Starting Over

by a campbell

Clark Kent/Lex Luthor PG-13

____________________

The corner of his mouth smarted where Lex had struck him, cracked and bled when his lips met Lana’s in a kiss. She could probably taste the blood, but didn’t seem to mind. Clark pulled her closer and tried to forget, bid welcome to the pain.

I’m glad I made him hit me, goaded him to it. It was time. Beyond time.

Small murmurs of comfort from Lana as she drew back and dabbed again with the damp washcloth.

He leaned back on the sofa and let his eyes drop shut, letting her fuss over him, candle-flame shadows flickering through his closed lids. He gripped the arm of the couch, trying to work himself up just a little, to even a portion of the rage of an hour ago. Rage so intense and consuming that he’d acted without thought, blind anger fueled by the sight of Lex, just sitting there at the laptop viewing the feed from that afternoon, indulging that always-insatiable need of his: that blasted need to know. Closing the lid smoothly, as always, before rising to his feet.

Lex just couldn’t leave it alone. Just couldn’t let go, let it be. Let him be. Ever.

Clark hadn’t even spoken, or allowed Lex a chance to say anything beyond one unfinished, phony expression of concern, before the beating began. He’d hit him so hard that his own fist still ached. Clark flexed his fingers and winced, both at the sensation and at the memory. He called up the image of Lex sprawled on the floor, slight body twisted at an angle of pain. Tried to summon the brutal satisfaction he’d felt then.

Hard enough to bruise, for sure.

At least he’d evened the playing field, given him a chance to hit back. Taunted him, called him coward, forgetting in his fury the many times Lex had proven himself brave and earned credit for it from no one. He’d spat a few more angry words before stalking out, saw Lex turn to stare at him as he marched by. He reminded himself that Lex was always pushing the envelope, always somehow winding up in the glare of spotlights or splashed across the front page of the Smallville or Metropolis papers. Arranging things so he, Clark, couldn’t explain things away to his friends and family at the close of any given business day. Lex in trouble again, Lex responsible for another calamity; you can’t trust Lex Luthor. Ever. For anything, with anything.

Now, as Lana ran a warm palm through his damp hair, all he could remember clearly was the stricken, bereft expression on Lex’s face as he stormed out into the night.

The face of someone who had lost everything.

The spark was kindled that morning at the barn-raising. The hunger in Lex’s gaze at the break, cool glance taking in Lana, draped all over him, hunger, and something else—not jealousy, quite, but more like assessment of risk. Clark had learned a few things in that eleventh-grade business survey. He slid an arm around Lana’s waist to pull her closer like a shield, nearly slipped a hand behind his back to form the symbol against the evil eye. But the attraction, the pull, the spell, was still there, undeniable. He’d tried to ignore it, but that gaze and presence worked on him the way it always did, smoked and gained strength, and he’d wound up practically attacking Lana in the loft just before disaster struck.

Then followed the afternoon from hell, and arriving at the mansion to find Lex just sitting there, spying on him as usual after all the stress and danger, just pushed every button he had, mortal or not.

Lust, fear, antagonism, all joined and erupted into a blaze.

He tried and failed to remember his trip back into town. He knew at some point he’d found blood on his shirtsleeves, but whether his own or Lex’s, he wasn’t sure. Knew that he’d stumbled up the stairs to the Talon apartment half-hard already, just wanting to do what he knew would hurt Lex the most if he knew, go where he had to go to get it. And here he was.

Maybe it was better not to try to dredge up the details. Maybe he should just try for some oblivion about now.

Try to forget with what strength he had struck, even powerless as he was, how Lex had gasped for breath as he lay on the floor.

Try to lose himself in his attraction to Lana, who was finally his after all these years.

I thought we could start over.

Clark flinched. Lana reached up with a small, delicate hand and trailed a finger down his cheek and through the stubble on his jaw. He tried to smile as she leaned closer, settled in between his legs, so close he could feel the warmth of her body.

