For First Kiss Challenge, Fic: "Come What May" SV, Clex
Written for First Kiss Challenge, dedicated to 
inthevast. She knows why. (Now where's my fic, huh? ;))
spoilers for Exodus. What happens when I have a headache and a deadline to meet, while listening to Moulin Rouge:
Metropolis was lights and life. The crowded streets shared one heartbeat and thrummed like a vein underneath the soles of his feet.
Clark could feel the danger lurking behind the idea of falling victim to the city’s hypnotic rhythm and pull, a dark secret hiding behind the parties and rich blood, alluring, but false in its promise. Nothing good could come in getting tangled with the wrong people, and Clark wasn’t out and out trying to flash his rebellion to the merciless blue-blooded rats. He would rather have divulged everything to Lex than whisper the faintest, irrelevant snatch of truth to beautiful débutantes vying for his attention.
Besides, Clark could play the crowd and milk the compliments without getting attached. He’d learned from the best.
Savine was dark and damp with the heat of hundreds of bodies, crushed together in a warehouse turned elegant with plush couches and chandeliers, their lights fluorescent red and blue and shaped like multi-faceted diamonds. Lasers streaked through the air just out of reach, and Clark was smiling because he could completely loose himself here. He could vanish and become just another atom in the great, molecular structure of life that danced until the music stopped, which never really did, and no one would suspect a thing. No one would know he had destroyed his mother’s dream, or disappointed his father, or fled from the one girl he’d always wanted.
No one would know he was more than ordinary.
He wouldn’t have to struggle to seem ordinary in this crowd. He wouldn’t have to conceal his poison, his secret that either complicated or destroyed everything that he had touched before.
He was tainted, but among the sweat and haze of bitter smoke, no one would smell it.
A touch to his ring, and he let the smile grow into something predatory as he was pulled onto the dance floor, a cold and delicately fine-boned hand with slim fingers wrapping around his wrist. Her nails were blood red – Clark could tell when they momentarily slashed into the air and were illuminated by smoky lights – but black when they rested on his arm. Her eyes were dark and rimmed with too much kohl, lashes too thin and razor sharp for such an angular face. He settled his hands on her hips, and they too stuck out in an anorexic fashion.
But she reminded him of Lana if he closed his eyes and breathed in her scent just a fraction, tilting his head just so into her hair. It was more unsettling than comforting, and he carefully slid out of her reach when the beat to the music transitioned into another song.
It was dangerous to fantasize, especially because he wasn’t that person anymore. Lana would despise this Clark Kent, and it hurt, but Clark had made the decision to do this, to come here, and not even Lana would be allowed to hold him back anymore.
He had convinced himself it was better this way. He had regrets, but missing Lex’s wedding stuck out like a sore among all the other milder mistakes. He had let him down, too.
“I never thought I’d see Clark Kent here.” A brunette with shapely legs slid onto the barstool next to Clark’s, crossing her ankles and showing off her diamond anklet simultaneously. “You are Clark Kent, I assume?”
Clark raised both eyebrows and moved his mouth into something resembling a smile and a sneer. “Yes. But who are you?”
“Chelsea Lochwood.” Clark’s expression remained indifferent. “I’m a friend of Lex’s,” she continued by way of explanation.
Clark blinked, his attention span lengthening. “Lex talks about me?”
Chelsea’s laugh cut through the music like a knife, clear and ringing, but not entirely warm. “Not to me, he doesn’t. No, I found out you two were friends through…a mutual friend.”
“Who?”
Clark could detect that Chelsea was hesitant to answer when she slid her eyes away and back again.
“Victoria Hardwick.” She said. “Although, we’ve lost touch since then.”
Oh. “Oh,” Clark narrowed his eyes and imagined frying the girl on the spot. He had not been too fond of Victoria. “I didn’t like her.” He said, feeling as if it should be stated, and doing it with all the confidence the ring gave him.
How much could Victoria know about him? Most likely nothing at all, besides what is plain to anyone who’s seen Clark, so he wasn’t worried. Victoria probably gave Chelsea the impression that he was not likable, a farm-boy after Lex’s money rather than real friendship.
