he misses his father-his judgment, his morals, his understanding of how Clark is uncomfortable wearing upscale things--so much it hurts.
Author: hoperoy
Fandom: Smallville
Rating: R
Pairing: Clark/Lex, Martha/Lionel
Word count: 3,832
Warnings: Spoilers for Insurgence and other Season Two episodes
Summary: What if the baby wasn't Jonathan's?
Author's Note: Thanks to acampbell for the fantastic beta.
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PART II: Clark
Clark’s thoughts and emotions were reeling. His life, while always complicated, had still been as normal as it could ever be for someone like *him*: a teenage alien from a doomed, destroyed world. He wasn't sure he'd ever understand why the universe had picked the moment his father was killed to wash his life away as effectively as the waves of the ocean did shifting sand. Why did his relative normalcy shatter at that particular moment? Why had everything happened *then*?
Standing in the driveway as he watches his possessions--his bed, his books, his pillow. His *life*--being loaded into a moving van, he doubts he'll ever get answers. Fate is strange like that. Things change when you least expect them to. Fate shakes things up and leaves destruction in its wake.
Clark isn't sure anything will ever be right again.
"Clark?"
Lex sounds worried, as though he thinks Clark might be about ready to commit suicide at any moment. Clark hasn't bothered to dissuade him of that notion. He *likes* how attentive Lex has been, and if he's honest with himself, it makes him feel secure to know that, should he snap, someone will be watching him closely enough to talk him out of doing anything horrific.
"Yeah?" he asks quietly, turning away from the van.
"We need to go."
His mother is already waiting beside the limo. He can tell she’s as concerned about him as Lex is, though she has an entirely different way of showing it-she's so much more overt in her worry. Lex is subtle, watching him quietly and taking everything in. His mother is far more obvious, always looking at him with that clear concern. She's his mother--her concern for him will always be different from everyone else's, and even if she's dealing with as much as he is, he knows she loves him the way only a mother can.
Clark allows Lex to lead him to the limo and guide him inside. All he's been told is that they're going to Metropolis--that without his father, his mother doesn't feel like she can run the farm. They'll be keeping it, but it will be run by other people in their absence. According to his mother, Lionel has graciously offered them a place to live. She's his personal assistant, after all-Lionel provides only the best for Luthor Corp employees.
Clark feels his stomach roll over.
They ride in silence for the first ten minutes. Clark loses track of time after he curls up in the corner, Lex beside him and his mother seated across from them. He likes the silence. It gives him time to think, and he's thankful that Lex understands that sometimes words don't make things better. His mother doesn't usually see that--she believes in talking things out--but she's quiet for the time being.
He's not surprised when she's the one to break the silence. "I need to tell you something, Clark," she says quietly.
Next to him, Lex stiffens.
"Okay," he says blankly. It's probably another concern about life insurance or about him switching schools in the middle of the year. Maybe it's another talk about how she's sorry all the change is coming at once, but that they just can't wait. There have been a lot of those talks lately.
"I--three months ago..." she begins slowly, like she's not quite sure what to say. "Clark, I'm really not sure how to tell you this."
Three months ago, his father was still alive. Suddenly, Clark is marginally more interested. Enough, certainly, to recognize how still Lex has gone beside him.
"I thought I couldn't have children," she begins again. It's odd how drawn and pale her face looks. Clark wonders if that's just happened recently, or if maybe he just missed it before. "I--"
"You're pregnant, aren't you?" Strangely, the accusation comes from Lex. He sounds *angry*.
Clark freezes, even as Lex sits up straighter next to him. Pregnant? No, not now. This can't possibly be happening *now*...
His mother's eyes lock with Lex's. "Yes."
"Convenient timing, isn't it?" Lex says slowly. The way he's talking--Clark can tell he's choosing every word deliberately. Clark doesn't understand what's going on. Logically, he knows that something is happening that is beyond the conversation-that there's an inside conversation occurring--but he still can't get beyond the obvious.
His mother is pregnant.
"Lex..." she says, her voice low and filled with warning.
Just like that, Lex leans back. Clark doesn't like how he does it--how he's bitterly smirking and looking at her with the least respect Clark has ever seen him regard her with. "Don't worry," he replies, his voice dripping with bitterness. "It wouldn't be worth it, and *I* intend to be *faithful* to the people I love."
Just slightly, his mother winces.
"Pregnant?" Clark repeats, leaning back into the seat. "How--*now*?" Fate is a cruel, cruel thing.
"I'm three months’ along."