He tried to put it all from his mind, concentrate on Lana and her bare skin, flawless in the flickering glow of the many candles, the waxy scent mixing with traces of her floral cologne and feminine antiperspirant. Everything he’d wanted, and more, from the time he’d first seen her up close in the school hallway the first autumn day of kindergarten so long ago, instead of from a distance across the fields between their farm and her house. Her blouse was on the floor, she was unzipping her jeans…

Tried, and failed.

All the things Lex did for him, and for his family, never asking for any thanks more than friendship. Friendship his folks had always failed to extend with any heartiness, and no more than minimally, though they had no problem welcoming everyone else and his brother who came their way. Friendship he’d often found it a challenge to sustain himself, as nearly everyone else seemed to sense that Lex Luthor was bad news.

All their times together as friends, the fast rides through the Kansas countryside, the
talks over coffee in the Beanery and the Talon, the homework sessions that had evolved into instruction of another kind.

He’d lied to Lana about being a virgin. Why? Because no way could he tell her about Lex, and the past four years, and what they’d been to each other. The sex every which way, and then some. At least he’d never been with a girl before, and iIf he was going to have sex with Lana, he’d have to pretend, both to himself, and to her, that none of it had ever happened.

And how could he do that?

Lex was such a part of his life, his every waking moment, had been for years, now, a comfortable habit and a constant adventure. Lex had made something incredible of the past four years. He could hardly remember his life before Lex arrived in Smallville, before that momentous afternoon they had collided, come crashing into each other’s lives in the October afternoon sun. He hadn’t wanted to, until recently.

But the last year or so it had gotten really hard to focus on the positives.

He’d been so scared when Lex had learned his secret, so sick and worried when, directly after, he’d been thrown into Belle Reve. Once inside, and when Lex brought up the secret again, Clark realized that he did know, really knew, and it was a crazy, big relief to know that Lex knew and he, Clark didn’t have to dissemble any longer. But even if Lex hadn’t known, he couldn’t leave him in there, had to get him out. Then, everything had gone so horribly, sickeningly wrong. And then when Lex came home and had forgotten it all—confusion, disappointment, relief, bereavement, all warred within him, a whole big jumble of sensations. And anger, anger at Lex, anger that kept popping out at weird times and for weird reasons. Sometimes when Lex was vulnerable, or needed him (and being someone’s only friend could be a big burden at times) or had done something that boomeranged back on him as always seemed to happen, he just wanted to shake him, but he never could, for fear of hurting or killing him. So unkindness seemed the only solution. Either that, or go crazy himself.

And, when he let himself think about it, it troubled him, because after all, it wasn’t Lex’s fault that he couldn’t remember those seven weeks. What he’d been through would have destroyed most people. But, Lex wasn’t most people. And neither was he.

Lies, lies. Both of them caught in such a web of them. Both of them taking turns lying, then accusing the other of falsehood, demanding honesty while failing to offer it. Now that he was power-less, it made his head ache. Not to mention his heart.

Lex had looked so slight, vulnerable as Clark had turned to go. So beaten, as though
he’d been forced to face his own death or his greatest fear. Alone.

Lana was naked now, moving to straddle his thighs, slim fingers reaching for the button of his jeans. Clark tried to smile up at her. His fingers wandered down, twined in the thatch of hair between her legs, and she sucked in a quick breath, grabbed his hand and pressed it to where she wanted it. And stretched and moaned. Slick moisture coated his fingers.

He could do this.

He wanted this, had wanted it for years. All the stuff with Lex was just practice, preparation. And he was prepared, though tonight he’d have to fake awkwardness to sustain the illusion of innocence. He could do it. It was his first time with a girl, after all.

She scrabbled at the slit of his boxers, he shifted and reached down to draw himself out. Since the light was behind her, her face was in shadow, but her breathing quickened and she groped again at his crotch, to touch and trace the rigid flesh of his cock, which rose from the thicket of curls at his groin.

