SV Fic: Drunk
Nov. 18th, 2003 08:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
out_thereTitle: Drunk
Fandom: SV
Pairing: Lex/Clark
Summary: With alcoholic help, the boys get a clue.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to DC. No profit being made here, folks.
Notes: Written for the 2003 Booze Fuh-Q-Fest. Futurefic.
Drunk
Monday and Tuesday had been bad. Wednesday was an absolute nightmare, and Thursday's edition had nearly needed to be reprinted twice. By the time Friday came along, Clark was ready to declare war on humanity in general, and on the citizens of Metropolis specifically.
To Lois' credit, she had realised this and kept her distance for most of the day. Clark was praying to a god he didn't believe in that she'd just stay away. Even someone who could get his Chinese takeaway in China had some limits.
"Clark?"
There was proof that his prayers had been in vain. He looked up at Lois and waited for her to continue.
"Busy?"
"I'm busy enough." Technically, it was true. By Lois' standards, since he wasn't pulling his hair out and working on three stories at once, he obviously had plenty of time on his hands.
"C'mon Smallville, you're spending the night with me," Lois said as she grabbed his arm with one hand, his coat with the other, and attempted to pull and push him out the door.
That phrase was as misleading as the rest of Lois. The tailored suits and tall heels didn't prepare you for her determination to get the story first. Warm eyes, dark lips and a husky laugh had tempted many a politician and business tycoon into sharing secrets that they shouldn't have.
Somehow he wasn't surprised that his 'night with Lois' turned out to be a stake-out. In the movies, stake-outs seemed glamorous, waiting for the bad guy to give the heroes the clues they needed. In Clark’s experience, they were hours of compromising over radio stations and Lois' own version of Truth or Dare, otherwise known as 'If You Know What's Good for You, You'll Tell Me the Truth'. In her defence, Lois was fair about it. If he was honest, she would be too.
Clark considered himself lucky that she generally considered it a waste of time to ask about where he'd last disappeared to.
"So, any questions, Smallville?"
"Hmmm... Ever twisted your ankle on those heels?" From the way Lois hung her head, he knew he'd got her. He'd always wondered how she could keep her balance in those shoes. He'd seen her sprinting in them, more than once, and had been suitably impressed.
"Once. In the middle of a press conference a couple years ago. It was about the Mayor's plan to improve the roads and sidewalks in Metropolis. I stepped forward to ask a question about funding, Judy Morris pushed me from behind, and I went sprawling in front of the Mayor's podium. My ankle swelled up this big," Lois used both hands to make a circle the size of a large potato, "with an ugly purple bruise." Lois stopped for a minute, then continued in a very self-satisfied tone, "A month later, Judy fell face first into the sidewalk, in the middle of a live feed. She didn't even see it coming."
"Lois!" There was no doubt that she liked to shock people, and he fell for it every time.
"Keep your small-town values for a small town, Kent. In the big city, people get what they deserve. It's karma." She flicked her hair back out of her face, and continued, "And sometimes karma just needs a little helping hand."
A creaking noise from the alley beside them stopped their conversation. Lois grabbed her notepad and a small compact camera from the dashboard. Clark cheated, and used his x-ray vision to see through the light rain. Just long enough to make out the small skeleton of a cat beside the dustbins. No doors opening or closing; just a false alarm. For a while, the car remained quiet with the sound of the raindrops splashing on the car roof above them.
Ten minutes later, Lois returned the notepad and camera to the dashboard and started slowly stretching her neck from side to side. "So..."
Clark has spent enough time around Lois to be able to hear the unspoken question. "Your turn."
"First time you got drunk in Metropolis." She must have sensed his hesitation. Spending a lot of time around each other worked both ways. "If you're about to tell me you haven't got drunk here, then I'm taking you out drinking. It's the first thing I'm doing, after we wrap up this story."
The idea of going out drinking with Lois was rather attractive but unnecessary. "First time?"
Lois nodded and shifted in her seat, stretching those lean legs.
"I was seventeen."
"Ooh, illegal. I knew there had to be a spark of fun somewhere under that country wholesomeness," Lois crowed, as if it was the latest gossip about LuthorCorp. "So, used a fake ID to get into some bar? Or was this just a frat party?"
"It was a club. A friend took me out, got me the fake ID." He wasn't going to tell her that the friend in question had been Lex Luthor, or that the club itself was the kind of place that knew Lex so well they wouldn't have looked twice at him or his almost-real drivers’ license.
"So? What did you drink?"
"Apple martinis, actually," he replied, and heard Lois' half-choked chuckle.
"What happened?"
"Not much. Drunken dancing. Made a fool out myself on the dance floor." Lex had introduced him to his favourite cocktails and Clark had ended up kissing him, just because he wanted to.
"I can just imagine. I've seen you dance sober, Smallville, and that's nothing to write home about."
He shrugged off Lois’ comment. There was no real sting to the words, just Lois being herself. "Woke up feeling terrible the next morning, with a very nasty hangover."
"I bet you weren't so happy with your friend then."
"No. The friendship didn't really recover from that..." It's said with a smile, but from Lois' sharp look she saw through it.
"Yeah, I've had a few of those drunk nights too. You say a few things you regret, and then it's hard to take them back once everyone's sober." Lois shrugged, and leaned over to look at her watch in the light of the streetlamp. "It's nearly 2am. This is officially a dead end, Kent. How 'bout I give you a lift home?"
He heard the disappointment in her tone, but was too tired to convince her to stay. "Thanks," he said, and Lois started the car, driving towards Clark's apartment. "Could you drop me back at the office?"
"How come?"
"I left my umbrella there."
Lois raised an finely shaped eyebrow, but started the car without further comment.
"Thanks."
Clark found himself staring out the window, watching the dark streets pass by and thinking about the feel of Lex's mouth. Those kisses had been deep and hungry, exchanged under flashing strobe lights in the middle of a dance floor. Lex's mouth had tasted liquor sweet.
Lois stopped the car, and it came as a bit of a shock. "Here you are, Smallville. I'll see you Monday."
He looked up and realised they were outside the Daily Planet building, and only a ten minute walk from his apartment. Getting out of the car, he replied, "Monday morning, bright and early." Lois' answering groan summarised her feelings about Monday mornings, but she smiled and took off, barely under the speed limit.
