The Love of Destiny (Smallville, Clark/Lex)

[jjtaylor]

Title: The Love of Destiny
Fandom: Smallville, Clark/Lex
Summary: Futurefic. Lex writes a romance novel.
Author’s notes: Thanks to ataratah for beta and for listening to me talk endlessly about bald men in fast cars.
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. Lex also writes derivative work.



Clark is walking back from the Metropolis transit headquarters after interviewing a vocal bus driver about the impending strike. He's got a few good quotes and thinks writing the article won't be that hard, although Lois will likely get the story once the strike actually happens. Clark passes by the front window display of the Barnes and Noble. One book catches his eye, arranged in front of an enormous poster of its cover. There are two men, one in an expensive suit and one in jeans and a flannel, embracing in a dramatic way in front of a red barn. The Love of Destiny, Clark reads. It takes him a few long moments to process the rest of it. Written by Lex Luthor.

There's a copy on Lois's desk, badly hidden under a few story proofs from last week. Clark pushes them away and flips open to a random page.

"We're destined to be friends, Cliff," Lance says. He steps forward and touches Cliff's face with his strong fingers. Cliff feels a frisson of -

"Don't lose my place, Smallville. I'm just at the good part."

Clark lets the book drop closed. "I wasn't reading it."

"Well, you should," Lois says. "This is high quality stuff."

"It's a romance novel," Clark says, disgusted, "Not exactly classic literature."

"Oh, this one's gonna be a classic," Lois says, and sits down at her desk, opens the book and arranges the proofs around it so it actually looks like she's working. Her grin, though, gives her away.

Clark is waiting in line at the supermarket with hamburger buns, lettuce and a gallon of milk in his hands when he sees Lex smirking back at him from the cover of GQ. The headline calls Lex something straight out of a romance novel. Lex smirks at Clark for way too long, until Clark feels like Lex is really looking at him. A woman behind him sighs happily and reaches for a copy of the magazine. Another smirking Lex waits behind it.

When he talks to his parents, his dad tells him about the crop of artichokes, the repairs he did on the fence, the storm predicted for next week. "Can I say hi to Mom?" Clark asks, when his dad has run out of farm updates.

Jonathan laughs. "Your mother's busy with a book, son. Call back tomorrow."

Clark has a sinking feeling that he doesn't want to know, but he asks anyway. 'What book?"

"Oh, I don't know, one of your mother's romance stories."

Clark hasn't talked to Lex since college. He remembers the last day; Lex had stopped by to pick Clark up after his chemistry class. Clark had all but zoned out during a lecture on polyatomic ions and Lex's silver Ferrari waiting outside when Clark left the building had gleamed bright with the promise of something far more interesting.

Clark hadn't thought it weird then that Lex knew his class schedule; it was the sort of thing Lex knew, or knew how to find out. It made for a better impression, the kind of gesture Lex preferred, bold and unmistakable. Clark had climbed in amidst jealous glares from his classmates. Lex had been grinning with the pleasure of success as they drove off.

It had been like any of the other times they spent hanging out, Lex grilling Clark about what he was learning in his classes, what he was thinking about majoring in, whether he was having any trouble fitting in.

"You know me, Lex, I can fit in anywhere."

"Except my Ferrari," Lex had said, looking at Clark's knees next to his chest, the joke old but one they were both fond of. "You're not having any other trouble?" Lex had said, his voice going quiet as the car sped faster. "With anything else?"

"What else would I have trouble with, Lex?" Clark had gotten instantly defensive. That too was familiar.

Lex had floored the accelerator, and said, through gritted teeth, "I don't understand why it's so hard for you to trust me."

"There's no big secret I'm hiding." Clark could almost feel Lex's jaw tighten.

"There are things I could help you with, Clark, is the only reason I'm bringing it up. I have ample resources - "

"Why can't you ever just back off?" Clark had snapped without really meaning it to come out so harshly. Almost instantaneously, Lex pulled the car over in a swerve that made Clark's stomach lurch.
"You want me to back off?" Lex had asked plainly.

Clark, breathless, just nodded, looking out at dusty trail kicked up out the window over Lex's shoulder.

