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It was all gone. Every last goddamn penny had been ripped away. They barely even let him get any of his personal items from the mansion before he had to leave. It wasn't his anymore. That would just barely cover it. Lex had no money anymore. And it was all Lionel's fault.

Or so he kept telling himself, anyway. He wasn't exactly sure how they'd gotten away from the lawsuits for so long. There had been so much damage caused by LuthorCorp over the years, and either he or his father had always waved it away. They never added it up, didn't realize all the bribing in the world couldn't keep the money in their pockets.

In retrospect, it probably hadn't been a good idea to build a Death Ray.

Part of him desperately wanted to blame Clark. There had been so many times he'd stopped all the not-so-legal activity Lex was engaging in, and if it hadn't been for him, Lex probably wouldn't have even thought of building that Death Ray. Maybe.

But he couldn't blame Clark. Not really. For all he blamed on Clark's lying, the farmboy had always been able to keep a secret. He'd been as good as Lex at it - maybe even better. He hadn't ever said a word about anything Lex had done to the authorities.

Chloe Sullivan, on the other hand... and Arthur Curry, and Lois Lane, and almost anyone else who had ever looked into Clark's eyes and been unable to refuse him. Even Lana.

She'd promised to stand by him no matter what. Not even just once: she'd promised him early in their relationship, on their wedding day, several times on their wedding /night/, and when Lionel had first told him several lawyers would be contacting him. It hadn't lasted through his time in court. He had told her a lot, but he hadn't told her everything. He'd looked over at her periodically, every fifteen minutes or so every time they were in court. She went from cool and calm to bothered but firm and on to shocked, then disgusted, and then, finally, gone. He had kept looking for her after that, but he had known all along she wouldn't be back.

She wasn't getting anything out of the divorce, at least. He tried to find a little comfort in that, but she had never been after his money anyway.

He couldn't help but regret that he probably wouldn't get to spend much time in his future child's life. The first pregnancy had been a failure, a miscarriage due to an attempt on Lex's life, but if she went away, she wouldn't have to worry about that again.

He got into his car - his one, last car, a Ferrari that he had just barely managed to keep his hands on. It wasn't worth selling, anyway - the hood had a dent in it. A dent in the shape of a hand... a hand about the size of a certain farmboy's. It had just appeared there one day when an ex-employee had tried to use his fiery breath on Lex. Clark claimed to know nothing about it.

He could keep secrets, but he couldn't lie for shit. Maybe he had been a part of the Luthor downfall, after all - just inadvertently. Lex sighed. He was really just lucky, though; at least he wouldn't be rotting in prison like his father. He had built two Death Rays.

He drove off toward Metropolis, careful not to break the speed limit, though it nearly hurt him physically to restrain the urge to just /go/. The last thing he needed just then was another speeding ticket.

---

Lex had figured Metropolis was a large enough city that he could easily avoid those who had become the bane of his existence in Smallville. He was wrong.

He had time to arrive in his new apartment, unpack, survey his rather bleak mockery of a home, and wallow in misery for five minutes before there was a knock on his door.

"Clark." It was on the tip of his tongue before the door was even half open. The flannel sleeve gave him away. "What are you doing here? How'd you get in?"

The last person he wanted to see at that moment stood there for several seconds, looking sheepish. Lex was about to ask him to leave when he finally spoke. "I know a guy who lives on the third floor." Another pause. "I'm really sorry, Lex."

Oh dear sweet Jesus was he ever pathetic. He sounded like a preteen apologizing for stealing five dollars from his mother's purse instead of a grown man trying to comfort his bankrupt ex-best friend. But then, Lex must have been twice as pathetic, because as bad as it was, he knew it was sincere, and somehow, his shoulders didn't feel so heavy.

That didn't mean he was going to be nice, though.

"Get out, Kent."

Clark had his foot in the door before Lex could manage to slam it shut. He didn't bother faking any pain. He pushed the door open, shoving something into Lex's hands in the process.

Lex looked at it. It was a /pie/. Homemade.

"I thought you probably wouldn't have anything here to eat yet, and I didn't know if you could cook or not-"

"I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself without going to restaurants or hiring cooks, thank you."

"-so I thought it would be a nice idea."

"Right."

"And I wanted to see how you were doing."

Lex couldn't think of anything to say to that. He was pretty sure an "I'm fine, Clark" just wouldn't work. Instead, he turned to his tiny counter on the far end of his kitchen/living room. "Did you make this yourself?"

"Well... no. Uh, in Lois's own words: 'He's probably miserable enough without your pathetic attempts at food creation.'" He paused. "And then she called me 'Smallville.' I've lived here for two years and she still calls me that."

Lex ignored the attempt at small talk. "Lois made it?" It wasn't small talk, he told himself. He just had to make sure the pie's flavor wasn't /poison apple/.

"No. I wouldn't want to see you /die/, Lex. I had my mom bake it for you."

It was still warm. It couldn't possibly have been through an entire drive back to the city.

He didn't push it. He couldn't afford to anymore - literally.