He stepped into the foyer and smiled at the security guards. He showed them his pass, explaining about his umbrella. They gave him the same disbelieving look that Lois had, but let him go up. It wasn’t until the elevator started moving that he remembered why he always took the stairs. It was a running joke that the Daily Planet was the fastest to get the scoop, but had the slowest elevator in Metropolis.
Watching the numbers slowly light up and fade away again, he can’t help thinking about what he remembered from that night. Second floor, third floor, and he could remember dancing, and kissing, and Lex's whispered suggestion of leaving, of going back to Lex's apartment. Fifth floor. He remembered thinking that Lex's cars were all really low, too close to the ground, awkward to get into. Eighth floor. There are hazy sense memories of that night, the feel of Lex's scar under his tongue, of Lex's body pressed so close against his that he worried about crushing him, and the sensation of Lex's short, manicured fingernails scratching across his back. Tenth floor. The next thing he remembered, with any clarity, was waking up in Lex's bed and realising that invulnerability did not extend to hangovers.
When he asked Lex what had happened, Lex had told him that he'd passed out in the car and that Clark had a pretty good tolerance of alcohol, for a kid. Somehow, he'd expected that Lex would know what to do, would know that what Clark really wanted was for Lex to kiss him again. Fourteenth floor. Instead, Lex had made it clear that it had only been an alcohol induced mistake, but there was no need for it to get in the way of their friendship.
Looking back on it, Clark realised that their friendship had started to dissolve that morning. From then on, Lex was always one step away from him, and made sure not to hold eye contact for too long. Seventeenth floor. High school became busy, LexCorp became demanding, and neither of them had time to spend afternoons together playing pool, or evenings watching the stars. Twentieth floor.
The friendship became a quick greeting when they passed on the street, or saw each other at the Talon, but even that faded eventually. When Lex moved to Metropolis, Clark called to say goodbye, and only got his answering machine. He hadn't been surprised that Lex never returned his call. Twenty-first floor.
When the elevator doors finally opened to the Daily Planet’s office, Clark was relieved just to get away from the old memories. He grabbed his umbrella, and then dashed down the stairs at a slightly faster-than-human speed. Unsurprisingly, he beat the elevator down.
***
Sometimes he forgot that 2am on a Friday night was still a busy time in the centre of Metropolis. There was still a part of him that expected everyone to be home by 10pm. He guessed it was just a natural result of growing up on a farm. Rain pelted down on the grey sidewalks. The storm had been expected all day, but people still dashed along the road, newspapers held above their heads as temporary umbrellas. Lois teased Clark about always bringing an umbrella when rain was forecast, but Clark thought that it was better to be prepared. Better safe than sorry, and sometimes, it paid off.
Stepping over the puddles in the uneven sidewalk, Clark turned the corner that brought his apartment building into sight. Lois would have, and had, called it a 'decrepit slum', but Clark preferred to think of it as 'run down' and 'a little shabby'. This area of Metropolis wasn't as dangerous and hopeless as the media made it out to be, and it was nice and close for him to get to the Daily Planet building. It was convenient and cheap, even if he'd had to explain that to his parents several times.
The sleek, black convertible sitting outside his apartment got more than a few looks as people passed by. If it hadn't been pouring down rain, the car would have gathered a small crowd of spectators, wondering who owned it and trying inventive ways to avoid setting off the car alarm.
As Clark walked past the car, the number plate quickly revealed who the car belonged to. Lex Luthor. A dripping wet Lex Luthor, to be precise. He sat in the shelter of Clark's doorstep, silver keys flashing as he tossed them from hand to hand. As Clark approached, Lex looked up at him and said, "Isn't it a bit late for you to be getting home from work?"
"I was on a stake out," Clark said, almost automatically. 'Tracking down a lead', 'chasing a story' or 'on a stake out' were always good reasons why he wasn't at home and wasn't at the Daily Planet. They tended to explain away all those little details of where he could be, what he was doing, and generally, nobody asked any further questions.
"I hope you're getting paid overtime," Lex said casually.
That was bizarre. Lex showing up at his apartment building was odd. Lex sitting outside, and apparently waiting for Clark, was definitely strange. But Lex talking to him as if they were still friends, as if this was an everyday occurrence, was bordering on the surreal.
"Not really," and Clark realised that his social skills really hadn't improved after high school. Still, he thought that he was taking the whole Lex turning up out of the blue thing pretty well. Lex raised his hand to Clark, and the old reflexes kicked in again as he took it. He helped Lex to stand up, and noticed that Lex was swaying. He smelled of scotch.
Clark had seen Lex drunk before. Many times. He'd seen it often enough to know that Lex drank according to his mood. He was casual and mellow with wine over dinner, and only drank champagne at galas, openings, and other social gatherings that he wished he didn't have to attend. Lex at his hardest, most 'don't fuck with me' mood was normally accompanied by straight vodka, and then Lex would drink ridiculous amounts just to prove that he could. At clubs, when Lex wanted to party and have a good time, it was always the sweetest of cocktails, brightly coloured combinations that tasted more like sweets or milkshakes than anything vaguely adult.
When Lex drank scotch, it always came from a bottle older than him. It was drunk alone, in the half dark, and always after another disappointment, another betrayal, or another failure. Lex drinking scotch was Lex brooding over mistakes. Lex drunk on scotch was not a good thing, especially not in the early hours of the morning.
"Lex, why are you here?" Clark tried to sound friendly, and only a little concerned, instead of sounding like someone who was panicking and hearing 'Danger, Will Robinson' inside his head. He wasn't sure if it worked.
"Wanted to talk to a friend." Lex turned towards Clark as he spoke, and swayed enough that he almost overbalanced.
Clark wrapped an arm around Lex to steady him, and said, "A friend that you haven't seen in years? Somehow, I don't see the incredible need to suddenly drop in." So, not only had Clark's social skills not improved much, he was also starting to pout and sound petulant. Next he'd start whining about his lack of a love life... which probably wouldn't be a good thing to talk about with Lex anyway.