Clark can feel a lump rising in his throat. "After all the time you and dad wanted a biological child, how can this happen now that he's... dead?" He hates how that sounds. It's like saying the word makes it real. "He'll never see his child, never meet--"
Clark leaves off, stopping before his voice becomes too choked up to continue. He hates his weakness, hates it so much that sometimes he hates himself for having it.
Lex's eyes are icy cold as he looks at Clark's mother. Clark doesn't understand why, but he doesn't feel like he can think about it right now. He *knows* there's something there that he needs to consciously realize, but some part of him doesn't feel ready. He doesn't *want* to know.
"I can't--how?" he gasps, feeling the tears coming again. He *hates* crying. He's done it so much lately, and it makes him feel like a girl, but everything just hurts so much, and--
Lex pulls him in against his chest, rocking him gently. It feels good, comforting in a way he needs. He wouldn't have ever thought Lex was capable of it, but he's so glad that he's proved that he is. He *needs* Lex right now.
"Everything is going to be all right, Clark," he whispers, more determined than Clark has ever heard. "I'll make it all right," he murmurs, still rocking him.
Clark wants to believe him. It would help to believe him. He'd feel better. So badly, he wants to believe, even if he knows that Lex is promising something that's nearly impossible.
He believes anyway.
------------------------
Clark doesn't like Lionel Luthor. He doesn't like how he speaks to Clark's mother; how he leans in just a little too close to her; or how he pauses over her name, like he's particularly enjoying the way it feels on his lips. He's a lying snake, and Clark can't understand why his mother would bring them here to live with him. Maybe, if he felt more up to it, he'd protest.
Honestly, he's not sure he needs to. Lex seems to be engaging in enough subtle emotional warfare for the both of them. The sharp words to Clark's mother-the hints that this isn't the best place for Clark seem to be a constant thing. The looks alone are enough to get Lex's point across.
Clark is oddly thankful that he's protesting enough for the both of them.
Clark has never been more thankful for Lex. Before this, he's never seen Lex as a particularly demonstrative person, but now he's so willing to give Clark his affection-a simple hug, a smile when Clark needs it, even time where Clark curls up against him on the couch while they're watching a movie--any time and any place that he needs it. Maybe, if things were different, it would have been awkward. The way things are now, it's just a relief.
"Lex?" It's one in the morning, the night of the day he and his mother moved in here at the penthouse. Lex has come to stay with them also, citing the reasons that it was just as easy-if not easier-to work from Metropolis, and that, more importantly, Clark needed help adjusting.
Clark has been lying awake in his own room for three hours, memories rushing through his head. It probably won't help to wake Lex up, but he'd like to hear something other than the ghosts of memory in his mind and, in all honesty, it was just so easy to leave his room and come seek refuge in Lex's.
"Clark?" The reply comes too quickly for Clark to believe that Lex was really asleep. "What's wrong?"
"I can't sleep."
Just like that, Lex peels the covers of his bed back. Grateful, Clark takes the invitation and slips down in next to him.
"I'm sorry to wake you."
"I wasn't sleeping, Clark."
“You too, huh?”
The situation likely should be awkward, but Clark feels nothing except relief when Lex begins to stroke his hair. He's well-aware that these actions fall in a category that is very clearly not platonic, but he doesn't need another thing to analyze right now. His relationship with Lex is what it is. It'll become whatever it's meant to be.
"What were you thinking about?" Lex asks him after a few minutes.
"How much I hate your dad."
Lex snorts softly. "I'd imagine."
"I don't understand why Mom would move us here."
The stiffening of Lex's muscles is barely perceptible, but Clark catches it. Lex has been doing that a lot when Clark has brought up his mother's motives. "Is there something you're not telling me?" he asks slowly.
Lex laughs and gives him a friendly pat on the cheek. "Clark, I'm not quite sure that's a question you have the right to ask me."
It's not. It's really, really not, and all of a sudden, Clark is sick of the lies. Lex has been there for him--has all but taken care of him since Clark's dad died. Why the secrecy? If Lex wanted to betray him, he'd probably have done so by now. If he were to release the findings of the accident to a lab--if he confided his suspicions to them--Clark would be under the microscope.
Even if he does betray Clark's trust, Clark can barely find it in himself to care. If Lex betrayed him, he'd probably wish he was dead anyway.
"You hit me on the bridge," he says. Just like that--no preamble, no nothing.
Just truth.
Lex's hand stills in his hair. "Clark--"
"I can bench press the tractor. I can run faster than you can see. I can see through walls. I can start fires with my eyes."