"Thank you." He cringed a little when he said it. It was definitely forced, though there was some emotion behind it. He wasn't really used to thanking people. He had said it before, sure, but no one ever really did favors for him without some sort of incentive, even Clark.

He turned when there was no response. Clark was already gone.

He hoped he'd heard him.

---

He didn't see Clark for another week. He had spent the entire time between his visits attempting to figure out what to do next. Even if he wasn't in jail - and that was a miracle - he might as well have been, the way people looked at him. They stepped out of his way like they used to, but no one disguised their hatred for him anymore. They probably hadn't even all hated him to begin with.

It was ridiculous to think that he could find any sort of employment anymore. Who would hire the son of a madman, a man who had played games with just about every CEO of every company with any connections in or around Metropolis, a man who had built a Death Ray? It would be horrible for business, and ruin any sense of security anyone felt in their job. Not even a deli would hire him anymore. He'd be lucky to get a job in a public high school as a janitor, even. They'd probably suspect he was up to something illegal in the science labs.

He had enough money to pay rent for the next six months... if he didn't buy food. He didn't know what he would do when his dwindling cash supply ran out. He didn't want to think about it.

He was staring out his window - a small window, not enough to give him much of a view - contemplating whether or not welfare would be better than suicide when Clark knocked.

"You can come in, Clark. The door isn't locked."

A click. "How did you know it was me?"

He didn't turn around. "No one else has bothered to visit me yet. No one else will."

"You look horrible."

Some greeting. Lex's smirk was completely humorless. "That's what having your entire life ruined does to you, Clark."

When he turned around, Clark was right there. In his /personal space/. It wasn't very Clark-like, really; when they had been friends, he had always remembered to put a little bit of space between himself and everyone else, as if he was a ticking time-bomb waiting to just explode in everyone's face. The only time he really got very close to anyone was when they were in mortal peril. That moment reminded Lex of past rescues: in Clark's arms, being carried from danger or to help, or otherwise close, being checked for wounds or protects from fire or... something. He was pretty sure Clark didn't know he'd been half-conscious at least a few of those times. And then there was the river. The bridge. The /car/. Clark gave him his life back.

And then Lex had played with it, let others play with it when it suited him. Somewhere along the way, as it was passed from hand to hand, after Clark had stopped being part of the game, it had been dropped. Shattered.

Clark realized he was too close and took a step back. Lex would have been lying if he'd said he wasn't more at ease with Clark just out of reach right then. He wanted control, and feeling like a damsel in distress wouldn't help his mood at all.

Clark didn't seem to care about that, though.

"Are you even eating or sleeping at all? Jeez, Lex."

Jeez. He wished Clark would swear, just once. No wonder Lois still called him "Smallville." He was a boyscout at heart, really. "My health is none of your business, Clark. I'm doing fine."

It was perfectly Clarkian lie. It was so obvious it seemed to shock Clark out of his concern. "Oh. Well. I just wanted to make sure."

Why did he care? Now that Lex was poor, one of "the people" as a collective mass instead of some separate higher-up, did he automatically fall into the category of persons Clark cared about?

Maybe not. Clark actually managed an expression Lex would have called cold, a hint of anger in his eyes. "I'll just... go now."

He did. Lex didn't see him for a while. Even so, there was no doubt who the food left outside his apartment every day was from, even if no one ever saw who delivered it. Lex wondered if Clark really knew anyone else in the building at all.

---

It was thirty-four days before Lex saw Clark again. Not that he counted them, but when one was only waiting to rot to death, there wasn't much else to do besides count the days between the few inconsistencies in life. He hadn't, though.

"Clark?" If he smirked, it was only because he was too confused to have any sort of reasonable response.

"Bond," Clark corrected him. "James Bond."

"What?"

Clark didn't care to stop the grin on his face. He really was like a child. "It's Halloween, Lex."

"Ah." He couldn't fathom why that would warrant a visit to Lex's apartment, though. Unless Clark had never stopped trick-or-treating, which was entirely possible. "James Bond doesn't wear glasses."

"I'm a near-sighted James Bond," Clark said, sounding somewhat exasperated. And then he stood there. Lex had no intention of moving aside or otherwise inviting him in. Clark could pretend Lex's ex-billionaire status erased all the troubles between them, but Lex certainly wouldn't.

"What are you doing here?" Best to get to the point. Or the pie.

Clark shifted, adjusting the glasses. "I was just thinking... you're kind of always here, aren't you?"

Where else could he go?

"You don't have anything to do here."

What was he supposed to do?

"It's like a prison cell."

Wasn't that what he deserved?

"And you weren't actually sentences to any time in prison, Lex."

"Just get to your point, Kent. I don't have all day." Well, he did. Really. He was just... eager to get back to wallowing in self-pity. He was getting really good at it. With a little more practice, he was pretty sure he could pity himself out of existence.

"There's a party at the Daily Planet tonight, and I can bring a guest. I don't really have a lot of friends who aren't already working there. So... um, do you want to come with me?"

Such a child. Lex didn't bother answering. He just closed the door in Clark's face. There wasn't a foot in the way this time.

Lex stood there. He frowned. He turned to go back to the couch where he spent most of his time, now.