Oh, he hated Victoria. A lot.
“Well,” Chelsea’s smile remained intact, although there was the slightest twitch to her lips, “Where is Lex? He wouldn’t let you run around Metropolis at night unaccompanied.”
“He’s got his hands full. Married, now.” And I missed it, he thought.
Chelsea visibly straightened. Her eyes grew slightly wider, and she pursed her lips thoughtfully before asking, “Who’s the lucky girl?”
Clark’s mouth suddenly craved something to drink, a distraction at the least, but he wasn’t going to get served without I.D., and he wasn’t about to cause a scene just to get a lousy drink.
For some reason, he felt reluctant to reveal Helen’s name. He smiled, chided himself for thinking more and more like Lex and picking up on his paranoid streak as well, however small it was. The news was probably making headlines already; the wedding was no secret.
Still, Clark didn’t feel like it was his place to tell.
“I’m sure you’ll find that out soon enough. Better to hear it from the press, right?” He replied.
“Why won’t you say who?” Chelsea grinned, amusement in her laugh, “What could I possibly do with whatever name you tell me? Track her down and destroy her credibility? Or worse, her reputation? Please, Clark. Obviously, I don’t think like you do.”
“You can’t blame a guy for suspecting,” Clark shrugged and turned to watch the dance floor. The flashing lights were a bit of a distraction. He wasn’t all that thrilled about talking. He came to Metropolis for the sole purpose of forgetting everything that was complicated and bizarre in his life, and no, he didn’t want to make chit chat with one of Victoria’s friends. It was possibly the last thing on his to-do list.
Unfortunately, Chelsea did not seem to take the hint.
“Fine. Don’t tell me.” She paused and waited for Clark to take the bait. When he didn’t so much as blink or glance in her direction, she made a barely audible fed-up whine in the back of her throat. Clark wouldn’t have heard it otherwise if it weren’t for his gifted Kryptonian ears.
“I hope it makes you feel like a better man,” Chelsea pulled out a slim, black purse and began digging through it, though she couldn’t have stored more than a couple of bills and her credit cards in such a small thing. She seemed to have found what she was looking for, and pulled out a twenty, laying it on the counter with a hard slap. “This should cover whatever you’re going to have. Go on, buy a drink. It’s my treat.” A nod to the bartender enabling Clark whatever alcoholic beverages he wanted, before she flashed her teeth in a cold smile.
“You’re going to need to show a lot more loyalty than keeping a trivial secret that will be front page news the next day if you want to prove the notion that you are Lex Luthor’s best friend. It’s a big responsibility – I just hope you know who it is that you’ll be defending.”
Shaking his head in silent laughter, Clark ordered a Bloody Mary before saying, “Lex doesn’t need to be defended. He’s fine on his own, and I’ll be fine on my own. I refuse to get by in this town by using his name. I’m a better friend than that.”
Chelsea’s cheeks began to grow slightly pink under the dusted on bronze make-up, and she licked her lips, sweeping her lashes down in a dramatic, innocent fashion. It sent a familiar tingle of sensation down Clark’s spine, like something Lana might do with her big, doe eyes, or even Lex when he was being calculating or coy.
“Lex screwed Victoria over pretty bad. Believe me, Clark,” she uncrossed her legs and smoothed out her black skirt as she stood, “You don’t want to end up like her.”
“Lex would never use me.” Clark’s smile was wide and highly amused, the red kryptonite giving him an edge, confidence. Conviction in his words he otherwise probably would have lacked.
Chelsea never looked away, never even flinched. “Just like you would never use him? After speaking with you for only a few minutes, I find that hard to believe.”
“Then you don’t know me very well.” Clark said and demonstrated that shark’s grin he’d seen countless times on Lex, wondering if it’d have the same effect.
Mouth hardened into a straight line, pity seemed to shine through Chelsea’s eyes. She looked as if she wanted to release a tirade to show just how much she pitied him, but she only shook her head before turning and walking in the opposite direction.
Clark watched her leave, indulging in a slightly guilty pleasure as his eyes traced her legs from the spike of her heels to the curve of her hips.
He downed the Bloody Mary in two swallows.