"Oh, fuck, Clark--"
"If you want, I'd let you."
"Clark, *stop*." Carefully, Lex shifts until he's on his side. He pulls Clark with him, holding him tightly enough so that if Clark was human, he'd probably have bruises. "Don't do this just because you're upset. I want you to *want* to give me these secrets."
"I *do*." It's the truth. The circumstances might have dictated it, but he wants Lex to know everything about him.
Lex nods, leaning down and beginning to laugh against Clark's shoulder "All right," he says a little breathlessly. "It's not funny, I know, but why now, Clark? After everything I've done to try to get you to tell, why would you choose a time when I didn't want to pry the information out of you? I truly didn't want to use this situation to get your secrets, so why would you choose to give them to me now?"
Clark sighs. "Truth? Because I need you. Because I owe you the truth. Most of all, because you're important enough to me that you *need* to know. You've done so much for me-you have the *right* to know."
Lex's mouth opens just a little, as though he's about to speak. Clark doesn't want to hear . Sometimes, there are better ways to express things.
He leans in and presses his mouth to Lex's.
Lex's intake of breath is sharp, but when he realizes what's happening, he immediately gives in and begins kissing back. Clark gives up control of the kiss instantly. Lex won't hurt him--he trusts that he won't--and he wants Lex to make him feel safe. He likes feeling like he's not in control of this.
"Don't do this because you feel like you're obligated," Lex murmurs when he finally breaks away. "This is only if you want it, Clark--"
Clark silences him with another kiss. When they break away, he whispers, "I want it."
To be completely honest, he's not sure he's ever wanted anything more.
------------------------------
Clark is sure that his mother knows what he's doing with Lex. He sleeps with Lex, after all-from the first time that she went in to check on him in the morning only to find his bed untouched, she must have realized *something*. He worries about it a little, because he doesn't want to make things any harder for her. She's suffered, too.
She finally addresses the issue when they have been at the mansion for one week.
His mother walks in on him while he's watching TV in the entertainment room. She's still dressed from work-her position with Lionel--except that she no longer looks quite as crisp as she once did. He considers that it may be due to her growing stomach. "Does he make you happy, Clark?" she asks as she walks in front of him, blocking his view of the TV.
He doesn’t have to stop and wonder what she's talking about. He already knows. His relationship with Lex is the only thing it could be.” "Yes."
"And you trust him?"
"You do," he points out, turning off the TV and sitting up. He's well aware that his mother delegated Lex to take care of him while she called in the coroners to take care of his father's body. She trusts Lex with him.
"But do *you*?"
"Yes." He trusts Lex with his life.
She nods absently, looking away from him as she comes to sit down on the couch. He moves his feet out of the way to make room for her.
His mother looks tired, he realizes. She's pregnant, yes, but there's something more to it than that. It's the loss of her husband, definitely, but maybe even something *more*. Clark isn't quite sure.
"I--Clark, I've tried to be a good mother, but I've made mistakes. Sometimes I… think I should have done things differently. Especially now, I'm happy that you have someone to trust."
So is he. He trusts his mother, certainly, but since his father's death, it seems as though there's been an irresistible force pulling them apart. Clark doesn't know how to stop it and, quite clearly, neither does his mother.
They're silent for a few moments. It's not comfortable silence such as he often shares with Lex. "What am I going to do about school?" he asks finally, just to break the silence. He hasn't thought a lot about school, really. It feels so secondary and trivial after everything that has happened. He does miss his friends, but with all the problems in his life, he hasn't had much time to dwell on it.
"I thought of home schooling. You've only got a little less than three years left. It's enough to start you somewhere else, but I just don't know..."
The thought of going to a new high school is revolting. He doesn't want to make new friends, and the idea of having to try to fit in with new people in a new place isn't appealing. It hardly seems worth his time to try.
"I like the idea of home schooling."
She smiles tiredly. "Good. If it's what you want, I'll have Lionel set something up with a tutor--"
Lionel. Always Lionel. "Why are you spending so much time with him, Mom? Why did we even accept his offer to stay here? I could have kept the farm running."
It's impossible to miss the look of guilt that darts over her face. "Oh, baby, I know, but living on the farm without your father--I'm not sure I could have done it. It would have hurt too much. Lionel--Lionel has helped."
Helped himself, most likely. Clark refuses to believe that the man does anything without an ulterior motive.
"He has, Clark," she says softly, reaching down to brush his hair back. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but he's been good to us."
Clark forces himself to nod. He doesn't understand why his mother seems to like Lionel, but he doesn't want to argue. It's just not worth it.