He went back and opened the door, not surprised that Clark hadn't moved. "I don't have a costume."

---

Apparently he didn't need one. In fact, the only people in any sort of unusual outfits were Clark and one very confused looking secretary, who seemed to be wearing only some lingerie, black heels, and cat ears and a tail.

"They're going to hate me for bringing you," Clark muttered, a little amusement in his voice. "Just to warn you."

"I wouldn't expect anything else. Being hated in public is fine with me." It was better than hating himself in private, anyway. Plus, there would be free food, and probably alcohol. God, he hadn't had a decent drink in ages.

Lois and Chloe laughed when they saw Clark, Chloe leaning against her cousin as she snorted slightly. Her belly was wide and round, sending a pang through Lex's chest when he remembered Lana. He wondered what she was doing.

They stopped laughing when they noticed Lex. Lois, who had looked more than a little tipsy at first, instantly sobered - in appearance, anyway. When she spoke, her words were still slurred. "Smallville, what's Luthor doing here?"

Clark didn't hesitate to answer. "He's my-"

But it didn't matter, because he was cut off anyway. "C.K.!"

Lex recognized him as Jimmy Olsen, one of several perpetual nuisances. He was certain several photographs used as evidence against the Luthors in the trials had been taken by him personally.

He immediately engaged Clark in an animated conversation Lex didn't bother listening to. Mostly, it seemed to be Jimmy running his mouth and Clark nodding patiently. Whatever it was, it seemed personal rather than business-related, if the way Jimmy smiled and clapped a hand on Clark's shoulder said anything.

Lex was jealous. Jealous of the friendly intimacy, the easy camaraderie, the laid-back attitudes. Jealous of /Jimmy/.

"Oh, Lex."

Lex merely raised an eyebrow at Jimmy, knowing his face hadn't betrayed his thoughts. "Mr. Olsen."

Jimmy looked up at Clark, who gave him a strange gesture combining a shrug and a smile. Jimmy understood, though, and went to pull Chloe and Lois away.

"I see Chloe and Jimmy are happy together." At parties, small talk was appropriate.

"Actually, Jimmy's with Lois now." At Lex's look, Clark rolled his eyes. "And the baby isn't his. It's, uh... Do you remember Bart Allen?"

Lex frowned. Oh, he remembered. The most annoying of the nuisances. "Surprising."

"A lot has changed." Since Smallville. Since Lex's marriage to Lana. Since they were friends.

"You haven't." Lex looked around, trying to identify anything that might have been serving as a bar. When it caught his eye, he immediately started toward it, not waiting for Clark, knowing he would follow. "You're still trying to save everyone, aren't you?"

"Sometimes, people need saving, Lex."

The alcohol was already on its way down his throat. Did he need saving?

He stared into the glass. He could see a very faint reflection of Clark's face. He looked worried.

Lex needed saving more than anyone else.

---

The party turned out to only be a partial disaster. Lex didn't get thrown out, and Clark didn't let anyone tear into him for too long. Even so, any social gathering where Lex wasn't completely in control didn't sit well with him. Neither did the dreams he had that night, alone in his tiny bedroom.

When Lex drank, he managed - through years of practice - to stay moderately composed even when he had drunk enough to knock down a heavyweight boxer. It all came out in his dreams, though.

He dreamt that he was climbing stairs. They seemed to go on and on. Whenever he reached the top, new stairs appeared before him. There was no rail on either side, but he was perfectly stable. He glanced over the edge once. Clark was there, fifteen again, arms stretched upward as though he would catch Lex if he were to fall. He laughed and continued up.

The heights grew dizzying, but Lex knew he would be fine. He glanced quickly over the edge once more. He could still see Clark below him, arms outstretched. He continued up.

Suddenly, when he reached the top again, new stairs did not appear. It was too late - he didn't realize it in time, and he fell.

Clark caught him, his arms giving way enough that Lex felt as though he hadn't fallen at all. He wasn't sure where the ground was anymore. The stairs were gone. All he could identify was Clark, Clark's arms, Clark's breath. The breath of life. He needed it, needed air that didn't taste foul. So he kissed him.

Lex's eyes shot open.

That didn't sit well with him /at all/.

---

Clark stopped by the next day. Lex knew he would, but prayed he wouldn't anyway. He wasn't religious in the least, but God was supposed to be forgiving, right?

Wrong.

"Lex? The door was open."

Lex was still in bed. There was no point in leaving bed on most days, and even less that day. He figured he would be fine just lying there forever.

"Lex?"

"Go. Away."

"Hangover?" Clark sat on the edge of his bed. "I think you drank all the champagne Perry bought for that party."

Lex didn't respond. The only think he would've been able to do was groan, and that was undignified. Poor or not, he refused to be /plebeian/.

"Lex?"

Maybe if he played dead, Clark would get the message.

"Lex? I know you're awake. You've already spoken to me."

Damn. "What /is it/, Clark?"

Clark was unfazed. Apparently he was already growing used to the growls. "I talked to Perry yesterday, at the party. I... I'm still pretty new there, but he likes me, and he listens to me. So, uh, I got you a job."