Lex reached over and for a second Clark didn't know what was going to happen, didn't know what to do with Lex so close, but Lex had opened the passenger door and flung it open. "Get out." he had said, though he was staring at Clark more intensely than Clark could remember.

Clark had stuttered, but one look at Lex's face told him nothing could get better from arguing. Clark got out. The second the door closed, Lex drove away.

Lex, apparently, took backing off seriously, and Clark, who could have super-speeded back, instead walked to campus because he couldn't shake the empty feeling spreading through him, like he'd finally crossed a line with Lex that he'd never thought was there.

For the next week, the next month, the next semester, Clark hadn't ever managed to call. He'd thought about it often, thought of dropping by to see Lex, but he had no idea what to say, and the thought of saying something to make things worse was enough to stop him. Lex never stopped by school again, never called. He mysteriously wasn't at the office when Clark was nearby, was never at the mansion when Clark was home.

The first time Superman appeared on LuthorCorp property was to save its employees from a malfunctioning laser that was vaporizing concrete walls in rhythmic blasts. He'd run into Lex in the otherwise deserted parking lot, where Lex standing in a close huddle with two people who were either bodyguards or attorneys. Lex had looked up at Superman for a long moment and he was sure that Lex knew everything and that Lex was going to confront him. But then Lex nodded at Superman and looked away and Lois had grudgingly run a brief article, where Lex explained the laser had been intended to speed up building demolition for the construction industry and that he, like all of Metropolis, was grateful for the presence of Superman for these sort of unforeseeable events.

If it was a moment for Clark to reach out to Lex, he didn't take it, and neither did Lex, so Clark let it go, though he had to endure Batman’s lecture to the League for half an hour about how Luthor was a threat and next time it wouldn't just be concrete the lasers destroyed, it would be whole planets. Batman had spent most of the time aiming the lecture at him, and Clark felt unfairly targeted. It wasn't like he was planning to give Lex any special treatment if it turned out he was an evil mastermind. Clark just didn't think it was very likely that Lex was evil, even if everyone from his father onward had wanted him to think so.

Superman managed to keep an eye on business at LuthorCorp, when rumors surfaced of underground labs and underwater labs and anti-gravity labs and any number of projects that seemed a small explosion away from citywide disaster. Most of the time, he wouldn’t find anything too suspicious, except that Lex always seemed to be at the scene of whatever it was he was investigating. Clark could show up trying to get an interview, even just a few quotes, from any of LuthorCorp’s employees when some scandal was brewing, and he’d generally get escorted off the property, and never see even a glimpse of Lex. But anytime Superman showed up, Lex was there. It was as though Lex had removed himself from any other part of Clark’s life, and Clark, through a mix of hurt and stubbornness, had just gone along with it.

The Love of Destiny is for sale everywhere, even at the coffee shop around the corner from the Daily Planet. Clark pretends to look at aromatic bags of dark roast brew and instead picks it up and reads the back cover. If he's interested, it isn't at all because the barn on the cover looks eerily familiar.

There is a flannel shirt and a purple tie draped over a white picket fence. Written across the robin's egg blue sky is: Cliff Cane, a young, strapping farm hand, saves the life of dashing billionaire Lance Lawson after a terrible car accident. They become close friends, even though they are from very different worlds. Can the prideful Lance win over the affections of the secretive Cliff? Can their friendship become something more? When dark shadows from their past come out, will their relationship survive?

He's standing there so long staring at the book that the barista comes over to ask him if he needs help with the coffee. "Oh, you should read that," she says. He puts the book down and buys three pounds of coffee just to change the subject.

Clark hears Lex's voice and it startles him until he realizes it’s coming from the TV in the newsroom. Lex is being interview by a morning news show. A cheery news anchor is asking Lex how he has time to run LuthorCorp and still have time to write a bestselling novel.

"Writing is how I relax," Lex says. Clark looks up at the screen. Lex has both his hands on the arms of the overstuffed chair like it's a throne.

"And what was your inspiration for this book?" the interviewer asks.

Lex flashes her a dangerous grin. "It's a classic story. Opposites attract."

"And you're not worried what writing a gay romance will do to your reputation?”

Lex laughs, bold-faced and arrogant. "I'm already working on the sequel."