“Come on,” he drew her close to murmur into the tender flesh that joined neck to shoulder, voice husky with arousal. “Let’s take this somewhere more comfortable.” He lifted her in his arms as she nestled close.

On the bed, she lay back on the quilt as he stripped off pants, shirt, shorts. He gazed down at her for a moment, and process what was happening. Lana, his at last. He dropped to the mattress and leaned over her, on arm on each side of her slim body. Positioned himself, taking aim. She made this little squeaking sound when he pressed against her opening. He stopped, but she shook her head.

“No, go ahead. I’m okay.” Slim arms wound around him and he settled in with a smile, gliding one hand through her hair..

Lana. She was willing to give him everything, her small, delicate body, her heart. Everything he didn’t really want, though he’d tried so hard to convince himself he did. He had to do it for her, or risk letting her down, the same way he let everyone else down. Even his best friend, or his former best friend.

What if Lex was badly hurt? God knows, he’d been hurt so many times before, and always recovered, faster than most. But he could still be lying on the floor, bleeding…alone.

Stop thinking about him, a voice hissed inwardly. He’ll recover. He heals incredibly fast, don't forget. By this time tomorrow, he’ll be spying on you again. Just relax, and enjoy Lana fully for the first time.

In Lex’s building, Lex’s apartment, which he was letting her stay in, rent-free, which wasn’t stopping her from currently giving him the freeze. Lex even covered the electric, bill, damn it, and Lana probably charged the candles to his account, too. Lex bankrolled everything, inescapable. It was all about him.

Their first time together, courtesy of Lex. Lex, who lay bleeding up at the mansion, alone. Abandoned by everyone, and worst of all, even by his former best friend.

Eyes burning with tears, Clark choked back a wave of nausea, but not before the vomit lurched into his throat. He coughed, then turned his face from Lana’s cheek, from dark eyes glazed with want and need. Reached up to free himself from her thin, clinging arms with an anguished groan.

“I can’t do this,”

He tried not to look at her face, which darkened with dismay and something almost like relief. But she protested just the same, reaching out to grab at his arm. “What? Why?”

He rolled off the mattress and stood up, bending down to retrieve his clothes from the floor. “I just can’t. Lana, I’m sorry. I have to go.”

She sat up on her elbows, hurt and vulnerable, eyes dark with anger. “Clark, not again. You do this every time. And you can’t leave me like this, not now!”

He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, speechless. She watched him tuck away his cock, fasten his jeans, shaking her head in apparent disbelief.

“Nothing has changed, has it, Clark? Nothing.” The last word was almost a sob. She turned over on her side, curling into a ball.

Slowly, he shook his head.

Now, I’ve just hurt one more person, he thought. But still, I have to go.

**

He couldn’t bypass security this time. Beefed up, he wasn’t surprised. And, despite the manor’s staff of many, he wasn’t surprised when Lex’s dispassionate voice issued from the intercom.

“Go home, Clark.”

Clark leaned closer to the voice box. “Please, Lex. Let me in. We have to talk.”

“We already have,” came the clipped response. “And I believe you’ve said everything you have to say.”

“Lex,” Voice ragged, he rattled the big brass handle on the door as hard as he could, so that it would be audible over the intercom. “I’m not leaving. I’ll stay here for a week if I have to. But you have to let me in.”

After a moment that lasted eons, the buzzer sounded, harsh in the evening quiet. Clark reached for the handle again. This time, it turned easily.

**

In the study, Lex was seated—Clark tried not to think ‘barricaded’-- behind his desk. He didn’t rise, step out from behind it in greeting as he had a couple of hours ago, and generally did whenever Clark arrived, but sat back, steepling his fingers. His nose no longer dripped blood, but his face was ashen. Clark would have sworn he saw Lex’s shoulders tense as he himself slowed to a stop on the polished floor. But his voice, when he spoke, was as calm and smooth as ever.

"Maybe I should have at least one bodyguard here with me. Or two. Or fifty. Whatever the appropriate number is, for a coward."