Lex sat up quickly, then cringe at the ache in his head. "You did what/?" A job? At the Daily Planet? For money? Clark /was a hero.

"As a secretary."

Clark sucked.

"Jennifer - the girl who was dressed as, uh, the cat yesterday - she got really drunk and started yelling at Perry. I'm not even sure how she got drunk in the first place, since she was actually drinking orange juice, but she seemed convinced that it was wine. So, anyway, she got fired."

Lex laid back, staring at the ceiling.

A secretary's job.

Well. At least it wasn't laying around on a couch all day.

---

Being a secretary wasn't as bad as Lex had thought it would be.

The position was simple, and since he wasn't involved in any of the paper's actual content, there was no reason to distrust him. After a month and a half, some people actually started to loosen up around him a little. It wasn't much - a wave when they left, a nod in his direction, a "hello" in the morning - but it was improvement.

It was still a job as a secretary, though. Lex almost felt emasculated enough to wear a skirt. Clark noticed this all too easily, and tried to make him feel more at ease by constantly teasing him. Constantly.

Lex couldn't seem to get it through his thick farmboy head that being asked for a coffee and a blowjob was not funny. So, naturally, every time Clark approached him at work, Lex began preparing retaliations. His best so far was "Go fuck yourself."

"Hey, Lex, could-"

"Up yours, Kent."

Clark laughed. Lex wouldn't admit it, but he was glad to hear it. "No, Lex, I promise, I'm hear on other business. Truce?"

Lex rolled his eyes. "Truce."

"Do you want to move in with me?"

Lex glared.

"I'm serious, Lex! I swear."

Lex let up on the glare, but kept his appearance on Moderately Evil for the moment. "Really. Why do you think that would be a good idea, Clark?"

"I know you don't make a lot of money here, Lex-"

Ouch. He always liked being reminded of his economic status.

"-and your apartment is so small-"

It was big enough for him and the cockroaches, actually.

"-and I know you aren't eating well."

The two meager meals he made himself each day were really very delicious.

"I have more than enough space, and if we split the rent and I pay for food, it'd benefit both of us."

Lex wanted to refused. He desperately wanted to list ten reasons why it was a horrible, awful idea. His mouth, however, seemed to have its own agenda, completely betraying him. "Okay."

Clark's eyebrows went up. "That's it? 'Okay?' No protest?"

Lex sighed. "Oh, no, Clark, please don't continue to help me, I was doing so great before you came along. I was really bonding with the couch. Is that enough?"

"That's enough."

"Good." Lex turned to walk away, hoping to retain some dignity.

"Oh, and Lex?"

Lex stopped. "Yeah, Clark?"

"I need a coffee and a blowjob."

Clark was going to find dead rats in his cereal /every morning/.

---

Lex hadn't fully realized what living with Clark implied, initially.

Lex had known for years about Clark's secrets. Once the biggest pieces came together, everything else fell into place. It would have been pointless to hear it from his own alien lips at that point.

But to see it... well, that was another story. The first time he saw Clark speed through his breakfast so they wouldn't be late, he gaped in fascination, his coffee mug halfway to his mouth. Lex had to only ask for Clark to effortlessly lift his entire bed and dresser and switch their positions in his room. Clark wasn't shy about snickering when he saw the neighbors dancing through the walls, and he just laughed when his attempt to heat popcorn with his eyes resulted in nothing more than a crispy bag and a few scorched popped kernels. He even caught Clark floating as he napped above the couch, once.

He trusted Lex. For some reason, he trusted him. Lex wouldn't ask why. He doubted Clark would explain it. It was probably just his boyscout nature.

Living with Clark also implied, apparently, that Lex was to have Christmas with him and Mrs. Kent.

"Clark, it's Christmas Eve. And almost six o'clock. I don't want to wake up early on Christmas morning."

"Who said anything about waking up early?" Clark asked, smiling as though he thought Lex was being quite silly. "It's not like we have to drive."

"Clark, not everyone is faster than a speeding bullet."

Clark sighed. "Just go pack your things. You'll only need clothes for tomorrow."

"Clark-"

"Trust me, Lex."

After all he'd done, there wasn't anything Lex could say to that. So he packed.

---

Although he'd been more than a little indignant at first, Lex had to admit that being carried over the countryside at inhuman speeds was /fun/. He almost didn't want to stop.

Actually, he really didn't want to stop. He wasn't looking forward to seeing Martha Kent. Although things were improving at work, and although Clark had earned an as-of-yet-unnamed title beyond just "friend," townsfolk tended to take a bit longer to adjust to change.

Then again, she had made him pie. But maybe Clark had tricked her into that by saying it was for himself, or for Chloe.

Or maybe Martha was just more progressive than other farmers' wives. When she stepped outside to greet them, she did look a little apprehensive, but she smiled as best she could at Lex and made pleasant enough conversation when showing him to the guest room.

Dinner was comfortable, delicious, and refreshing. Lex laughed, Clark poked fun at him, and Martha smiled more warmly as the night went on.

"Chloe had her baby? Why didn't you tell me, Clark?"

Clark smiled sheepishly at his mother. "I forgot?"

