Cliché #89 : Hurt Leads to Comfort Leads to Sex
More on the Clark/Lex Cliché series that I seem to write on whenever I am bored. Go figure....
**
"Lex, are you going to be all right?"
"No." Even through the muffling ice pack he sounded surly and Clark made a face. Lex being surly was never a good thing. Sitting cross-legged in front of the loveseat on which Lex was currently sprawled, Clark wondered if maybe he should overrule Lex's insistence that he didn't need a doctor. If nothing else it would make the current predicament someone else's problem. But no, Lex was his friend and ditching him in his time of need, even if he was being pissy, probably wasn't very friendly. Which meant he was stuck with Surly-Lex. Wonderful.
"It was an accident," Clark tried earnestly, even though he knew it was useless.
"I'll just bet it was," Lex replied, tersely, his face appearing briefly from behind the icepack in all its multicolored glory. He glared at Clark for a moment before letting his head fall back again with a groan, gingerly replacing the ice. "I've also decided never to leave this castle again. I've noticed that my ratio of accidents per square foot increases the moment I step off this property. Smallville seems to be bad for my health. Everyone here is out to kill me."
"Lex, he was six..."
"Yeah, you train them young here."
Clark ignored that, continuing, "And he was just in a hurry. He didn't mean to hit you."
"Hurrying? What kind of six year old hurries into a library? What's wrong with you people? And who puts a steel door on a library, anyway? Were they afraid someone would steal one of the five books inside?"
"Don't be such a baby, it's not even broken."
"It doesn't have to be broken to hurt, thank you very much, and it was a abysmal library, too. Not only do I get wounded by a library but it can't even be a decent one."
He sounded more sullen than surly now. Clark wasn't sure if it was an improvement. He was starting to wonder if maybe fleeing wasn't the best option here. All he'd have to do is claim some 'farm chore' needed done and Lex would never know the difference. Then again, Lex was injured and maybe even concussed. Who knew what he'd do in this state; it'd be a lot easier to stop any library death plots here at the source rather then while they were in progress. Which pretty much meant he was still stuck.
"I'm sure your donation will help change that," said Clark, trying to be encouraging and pretty sure he was failing with remarkable aptitude.
Lex snorted and then immediately groaned and clutched his nose again. "I'm not donating anything now," he said, his voice muffled, "I'm going to buy the damned thing and tear it down."
"Lex..." Clark started, reprovingly.
"It's already tasted blood, Clark. We have to destroy it now before it's too late."
Clark stared at him. "Are you sure you don't have a concussion?"
"I probably have a permanent concussion. By the time I leave Smallville I'm going to have a wandering eye and a permanent limp."
Clark grinned, and he hadn't known you could hear someone grinning at you but Lex always had seemed to have a knack for knowing things he shouldn't and he peeked out at Clark from underneath the ice pack.
"What?"
"You're pouting," said Clark, shrugging. "It's kind of cute."
"I'm glad you find my pain so amusing."
"I'm not laughing at your pain. Here," Clark leaned over and kissed the tip of his nose which was turning a remarkable shade of bluish-black by that point.
Lex didn't seem to appreciate the effort. Almost fell off the loveseat in an effort to get away, actually, and Clark only just caught his arm before he fell on the floor, managing to twist in a mostly human fashion to catch Lex in his lap instead and only a quick lean backwards in really not-human fashion kept him from banging Lex's head on his chin, since he figured Lex could do without the wandering eye for another day.
"OW! Son of a...what did you do that for?!" Lex snapped, obviously not appreciating the tactics that had kept him off the floor. Prick.
"It still hurts?" asked Clark, willing to overlook Lex's attitude for the sake of what was left of their friendship, trying to sound sympathetic and not succeeding any better with that than he had with encouraging. It didn't look like he was going to have a career as a guidance counselor any time soon, which was just as well since he didn't have any plaid or tweed in his closet and that was the official uniform of councilors in Smallville High.
"It does now!" Ooh, not good, gone from surly to sullen to pissed. Why couldn't being a best friend include somewhat enjoyable things, like movies and things like that? Clark was beginning to feel more like Lex's registered nurse/therapist. "What, did you do an essay on the Marquis de Sade for school or something?"
Only nurses and therapists get paid, and Clark hadn't even gotten to keep the damned truck, never mind that it had been his dad and not Lex who'd made that decision, this was still going into unpaid overtime here and Clark had had just about enough. "Fine! I try to help and all you do is yell at me. Stay here by yourself then with your wandering eye. Maybe you'll fall down the stairs later and you'll get the limp you wanted."