Clark flinched at the reference, but wouldn’t allow himself to be shaken from his resolve. "I’m sure you at least have a gun in your desk. In case I get too violent." He offered a faint smile, which Lex just met with that shuttered, unreadable gaze.

Lex didn’t respond to the spoken challenge, didn’t pull out a pistol as he had that time after Lionel had had a field day in Clark’s body, or when his bad side had shot Clark’s father that awful night in the barn. Clark waited briefly for him to continue, then went on himself.

"Lex, I didn’t mean that. Calling you a coward. I know you’re not. You’ve proven that a zillion times."

A moment’s pause again while Lex regarded him, cool, assessing, glance devoid of the warmth Clark had grown to expect and knew he had no right to this evening. "You say a lot of things you don’t mean, Clark. Constantly. It’s become a habit with you."

"Don’t we all?" Clark stepped closer and extended a hand, palm up. "Lex, I shouldn’t have gone off on you that way. After this afternoon, I was pretty stressed. And I’ve let a lot of things build up. I’ve had some time to cool down, now. I’m not saying what you did was right. But the way I handled it was definitely wrong."

Lex was shaking his head before Clark finished speaking.

"It’s not going to be that easy this time, Clark. That reaction of yours was clearly brewing a long time. Plus, I’ve spent too much time hoping things might change between us, and being disappointed." He swiveled his chair around to face the blackness of the window panes.

Clark recognized dismissal in Lex’s tone and action. He sighed, discouraged, but he wasn’t giving up yet, though he resisted the itch to move closer. He made a deliberate effort to speak slowly, keep his words from tumbling over each other in agitation. “I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. But tell me what I can do to make it up to you. Do you need to go to emergency? I’ll drive you. I have the truck.”

“’Make it up to me,” Lex repeated almost in a whisper, standing and stepping over to reach for decanter, tumbler, ice.

"I don’t think you should—" Clark began, but Lex waved his hand for silence, and the sentence died unfinished. Lex poured, swirled dark liquid in the glass, gulped deep and swallowed, then swiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. Clark waiting uneasily for him to continue.

Lex set the glass on the desktop, so hard Clark could see, even without super-vision, the hairline crack that sped up the side. “God knows, I’ve borne more from you than I ever have from anyone in my life. Even my father. And if that isn’t saying volumes… Your dad wouldn’t let you take the truck, but the price for my life was still high. In principle, not cash cost. Gifts, money, favors…with each one bestowed, things seemed to get worse between us. Definitely the “taker” in our friendship.” Lex reached for the glass despite the thin flaw and took another drink, but before Clark could open his mouth either to agree or disagree, he continued. “How about the day you “borrowed” my Porsche to help Pete? If you’d just have admitted it later…no strings attached, no more questions asked. You were welcome to it, Clark: car, limo, concert tickets, farm, my lifeblood. I’d have done anything for you, given you anything, at any time during these past four years, and you knew it, and traded on it time after time. But I just kept telling myself it was okay. It didn’t matter. That you were different, you were worth it, that angels don’t have bank accounts, and what was the money to me, after all? Can’t buy happiness. You gave me hope, made me believe there could be power with goodness. But I never realized how high the price was. Till now.”

Clark’s hand dropped to his side as frustration welled within him. It was all true, he had to admit. Often he’d behaved like a spoiled brat, taken Lex’s generosity as his due, not looked back or reflected—just shown up shortly after with his hand out once again, a knee-jerk, default reaction. Deep down, he’d known without admitting to himself how Lex loved him. He had but to ask and would be given anything, everything. It had gotten so easy. Way too easy.

“I'm convinced you know about my missing seven weeks, too. But you’d never tell me what happened, even though you knew how much I wanted to know. Even went to my father for help…Jesus, Clark, how could you do that? I still don’t understand.”