Lois tells him that Lex is having a signing at the Barnes and Noble where Clark first saw the book. Lois says she couldn’t possibly go, which means she leaves early to camp out as close to the front of the line as possible. Clark waffles but ultimately gives in and goes a few hours later, when he's sure Lois has already had her moment with Lex and gone home. There is still a line all the way out into the street when Clark shows up. He waits. Lex is genial and smiling, shaking hands and signing books. Clark can't help but notice he looks good under all this attention. Lex always did.

Clark is just at the table, two people ahead of him. One of the women is having Lex sign a stack of what seems like half a dozen books. When Clark steps in front of the table for his turn, Lex looks up and smiles at him like he's a pleasant surprise.

"Clark," Lex says, smiling, his teeth sharp.

"This -" Clark gestures at the stack of books. "This isn't us."

"Of course it's not us, Clark," Lex says easily. "It's fiction." He smiles a brilliant smile.

"Because we never - "

"No, we didn't," Lex says. Lex is quiet for just a moment too long, and then he twirls his signing pen. "Did you read the whole book?"

Clark shakes his head.

"You should," Lex says. "I have a tremendous imagination."

Clark stalks away, but not before he can hide his blush.

Clark buys a copy of the book on his way out.

Lance holds Cliff's wrists down by his sides, and Lance looks down at Cliff, his eyes gleaming.

"Tell me you trust me," Lance breathes quietly.

Cliff nods fervently.

"Say it."

"I trust you, Lance."

"With all your secrets?" Lance bites at Cliff's jaw.

"All of them." Cliff sobs. "Please, Lance."

Lance spreads his hand across Cliff's hip, trails his fingers down past his navel and takes Cliff's -

Clark abruptly shuts the book, his cheeks blazing.

Clark does not really want to finish the book, but his curiosity overwhelms him, as Lex must have known it would. Clark reads quickly, trying not to linger in any of the scenes, because the whole thing is disturbing. Lex is a good writer, so Clark keeps getting caught up in the book even though he’s intimately familiar with the story. Though not as intimate as Lance and Cliff. Clark is ignoring the sex scenes as best he can, ignoring how easy it is to substitute his name for Cliff's and Lex's name for Lance's in the scene in the loft when they first kiss. Clark hasn't imagined a scene like that ever before. He absolutely hasn't. Not even when he and Lex were best friends. But it's so easy to picture it. Especially when he can effortlessly hear Lex's voice speaking the words.

Clark makes it all the way to the spine-splitting middle before he has to put the book down. Lance had written a letter to Cliff when he abruptly was forced to go out of town on mysterious business. The letter, rendered in fancy printed handwriting, praised Cliff’s beauty inside and out, while admonishing that lies and deceit can destroy a friendship.

Clark picks up the phone and calls Lex.

"Clark," Lex answers, in the same tone of voice when Clark showed up at the signing, like Lex was just full of easygoing delight. "I didn't know you still had this number."

Clark doesn't say how many times he's come close to calling; he also doesn't ask why Lex never changed it. "Hi Lex," he says, but he can't seem to say anything else after that.

"Did you read the book?" Lex asks. Clark can almost see his expression, his mouth open, his tongue behind his back teeth. Clark doesn't answer right away and Lex says, "Clark, I want to know what you think of my story."

Clark is not sure how he thought he could call him and get away with not talking about the book. He's suddenly not even sure what he had called for, if he can speak at all. “You do a good job describing the farm,” he says weakly.

"Meet me for dinner tonight, Clark. I've missed you." Lex says confidently, like there's no way Clark would say no, like it hasn't been years since they've seen each other.

"Dinner?" Clark says, because he's trying not to say he missed Lex too.

"I'll pick you up at 7," Lex says and hangs up. Clark does not need to ask how Lex knows where he lives.

As he's getting dressed, he tries to tell himself that he's nervous because he's having dinner with a famous author. It doesn't work.

The look Lex drags over Clark when he climbs into the car is bordering on uncomfortable, especially since Clark feels the need to stand still, like Lex's gaze might be sharp. "Hi," Clark says nervously, running his palms over his perfectly pleated khakis.

"Hi Clark," Lex says, his gaze lingering somewhere around Clark's neck until the moment that Lex speeds off.