Still conscious enough not to just toss Lex on the floor and storm out, Clark moved to set him back on the loveseat before continuing down the path of righteous indignation. Only Lex wasn't setting very well. Had in fact wrapped his arms around Clark's neck and was holding on, and didn't seem to be in any rush to let go.
Warily, Clark leaned back on his heels and let Lex settle back into his lap. Lex was looking at him with what could only be called a sheepish expression. Clark couldn't really blame him; surrealism was more like a way of life for Smallville but it still hadn't prepared him for the day he'd be sitting on the floor of a castle with a billionaire's son who had two black eyes sprawled in his lap. This was peanut butter and sardine sandwich weird, even for Smallville.
"I'm sorry," Lex said finally, with impressive sincerity. If that billionaire thing didn't work out for him at least Lex could give being a guidance counselor a try. "My head hurts," he added, just pathetic enough to not really sound pathetic. Oh, yeah, Lex was good.
"Mine's starting to," Clark muttered, not quite managing sincere but pathetic rang through clearly. Lex, though, being Lex, didn't seem to mind. He smiled instead.
"I'm sure it is. Look, would you please stay? We can watch a movie and you can keep track of when my eyes start wandering off."
As options went, it was still better than going home. Lex's DVD collection alone could keep them busy for an hour just finding a movie. Still..."And the library gets to live?"
"..."
"Lex..."
"All right, all right! The library gets to live."
"Deal," said Clark, wondering if he could get pizza delivery worked in later. Lex did possibly had a concussion...and he winced as Lex maneuvered himself off his lap in a little wriggly movement that -definitely- didn't feel humanly possible. Lex eased himself back onto the sofa, oblivious to Clark's newly wide-eyed and stunned expression as he rescued his icepack.
He didn't stay oblivious long enough for Clark to regroup, though, and when he turned back, he frowned, "Are you all right?"
"Fine," Clark squeaked, in an all-too human octave of way too high. "Fine," he said again with an obvious throat-clearing sound, silently grateful for long shirts. Lex looked at him a moment longer, skeptically, but then he shrugged and replaced his icepack.
"You know where the movies are, could you go pick one? Something funny?"
"Funny. Right." Funny movie he could do. But suddenly life wasn't funny at all.
At least not to him.
-finis-
**
"Lex, are you going to be all right?"
"No." Even through the muffling ice pack he sounded surly and Clark made a face. Lex being surly was never a good thing. Sitting cross-legged in front of the loveseat on which Lex was currently sprawled, Clark wondered if maybe he should overrule Lex's insistence that he didn't need a doctor. If nothing else it would make the current predicament someone else's problem. But no, Lex was his friend and ditching him in his time of need, even if he was being pissy, probably wasn't very friendly. Which meant he was stuck with Surly-Lex. Wonderful.
"It was an accident," Clark tried earnestly, even though he knew it was useless.
"I'll just bet it was," Lex replied, tersely, his face appearing briefly from behind the icepack in all its multicolored glory. He glared at Clark for a moment before letting his head fall back again with a groan, gingerly replacing the ice. "I've also decided never to leave this castle again. I've noticed that my ratio of accidents per square foot increases the moment I step off this property. Smallville seems to be bad for my health. Everyone here is out to kill me."
"Lex, he was six..."
"Yeah, you train them young here."
Clark ignored that, continuing, "And he was just in a hurry. He didn't mean to hit you."
"Hurrying? What kind of six year old hurries into a library? What's wrong with you people? And who puts a steel door on a library, anyway? Were they afraid someone would steal one of the five books inside?"
"Don't be such a baby, it's not even broken."
"It doesn't have to be broken to hurt, thank you very much, and it was a abysmal library, too. Not only do I get wounded by a library but it can't even be a decent one."
He sounded more sullen than surly now. Clark wasn't sure if it was an improvement. He was starting to wonder if maybe fleeing wasn't the best option here. All he'd have to do is claim some 'farm chore' needed done and Lex would never know the difference. Then again, Lex was injured and maybe even concussed. Who knew what he'd do in this state; it'd be a lot easier to stop any library death plots here at the source rather then while they were in progress. Which pretty much meant he was still stuck.
"I'm sure your donation will help change that," said Clark, trying to be encouraging and pretty sure he was failing with remarkable aptitude.
Lex snorted and then immediately groaned and clutched his nose again. "I'm not donating anything now," he said, his voice muffled, "I'm going to buy the damned thing and tear it down."