Strangely, Clark didn’t feel as victorious as he should have.
***
The motel Clark checked into wasn’t four-stars, but it would do. They had television and cable, and a small kitchen with all the essentials: bread, peanut butter and jelly, and mayonnaise. A stack of bottled water had been left in the mini-fridge. Whatever else he wanted he could step outside and walk across the street to the gas station to get it.
But he had some qualms about the grotesque yellow sunflower wallpaper, and it clashed with the deep maroon colored rugs, shining bright and obvious like a hard slap to Clark’s face, Greetings from Smallville!
The bed was comfortable and soft, and the first thing Clark did was sleep on it. He was invulnerable, so a little stain here and there on the sheets didn’t seem like a major threat.
Dreams were not necessarily a bad thing, but they weren’t good, either. He risked the chance of floating up and out of his room. Here, though, there were no windows to float out of, and unless Clark sleepwalked as well, then he wouldn’t be able to open the door and float his body outside.
And before he knew it, Clark was dreaming.
“I missed you,” Lex turned and smiled, pulled him by the hand through some arch and they stepped into a garden.
Silent, Clark remained silent, watching Lex. A warm glow settled inside his chest.
“I think – ” Lex held up his hand and displayed the band around his finger, “this was a mistake.”
Clark nodded silently.
“I think,” Lex twined their fingers together, oddly gentle, as if he might scare Clark away with sudden movements, and kissed the back of Clark’s hand. Soft lips, the slightest pressure, the deepest promise, “This is what I’m supposed to do.”
Finally, Clark spoke, and it felt thrilling to say it – “Why didn’t you?”
Before Lex could answer, and before Clark could think about it, they had somehow gravitated even closer together, and this was new, this was – not something Clark had ever thought about, not really – but they were – kissing. And it started raining, the gray clouds above opening to let a light drizzle wash over them. Cleansing. Clark was extricating his demons, his fears, experiencing a catharsis right there, kissing Lex, softest lips and warm, clever tongue, holding it inside his mouth like swallowing ambrosia.
It was frightening, on a distant, subconscious level, how easily and naturally their lips met, again and again, how a wet Lex was even better than a dry one, how even through the cold and the rain Lex remained firm and warm, burning like a furnace wherever Clark’s hands touched.
And then things became murky, the water surrounding them filling every available space, blotting out the green of the garden and pink of the flowers into vague shadows, until it too covered Lex even while their lips still touched. Clark leaned back, opened his eyes, and saw distant lights shining through the opaque blue that surrounded him. It was hard to breathe, so hard, like trying to pull water through his lungs and breathe through it, but at the same time drowning in it. His hands felt like lead, and suddenly the edges of his vision were blurring, blacking out, fading. It felt oddly real, this drowning, and yet he tried to kick free of it, a sudden panic flashing through his mind. And his mind went – Lex.
Lex.
Oh god, Lex – before the water rushed through, really drowning now, real water filling his lungs, real pressure pulling him down, further from the lights, further from salvation, and Clark knew Lex was up there, looking, searching for him, but if he could only reach those lights, if only –
Heart thudding, Clark sat up with the bed groaning in protest underneath him, resting his weight on his elbows, head tipped back to rest against the solid wall. He’d never – had such an intense dream before, ever. Disturbing and – arousing, at the same time.
A thought formed itself in the back of his head, eating away at him with every passing second. What if? – Was Lex okay?
Of course he is, the logical part of his brain provided. He’s on his honeymoon right now.
Except.
That was no ordinary dream.
Great. Was he clairvoyant now? If not, then what the hell was that?
***
3 months later
Lex had better be home by now.
Clark had arrived back in Smallville two and a half months later with the thought of Lex finally overwhelming his thoughts of destiny, and news of the plane crash had been little and far between. He knew Lionel probably had something to do with covering it up. Clark came back only to find out he couldn’t actually see Lex without Lionel’s permission, as if Lionel would even grant anyone that at the moment.
The hospital wouldn’t allow visitors unless they were blood related, and Lionel had stationed two of his men outside the door to Lex’s room, making sure no one besides Lionel himself could see him.