Lex made a tsk sound. "Clark, you don't forget births."

"Well? Was it a boy or girl? Do they have a name yet? How much did it weigh?"

"Boy, Barry Jay Allen-Sullivan, seven pounds even."

"Wow. I never thought I'd see the day." Martha's eyes had sadness and nostalgia in them, reaching back further than the ten years Lex had known her. He knew she was thinking of Jonathan, too.

"Aren't you going to give her any grandchildren, Clark?" Lex asked, knowing it would annoy him. Or thinking it would, anyway. He was surprised to see Clark's face go bright red.

It broke Martha from her reverie, though. She laughed, rising. They'd already cleared the table, and she only had a mug of cocoa in hand. "Well, I should get to bed. Could you take care of the dishes for me, boys?"

"Sure, Mom."

"Absolutely, Mrs. Kent."

---

The silence was long and awkward and Lex didn't understand it. They were almost done with the dishes before he managed to break it.

"Clark?"

"Hm?" Clark hadn't even seemed to notice that the only sound had been of the water and the dishes clinking.

"Tell me what it is." It was a demand. He wasn't going to play Mr. Sensitive. Well... not a lot, anyway.

Clark opened and closed his mouth several times, sometimes looking as though he might speak, other times just seeming to need a deep breath. "I... it's complicated."

Lex scoffed. "You're an alien. You run fast, can lift anything, and can be killed only with rocks. That's not even complicated, and you can't tell me you have a bigger secret than that."

Clark didn't respond. He just handed the last fork to Lex to dry.

Lex put it down. "Tell me, Clark."

"I'mgay." It came out all as one word, and although Lex managed to pick it up, Clark felt it needed repeating. "I'm... I'm gay."

Lex waited.

Clark looked uncomfortable. "Lex?"

"Is that it?"

Clark looked suddenly relieved. "You don't care?"

God, no. "Why should I? Clark, I'm not just some farm kid like you. Okay, yes, I thought you were interested in-" -Lana- "-girls, but I'm not going to run off in disgust."

"Well." Clark took the towel and dried the fork himself, bending it back and forth a few times before placing it with the other silverware. "I loved Lana. And I thought the sex was... all right. But it was missing something." He ran a hand through his hair. "I've only told Mom and Chloe. That was traumatizing enough."

Lex realized suddenly that this was a confession just like his alien heritage was. This time, he was the only one holding it back, but it hurt him all the same. It meant something for him to tell Lex, and it wasn't as easy for him to adapt to the idea as it was for him.

He really, really trusted him.

"Clark? I'm... I'm glad you could trust me with this."

Clark's eyes were wide and honest. "Lex, I've always trusted you - or always wanted to. I just... wanted to help." Wanted to help Lex steer clear of the life he'd brought upon himself, he didn't say, but Lex heard it anyway.

And Lex had needed it badly. "I'm going to go to sleep, Clark."

---

Christmas Day came and went. Lex didn't have much money to buy things for Clark, and hadn't had enough notice to get Martha anything, but they enjoyed themselves all the same, and Lex was more than pleased with the computer Clark gave him. It wasn't the top-of-the-line machine he was used to, but it was a significant improvement on the nothing he'd been using for the past three months (except at work, of course, but that was different).

And then came New Year's Eve.

"You're not going to the party at the office?" Lex was surprised - he'd figured Clark would be overjoyed to have a casual night with his friends again. Not that he didn't spend time with them, but Lex was pretty sure he'd been spending less time with them since Lex had moved in.

"You aren't, either, I noticed."

"I still don't really have any friends there, Clark. You do."

Clark looked up from the couch at Lex, who was leaning over its back, looking down at him. "I'm tired? Besides, Chloe is staying home with Bart and Barry, and Lois and Jimmy went on vacation."

"There's still Perry."

"Would you want to party with him, Lex?"

"Okay, fine. We'll just have to drink here, then." He turned, but before he could move a blur went by him twice, and a glass of wine was in his hand. Clark was back on the couch, already enjoying the taste of his. It was the only wine he had, and he only had it for Lex's benefit. He'd already told him he couldn't get drunk.

"To the new year?" Clark asked, raising his glass for a toast.

"It's not even eight yet, Clark." That didn't stop Lex from joining him in the toast, though. "To the new year." He downed his all at once.

"To a fresh start after ten years of knowing each other." Clark noticed he'd finished already, but held his glass up for the toast anyway. Lex smiled and brought the glasses together, putting his down after.

A fresh start. A new, better life. And it was all Clark's doing.

All Clark.

He looked down at his friend, who slowly drained away the wine, putting the glass down on the end-table before turning back to the mindless whine of the television.

If he had just listened in the first place, he thought, he could have been in that same position years before. When he first met Clark, he knew it was a battle between being a good man and a man like his father. Fear and a thirst for control had seeped into his bones, warping his vision, and it had become a live or die situation instead. But Clark would have always saved him. If he'd just listened...

But it never could have happened that way. That wasn't who Lex had been, not how he was destined to get where he was.

He wasn't at the top of the world, but he was with Clark. He had been half-right in his prediction. It was surprising to realize that he was happier with the friendship than with the power.