There are people waiting outside the restaurant, almost screaming for Lex to sign their books, to answer their questions, to promise them another story soon. Someone appears to park the car as Clark steps out, and one of the bodyguards he saw with Lex during the whole laser thing appears to escort Lex and Clark inside. She's wearing a pair of heeled boots that could almost be considered weapons. She disappears when they're at their table, and Lex orders without a menu ever appearing. He does not ask Clark what he wants to eat. Instead, Lex asks about school, about what classes Clark took, how graduation was, why he chose the Daily Planet. He saves Clark from having to ask awkward questions about what Lex has been doing by pretending Clark had asked them anyway, talking about LuthorCorp's profits, how the expansion has been going, how the Smallville plant is doing.

Just after the endive salad arrives, Lex's phone rings and Lex steps away from the table with an apologetic shrug. Clark pushes his panko-crusted eggplant around on his plate. Lex returns and takes a long sip of his wine as he's sitting down.

"The Love of Destiny just got optioned for a movie," Lex sounds unsurprised. Clark can't stop his frown.

"You're going to let them make our story into a movie?"

"It's not our story, Clark." Lex says.

"No?" Clark says, feeling bold. "Then Cliff isn't supposed to be me?"

"As I've already said, it's fiction."

"Then you don't wish we'd done those things?"

Lex leans in, the candle in the middle of the table casting dramatic shadows across his face. "What things, Clark?"

Clark's mouth is dry. He takes a sip of his wine, the fruit flavor's exploding in his mouth. He can feel Lex watch him swallow. "The things you wrote about Lance and Cliff doing."

Lex sits back, his fingers drumming on the edge of the table. "I don't know what kind of answer you want, Clark. Are you asking me if I've ever fantasized about fucking you? Holding you down while I made you confess all your secrets?"

There’s a buzzing in Clark's head. As soon as Lex says it, Clark can picture it, vivid and breathtakingly realistic.

"Would you ever, though? Would you ever tell me your secrets? I've asked before, you know I have."

"Not like that," Clark says.

"No, not like that," Lex says, and he's about to reach for Clark's hand when he says, "You're phone's ringing, Clark." It is. Clark looks at the display and frowns.

"I have to - "

Lex waves a hand at him dismissively.

There's some sort of alien first contact situation. Clark barely has his dress shirt unbuttoned to the costume when he gets to the roof where Batman is waiting. When Batman sees him, he quickly tucks a book into some secret compartment of his belt.

"What were you reading?" Clark says suspiciously.

"Nothing," Batman says, too quickly. "Come on, let's go."

Turns out the aliens don't actually want anything to do with Earth. They're in the wrong galaxy. Clark thinks, if he hurries, he could actually make it back to the restaurant, though Lex is probably already home. Clark immediately pictures him in front of the wide windows of the penthouse, looking out at the skyline of the city from his desk. And then he pictures him stretched out naked across the silk sheets of his bed. Maybe they were purple, and Lex's pale skin-

Clark paces around his apartment, walking a wide circle around the book like it is his opponent. Finally he surrenders, sits down and picks up where he left off.

The climactic scene is exactly what Clark expects it to be. Cliff comes to Lance's mansion and confronts him about the surveillance, the private investigators, the digging up of secrets from his past. It makes Clark uncomfortable in a way even the very graphic sex scenes had not. Because it wasn't as though it was word for word, but Lex manages to capture the exact flavor of the lies, the trust issues they'd had, all the worst of so many fights boiled down into one scene in the large, echoing mansion foyer while thunder clouds had gathered outside. The bitterest of the words exchanged, Cliff runs off into the rain.

What Clark doesn’t expect is what happens next in the story. Later that night, after a fair amount of brooding, Lance decides to chase after Cliff. When Lance pulls, speeding, into the driveway of Cliff’s farm, there's a light on in the barn. Clark thinks, this is it, this is the big fight, where they say goodbye forever. Except, Lance doesn't have to bang on the barn doors, they're open, and Lance rushes in. Cliff, Lex notes for a whole paragraph of loving description, has taken off his shirt.

"What's in the envelope?" Cliff asks.

"You know what it is," Lance says.