It wasn’t exactly fair to Lex, but Clark could understand the need for privacy Lionel had wanted for his son.
Clark was calling Lex now in hopes that he had been released from the hospital and would soon reassert himself into Clark’s life.
Lex picked up on the third ring.
“Lex Luthor.”
Clark grinned into the phone. “You have some explaining to do, Lex.”
“Clark.” Lex sounded pleased to hear from him. “I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details.”
“Oh please, like you could.” Clark’s smile dimmed. “I was worried, you know.”
“I know,” sincerity in his words, “It’s funny. Lionel said he found out what happened after he found Helen, and came to my rescue.” Lex’s voice held a dubious note.
“But you’re okay, now?”
“The damage was mostly done to the plane. I had a few broken ribs and some bruises, nothing that wouldn’t heal itself in time.”
“What happened to Helen?” Clark asked, not sure if he really wanted to know.
“Don’t worry about it, Clark. She’s been taken care of.” The intent behind his words was obvious. Clark was surprised at how easily Lex let it show. He really didn’t want to mention Victoria or Chelsea. Something told him it wouldn’t be a wise topic to bring up.
“Oh.” Clark paused. He wanted to tell him about the dream so bad – it was on the tip of his tongue, it just wouldn’t roll off. “I – I had this dream, and it started out wonderfully until. I think I was dreaming about the crash, except I was under water, and it was you instead of your father who tried to rescue me.” Clark took a breath, “Very weird.”
Lex’s silence was thoughtful. Clark could almost picture him thinking.
“I guess we’re even now.” Lex said.
“What do you mean?”
“Remember, tornado? Guilt trip, my confession, saving my father?”
“Oh.” Clark thought about it, turned it over in his head. He hadn’t thought Lex was capable of leaving his father to die at the time, and he still didn’t. “So I guess this means your never-ending battle with Lionel will finally…end?”
Dark, dangerous, Lex’s quiet laugh traveled down his spine, dancing on two cloven feet until Clark was squirming on the bed. “Something like that.” He answered.
There was a brief pause, then Lex, sounding curiously amused, “So, tell me more about the wonderful beginning of this dream?”
Clark blushed furiously.
inthevast. She knows why. (Now where's my fic, huh? ;))spoilers for Exodus. What happens when I have a headache and a deadline to meet, while listening to Moulin Rouge:
Metropolis was lights and life. The crowded streets shared one heartbeat and thrummed like a vein underneath the soles of his feet.
Clark could feel the danger lurking behind the idea of falling victim to the city’s hypnotic rhythm and pull, a dark secret hiding behind the parties and rich blood, alluring, but false in its promise. Nothing good could come in getting tangled with the wrong people, and Clark wasn’t out and out trying to flash his rebellion to the merciless blue-blooded rats. He would rather have divulged everything to Lex than whisper the faintest, irrelevant snatch of truth to beautiful débutantes vying for his attention.
Besides, Clark could play the crowd and milk the compliments without getting attached. He’d learned from the best.
Savine was dark and damp with the heat of hundreds of bodies, crushed together in a warehouse turned elegant with plush couches and chandeliers, their lights fluorescent red and blue and shaped like multi-faceted diamonds. Lasers streaked through the air just out of reach, and Clark was smiling because he could completely loose himself here. He could vanish and become just another atom in the great, molecular structure of life that danced until the music stopped, which never really did, and no one would suspect a thing. No one would know he had destroyed his mother’s dream, or disappointed his father, or fled from the one girl he’d always wanted.
No one would know he was more than ordinary.
He wouldn’t have to struggle to seem ordinary in this crowd. He wouldn’t have to conceal his poison, his secret that either complicated or destroyed everything that he had touched before.
He was tainted, but among the sweat and haze of bitter smoke, no one would smell it.
A touch to his ring, and he let the smile grow into something predatory as he was pulled onto the dance floor, a cold and delicately fine-boned hand with slim fingers wrapping around his wrist. Her nails were blood red – Clark could tell when they momentarily slashed into the air and were illuminated by smoky lights – but black when they rested on his arm. Her eyes were dark and rimmed with too much kohl, lashes too thin and razor sharp for such an angular face. He settled his hands on her hips, and they too stuck out in an anorexic fashion.