Having no decent defense, Clark decided with lightning speed that it was time to move on. “You know, Lex, today isn’t the first time your curiosity has put someone in danger. Does it ever matter to you that someone could get hurt, or killed, by your trying to find things out? And for what? You just keep pushing it. It never stops. Even though you promised me last year that that would be the end of it.”

Lex shrugged. “What can I say, Clark? It’s who I am. You’re well aware of my many addictions. The need to know is one of them, maybe the strongest. Considering my family background, it’s probably what’s kept me alive this long. And I made it my business to find out who you really are long ago.”

Their gazes met for a long moment. Clark swallowed hard and shoved his hands in his pockets. Did you? He wanted to ask. Instead, he said:

“Lex, you have to stop. Now. For good. I’ve asked you so many times.”

“Why, Clark? What are you afraid of? No, you don’t have to answer that.” Lex walked to the window, cracked it and looked out, though nothing but darkness lay beyond. Clark could feel the chill fall breeze where he stood. “I tried to stop. Even though as far back as Walden, I was sure. Hell, as far back as the bridge. Steel roof, peeled clean off my car, and underwater besides. Now, I admit, there were a lot of times when I doubted what my mind sense and the research revealed. But then they arrived, looking for someone who wouldn’t bleed, and I knew it had to be you. Or thought I knew. Until tonight.”

He turned to glance at Clark, who remained staring at him in horrified disbelief, said sharply, “You’ve asked me, but what about you? I think you know me well enough to know that I figured it all out long ago. You have powers far beyond those of any mortal man. Time after time, I thought, this time, he’ll tell me. But you never did, never would. And we both knew I knew, and knew you were lying, but you’d never come clean with me. Even so far as to say, “I’m different,” the way you did earlier tonight.”

Clark turned, walked over to the desk, gripped the back of the chair, hard. “Lex,” he murmured, shaking his head. “I don’t…”

“You couldn’t come to me, but you could go to Lionel,” Lex said again, as though he still couldn’t believe it. “Did, more than once. Jesus, Clark, how could you do that?” Lex’s voice was close behind him, dropping down to a note of quiet, beseeching desperation, so close, Clark trembled to feel the warmth of his body and breath. “How could you think I’d ever betray you? And he wouldn’t? And, what about your other friends? Chloe knows, Pete knew…how, and why? After all we’ve been to each other, you didn’t believe you could trust me, too? If you’d just told me the truth at any of a hundred points, I could have stopped investigating for good.”

It wasn’t that, Clark yearned to say. But, not being sure what it was, he held his peace without looking up and allowed Lex to proceed, contenting himself with savoring the closeness of their bodies.

“Clark, all my life I’ve been trying to be a better man than my father. Once I thought you could support me on that quest, but instead, it was months, years of lies and equivocation. I tried to stay your friend through it all, but finally realized it was useless. And tonight just confirmed that for me.” He stepped back and over to the decanter for another drink and a different glass.

Clark turned around and took a step, noting with dismay that Lex’s grip tightened on the tumbler, the way he tensed, swallowed, throat tight, at his approach. He was close enough now to catch a whiff of the Scotch that still lingered in the air. “I always wanted to tell you, Lex. But I couldn’t. It wasn’t just me. My parents were always afraid of anyone finding out. And, yeah, I was scared, too. You, your father, all those experiments, and the money to carry them out. You’re powerful. I had to protect my family and myself. I couldn’t tell you.”

Lex’s expression darkened into a combination of disappointment and exasperation. “Even though you knew I knew? Then why the hell not?”

Clark shrugged, a sick feeling of desperation gathering in his gut. “I thought as long as I didn’t admit it to you, actually say the words, I’d be safe.”

A gaze of incredulous dismay, followed quickly by anger. “You really think I’d have hurt you? Made you my own personal lab rat? Or turned you over to my father for something even worse?”