---

He felt reborn when the new year finally came.

"Ten!" they shouted on the television screen, so many hundreds of voices down in the streets of Metropolis that he could have heard them without it on at all, though they sounded like little more than a whisper when brought together.

Clark turned to him, having given up half of the couch so that he could sit too, and gave him a big smile, the kind that only Clark could ever manage.

"Nine!"

Lex smiled back, a content feeling washing over him with a little amusement. Clark was like a child, so excited over the passing of time he seemed to radiate energy even while sitting still.

"Eight!"

He turned back to see the sweep of the crowds, so many bright and similarly cheerful faces, red with cold and breathless with anticipation.

"Seven!"

Out of the corner of his eye, he could still see Clark looking at him, grinning.

"Six!"

He couldn't help but feel a little coil of energy inside, ready to explode soon. It was just another hour, but when the clock hit midnight he knew he would be inexplicably happy.

"Five!"

And it was all because Clark - Clark, with that ridiculous grin still plastered on - had been there for him. In his lowest, most pitiful, humiliating moment, when he'd always been sure no one would come around to help pick up the pieces, Clark had been there.

"Four!"

"Clark-"

"Three!"

"I just wan-"

"Two!"

"-ted to to say-"

"/One/!"

And he didn't get a chance to say the "thank you." Before the "Happy new year!" even rang through the streets and through the building, Clark had grabbed him by the back of the head, leaned forward, and pressed his lips against Lex's.

Time seemed to slow. Just behind his eyes, Lex felt flashes of something familiar, and he had the sudden sensation that he was falling a great distance, but he didn't have to worry, because there was someone there to catch him when the ground got too close. Though the feel of lips on his own was something he was definitely acquainted with, the feeling rising in his chest - a great emotion, trying to capture his heart on the way - was foreign, though not uncomfortable. He wondered if he hadn't somehow become asthmatic again.

And time reset itself when Clark pulled back, still grinning goofily.

No, he wasn't a child.

He wasn't as fazed as Lex, either. Lex shook himself mentally. It wasn't appropriate to get caught like that.

"Happy new year!"

Lex smiled. It wasn't fake. "Happy new year, Clark."

Clark pushed himself off the couch, stretching his arms up over his head and yawning. "I'm gonna go to bed. Goodnight, Lex."

Wholesome Clark. He was the epitome of the American good boy. He wouldn't even stay up late on New Year's.

Though he would confuse the hell out of his friends.

---

"Lex, could you come in here for a moment?"

Lex looked up from the paper. The last time he'd heard that kind of question in that kind of tone, it had been from Lana, who had had trouble zipping up her dress. It had ended up on the floor five minutes later anyway. "Sure, Clark." Thank God his friend didn't wear dresses.

Though, Lex thought when he entered his room, he might as well have. It would have been slightly less ridiculous than what he had on. "How does it look?"

"It looks like /spandex/."

"It is spandex."

"You're asking me, Lex Luthor, how spandex looks? This is worse than /flannel/, Clark." Oh, God, he was wearing underwear on the outside of his pants - no, /tights/.

"I'm asking you, /my friend/, if my disguise is eye-catching enough."

Lex raised an eyebrow. "Aren't disguises supposed to be the opposite of eye-catching?"

Clark didn't falter. "I want to be a symbol, Lex. I need people to see me for that."

"A symbol."

"Yeah. Of truth, justice, and the American way."

"Right." Lex couldn't look away. It was just so... /awful/.

"But I need to make sure no one recognizes me."

Lex was very tempted to finish off the wine from New Year's. And then get more. "And covering yourself in primary colors was your solution? Clark, anyone's who's ever passed you on the street will recognize you in that."

It seemed that nothing could deter Clark. "That's why I was thinking I should change how I dress every day - maybe get glasses."

Lex decided he was definitely going to have that wine.

---

Lex hated the world. He hated it with some amusement and an appreciation for its finer points, but he still hated it.

It just wasn't right that Clark could actually get away with the who "Superman" thing. His disguise wasn't even a disguise! His sudden need to wear glasses couldn't have been more contrived! And yet somehow no one could figure out just who the mysterious superhero was!

If only the media had been so blind when he had been on trial.

"Maybe it's one of my powers?" Clark offered, trying to be helpful.

Lex hated the world.

---

Not even the Daily Planet was safe.

It had been a fairly normal day, with Clark teasing Lex and Lex planning his demise. It was early February, and he was actually able to have civil conversations with some of the other staff, though many of them still had to comment on his current station there. "Secretary" was not a title befitting a Luthor.

And then the monkeys attacked.

Monkey robots, actually. Or some of them were. Lex was pretty sure a few of them were real, like the giant one that seemed to be leading them all. It was kind of hard to tell in the chaos that followed the first monkey, who turned out to be a robot and a bomb, breaking through the window.

Lex hadn't known what to do. Despite all the reasons he knew he should run, it wasn't in his nature (for no reason he could figure out; after all the attacks he'd been through, it didn't really make any sense at all). So, when the giant monkey started acting like King Kong and grabbed Chloe right off the floor, he was mere feet from it and couldn't help but act. Luthors were supposed to be brave, after all.