But she reminded him of Lana if he closed his eyes and breathed in her scent just a fraction, tilting his head just so into her hair. It was more unsettling than comforting, and he carefully slid out of her reach when the beat to the music transitioned into another song.
It was dangerous to fantasize, especially because he wasn’t that person anymore. Lana would despise this Clark Kent, and it hurt, but Clark had made the decision to do this, to come here, and not even Lana would be allowed to hold him back anymore.
He had convinced himself it was better this way. He had regrets, but missing Lex’s wedding stuck out like a sore among all the other milder mistakes. He had let him down, too.
“I never thought I’d see Clark Kent here.” A brunette with shapely legs slid onto the barstool next to Clark’s, crossing her ankles and showing off her diamond anklet simultaneously. “You are Clark Kent, I assume?”
Clark raised both eyebrows and moved his mouth into something resembling a smile and a sneer. “Yes. But who are you?”
“Chelsea Lochwood.” Clark’s expression remained indifferent. “I’m a friend of Lex’s,” she continued by way of explanation.
Clark blinked, his attention span lengthening. “Lex talks about me?”
Chelsea’s laugh cut through the music like a knife, clear and ringing, but not entirely warm. “Not to me, he doesn’t. No, I found out you two were friends through…a mutual friend.”
“Who?”
Clark could detect that Chelsea was hesitant to answer when she slid her eyes away and back again.
“Victoria Hardwick.” She said. “Although, we’ve lost touch since then.”
Oh. “Oh,” Clark narrowed his eyes and imagined frying the girl on the spot. He had not been too fond of Victoria. “I didn’t like her.” He said, feeling as if it should be stated, and doing it with all the confidence the ring gave him.
How much could Victoria know about him? Most likely nothing at all, besides what is plain to anyone who’s seen Clark, so he wasn’t worried. Victoria probably gave Chelsea the impression that he was not likable, a farm-boy after Lex’s money rather than real friendship.
Oh, he hated Victoria. A lot.
“Well,” Chelsea’s smile remained intact, although there was the slightest twitch to her lips, “Where is Lex? He wouldn’t let you run around Metropolis at night unaccompanied.”
“He’s got his hands full. Married, now.” And I missed it, he thought.
Chelsea visibly straightened. Her eyes grew slightly wider, and she pursed her lips thoughtfully before asking, “Who’s the lucky girl?”
Clark’s mouth suddenly craved something to drink, a distraction at the least, but he wasn’t going to get served without I.D., and he wasn’t about to cause a scene just to get a lousy drink.
For some reason, he felt reluctant to reveal Helen’s name. He smiled, chided himself for thinking more and more like Lex and picking up on his paranoid streak as well, however small it was. The news was probably making headlines already; the wedding was no secret.
Still, Clark didn’t feel like it was his place to tell.
“I’m sure you’ll find that out soon enough. Better to hear it from the press, right?” He replied.
“Why won’t you say who?” Chelsea grinned, amusement in her laugh, “What could I possibly do with whatever name you tell me? Track her down and destroy her credibility? Or worse, her reputation? Please, Clark. Obviously, I don’t think like you do.”
“You can’t blame a guy for suspecting,” Clark shrugged and turned to watch the dance floor. The flashing lights were a bit of a distraction. He wasn’t all that thrilled about talking. He came to Metropolis for the sole purpose of forgetting everything that was complicated and bizarre in his life, and no, he didn’t want to make chit chat with one of Victoria’s friends. It was possibly the last thing on his to-do list.
Unfortunately, Chelsea did not seem to take the hint.
“Fine. Don’t tell me.” She paused and waited for Clark to take the bait. When he didn’t so much as blink or glance in her direction, she made a barely audible fed-up whine in the back of her throat. Clark wouldn’t have heard it otherwise if it weren’t for his gifted Kryptonian ears.