“I didn’t know. I was too scared to find out.” Clark suppressed a startled, hysterical urge to chuckle at his own words. A hint of surprise in Lex’s gaze, and Clark drew another quick breath before it all came tumbling out. “Everyone who knows about me found out by accident. Pete, Chloe... I swear I didn’t tell them. Well, wait, I did tell Pete, but only after he found my ship. It was kind of on impulse, and afterward I was sorry, because Pete never did handle it well. He got all stressed out, and took advantage of me. It was too big a burden. Alicia knew about me, too, and she’s the one who told Chloe.” He reached out to put a hand on Lex’s arm, and when he did, Lex looked up at him and reached down to free himself. Stung, Clark let his hand drop to his side.

“It was never about deliberately letting everyone else in and leaving you out. Lex, you’re right. I think I knew deep down, all along, that you knew. If you’d just said so, instead of always trying to get me to spill, it’d have been easier. Because I just couldn’t do it, come out with it like that. I was too well trained.”

Clark, aware he was babbling like crazy, stopped to breathe and to give Lex a chance to answer. And waited. Lex was looking off over his shoulder as though at something in the distance.

“I just couldn’t,” Clark repeated., his throat thick with unshed tears. “But, you’re right: I should have.”

Lex seem to tire all of a sudden. His shoulders sagged, his head drooped with discouragement, and Clark, though he yearned to touch, to yank him into an embrace, stayed motionless. But he just had to say it:

“Lex, a lot of your schemes, your investigations, turn out badly, you have to admit. It’s not always bad to have an inquiring mind, but your track record for disasters is pretty good.”

Lex sighed. “My plans don’t always unfold the way I envision, Clark. I was so sure they’d be in no danger today. Your parents, Lana. If there’d been any doubt in my mind, I’d never have done it. Don’t you know that, Clark?”

“No, Lex, I can’t say I do. I’m never sure what you’ll do.”

“That makes two of us,” said Lex. “Me, always battling the darkness inside, trying to keep it at bay, from engulfing, obliterating what’s left of any goodness in me. If I understood you better, Clark, perhaps I could be a better friend. And if you understood me…well, I don’t understand myself, so maybe I shouldn’t say that. Or wish that on anyone.”

Clark glanced down at the floor, took a deep breath, and then looked Lex square in the eye. “If I understood you better, maybe I could be a better friend, too.”

Lex studied him as though wondering if his words were sincere. Clark held his gaze, unafraid. After a moment, Lex shrugged, his shoulders straightened, and he nodded, and seemed to relax.

Clark lifted his jaw, stood proudly. “So, where do we go from here?” He said it so it sounded like just enough of a challenge to make Lex want to take it on.

Lex looked as though a big part of him really didn’t want to go through this yet again. “You tell me, Clark.”

“How about we start by trying to be better friends to each other? And really giving it some effort this time.”

Lex thought a moment. “Sounds like a good beginning,” he agreed. “One more fresh start. I think our friendship deserves it.”

“So do I.” Clark smiled, relieved. He extended his right hand. “Friends?”

Lex thinned his lips, then reached to clasp the hand with a nod. “Friends.”

They gazed at each other for a long moment before Clark reeled him in. And all at once, Lex’s fingers were roaming through his mussed hair and all over his chest, arms and body as he held him tight. Lex was muttering in a dusky whisper, over and over:

“Without you, I have nothing. Am nothing.”

“Lex.” And there were no more words, even for Lex, for whom words were the eternal defense, spun into threads of magic. Clark tasted blood again as they kissed, collided,felt Lex’s body, taut, slight in his arms, mold into his own.

Lex’s shoulders shook. Worried, Clark frowned, and opened his eyes. Was he crying? But no, it was laughter, brimming over Lex’s lips, warming his.

Lex pulled back, looking somehow happier than he ever had. Clark broke into a startled grin as Lex reached up to brush a lock of sweat-drenched hair from Clark’s forehead, and Clark leaned into his touch, savoring the sensation of cool, slim fingers on his brow. He wanted to grab Lex’s hand and nibble on his fingers, but resisted that impulse, contenting himself with another hug.