"Trying to upstage the gorillas, Prince Kong?" he called. It got the monkey's attention, but he still regretting saying it. It was stupid - it sounded kind of like something Clark would say.

Unfortunately, he didn't have any plan for what to do when he had its attention. He noticed Chloe on the ground - she looked like she was in pain, but after a moment she disappeared (Bart, right) - just before he was swept up in a giant, hairy paw. Oh, God.

The monkey held him close to his eyes, examining him, before letting out a deafening screech. Lex desperately wished he could pass out. He always used to pass out, just in the nick of time. Then he didn't have to suffer. /Why couldn't he pass out/? "I'm going to die."

"/Lex/!" And then Clark - no, Superman - was there, and the monkey was gone, and they were going up, up into the air.

Lex hadn't had a chance to experience flight yet - he'd been surprised when he first saw Clark mid-air on television, and Clark later said he was just as surprised - and could, he figured, be excused for the way he was clinging to a spandex-covered shoulder.

And then he passed out.

---

When Lex woke up, he missed the shoulder.

His shoes and socks were gone, but otherwise he was still clothed. His bed was warm, but he had no desire to sleep. It wasn't even dark out yet. Where was Clark? Was he still dealing with the mess at the Daily Planet?

No - at it turned out, he was making dinner. Lex wasn't sure if he should be grateful or not. His stomach was growling, sure, but Clark just hadn't gotten the basics of cooking down from Martha.

"You're awake."

"You're cooking," Lex responded, figuring obviousness deserved obviousness back.

Clark turned away from the food he was preparing, setting down the knife carefully. They'd had incidents with knives. They just didn't go well with the strength of a locomotive. "Are you okay?"

Lex nodded. "I'm going to have nightmares about monkeys for weeks, but I'll be okay." Well, that was a lie - all his nightmares were about falling. "How's everything back at the Planet?"

"No one was seriously injured," Clark said, sitting at the table. "Perry was going to make me write something up about it all, but Lois convinced him - uh, more or less - to let us go. There's a lot of damage to the building, but I took care of some of it. As best as I could, anyway."

Lex moved closer to Clark. He had to thank him. He had saved his life /again/. How many times had he protected him? From mutants, from monkeys, from himself?

"I tried to fix the windows, but I don't think they'll hold."

He owed Clark so much.

"It'll last until tomorrow, anyway."

He had meant to just say "thank you" and then take up the cooking himself, he really had. But apparently he could only say it directly into Clark's mouth. With tongue.

Clark pushed him away, and he was afraid, for a moment, that he had done something really wrong - that this would mean the end of it. That was stupid, though; after all he had done (he had built a /Death Ray/, for God's sake!) Clark hadn't abandoned him. When his own wife was gone, when all the world hated him - Clark was there. "Lex?"

"It's not just for saving me, Clark." It was for always being there, even when he seemed so far away. It was for caring more than anyone had before. It was for being /Clark/. "I promise."

He didn't even have another moment to speak before Clark was out of his seat and the counter was pressing into Lex's back uncomfortably, but he couldn't give a damn about the pain because Clark's hands were cupping his face, and he knew he was being so gentle, that he wasn't going to push because he didn't want to push /away/, but that wasn't necessary at all. Before it meant they wouldn't speak for a few years except in yells; now it was going to mean sex, because Lex wasn't going to wait.

Clark didn't seem to even notice that Lex had opened his shirt until the tips of his fingers brushed his nipples. He drew in a sharp breath, moving his lips from Lex's mouth to his neck, his hands from Lex's face to his shoulders, down his arms, on his waist, his ass. Lex kept one hand on Clark's chest, absently thumbing a nipple, while the other drifted down, stopping momentarily to trace the edge of his pants before continuing down to cup the already growing erection. "How long have you wanted this, Clark?"

"Years," Clark whispered, sucking just below Lex's ear.

It wasn't as if Lex had been completely oblivious. He was pretty sure anyone could have seen that Clark was interested ten years ago - when Clark was oblivious to everything, including himself - back in Smallville, and only a fool wouldn't have noticed he was playing with that. He wasn't playing anymore. "Let's take this to your bedroom."

Clark pulled back, looking surprised, searching Lex's face for confirmation. Lex guessed that he was probably used to his dates waiting three dinners before undressing for him. It didn't work that way with Luthors.

"Come on." Lex pulled on Clark's forearm, the hand on his chest going up to pull Clark in for another kiss, brief and chaste. Clark followed him like he was in a daze, barely moving on his own until the bed was in sight.

Clark picked him up, dropping him onto the bed and pushing him back, covering Lex's body with his own as he dove in for another kiss. Lex knew he was holding back, trying not to explode with the energy his body was begging to unleash; his hands shook as he unbuttoned Lex's shirt, and despite his efforts two buttons still hit the ceiling. He sat up, straddling Lex's thighs, while Lex removed the offending clothing and he shrugged his own off. He kissed Lex again, receiving a bite to his lower lip, before he stood, allowing Lex to take off the rest of his clothing. His own was off in a matter of seconds; his breathing was quick and his eyes were fixed on Lex.