"The question is, do you?"

"I haven't opened it, Cliff. I've been waiting for you to tell me.

Clark feels his chest tighten. Was that all Lex really needed, for Clark to tell him? Would it have made a difference?

"So you know that I'm - " Cliff says. Clark winces, and then turns the page. "You know that my parents were famous bank robbers. They hid me here, on this farm, entrusted me to my adoptive parents to keep me safe from the danger of that life, and let me become my own man."

"I know now," Lance says.

There's a passionate embrace, some really filthy sex in the barn that absolutely does not turn Clark on, and an epilogue where Lance and Cliff have a very public commitment ceremony that makes the front page of the big city newspaper.

The last lines of the book are Lance telling Cliff as they cuddle in bed that their relationship with be the stuff of legends.

Clark closes the book, paces back and forth across his hallway like he doesn't remember which room is the kitchen and which is the bedroom. He thinks about going home, but it's the middle of the night and his parents would only be worried if they happened to see him downstairs, raiding the fridge. Mostly, though, Clark doesn't go home because what went on between Lance and Cliff in what was so obviously the Kent barn is still too fresh in his mind. He's not sure he could safely go in and not think of Lex, of Lex spreading Clark out on the old couch, Lex whispering that he loved Clark despite all the mistakes he'd made.

Clark picks up the phone and dials. The voice that answers is sleepy, but not nearly as surprised as Clark thinks it should be.

"Clark," Lex says. "Did you like the book?"

"Yeah," Clark says, without really meaning to.

"It's a good story, isn't it?" Lex says.

"You didn't tell my secret," Clark says, unable to hold it back any longer.

"How could I do that, Clark?" Lex says. "I don't actually know that you have a secret." Clark feels sick with the same old lies filling his mouth like cotton.

"We all have secrets," Clark says lamely.

"We've had this conversation before, Clark, many times, as I recall, so can we save it for a more reasonable time, one when I'm not in bed?"

Clark flushes at the image.

"Why'd you write the book?" Clark asks.

"Didn't you know I always wanted to be a writer?" Lex's voice is cold and Clark knows he's close to something, so he pushes.

"Lex," he says, and he hears Lex sigh.

"I wrote it because I wanted the story to have a different ending." There's a pause and then, before Clark can say anything, Lex says, "Goodnight, Clark," and hangs up.

Clark flies patrol until dawn, and he sees endless windows of people reading by the light of their bed lamps, on their commutes, with a book in one hand and a coffee in another. They can't all possibly be Lex's book, and Clark is reassured when he sees a young girl reading something clearly foreign as she boards an early bus, but it turns out to be just the book translated into Japanese, and her fingers were covering the barn.

Clark flies by Lex's penthouse; Lex has coffee laid out in beside him and he's sitting in front of his laptop, fingers typing away. It strikes Clark suddenly, as the air currents change and he starts to drift, back and forth in front of Lex's window, that Lex had said something on the news about getting up early to write every morning. Clark had thought it sounded ridiculous, because, Lex, getting up early - but there he is. Clark does not try to see what's on the laptop screen, even if he could.

Then he realizes Lex is standing at the window, his coffee in his hand, watching Clark hover outside his window. Clark thinks he could land on the balcony, tell Lex he'd heard a rumor about some experiments at LuthorCorp, that he was just checking up to make sure Lex wasn't designing the next supercollider without proper safety protocols, but the thought of having to lie twists his stomach, and so when Lex waves, Clark just flies off, cape fluttering behind him.

Lois is smiling dreamily at her desk when he gets in, late again. She doesn't even say anything, which should give Clark a clue that something is very wrong.

"Lois?"

"Did you ever read a book you just wanted to crawl into?" Lois asks.

"No," he says adamantly. He knows exactly which book Lois is talking about and he doesn't want to think about her crawling into any part of it.

"I just finished this amazing story," Lois says, in the same dreamy voice, which sounds especially weird coming from her. Clark wants to snap her out of it.

"Was it that trashy romance?" Clark says, and it's the wrong thing.

Lois looks murderous. "Just because you have issues with Lex Luthor doesn't mean you can go around calling his writing trashy. Like you'd even know a good story if it bit you in the ass and ran circles around your ankles. I bet even Superman has read it."