“I hope it makes you feel like a better man,” Chelsea pulled out a slim, black purse and began digging through it, though she couldn’t have stored more than a couple of bills and her credit cards in such a small thing. She seemed to have found what she was looking for, and pulled out a twenty, laying it on the counter with a hard slap. “This should cover whatever you’re going to have. Go on, buy a drink. It’s my treat.” A nod to the bartender enabling Clark whatever alcoholic beverages he wanted, before she flashed her teeth in a cold smile.
“You’re going to need to show a lot more loyalty than keeping a trivial secret that will be front page news the next day if you want to prove the notion that you are Lex Luthor’s best friend. It’s a big responsibility – I just hope you know who it is that you’ll be defending.”
Shaking his head in silent laughter, Clark ordered a Bloody Mary before saying, “Lex doesn’t need to be defended. He’s fine on his own, and I’ll be fine on my own. I refuse to get by in this town by using his name. I’m a better friend than that.”
Chelsea’s cheeks began to grow slightly pink under the dusted on bronze make-up, and she licked her lips, sweeping her lashes down in a dramatic, innocent fashion. It sent a familiar tingle of sensation down Clark’s spine, like something Lana might do with her big, doe eyes, or even Lex when he was being calculating or coy.
“Lex screwed Victoria over pretty bad. Believe me, Clark,” she uncrossed her legs and smoothed out her black skirt as she stood, “You don’t want to end up like her.”
“Lex would never use me.” Clark’s smile was wide and highly amused, the red kryptonite giving him an edge, confidence. Conviction in his words he otherwise probably would have lacked.
Chelsea never looked away, never even flinched. “Just like you would never use him? After speaking with you for only a few minutes, I find that hard to believe.”
“Then you don’t know me very well.” Clark said and demonstrated that shark’s grin he’d seen countless times on Lex, wondering if it’d have the same effect.
Mouth hardened into a straight line, pity seemed to shine through Chelsea’s eyes. She looked as if she wanted to release a tirade to show just how much she pitied him, but she only shook her head before turning and walking in the opposite direction.
Clark watched her leave, indulging in a slightly guilty pleasure as his eyes traced her legs from the spike of her heels to the curve of her hips.
He downed the Bloody Mary in two swallows.
Strangely, Clark didn’t feel as victorious as he should have.
The motel Clark checked into wasn’t four-stars, but it would do. They had television and cable, and a small kitchen with all the essentials: bread, peanut butter and jelly, and mayonnaise. A stack of bottled water had been left in the mini-fridge. Whatever else he wanted he could step outside and walk across the street to the gas station to get it.
But he had some qualms about the grotesque yellow sunflower wallpaper, and it clashed with the deep maroon colored rugs, shining bright and obvious like a hard slap to Clark’s face, Greetings from Smallville!
The bed was comfortable and soft, and the first thing Clark did was sleep on it. He was invulnerable, so a little stain here and there on the sheets didn’t seem like a major threat.
Dreams were not necessarily a bad thing, but they weren’t good, either. He risked the chance of floating up and out of his room. Here, though, there were no windows to float out of, and unless Clark sleepwalked as well, then he wouldn’t be able to open the door and float his body outside.
And before he knew it, Clark was dreaming.
“I missed you,” Lex turned and smiled, pulled him by the hand through some arch and they stepped into a garden.
Silent, Clark remained silent, watching Lex. A warm glow settled inside his chest.
“I think – ” Lex held up his hand and displayed the band around his finger, “this was a mistake.”
Clark nodded silently.
“I think,” Lex twined their fingers together, oddly gentle, as if he might scare Clark away with sudden movements, and kissed the back of Clark’s hand. Soft lips, the slightest pressure, the deepest promise, “This is what I’m supposed to do.”
Finally, Clark spoke, and it felt thrilling to say it – “Why didn’t you?”
Before Lex could answer, and before Clark could think about it, they had somehow gravitated even closer together, and this was new, this was – not something Clark had ever thought about, not really – but they were – kissing. And it started raining, the gray clouds above opening to let a light drizzle wash over them. Cleansing. Clark was extricating his demons, his fears, experiencing a catharsis right there, kissing Lex, softest lips and warm, clever tongue, holding it inside his mouth like swallowing ambrosia.