Lex stepped away from him slightly, dislodging the arm around his waist and leaned with his back against the door, effectively trapping Clark on his own doorstep. He'd have to go through Lex to enter and the heavy rain behind him prevented his exit. "I never said you weren't my friend, Clark," Lex said, glancing off to the side, and it was true. Lex hadn't said that. When Clark had asked, Lex had said, "Of course we're friends, Clark," and the smooth, cold tone of Lex's voice had made it clear that they weren't.
Clark stood there, and waited for Lex to continue. All in all, it was a strange way to see Lex. No jacket, no tie, and dark shoes that squelched slightly as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. There was a pair of dark slacks, wet and clinging, that probably cost more than Clark had made in the last three months, and a light shirt that could have been blue, grey or violet when dry, but was now soaked and almost translucent.
Lex was standing there, ignoring the fact that his clothes were dripping, one hand in his pocket and one playing with a key, turning it over and over. Lex was staring at the key in his hand, as if he'd forgotten why he was here at all. Considering his current state, it was possible that Lex had forgotten.
Clark cleared his throat, and Lex looked up at him, then glanced away and nodded to himself. "Lex...?" This was getting ridiculous. He was not going to stand outside during a rainstorm just because Lex was too drunk to remember to move. Lex opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and shoved the key into Clark's hands.
"You want me to drive you home?" Sure, Lex had staff that could do that, but it wasn't such an odd request. Lex's apartment was in the middle of the city, and it would take Clark a while to get back, but it would solve the problem of getting Lex out of his doorway. He placed a hand on Lex's shoulder and started to lead him towards the car, but Lex pulled away.
Lex shook his head and said, "Keep it."
"A spare key to your car. How useful." It was nice to see that he'd managed to pick up some of Chloe's sarcasm over the years.
"No. I mean, keep the car. As a present." Clark knew that a drunk Lex was not as eloquent as a sober Lex, but normally he at least made sense.
"Didn't we already go through this back home? With the truck, remember?" And they had. Several times. "I thought that you understood. I don't need a present for saving your life. A thank you is fine," Clark said, thinking that in Metropolis, even a thank you was rare. More often it was a case of 'how did you do that' or 'I can't believe that you just...'. He'd learnt it was best to be quick, and then call the appropriate services.
"It's not," Lex paused, and shook his head slowly. "It's not a thank you gift. It's a congratulations..." Which would make more sense if something great had happened recently. Or, really, if anything of note had happened recently...
Maybe it would be best to very slowly try to figure out what in the world Lex was talking about. "And why are you congratulating me?"
"I heard." If Lex hadn’t been drunk, Clark would have suspected him of being purposely obtuse. Clark took a deep breath and tried not get annoyed.
"You heard what, Lex?"
"That... you..." As a reply, that left a lot to be desired. It would help if Lex would at least look at him, instead of focusing his attention on everything but Clark. It was like senior year all over again. Trying to talk to Lex and knowing that whatever he was thinking about, it wasn't you or this conversation.
Lex pulled a damp, folded piece of newspaper out of his pocket, and handed it to Clark. "I heard."
Clark unfolded Lex's neat, crisp creases, realising from the font and layout that it was a page from the Daily Planet. The second he saw the headline, he had a sudden burst of understanding. 'Journalist Duo to Wed'. He briefly wondered if resisting the urge to laugh was another superpower. "You do know that this wasn't meant to be published, right?"
Lex nodded, started to tilt sideways, and then righted himself.
"Lex, it's not a serious article."
"Oh." Lex was staring at a spot just over Clark's shoulder, eyes slightly glassy, and Clark wondered how many Clark Kents he was seeing. "But..."
"It was a practical joke for Lois' birthday. Trust me Lex, Lois would marry you before she'd even consider me."
After a few moments of just blinking at him, Lex wearily asked, "What about the car?"
"I wouldn't have anywhere to park it." He handed the key back to Lex and had to remind himself that he wouldn't be able to afford the upkeep of a car like that. Even if it was a gift. Or an incredibly expensive, wonderful piece of machinery that was sitting there, pretending to be a gift. What was it with Lex and giving away automobiles?
"Right," Lex said, as he slowly, with a great deal of concentration, put the key back in his pocket. "In that case..." Lex pulled himself up from his slouch against the door and made the useless gesture of pushing Clark aside.
"You can't just leave, Lex."
"Why not?" Narrowed grey eyes looked up in a determined expression that Clark knew too well. It meant that Lex was angry with himself, and just itching to take it out on someone.
"For one thing, you're way too drunk to be driving." It was possibly smarter to just let Lex go, but there was a part of Clark that bristled at the idea that Lex could drop in whenever he wanted to.
"Clark, I've made a fool out of myself and I'll regret it in the morning. Right now, I'm drunk enough not to care about it too much." The warning was obvious.
"You can't just show up out of the blue, and then disappear again."
"In case you haven't heard, Clark, I'm Lex Luthor. I can do anything I damn well please."
"It's not fair..." which just made Lex laugh. And this was why he didn't like Lex drunk on scotch. It brought out the cruelty in him; made him push just to see you bleed. "Lex, it's my home."
"So?"
"So you don't have the right to just come over." The problem was that Clark wasn't about to be pushed around. Not by some ex-friend who felt he had the god-given right to demand or ignore you whenever he pleased.
"Why should that make a difference?" If Lex had been sober, this would have been a quiet conversation, full of hushed tones and icy silences. Far more effective, far more hurtful, than this obvious posturing and snarling anger.
"Because it's fair, because it's right. Because you should, Lex," And, most basically of all, "Because we used to be friends."
That made Lex laugh, a bitter condescending chuckle. "I think the operative phrase Clark, is 'used to'. Somehow, I doubt that actually still applies."
The malice in Lex's tone was enough to make Clark stand aside and watch Lex walk unsteadily down the street, and stop outside the Porsche. As Clark turned and walked through his own doorway, he overheard Lex fumbling with his cell phone and calling for his driver.
***
He let himself into the building, and took the narrow staircase up to the first floor. He wandered into the bedroom, kicked off his shoes and stripped out of the cheap suit, then crawled into bed. Then found himself wide awake.
