"One for Swordfish."
Impatiently tapping his fingers against his thigh, Lex waited for the bumbling
ticket seller to get over the shock of receiving a fifty dollar bill and
give him his change.
"Thanks," Lex said
shortly, accepting the ticket and stuffing his change haphazardly into
his trouser pocket. He entered the theater, ignoring the giggling
group of teenage girls gathered just inside the glass doors, and made his
way past the crowd at the refreshment stand.
Late. He was
running late, thanks to his father's unfailing ability to call with urgent
business at the most inconvenient time possible. Glancing down at
his watch and realizing that he had exactly one minute to find Clark and
get settled before the movie started, Lex lengthened his stride.
Not that he cared about the movie itself. Hell, he could get a copy
of any damned movie he wanted, whenever he wanted, and view it in the comfort
and privacy of his own home. Money, after all, did have its privileges.
The thing was, between
his ever full calendar, both business and social, and Clark's heavy schedule
at Met U, they'd not had a chance to see each other for... damn, he hadn't
seen Clark for almost two months. And speaking of Clark, where the
hell was he?
He spotted a familiar
form standing near the entry. Those broad shoulders were hard to
miss, even in a crowd - facing away from him. "Clark," he said, shifting
direction, so that he came to a stop a couple of feet behind his friend.
Clark turned and
smiled. "Hey, Lex. I was beginning to think you wouldn't make
it."
Any number of answers
would have been appropriate, under the circumstances - an apology and a
simple explanation being the most obvious. Unfortunately, although
quite understandably, he'd suddenly lost the ability to speak. Lex
knew his mouth was hanging open. Just as he knew he was breathing
rather quickly and his face had become quite flushed. He wasn't even
going to acknowledge the fact that every hormone in his body was standing
at attention. And saluting. Enthusiastically.
***
"Lex?" Clark
questioned hesitantly, when Lex continued to stand silent and still before
him. "Lex! Are you okay?"
No response.
Well, other than a blink, Lex remained silent and unmoving.
A slight frown of
concern wrinkled the skin of Clark's forehead and he reached up to scratch
absent-mindedly at the ten days growth of beard on his face.
Obviously something was wrong. Very, very wrong. In all the
time he'd known Lex Luthor, he'd never seen the other man speechless.
He'd seen his friend in any number of emotional states over the years -
angry, amused, contented, frightened, sad, even happy - and, no matter
the situation, Lex *always* had something to say.
"Lex!" Clark repeated
with increased concern. And volume.
"Um," Lex responded.
Okay, this was clearly
an emergency. Grabbing Lex by one arm, Clark headed out of the theater.
Maybe a little fresh air would clear Lex's head.
His worry only grew,
though. Not only did Lex accompany him outside without complaint
or question, once they were on the sidewalk, the man just stood there,
staring at Clark.
"For God's sake,
Lex, tell me what's wrong," Clark said urgently.
"Huh?"
After retrieving
Lex's keys from a jacket pocket, locating the Porsche in the parking lot,
and loading his still-silent friend into the passenger seat, Clark drove
to Lex's penthouse in the LexCorp building without consideration of traffic
laws or other vehicles on the road. He parked in the garage, and
got them up to the penthouse with no problems - except for Lex's dazed
state and continued regard.
***
Why the hell were
his teeth rattling, Lex wondered. Oh. Clark was shaking him.
Rather forcefully. Which Lex did not care for at all. With
his head whipping back and forth he could no longer contemplate the startling
and stunning change in Clark's appearance.
"Stop that," he protested,
gripping Clark's forearms.
"Finally!"
Bending down, Clark studied his face intently. "You've got to tell
me what's wrong, Lex. I'll help you. No matter what it is,
I promise, I'll help you."
Confused, Lex shook
his head. Not a good idea, that. Made him dizzy. Unsteadily,
he made his way to the sofa and sat. "Brandy," he requested.
"I... need a drink."
"Not until you tell
me what's wrong, Lex. Are you hurt."
"Wrong? Hurt?
Clark, I'm fine. I just need a drink."
Instead of doing
as Lex asked, Clark sat on the coffee table. Right in front of him.
Worse, he leaned forward and took Lex's hands in his own. "Lex,"
he said in a soothing tone, "you can trust me. *Something's* wrong,
I can tell. I've never... seen you like this."
"Like what?
What on earth are you talking about, Clark?"
Sighing with exasperation,
Clark shook his head at Lex. "You're acting like you're in shock."
Offended, Lex straightened
his back and glared at Clark. "Don't be ridiculous. There's
nothing wrong with me."