Incredulous, he murmured, “What are you laughing at?”

“Super-whining. I’ve been familiar for a long time with that particular power of yours.”

“You heard that?” Clark felt a blush coming on, and tried to suppress it.

“Yeah. But tonight, I just want to make you scream.”

Clark grinned and slid an arm around Lex’s waist. Lex felt so much more natural in his embrace than Lana had. “I love you,” he whispered. “And I hope you do.” He pulled him closer for another kiss.

His lip still stung, but he really didn’t give a damn. This was worth it.

***

Sex was so much better without powers than it ever was with them. Or maybe it was the quarrel.

Maybe they should fight more often.

Clark awoke in a tangle of limbs, fine wool blankets and silk coverlets. Lex looked so young as he slept, stretched on his stomach, one arm over Clark’s chest.

Turning on his side toward Lex, Clark smiled, satisfied and content. His bruised lip cracked and bled, staining Lex’s fine silk pillowcase. But this time he welcomed the pain. And he knew Lex didn’t care about cleaning bills.

Lex’s eyes opened slowly, as though he sensed Clark’s scrutiny even in sleep. “Clark.”

No sound more wonderful than when his name was the first word on Lex’s lips when he awoke, voice thick and husky with sleep. Always made him hard again right away. Clark grinned, shifted and groped under the sheet for Lex’s hand. Lex sat up, pulling the covers up to his waist to cover partially his nakedness. Clark reached up to trail a finger down his side deliberately trying for a ticklish chuckle. Lex looked down at Clark with a small, fond smile, a yawn, and a stretch.

“Mouth okay?” Lex wondered, touching the corner of Clark’s upper lip with his ring finger. Clark nodded and, following his impulse of last night, gave the finger a lick and a little nip. Lex pulled it away with a muttered curse.

“So, your folks must be wondering where you are. And Lana. Better get up and out of here.”

“They can wait,” Clark replied. “At least until after we shower and have breakfast.”

“Hungry?”

“Yeah,” said Clark. The way Lex said it, so low and husky, made Clark think he somehow wasn’t talking about Eggs Benedict, bagels or jam.

Still, Lex made no move to get up or pull him closer. He lay still, but when he glanced over at Clark, he had that speculative glint in his eyes once again. Speculation—and awe. “So, what happened? To your strength, those…powers…”

Clark’s smile faded. He lay back and stared at the ceiling. “They’re gone.”

“Gone…” repeated Lex, as though in disbelief.

“Gone,” said Clark once again. “So, what I want to know is: does that change the way you feel about me?”

“What do you think?”

Clark bit back the retort that threatened to spring to his lips. For someone who was tired of questions answered with questions--Instead, he said:

“Lex, I think this. We can’t know what will happen tomorrow. In the future, whatever. But I know when we face it together, I want it to be as friends, not enemies.”

Lex studied him for a moment, then looked up and off toward the window, where the warm fall sun shone through the curtains. Clark followed his gaze. It was shaping up to be a beautiful October Thursday, reminiscent of that day four years ago when their lives, their worlds had collided, never to be the same. “I want the same thing, Clark.”

And the way Lex said his name, husky and thick with sleep, just made Clark want to jump him again. Immediately. But he held off, as Lex was already turning back the covers and reaching for his white satin bathrobe, so Clark opted for a drowsy question instead.

“Think we can do it?”

“That remains to be seen.” Lex stood and drew on the robe, tying it loosely into a knot. “It won’t be an easy road.”

“I know. But we can try.” Clark rolled out of bed. He didn’t have a robe, so he just stood, naked and proud, savoring Lex’s up and down scan and the light that came into his eyes. “I’m not giving up hope, and neither should you.”

Lex nodded slowly. “We can try. Who knows: maybe this time we’ll succeed. And, whether we do or not, no matter how much we quarrel or how different we are, we’ll always matter to each other.”

“No doubt of that. To understanding, then. For both of us.”

_________________

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