"Sometime this week, maybe just the two of us could go out for ice cream?" she suggests, giving him a small smile.
He nods-getting ice cream was what she used to do with him when he was younger and was upset. He doesn't really want to, but it's clear she wants to spend time with him. "Sure."
"Okay," she says, rising from the couch. She moves slowly, as though reluctant to bring their conversation to a close.
Clark doesn't say anything more, but merely watches her leave the room. Even after she's gone, he still doesn't turn the TV back on. There's too much to think about.
Maybe, someday, he'll get it all figured out.
--------------------------------
When Martha insists that Clark gets a new wardrobe that's more appropriate for the city than jeans and flannel, Lex is the one who takes Clark shopping for clothes. While it likely would have been comfortable at any point in their friendship, it's especially so now. He spends minutes at a time kissing with Lex--he sleeps in Lex’s bed. Letting Lex pick out clothes for him is something at which Clark scarcely bats an eye.
"Green is a good color on you," Lex says absently as he smoothes out the fabric over Clark's shoulders, chasing away the wrinkles of the expensive button-down shirt Clark is trying on. "Brings out your eyes."
Clark feels a tiny smile pull at his lips. He hasn't smiled much since his father died, but when he does, it's typically for Lex. "You really are gay, aren't you?"
Glancing up at the mirror, Clark sees Lex smile behind him. "Clark, my father could tell you the same thing. When you belong to a family as prominent as mine, you learn how to dress. You should be thankful--you certainly need the help."
Clark's grin widens. "You like it when I wear flannel to bed." When he wears flannel pajama pants, Lex seems incapable of keeping his hands away from Clark's legs.
Clark wears his flannel pajama pants every chance he gets.
"We're buying this shirt. Try the red one on," Lex says with a soft smile.
Clark undoes the buttons, pulls the shirt off and casts it aside. He could care less about these clothes. He doesn't even *like* them--he's only letting Lex buy them for him because he's not allowed to dress in flannel anymore. His mother never gave him a reason, and when he brought it up to Lex, Lex had gotten a troubled look on his face and had told him not to ask. He knows he should press the subject further, but he's afraid the answer will hurt.
He doesn't want to hurt any more.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Clark knows there's a large piece of information that he's missing. He's sure it's vital--is sure that, whatever it is, it would let him see the whole situation with Lionel, his mother and her pregnancy in a different, clearer light. He's also sure it would hurt more than anything he's ever felt, and for that reason, he's not working to discover what he's missing.
He knows that when he finally does find out what's happening, things will never be the same.
"What's wrong, Clark?"
Clark glances up at Lex, who looks worried. "Just thinking. About everything, you know?" If possible, Lex's expression darkens more, settling into something halfway between pity and anger. Clark knows the anger isn't at him. It never is. "There's more about what happened that I don't know, and I'm aware of that. Sometimes, I think that maybe I should try to figure out what it is. Other times, I don't want to know. *Most* times I don't want to know."
"Because the knowledge would hurt," Lex deadpans, helping Clark slip on the red shirt.
Clark nods. "You know what it is, don't you?"
"You know that I do. You also know I won't tell you. If you're willing to accept the hurt that will come with knowledge, you'll have to do it yourself. I won't do it to you. I won't hurt you like that."
"But there *is* something to know."
"Clark, you don't need to ask me that question. You already know the answer."
There's a sharpness in Lex's voice that lets Clark know the conversation is closed. Lex isn't angry with him, but there certainly isn't room for Clark to push. He's gotten all the information he's going to get today. Pushing any further now will just get him silence... or maybe a twisted, glazed-over version of the truth that would be no better than a lie.
Regardless of their past, Clark doesn't think Lex would lie to him now unless he feels that he absolutely has to. Even if he's wrong, Clark doubts he'll ever know it--if Lex is lying, Clark will likely never be able to tell.
He'd rather have no answer than a half-truth. He stops pushing.
"I think that's enough shopping for now," Lex announces. "Let's take a break for lunch."
Clark allows Lex to help him out of his shirt. The thing is cashmere-or so Lex tells him--and while it's smooth against his skin, he feels uncomfortable in it. It's some designer label sweater that he's only ever seen in Lex's closet-it doesn't seem right for him. What would his father think if he ever saw him dressing like this every day? If he ever saw him living life in the Luthor world?
Sighing, Clark hands Lex the shirt and follows him out of the dressing room. It's in situations like these that he misses his father-his judgment, his morals, his understanding of how Clark is uncomfortable wearing upscale things--so much it hurts.