Clark tossed and turned, and found that for a fairly new bed, it still wasn’t very soothing. He just couldn’t get comfortable. He wasn’t really hungry, but he got up and made himself a sandwich anyway. Heated up a glass of milk, and took it back to bed with him. It was what his father would do when he couldn’t sleep.
Sitting in the harsh glow of his alarm clock display, he toyed with his crust, and had to concentrate to hear the music coming from the club a few blocks away. He didn’t like late nights and early mornings. The city was always too quiet. It never seemed natural.
It also wasn’t fair. He shouldn’t still be awake. Sure, he could go without sleep for a couple of nights; he’d tried it in college and knew that he didn’t have quite the same need for sleep as other people, but he’d already had a few sleepless nights this week. He didn’t want another one.
It was Lex’s fault.
What right did Lex have to just show up? None. But he did it because he could and now Clark couldn’t get to sleep. It was unnerving having someone just show up at your doorstep. Dripping wet. Standing close to smell the alcohol on his skin...
Obviously, the old lust hadn’t gone either.
He put the plate back in the kitchen and tried to get some sleep. By the time the bright red numbers had clicked over to 4.13, Clark had become restless and decided to do something about it.
***
Less than ten minutes later, he arrived at Lexcorp Tower. The security guards looked only slightly less bored than those at the Daily Planet. Clark gave them his name, resolving not to leave without being allowed upstairs. He was surprised when the guards simply checked his name against a list, a very short list, and told him to go on up.
The Lexcorp elevator obviously was designed with speed in mind. Clark reached the top level quickly and stepped out into Lex’s penthouse. He hadn’t seen it before, but there were small touches of Lex in the hall. Lex’s briefcase dropped near the doorway, a pair of wet shoes, and on the table a few small collectibles he remembered from Smallville. Lex was nowhere to be seen.
Clark walked through the hall and followed the shifting light to a fire burning in Lex’s den. Lex would be one of the few people to live in a high-rise and have a fireplace. There was an empty tumbler sitting on the sideboard, and Clark hoped that it was just left over from earlier in the night.
"Lex?" Clark called out, and then saw Lex almost dozing in the huge leather chair. Half-asleep, Lex blinked at him for a few moments, before actually speaking to him.
"What are you doing here?" Lex sounded sleepy and still a bit drunk. Clark decided to push his advantage.
"Why did you come to my place tonight?"
"I thought that you... You know why." Lex waved his hand about vaguely as he got out of the chair, and walked towards the sideboard.
"Lex, you might not like communicating in actual words, but it works pretty well for the rest of us." Clark said, and noted the narrowing of Lex’s eyes. Good, he could work with anger. "You came over because you thought I was getting married. Fine. Do it the normal way and send an impersonal card. Don’t come over so drunk you can barely stand, and try to - I don’t even know what you were trying to do."
"I was trying to act like your friend, Clark." Each word was ground out, so obviously Lex had sobered up enough to gain some amount of control back.
"What you were acting like is an obsessive stalker! Or a jealous teenager with a crush. It's not..." It took a moment for Clark’s mind to catch up with his mouth, to see Lex turn his head slightly, cheeks colouring. He would have sworn that nothing could have made Lex blush. Obviously, he was wrong. "You’re jealous? Of Lois?"
"There’s no need to sound quite so sceptical."
He hadn’t meant to sound so disbelieving but it was just another thing that made no sense at all. "Why the hell didn’t you say something? Or do something?"
"Like what?" Lex’s jaw was clenched, and Lex has never been happy about being forced to explain his actions.
"Like... anything, Lex," Clark said in a softer tone of voice, "Surely you must have known. There were years in Smallville when I would have done anything just to know you were interested. You only had to ask. I would have been yours in a heartbeat."
Lex looked away, and Clark wondered if Lex had realised back then. When he looked back on it, he had done everything short of asking Lex to go steady with him, but Lex had always smiled, and flirted, and pulled back.
"I wasn't going to seduce a child, Clark."
"I wasn't a child."
"You were a teenager." Lex spoke softly, sounding discouraged and defeated, which just wasn't right, "And I... wasn't."
"I'm not a teenager now," Clark murmured as he leaned in, and kissed Lex.
The kiss was strangely familiar. Mouths devouring each other, hands skating over fabric, feeling the warmth of the flesh beneath. It wasn't the first time Clark had kissed Lex. The first time had been at that club, a fake ID in his pocket, but it hadn’t included tasting the sharp burn of scotch on Lex's lips. Lex's mouth still tasted of alcohol but Clark wasn't an inexperienced teenager anymore. And when Lex tried to pull back, he followed him, running his fingers over smooth skin, under the damp cotton of his shirt. He felt Lex gasp, and pressed his advantage, pushing his thigh between Lex's and pulling Lex's body tight against his.
Lex made a low sound in the back of his throat, something between a growl and a groan and Clark felt the fingers tugging in his hair, changing the angle of the kiss. Making it deeper, hungrier. Lex’s demanding tongue in his mouth was a contrast to the slow grinding against his hip and the hands clenched around his shoulders.
When Clark pulled back, they were both slightly breathless. Considering he knew that he could hold his breath indefinitely, it said a good deal about how well Lex kissed when drunk. Not that Lex had stopped kissing him, just changed locations.
There were deliberate wet kisses against his neck, and confident hands pushing up his t-shirt and playing with the buttons on his jeans. Tongue, lips, and the occasional sharp sting of teeth, and then a sultry whisper into his ear, "Do you want to come upstairs?"
He looked down at Lex, then dove back in for another kiss. Lex's hands traced over Clark's sides as his tongue mapped Clark's mouth. Clark heard his own low moan, and realised that as good as this was, it could be better lying down. And naked.
Clark tried to think again, "Upstairs?"
Lex nodded and stepped towards the hallway, then ran his eyes down Clark's body and licked his lips. Lex waited for him to follow, but Clark hesitated. "Coming, Clark?"
Clark was certain his libido would hate him for asking, but... "Sure you won’t regret this in the morning?"
The smile he received was pure Lex, bright, promising, and just a little dangerous. Lex reached out and took his hand, and said, "Why don’t you ask me in the morning?"
That was a challenge he couldn’t resist. Looking at Lex’s fingers wrapped around his own, he followed Lex and hoped that Lex’s hangover tomorrow morning wouldn’t be too brutal. Sometimes karma could be a bitch.
