Fourth Smallville Drabble
He moved like - God, Clark had heard this song, years ago maybe, something about being in the right place, must�ve been the wrong time, and he�d never understood the appeal of that shifting beat until watching Lex walk across a room. He moved like he was fucking.
Or, no. Clark blinked at the absurdity of the image, because it was just Lex. Just his friend. But now he had that song stuck in his head, the low growling voice and throbbing, funky beat, and Lex was striding, not walking, not anything so prosaic, toward him, coffee cup in hand, all swank and swagger and his customary confidence. And all Clark could do was smile up at his crooked smirk through the jazz horns and still-pulsing bass playing somewhere in his screwed-up alien brain.