Lex had had lovers who had been... eager before, sure. He'd had them begging for it, pleading him to just notice them, please, /please/. He just would never have expected a similar reaction from Clark. It was intoxicating. Smirking, he put a hand over his still-clothed erection, rubbing slowly. Clark moaned.

"Lex..."

He unbuttoned his pants with his other hand, and then slowly pulled down the zipper.

Clark couldn't resist touching anymore. He pulled Lex up for a kiss, and Lex moaned, because God, his hands were already in Lex's pants, and it all seemed so /electric/. He buried his own hands in Clark's hair, wanting to taste more, take more, give more. His hips jerked up, and Clark pushed his pants down. At the first feel of skin on skin, his erection pressing into a firm hip, he gasped quietly.

"You've done this before?" Lex breathed. Clark could feel the words on his own lips.

"Yeah." He rolled them over, letting Lex straddle him. "You?"

Lex almost laughed. "A few times." He paused, looking around. Clark had to have lubricant in his room somewhere. "I won't need a condom with you, will I? No space-STDs?"

Clark saw him looking and reached for the bedside drawer, searching blindly and coming up victorious. "Bruce never got anything, so I don't think you would." He handed him the lube, biting his lip and laying back, eyes still on Lex.

Lex smiled at him, a sexual, predatory smile, but still genuine, sliding down between his legs, careful to avoid his prominent erection. "Your choice - fuck or be fucked?"

Clark shivered. "Fuck me, Lex."

He didn't need to be told twice. In a moment he was pushing Clark's legs apart and his fingers were slicked, the tip of one pushing into Clark. Next time he would go slower - maybe use his tongue instead - but he needed Clark. Soon. /Now/. It was healing; it could not wait.

Another finger and Clark was writhing, hand on his own cock and eyes shut. Lex drank the sight of him in, licking his lips. He was /beautiful/. Lex wished he had taken him instead of Lana.

No, it wasn't right to think about Lana. Not when he was about to fuck Clark.

"Lex..." Clark spread his legs further, begging. God, he was beautiful.

Lex had another finger in, and he was pushing, fucking Clark with his fingers, searching for that spot and - aha! Clark's eyes shot open and he let out a long, low moan.

"Now," Clark pleaded, panting in a way that had nothing to do with physical exertion.

Lex teased him for a few seconds more, but he wasn't able to wait very long, either. Soon/. He pulled his fingers out, coated his erection with the lubricant, and then pushed in, slowly - for his own benefit more than Clark's, though he had to remind himself that the other man /couldn't be hurt by him.

Clark was gripping the covers on the bed, twisting them, trying not to tear them.

God, Clark could hurt /him/. But he never would.

He never thought safe would feel so good.

He never realized feeling safe would be a part of love.

He went all the way in, and Clark groaned in pleasure.

"God, yes, /Lex/!"

He started slow. He wanted so badly for it to last, but the word "love" was going through his head, and it made everything feel so... /intense/. It wasn't anything like an emotionless one-night stand. It wasn't even like Lana. It was just /fantastic/.

He moved his hands from Clark's hips, up over his shoulders, just feeling, down to his nipples again. He reached forward to kiss Clark, feeling his erection press into his belly. He went faster, rougher, taking his cues from the noises Clark made, the way he shuddered with pleasure, the way certain muscles tightened. Lex knew the language of sex, and Clark was speaking it loud and clear. "Leeex..." It was right into his mouth, but Lex knew what he was saying.

Harder, faster. He pinched a nipple, gripped hair. He was panting, gasping, moaning, trying to touch everywhere at once while Clark's hands were still in the blankets, and God, they were ripping. Lex couldn't bring himself to care.

Clark managed to pry one of his hands off the bed and brought it to his cock, pumping, trying to match time with Lex's thrusts.

When Lex started sucking his tongue, he came, groaning Lex's name.

Lex groaned in pleasure, feeling Clark's body tighten, so good, then relax...

And then Clark helped him, wrapped his legs around him, unafraid of causing pain now, and /pulled/.

That was all Lex needed.

Lex laid on Clark's chest, breathing heavily long after Clark was fine again, looking at him with half-lidded eyes.

"Lex?"

"Hm?" Post-coital talk was fine with him, but he needed to catch his breath.

"Do you mean it?"

Lex pushed himself up, looking into Clark's eyes. "Mean what?"

Clark looked away, unsure. "When you - came, you said..."

Oh. Lex had said he loved him. "I mean it, Clark."

Clark still wasn't looking at him.

Lex kissed his cheek, his ear, the corner of his mouth. "Clark. I love you."

Clark closed his eyes and smiled. "Love you, too, Lex."

"I know."

---

Four days later, Clark found out (from Jimmy, who had learned it from Lois, who only knew from talking to Chloe) that Lana had had her baby.

She named it Clark.

Lex supposed it was supposed to hurt him. It didn't. It seemed... appropriate. Good.

Having two Clarks to love in his life couldn't possibly be bad. And his big Clark would make sure he would see his little Clark.

He always caught Lex when he was falling.