Fandom: SV
Pairing: Lex/Clark
Summary: With alcoholic help, the boys get a clue.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to DC. No profit being made here, folks.
Notes: Written for the 2003 Booze Fuh-Q-Fest. Futurefic.
Drunk
Monday and Tuesday had been bad. Wednesday was an absolute nightmare, and Thursday's edition had nearly needed to be reprinted twice. By the time Friday came along, Clark was ready to declare war on humanity in general, and on the citizens of Metropolis specifically.
To Lois' credit, she had realised this and kept her distance for most of the day. Clark was praying to a god he didn't believe in that she'd just stay away. Even someone who could get his Chinese takeaway in China had some limits.
"Clark?"
There was proof that his prayers had been in vain. He looked up at Lois and waited for her to continue.
"Busy?"
"I'm busy enough." Technically, it was true. By Lois' standards, since he wasn't pulling his hair out and working on three stories at once, he obviously had plenty of time on his hands.
"C'mon Smallville, you're spending the night with me," Lois said as she grabbed his arm with one hand, his coat with the other, and attempted to pull and push him out the door.
That phrase was as misleading as the rest of Lois. The tailored suits and tall heels didn't prepare you for her determination to get the story first. Warm eyes, dark lips and a husky laugh had tempted many a politician and business tycoon into sharing secrets that they shouldn't have.
Somehow he wasn't surprised that his 'night with Lois' turned out to be a stake-out. In the movies, stake-outs seemed glamorous, waiting for the bad guy to give the heroes the clues they needed. In Clark’s experience, they were hours of compromising over radio stations and Lois' own version of Truth or Dare, otherwise known as 'If You Know What's Good for You, You'll Tell Me the Truth'. In her defence, Lois was fair about it. If he was honest, she would be too.
Clark considered himself lucky that she generally considered it a waste of time to ask about where he'd last disappeared to.
"So, any questions, Smallville?"
"Hmmm... Ever twisted your ankle on those heels?" From the way Lois hung her head, he knew he'd got her. He'd always wondered how she could keep her balance in those shoes. He'd seen her sprinting in them, more than once, and had been suitably impressed.
"Once. In the middle of a press conference a couple years ago. It was about the Mayor's plan to improve the roads and sidewalks in Metropolis. I stepped forward to ask a question about funding, Judy Morris pushed me from behind, and I went sprawling in front of the Mayor's podium. My ankle swelled up this big," Lois used both hands to make a circle the size of a large potato, "with an ugly purple bruise." Lois stopped for a minute, then continued in a very self-satisfied tone, "A month later, Judy fell face first into the sidewalk, in the middle of a live feed. She didn't even see it coming."
"Lois!" There was no doubt that she liked to shock people, and he fell for it every time.
"Keep your small-town values for a small town, Kent. In the big city, people get what they deserve. It's karma." She flicked her hair back out of her face, and continued, "And sometimes karma just needs a little helping hand."
A creaking noise from the alley beside them stopped their conversation. Lois grabbed her notepad and a small compact camera from the dashboard. Clark cheated, and used his x-ray vision to see through the light rain. Just long enough to make out the small skeleton of a cat beside the dustbins. No doors opening or closing; just a false alarm. For a while, the car remained quiet with the sound of the raindrops splashing on the car roof above them.
Ten minutes later, Lois returned the notepad and camera to the dashboard and started slowly stretching her neck from side to side. "So..."
Clark has spent enough time around Lois to be able to hear the unspoken question. "Your turn."
"First time you got drunk in Metropolis." She must have sensed his hesitation. Spending a lot of time around each other worked both ways. "If you're about to tell me you haven't got drunk here, then I'm taking you out drinking. It's the first thing I'm doing, after we wrap up this story."
The idea of going out drinking with Lois was rather attractive but unnecessary. "First time?"
Lois nodded and shifted in her seat, stretching those lean legs.
"I was seventeen."
"Ooh, illegal. I knew there had to be a spark of fun somewhere under that country wholesomeness," Lois crowed, as if it was the latest gossip about LuthorCorp. "So, used a fake ID to get into some bar? Or was this just a frat party?"
"It was a club. A friend took me out, got me the fake ID." He wasn't going to tell her that the friend in question had been Lex Luthor, or that the club itself was the kind of place that knew Lex so well they wouldn't have looked twice at him or his almost-real drivers’ license.
"So? What did you drink?"
"Apple martinis, actually," he replied, and heard Lois' half-choked chuckle.
"What happened?"
"Not much. Drunken dancing. Made a fool out myself on the dance floor." Lex had introduced him to his favourite cocktails and Clark had ended up kissing him, just because he wanted to.
"I can just imagine. I've seen you dance sober, Smallville, and that's nothing to write home about."
He shrugged off Lois’ comment. There was no real sting to the words, just Lois being herself. "Woke up feeling terrible the next morning, with a very nasty hangover."
"I bet you weren't so happy with your friend then."
"No. The friendship didn't really recover from that..." It's said with a smile, but from Lois' sharp look she saw through it.
"Yeah, I've had a few of those drunk nights too. You say a few things you regret, and then it's hard to take them back once everyone's sober." Lois shrugged, and leaned over to look at her watch in the light of the streetlamp. "It's nearly 2am. This is officially a dead end, Kent. How 'bout I give you a lift home?"
He heard the disappointment in her tone, but was too tired to convince her to stay. "Thanks," he said, and Lois started the car, driving towards Clark's apartment. "Could you drop me back at the office?"
"How come?"
"I left my umbrella there."
Lois raised an finely shaped eyebrow, but started the car without further comment.
"Thanks."
Clark found himself staring out the window, watching the dark streets pass by and thinking about the feel of Lex's mouth. Those kisses had been deep and hungry, exchanged under flashing strobe lights in the middle of a dance floor. Lex's mouth had tasted liquor sweet.
Lois stopped the car, and it came as a bit of a shock. "Here you are, Smallville. I'll see you Monday."
He looked up and realised they were outside the Daily Planet building, and only a ten minute walk from his apartment. Getting out of the car, he replied, "Monday morning, bright and early." Lois' answering groan summarised her feelings about Monday mornings, but she smiled and took off, barely under the speed limit.