"Le-ex. You
didn't say one single word between the time you found me and the time we
got here. Except," he added, "for one 'um' and one 'huh' you just
stared at me like an idiot the entire time." Crossing his arms on
his chest, Clark thrust out his chin belligerently. "Something is
definitely wrong, Lex. Now, tell me what's going on."
"Have you been drinking,
Clark?"
"Don't try to change
the subject, dammit."
"I am not changing...
" Wait a minute. It occurred to Lex that they were in his living
room - not in the theatre watching whatever movie they'd planned to-
Oh. Oh no.
JesusfuckingChrist! The entire scene came back to him in Technicolor.
Movie. Clark. Looking... And he'd... Fuck the *fucking*
dog! He, Lex Luthor, had made a complete and utter fool of himself
just because Clark had grown a little beard, arranged his hair a bit differently,
and worn the tightest goddamned pair of jeans ever manufactured.
As he knew full well
that he couldn't outrun his friend, thereby locking himself in his bedroom
to nurse his shame alone, Lex groaned and slumped back against the couch
back. "Brandy," he croaked.
"Talk to me, Lex,"
a quiet voice urged - from very close by. So close, in fact, that
Lex could feel every word in the soft exhalations of breath that accompanied
each.
"It's nothing.
Really Clark. A long day... week... month. Call from my Dad
made me late. I rushed in and when I saw... um."
"Saw what, Lex?"
Worry clear in the question. "What did you see?"
Fine. Just...
fine. Clark asked, Lex would answer, goddammit. "You," he said
with impatient defensiveness. "I saw you. That," he added,
waving in the general direction of Clark's face. "Those."
"Those?"
Lex decided to revise
his opinion of Clark's intelligence. "Those!" he gritted, pointing
at the jeans Clark had somehow poured his body into.
And... Clark smirked.
***
Well, it was about
fucking time, Clark crowed inwardly. He'd just about given up hope
of Lex *ever* following through on all the flirting and sly innuendo.
Grinning, he fingered his sparse beard, ruffled his hair, and spread his
legs to show off the tight fit of his jeans.
"You like?" he asked
innocently. "I was afraid I looked too scruffy. That you'd
be embarrassed."
"*Like*?" Lex repeated
incredulously. "Jesus Christ, Clark, if I liked it any more I'd have-"
"You'd have?"
And, judging by the
way Lex narrowly stared at him, blue sparks shooting from his eyes, Mr.
Luthor Junior had finally caught the clue bus.
"You fucking tease."
Oh yeah. Had
caught the bus and was a bit dissatisfied with the driving.
Distraction time.
Once again, Clark fingered his new growth of beard. "I thought about
shaving it off, you know. It's not a proper beard. Too soft."
Lex snorted.
"Have I ever mentioned that you are a little shit? I can't believe
you're playing with me this way, Clark. You knew. You've known
all along," he accused.
"I... suspected.
Hoped. But, Lex, I never *knew* for sure."
***
Oh, that voice.
Those soft, hopeful, *soulful* eyes.
Lex - for the very
first time in his life - gave in.
"You know now, Clark,"
he affirmed. Then he smiled an evil smile. "The only question
remaining is, what are you going to do about it?"
With a teasing grin,
Clark leaned closer and whispered in Lex's ear, "I'm going to sign up for
a new class."
"A new... *What*?"
Rising, Clark held
out one hand. Without thought, Lex allowed himself to be pulled upright.
And forward. Into Clark's arms. Which, as he'd long suspected,
was a place Lex seemed to fit into perfectly. He tilted his head
back and searched Clark's face.
If he'd had time,
Lex might have worried about his suddenly blurry of his vision. He
had, of course, heard of farsightedness. To his knowledge, however,
it wasn't the kind of thing that manifested itself between one moment and
the next. But. The reason for the degeneration of his perfect
vision became clear almost immediately. Because Clark was...
Oh, God. Kissing
him. Warm lips moved over Lex's, moving softly in exploration.
A wet tongue traced a line between Lex's upper and lower lips. He
opened immediately, only to have that limber appendage enter his mouth
and investigate every square millimeter, stroking his palate, tickling
his gums, testing the strength and formation of his teeth. And, yes!,
it was every bit as perfect as Lex had ever imagined.
He couldn't even
find it within himself to be embarrassed by the whimpers that found their
way past the sudden constriction blocking his throat.
When Clark finally
drew away, Lex stared at the slumberous green eyes with stunned amazement.
Then Clark licked
his own lips. Blinked. And grinned. "A new class," he
told Lex gravely. "Gay Sex 101."
And Lex really couldn't
think of anything to do but call class to order.