"Lex..." Clark started, reprovingly.
"It's already tasted blood, Clark. We have to destroy it now before it's too late."
Clark stared at him. "Are you sure you don't have a concussion?"
"I probably have a permanent concussion. By the time I leave Smallville I'm going to have a wandering eye and a permanent limp."
Clark grinned, and he hadn't known you could hear someone grinning at you but Lex always had seemed to have a knack for knowing things he shouldn't and he peeked out at Clark from underneath the ice pack.
"What?"
"You're pouting," said Clark, shrugging. "It's kind of cute."
"I'm glad you find my pain so amusing."
"I'm not laughing at your pain. Here," Clark leaned over and kissed the tip of his nose which was turning a remarkable shade of bluish-black by that point.
Lex didn't seem to appreciate the effort. Almost fell off the loveseat in an effort to get away, actually, and Clark only just caught his arm before he fell on the floor, managing to twist in a mostly human fashion to catch Lex in his lap instead and only a quick lean backwards in really not-human fashion kept him from banging Lex's head on his chin, since he figured Lex could do without the wandering eye for another day.
"OW! Son of a...what did you do that for?!" Lex snapped, obviously not appreciating the tactics that had kept him off the floor. Prick.
"It still hurts?" asked Clark, willing to overlook Lex's attitude for the sake of what was left of their friendship, trying to sound sympathetic and not succeeding any better with that than he had with encouraging. It didn't look like he was going to have a career as a guidance counselor any time soon, which was just as well since he didn't have any plaid or tweed in his closet and that was the official uniform of councilors in Smallville High.
"It does now!" Ooh, not good, gone from surly to sullen to pissed. Why couldn't being a best friend include somewhat enjoyable things, like movies and things like that? Clark was beginning to feel more like Lex's registered nurse/therapist. "What, did you do an essay on the Marquis de Sade for school or something?"
Only nurses and therapists get paid, and Clark hadn't even gotten to keep the damned truck, never mind that it had been his dad and not Lex who'd made that decision, this was still going into unpaid overtime here and Clark had had just about enough. "Fine! I try to help and all you do is yell at me. Stay here by yourself then with your wandering eye. Maybe you'll fall down the stairs later and you'll get the limp you wanted."
Still conscious enough not to just toss Lex on the floor and storm out, Clark moved to set him back on the loveseat before continuing down the path of righteous indignation. Only Lex wasn't setting very well. Had in fact wrapped his arms around Clark's neck and was holding on, and didn't seem to be in any rush to let go.
Warily, Clark leaned back on his heels and let Lex settle back into his lap. Lex was looking at him with what could only be called a sheepish expression. Clark couldn't really blame him; surrealism was more like a way of life for Smallville but it still hadn't prepared him for the day he'd be sitting on the floor of a castle with a billionaire's son who had two black eyes sprawled in his lap. This was peanut butter and sardine sandwich weird, even for Smallville.
"I'm sorry," Lex said finally, with impressive sincerity. If that billionaire thing didn't work out for him at least Lex could give being a guidance counselor a try. "My head hurts," he added, just pathetic enough to not really sound pathetic. Oh, yeah, Lex was good.
"Mine's starting to," Clark muttered, not quite managing sincere but pathetic rang through clearly. Lex, though, being Lex, didn't seem to mind. He smiled instead.
"I'm sure it is. Look, would you please stay? We can watch a movie and you can keep track of when my eyes start wandering off."
As options went, it was still better than going home. Lex's DVD collection alone could keep them busy for an hour just finding a movie. Still..."And the library gets to live?"
"..."
"Lex..."
"All right, all right! The library gets to live."
"Deal," said Clark, wondering if he could get pizza delivery worked in later. Lex did possibly had a concussion...and he winced as Lex maneuvered himself off his lap in a little wriggly movement that -definitely- didn't feel humanly possible. Lex eased himself back onto the sofa, oblivious to Clark's newly wide-eyed and stunned expression as he rescued his icepack.
He didn't stay oblivious long enough for Clark to regroup, though, and when he turned back, he frowned, "Are you all right?"
"Fine," Clark squeaked, in an all-too human octave of way too high. "Fine," he said again with an obvious throat-clearing sound, silently grateful for long shirts. Lex looked at him a moment longer, skeptically, but then he shrugged and replaced his icepack.
"You know where the movies are, could you go pick one? Something funny?"
"Funny. Right." Funny movie he could do. But suddenly life wasn't funny at all.
At least not to him.
-finis-