"I'm sure Superman doesn't have time to read books," Clark says. Lois gives him a look that tells him he's an idiot. He probably is. He sits down at his desk and does not think about Lex's fingers on the keyboard.

At a quarter to noon, Clark gets a call. He fumbles picking up the receiver and can see Lois glaring at him. "Clark Kent."

"Hello Clark."

Clark does not say Lex's name in front of Lois, for fear that she'll try to grab the phone from him and insist on a spontaneous author interview. "Hi," Clark says hesitantly.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you at work," Lex says, and it's not polite nor is Lex actually sorry. It's more like he is affirming that he is calling Clark at work, that he can call Clark whenever he wants. It reminds Clark of when Lex would be waiting for Clark up in his loft, like the farm was on Lex's way home. Lex always claimed the space that Clark had thought was his alone.

"It's ok," Clark says, because all of Lex's interruptions have always been ok.

"I was wondering if you were free for lunch," Lex's voice sounds distracted, like he's the one who isn't actually free.

"Lunch," Clark says, like he doesn't understand the word. Lois shakes her head at him, and for good measure, rolls her eyes. "Sure, yeah," Clark says.

"Come by the penthouse," Lex says, before Clark can suggest they meet at a deli where he usually has lunch. The idea of Lex ordering salami on rye amidst the crowd amuses Clark and he barely holds in a snort. "Something funny, Clark?" Lex says, and it almost feels familiar.

"No, I just - nothing."

"If you're not there by 1:00, I'll think you stood me up." Before Clark can agree, Lex hangs up.

It occurs to him that Lex is giving him another chance, even if it’s in the form of a lunch date. He'd always thought it was Lex's issue, Lex's move to make. He realizes now how that's the stupid teenager talking, the one who kept so many secrets for so long he could have gotten high school credit for living a double life. They were Clark's secrets and his to tell - he doesn't know what he expected Lex would do, other than to just continue to ignore them. Clark thinks he's been waiting this whole time for Lex to do something he was already doing. He’s not sure he's ready for the move to be his to make this time. Clark brushes his hands down over his shirt, and tugs at his cuffs. When he looks up, Lois is staring at him.

"Either sit down, Smallville, or just go now for your lunch date."

"It's not a lunch date," Clark says. Lois does not even acknowledge him.

“You’re going to be useless today anyway, aren’t you?” She says after a moment when he’s still standing there. “Just go.”

He looks at his desk for a minute, and then heads for the door.

Clark hesitates at the lobby of the penthouse. The doorman eyes him warily. Clark finally walks up to door.

"Um, hi, I'm looking for Lex, I'm - "

"Go ahead, Mr. Kent," the man says, opening the door. The lobby is glossy marble and decorated with vibrant, exotic-looking plants. Clark heads for the private elevator, and before he can figure out how he's going to get into it without Lex, a woman in a sharp suit steps forward and slides a card through the reader, punches a code, and steps back to let Clark in, then follows him. It takes Clark too long to realize she's the same bodyguard he's been seeing everywhere. He wonders if she's scanning him for explosives. She gets out at the 22nd floor, and presses the button for the penthouse before she leaves.

"Uh, thanks," he says. She ignores him. He tells himself he'll remember the 22nd floor for Superman to check out later, but he doesn't really mean it.

The penthouse has been redecorated, and it looks different enough that Clark stops inside the door, wondering if he actually has been here before or if it's some other building entirely. "Lex?"

He hears Lex's voice, but it's not answering him. Clark walks a little way in, around a steel table and matching steel chairs, over a green woven carpet that Clark concludes is supposed to look like grass, and into Lex's office. Lex is standing, holding a phone to his ear, talking about returns and things that Clark figures he's supposed to understand but doesn't, even after all these years. Lex looks up at Clark and nods, and then gestures to the glass table beside his desk, where an extravagant platter of deli sandwiches, chips, and pickles waits. Only Lex could make sandwiches look like they were from a five star restaurant. Clark takes a napkin in one hand and a ham sandwich in the other.

Lex's phone call goes on for four sandwiches, three pickles and about half the chips. Clark finds the carafe has milk in it. He drinks two glasses.