It was frightening, on a distant, subconscious level, how easily and naturally their lips met, again and again, how a wet Lex was even better than a dry one, how even through the cold and the rain Lex remained firm and warm, burning like a furnace wherever Clark’s hands touched.
And then things became murky, the water surrounding them filling every available space, blotting out the green of the garden and pink of the flowers into vague shadows, until it too covered Lex even while their lips still touched. Clark leaned back, opened his eyes, and saw distant lights shining through the opaque blue that surrounded him. It was hard to breathe, so hard, like trying to pull water through his lungs and breathe through it, but at the same time drowning in it. His hands felt like lead, and suddenly the edges of his vision were blurring, blacking out, fading. It felt oddly real, this drowning, and yet he tried to kick free of it, a sudden panic flashing through his mind. And his mind went – Lex.
Lex.
Oh god, Lex – before the water rushed through, really drowning now, real water filling his lungs, real pressure pulling him down, further from the lights, further from salvation, and Clark knew Lex was up there, looking, searching for him, but if he could only reach those lights, if only –
Heart thudding, Clark sat up with the bed groaning in protest underneath him, resting his weight on his elbows, head tipped back to rest against the solid wall. He’d never – had such an intense dream before, ever. Disturbing and – arousing, at the same time.
A thought formed itself in the back of his head, eating away at him with every passing second. What if? – Was Lex okay?
Of course he is, the logical part of his brain provided. He’s on his honeymoon right now.
Except.
That was no ordinary dream.
Great. Was he clairvoyant now? If not, then what the hell was that?
3 months later
Lex had better be home by now.
Clark had arrived back in Smallville two and a half months later with the thought of Lex finally overwhelming his thoughts of destiny, and news of the plane crash had been little and far between. He knew Lionel probably had something to do with covering it up. Clark came back only to find out he couldn’t actually see Lex without Lionel’s permission, as if Lionel would even grant anyone that at the moment.
The hospital wouldn’t allow visitors unless they were blood related, and Lionel had stationed two of his men outside the door to Lex’s room, making sure no one besides Lionel himself could see him.
It wasn’t exactly fair to Lex, but Clark could understand the need for privacy Lionel had wanted for his son.
Clark was calling Lex now in hopes that he had been released from the hospital and would soon reassert himself into Clark’s life.
Lex picked up on the third ring.
“Lex Luthor.”
Clark grinned into the phone. “You have some explaining to do, Lex.”
“Clark.” Lex sounded pleased to hear from him. “I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details.”
“Oh please, like you could.” Clark’s smile dimmed. “I was worried, you know.”
“I know,” sincerity in his words, “It’s funny. Lionel said he found out what happened after he found Helen, and came to my rescue.” Lex’s voice held a dubious note.
“But you’re okay, now?”
“The damage was mostly done to the plane. I had a few broken ribs and some bruises, nothing that wouldn’t heal itself in time.”
“What happened to Helen?” Clark asked, not sure if he really wanted to know.
“Don’t worry about it, Clark. She’s been taken care of.” The intent behind his words was obvious. Clark was surprised at how easily Lex let it show. He really didn’t want to mention Victoria or Chelsea. Something told him it wouldn’t be a wise topic to bring up.
“Oh.” Clark paused. He wanted to tell him about the dream so bad – it was on the tip of his tongue, it just wouldn’t roll off. “I – I had this dream, and it started out wonderfully until. I think I was dreaming about the crash, except I was under water, and it was you instead of your father who tried to rescue me.” Clark took a breath, “Very weird.”
Lex’s silence was thoughtful. Clark could almost picture him thinking.
“I guess we’re even now.” Lex said.
“What do you mean?”
“Remember, tornado? Guilt trip, my confession, saving my father?”
“Oh.” Clark thought about it, turned it over in his head. He hadn’t thought Lex was capable of leaving his father to die at the time, and he still didn’t. “So I guess this means your never-ending battle with Lionel will finally…end?”
Dark, dangerous, Lex’s quiet laugh traveled down his spine, dancing on two cloven feet until Clark was squirming on the bed. “Something like that.” He answered.
There was a brief pause, then Lex, sounding curiously amused, “So, tell me more about the wonderful beginning of this dream?”
Clark blushed furiously.