He stepped into the foyer and smiled at the security guards. He showed them his pass, explaining about his umbrella. They gave him the same disbelieving look that Lois had, but let him go up. It wasn’t until the elevator started moving that he remembered why he always took the stairs. It was a running joke that the Daily Planet was the fastest to get the scoop, but had the slowest elevator in Metropolis.
Watching the numbers slowly light up and fade away again, he can’t help thinking about what he remembered from that night. Second floor, third floor, and he could remember dancing, and kissing, and Lex's whispered suggestion of leaving, of going back to Lex's apartment. Fifth floor. He remembered thinking that Lex's cars were all really low, too close to the ground, awkward to get into. Eighth floor. There are hazy sense memories of that night, the feel of Lex's scar under his tongue, of Lex's body pressed so close against his that he worried about crushing him, and the sensation of Lex's short, manicured fingernails scratching across his back. Tenth floor. The next thing he remembered, with any clarity, was waking up in Lex's bed and realising that invulnerability did not extend to hangovers.
When he asked Lex what had happened, Lex had told him that he'd passed out in the car and that Clark had a pretty good tolerance of alcohol, for a kid. Somehow, he'd expected that Lex would know what to do, would know that what Clark really wanted was for Lex to kiss him again. Fourteenth floor. Instead, Lex had made it clear that it had only been an alcohol induced mistake, but there was no need for it to get in the way of their friendship.
Looking back on it, Clark realised that their friendship had started to dissolve that morning. From then on, Lex was always one step away from him, and made sure not to hold eye contact for too long. Seventeenth floor. High school became busy, LexCorp became demanding, and neither of them had time to spend afternoons together playing pool, or evenings watching the stars. Twentieth floor.
The friendship became a quick greeting when they passed on the street, or saw each other at the Talon, but even that faded eventually. When Lex moved to Metropolis, Clark called to say goodbye, and only got his answering machine. He hadn't been surprised that Lex never returned his call. Twenty-first floor.
When the elevator doors finally opened to the Daily Planet’s office, Clark was relieved just to get away from the old memories. He grabbed his umbrella, and then dashed down the stairs at a slightly faster-than-human speed. Unsurprisingly, he beat the elevator down.
***
Sometimes he forgot that 2am on a Friday night was still a busy time in the centre of Metropolis. There was still a part of him that expected everyone to be home by 10pm. He guessed it was just a natural result of growing up on a farm. Rain pelted down on the grey sidewalks. The storm had been expected all day, but people still dashed along the road, newspapers held above their heads as temporary umbrellas. Lois teased Clark about always bringing an umbrella when rain was forecast, but Clark thought that it was better to be prepared. Better safe than sorry, and sometimes, it paid off.
Stepping over the puddles in the uneven sidewalk, Clark turned the corner that brought his apartment building into sight. Lois would have, and had, called it a 'decrepit slum', but Clark preferred to think of it as 'run down' and 'a little shabby'. This area of Metropolis wasn't as dangerous and hopeless as the media made it out to be, and it was nice and close for him to get to the Daily Planet building. It was convenient and cheap, even if he'd had to explain that to his parents several times.
The sleek, black convertible sitting outside his apartment got more than a few looks as people passed by. If it hadn't been pouring down rain, the car would have gathered a small crowd of spectators, wondering who owned it and trying inventive ways to avoid setting off the car alarm.
As Clark walked past the car, the number plate quickly revealed who the car belonged to. Lex Luthor. A dripping wet Lex Luthor, to be precise. He sat in the shelter of Clark's doorstep, silver keys flashing as he tossed them from hand to hand. As Clark approached, Lex looked up at him and said, "Isn't it a bit late for you to be getting home from work?"
"I was on a stake out," Clark said, almost automatically. 'Tracking down a lead', 'chasing a story' or 'on a stake out' were always good reasons why he wasn't at home and wasn't at the Daily Planet. They tended to explain away all those little details of where he could be, what he was doing, and generally, nobody asked any further questions.
"I hope you're getting paid overtime," Lex said casually.
That was bizarre. Lex showing up at his apartment building was odd. Lex sitting outside, and apparently waiting for Clark, was definitely strange. But Lex talking to him as if they were still friends, as if this was an everyday occurrence, was bordering on the surreal.
"Not really," and Clark realised that his social skills really hadn't improved after high school. Still, he thought that he was taking the whole Lex turning up out of the blue thing pretty well. Lex raised his hand to Clark, and the old reflexes kicked in again as he took it. He helped Lex to stand up, and noticed that Lex was swaying. He smelled of scotch.
Clark had seen Lex drunk before. Many times. He'd seen it often enough to know that Lex drank according to his mood. He was casual and mellow with wine over dinner, and only drank champagne at galas, openings, and other social gatherings that he wished he didn't have to attend. Lex at his hardest, most 'don't fuck with me' mood was normally accompanied by straight vodka, and then Lex would drink ridiculous amounts just to prove that he could. At clubs, when Lex wanted to party and have a good time, it was always the sweetest of cocktails, brightly coloured combinations that tasted more like sweets or milkshakes than anything vaguely adult.
When Lex drank scotch, it always came from a bottle older than him. It was drunk alone, in the half dark, and always after another disappointment, another betrayal, or another failure. Lex drinking scotch was Lex brooding over mistakes. Lex drunk on scotch was not a good thing, especially not in the early hours of the morning.
"Lex, why are you here?" Clark tried to sound friendly, and only a little concerned, instead of sounding like someone who was panicking and hearing 'Danger, Will Robinson' inside his head. He wasn't sure if it worked.
"Wanted to talk to a friend." Lex turned towards Clark as he spoke, and swayed enough that he almost overbalanced.
Clark wrapped an arm around Lex to steady him, and said, "A friend that you haven't seen in years? Somehow, I don't see the incredible need to suddenly drop in." So, not only had Clark's social skills not improved much, he was also starting to pout and sound petulant. Next he'd start whining about his lack of a love life... which probably wouldn't be a good thing to talk about with Lex anyway.