Finally, he hears Lex hang up. "Sorry, Clark," Lex says, coming over to the table and opening a bottle of water.

"The sandwiches are delicious," Clark says. Lex looks pleased but he doesn't try one. "So, uh, how are you, Lex?"

Lex laughs, and takes a long sip from the bottle of water. "You think this is strange."

"Don't you, Lex? Besides that half a dinner, we haven't talked in over three years."

"That's not exactly true," Lex says, and Clark had almost forgotten last week, when Superman came to the site of the explosion at LuthorCorp and tried to get Lex to admit he'd been experimenting with an alien artifact that had recently gone missing from the Metropolis Museum.

"Lex," Clark says warningly. "I didn't come here to have another fight."

"Why did you come here, then?" Lex says and turns his whole body away from Clark. Clark doesn't like that, doesn't like the way Lex always makes it seem like he's seen all the ways this could play out and isn't surprised by anything. Clark stands and walks over to the other side of the table, and Lex tenses.

Then Clark sees a copy of the book, looking so new it probably hasn't even been opened, sitting on Lex's desk. He reaches for it, and flips until he finds the part he's looking for and starts to read aloud.

The billionaire drove up the dirt road to the farm, like he had so many times before, looking forward to seeing Cliff as he had looked forward to nothing else that day. Cliff was something new, something unknown, and Lance liked puzzles, liked to solve them. But he knew he had to be careful, or he'd ruin this fragile thing he had with Cliff by pushing -

"Stop," Lex says, his voice pained. "Clark, just stop."

Clark puts the book down on the table, next to the tower of sandwiches. "Is that what you think happened?" Clark asks. "You pushed too hard?"

"You tell me, Clark. You tell me exactly what I did wrong. I tried everything and you never trusted me. I even tried walking away, because I thought - " Lex breaks off, and touches the corner of his book.

"I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for Clark?" Lex says, sounding exhausted.

Clark doesn't really make the decision; he's just right there, his hands on Lex's shoulders, bringing his mouth closer and closer to Lex's. Lex gasps, and Clark says, "I'm sorry," trying as hard as he can to fit everything into it, and then he's kissing Lex. For a long moment, Lex does not respond, lips frozen into a frown, but then his mouth is hot and open under Clark's and Lex's hands are tugging at Clark's hair, fingers curling possessively around the back of his neck.

He tastes the spot under Lex’s jaw, traces his fingers as far as he dares up across the back of Lex’s head, shudders at Lex’s breathe at his ear. When Clark pulls back, Lex's shirt has come untucked, and Lex's eyes are wide, though hooded a second later. Clark can see all his defensiveness going back up and he knows he only has one chance to do this right; he's lucky enough he has this chance, so he says it all in a rush, hoping Lex will understand.

"You hit me with your car on the first day we met. I ripped off the roof and pulled you out. I've only gotten stronger since then, almost invulnerable." He takes a deep breathe. "I'm an alien. I can fly." He stops before he starts to ramble. Lex is just staring at him, scary and dangerous like an unexploded bomb. "But you knew all that," Clark says, because Lex isn't saying anything.

Lex pulls away, tucks back in his shirt, picks up the book from the table and places it back on his desk, then picks up his phone. "Bring the Aston Martin around to the back."

Clark thinks he's being dismissed. He wonders if it would be ok to take a sandwich with him on the way.

Clark looks up at Lex, even though he doesn't want to. He wishes he'd just left things the way they were, three years ago. Being left on the road was a lot easier than having Lex tell him goodbye to his face.

"I know now," Lex says, and waits for it to sink it.

"You do?" Clark says.

"I know because you told me," Lex says. He comes very close, so close Clark thinks he might be about to use his whole body to push Clark down on the table. Lex looks like he’s about to say something more but instead Lex simply kisses him again.

"The car's ready, Mr. Luthor," comes over the intercom.

"Come on," Lex says.

'Where are we going?" Clark says, still thinking longingly of being held down on the table, or maybe the desk.

"To Smallville." Lex says. "I think I at least deserve to kiss you in your loft."

"In front of the setting sun?"

"If we time it right, yes," Lex says, businesslike and perfectly serious. Then Lex smiles, and Clark follows him out to the car.