Lex stepped away from him slightly, dislodging the arm around his waist and leaned with his back against the door, effectively trapping Clark on his own doorstep. He'd have to go through Lex to enter and the heavy rain behind him prevented his exit. "I never said you weren't my friend, Clark," Lex said, glancing off to the side, and it was true. Lex hadn't said that. When Clark had asked, Lex had said, "Of course we're friends, Clark," and the smooth, cold tone of Lex's voice had made it clear that they weren't.
Clark stood there, and waited for Lex to continue. All in all, it was a strange way to see Lex. No jacket, no tie, and dark shoes that squelched slightly as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. There was a pair of dark slacks, wet and clinging, that probably cost more than Clark had made in the last three months, and a light shirt that could have been blue, grey or violet when dry, but was now soaked and almost translucent.
Lex was standing there, ignoring the fact that his clothes were dripping, one hand in his pocket and one playing with a key, turning it over and over. Lex was staring at the key in his hand, as if he'd forgotten why he was here at all. Considering his current state, it was possible that Lex had forgotten.
Clark cleared his throat, and Lex looked up at him, then glanced away and nodded to himself. "Lex...?" This was getting ridiculous. He was not going to stand outside during a rainstorm just because Lex was too drunk to remember to move. Lex opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and shoved the key into Clark's hands.
"You want me to drive you home?" Sure, Lex had staff that could do that, but it wasn't such an odd request. Lex's apartment was in the middle of the city, and it would take Clark a while to get back, but it would solve the problem of getting Lex out of his doorway. He placed a hand on Lex's shoulder and started to lead him towards the car, but Lex pulled away.
Lex shook his head and said, "Keep it."
"A spare key to your car. How useful." It was nice to see that he'd managed to pick up some of Chloe's sarcasm over the years.
"No. I mean, keep the car. As a present." Clark knew that a drunk Lex was not as eloquent as a sober Lex, but normally he at least made sense.
"Didn't we already go through this back home? With the truck, remember?" And they had. Several times. "I thought that you understood. I don't need a present for saving your life. A thank you is fine," Clark said, thinking that in Metropolis, even a thank you was rare. More often it was a case of 'how did you do that' or 'I can't believe that you just...'. He'd learnt it was best to be quick, and then call the appropriate services.
"It's not," Lex paused, and shook his head slowly. "It's not a thank you gift. It's a congratulations..." Which would make more sense if something great had happened recently. Or, really, if anything of note had happened recently...
Maybe it would be best to very slowly try to figure out what in the world Lex was talking about. "And why are you congratulating me?"
"I heard." If Lex hadn’t been drunk, Clark would have suspected him of being purposely obtuse. Clark took a deep breath and tried not get annoyed.
"You heard what, Lex?"
"That... you..." As a reply, that left a lot to be desired. It would help if Lex would at least look at him, instead of focusing his attention on everything but Clark. It was like senior year all over again. Trying to talk to Lex and knowing that whatever he was thinking about, it wasn't you or this conversation.
Lex pulled a damp, folded piece of newspaper out of his pocket, and handed it to Clark. "I heard."
Clark unfolded Lex's neat, crisp creases, realising from the font and layout that it was a page from the Daily Planet. The second he saw the headline, he had a sudden burst of understanding. 'Journalist Duo to Wed'. He briefly wondered if resisting the urge to laugh was another superpower. "You do know that this wasn't meant to be published, right?"
Lex nodded, started to tilt sideways, and then righted himself.
"Lex, it's not a serious article."
"Oh." Lex was staring at a spot just over Clark's shoulder, eyes slightly glassy, and Clark wondered how many Clark Kents he was seeing. "But..."
"It was a practical joke for Lois' birthday. Trust me Lex, Lois would marry you before she'd even consider me."
After a few moments of just blinking at him, Lex wearily asked, "What about the car?"
"I wouldn't have anywhere to park it." He handed the key back to Lex and had to remind himself that he wouldn't be able to afford the upkeep of a car like that. Even if it was a gift. Or an incredibly expensive, wonderful piece of machinery that was sitting there, pretending to be a gift. What was it with Lex and giving away automobiles?
"Right," Lex said, as he slowly, with a great deal of concentration, put the key back in his pocket. "In that case..." Lex pulled himself up from his slouch against the door and made the useless gesture of pushing Clark aside.
"You can't just leave, Lex."
"Why not?" Narrowed grey eyes looked up in a determined expression that Clark knew too well. It meant that Lex was angry with himself, and just itching to take it out on someone.
"For one thing, you're way too drunk to be driving." It was possibly smarter to just let Lex go, but there was a part of Clark that bristled at the idea that Lex could drop in whenever he wanted to.
"Clark, I've made a fool out of myself and I'll regret it in the morning. Right now, I'm drunk enough not to care about it too much." The warning was obvious.
"You can't just show up out of the blue, and then disappear again."
"In case you haven't heard, Clark, I'm Lex Luthor. I can do anything I damn well please."
"It's not fair..." which just made Lex laugh. And this was why he didn't like Lex drunk on scotch. It brought out the cruelty in him; made him push just to see you bleed. "Lex, it's my home."
"So?"
"So you don't have the right to just come over." The problem was that Clark wasn't about to be pushed around. Not by some ex-friend who felt he had the god-given right to demand or ignore you whenever he pleased.
"Why should that make a difference?" If Lex had been sober, this would have been a quiet conversation, full of hushed tones and icy silences. Far more effective, far more hurtful, than this obvious posturing and snarling anger.
"Because it's fair, because it's right. Because you should, Lex," And, most basically of all, "Because we used to be friends."
That made Lex laugh, a bitter condescending chuckle. "I think the operative phrase Clark, is 'used to'. Somehow, I doubt that actually still applies."
The malice in Lex's tone was enough to make Clark stand aside and watch Lex walk unsteadily down the street, and stop outside the Porsche. As Clark turned and walked through his own doorway, he overheard Lex fumbling with his cell phone and calling for his driver.
***
He let himself into the building, and took the narrow staircase up to the first floor. He wandered into the bedroom, kicked off his shoes and stripped out of the cheap suit, then crawled into bed. Then found himself wide awake.
Clark tossed and turned, and found that for a fairly new bed, it still wasn’t very soothing. He just couldn’t get comfortable. He wasn’t really hungry, but he got up and made himself a sandwich anyway. Heated up a glass of milk, and took it back to bed with him. It was what his father would do when he couldn’t sleep.
Sitting in the harsh glow of his alarm clock display, he toyed with his crust, and had to concentrate to hear the music coming from the club a few blocks away. He didn’t like late nights and early mornings. The city was always too quiet. It never seemed natural.
It also wasn’t fair. He shouldn’t still be awake. Sure, he could go without sleep for a couple of nights; he’d tried it in college and knew that he didn’t have quite the same need for sleep as other people, but he’d already had a few sleepless nights this week. He didn’t want another one.
It was Lex’s fault.
What right did Lex have to just show up? None. But he did it because he could and now Clark couldn’t get to sleep. It was unnerving having someone just show up at your doorstep. Dripping wet. Standing close to smell the alcohol on his skin...
Obviously, the old lust hadn’t gone either.
He put the plate back in the kitchen and tried to get some sleep. By the time the bright red numbers had clicked over to 4.13, Clark had become restless and decided to do something about it.
***
Less than ten minutes later, he arrived at Lexcorp Tower. The security guards looked only slightly less bored than those at the Daily Planet. Clark gave them his name, resolving not to leave without being allowed upstairs. He was surprised when the guards simply checked his name against a list, a very short list, and told him to go on up.
The Lexcorp elevator obviously was designed with speed in mind. Clark reached the top level quickly and stepped out into Lex’s penthouse. He hadn’t seen it before, but there were small touches of Lex in the hall. Lex’s briefcase dropped near the doorway, a pair of wet shoes, and on the table a few small collectibles he remembered from Smallville. Lex was nowhere to be seen.
Clark walked through the hall and followed the shifting light to a fire burning in Lex’s den. Lex would be one of the few people to live in a high-rise and have a fireplace. There was an empty tumbler sitting on the sideboard, and Clark hoped that it was just left over from earlier in the night.
"Lex?" Clark called out, and then saw Lex almost dozing in the huge leather chair. Half-asleep, Lex blinked at him for a few moments, before actually speaking to him.
"What are you doing here?" Lex sounded sleepy and still a bit drunk. Clark decided to push his advantage.
"Why did you come to my place tonight?"
"I thought that you... You know why." Lex waved his hand about vaguely as he got out of the chair, and walked towards the sideboard.
"Lex, you might not like communicating in actual words, but it works pretty well for the rest of us." Clark said, and noted the narrowing of Lex’s eyes. Good, he could work with anger. "You came over because you thought I was getting married. Fine. Do it the normal way and send an impersonal card. Don’t come over so drunk you can barely stand, and try to - I don’t even know what you were trying to do."
"I was trying to act like your friend, Clark." Each word was ground out, so obviously Lex had sobered up enough to gain some amount of control back.
"What you were acting like is an obsessive stalker! Or a jealous teenager with a crush. It's not..." It took a moment for Clark’s mind to catch up with his mouth, to see Lex turn his head slightly, cheeks colouring. He would have sworn that nothing could have made Lex blush. Obviously, he was wrong. "You’re jealous? Of Lois?"
"There’s no need to sound quite so sceptical."
He hadn’t meant to sound so disbelieving but it was just another thing that made no sense at all. "Why the hell didn’t you say something? Or do something?"
"Like what?" Lex’s jaw was clenched, and Lex has never been happy about being forced to explain his actions.
"Like... anything, Lex," Clark said in a softer tone of voice, "Surely you must have known. There were years in Smallville when I would have done anything just to know you were interested. You only had to ask. I would have been yours in a heartbeat."
Lex looked away, and Clark wondered if Lex had realised back then. When he looked back on it, he had done everything short of asking Lex to go steady with him, but Lex had always smiled, and flirted, and pulled back.
"I wasn't going to seduce a child, Clark."
"I wasn't a child."
"You were a teenager." Lex spoke softly, sounding discouraged and defeated, which just wasn't right, "And I... wasn't."
"I'm not a teenager now," Clark murmured as he leaned in, and kissed Lex.
The kiss was strangely familiar. Mouths devouring each other, hands skating over fabric, feeling the warmth of the flesh beneath. It wasn't the first time Clark had kissed Lex. The first time had been at that club, a fake ID in his pocket, but it hadn’t included tasting the sharp burn of scotch on Lex's lips. Lex's mouth still tasted of alcohol but Clark wasn't an inexperienced teenager anymore. And when Lex tried to pull back, he followed him, running his fingers over smooth skin, under the damp cotton of his shirt. He felt Lex gasp, and pressed his advantage, pushing his thigh between Lex's and pulling Lex's body tight against his.
Lex made a low sound in the back of his throat, something between a growl and a groan and Clark felt the fingers tugging in his hair, changing the angle of the kiss. Making it deeper, hungrier. Lex’s demanding tongue in his mouth was a contrast to the slow grinding against his hip and the hands clenched around his shoulders.
When Clark pulled back, they were both slightly breathless. Considering he knew that he could hold his breath indefinitely, it said a good deal about how well Lex kissed when drunk. Not that Lex had stopped kissing him, just changed locations.
There were deliberate wet kisses against his neck, and confident hands pushing up his t-shirt and playing with the buttons on his jeans. Tongue, lips, and the occasional sharp sting of teeth, and then a sultry whisper into his ear, "Do you want to come upstairs?"
He looked down at Lex, then dove back in for another kiss. Lex's hands traced over Clark's sides as his tongue mapped Clark's mouth. Clark heard his own low moan, and realised that as good as this was, it could be better lying down. And naked.
Clark tried to think again, "Upstairs?"
Lex nodded and stepped towards the hallway, then ran his eyes down Clark's body and licked his lips. Lex waited for him to follow, but Clark hesitated. "Coming, Clark?"
Clark was certain his libido would hate him for asking, but... "Sure you won’t regret this in the morning?"
The smile he received was pure Lex, bright, promising, and just a little dangerous. Lex reached out and took his hand, and said, "Why don’t you ask me in the morning?"
That was a challenge he couldn’t resist. Looking at Lex’s fingers wrapped around his own, he followed Lex and hoped that Lex’s hangover tomorrow morning wouldn’t be too brutal. Sometimes karma could be a bitch.
