Part Six

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Saturday was household chores day at the Kent Farm and Clark lugged the last load of freshly ironed linens to the closet, taking a minute to listen at the basement stairwell. After much debate, Lex had been assigned laundry duty which he'd accepted with the look of a man who'd been sentenced to one of Dante's more "special" rings of Hell and Clark was a little worried that disaster might strike once again.

After the fence incident, he didn't want to leave anything to chance.

A short pause later, and Clark quietly snuck downstairs to peek into the laundry area. "How's it going?" he asked Lex, who stood determinedly in front of the washer looking for all the world like a man with a mission and a new world to conquer. "Everything all right?"

Lex continued to squint at a measuring cup filled with powdered laundry detergent. "I suppose. If I had the proper tools it might be going a lot better."

"Proper tools?" Clark hoisted himself atop the clothes dryer to sit and watch. "It's laundry, Lex. What exactly do you need?"

"The chemist in me needs something a little more accurate than this." Lex jiggled the cup. "Although I'd suppose a milligram or two off might not matter."

"I'd say so," replied Clark. He tried not to laugh as Lex slowly dropped socks, one at a time, into an already agitating machine. "You might want to try loading before you turn it on."

"Silence," commanded Lex as he continued to drop individual items like a general leading his troops into battle. "One red sock in this pile and eternal pinkness is yours." He glanced at Clark. "So, where did you disappear to last night? You didn't come back until pretty late."

"Just wandered around the usual places." Clark cleared his throat. "The back road, the old mill ... the cemetery."

"The cemetery?" Lex asked, as pieces of clothing disappeared beneath the swirling water. "See anyone I know?"

"I did actually," replied Clark, tapping the back of his heel against the dryer door. "I saw Lana last night. She was visiting her parents."

Lex looked up. "Her parents were killed in the meteor shower, weren't they?"

A sharp twinge of guilt and Clark nodded. "Yeah. I think she visits every week." He sighed. "Anyway, we got to talking and you'd never believe what happened."

"The Wizard gave her a brain?"

"What?"

"Nothing," Lex smiled sweetly. "What happened?"

Clark shrugged, suddenly feeling sheepish. "She asked me out." He should have felt proud, he should have felt elated but he felt very little, except maybe embarrassed. Or vaguely ashamed of his acceptance of her proposal. "Can you believe it? Lana Lang actually asked me on a date."

Little laugh, but Lex didn't look amused.

In fact, he looked positively galled. "She did what?" Fuming tone, coupled with an expression Clark had never seen on Lex's face before. Pique ... irritation ... sheer distemper were all on display in various measures and Clark backed away a little in confusion.

This was a new side to Lex, certainly. "I said, she asked me out," Clark repeated slowly.

Lex blinked. Once, twice and then turned back to his task, slowly pouring detergent into an almost overflowing washer. "Really?" he said scornfully. "That's certainly an ... interesting ... development. Tell me, did she get some eye surgery recently? Grow something past the spinal cord? Buy herself a personality?" Soap bubbles began to swirl onto the washer's white top. "But I guess the more interesting question is: what did you say to our resident Homecoming Queen? You know, she with the drawer crammed with undeserved tiaras."

Clark looked nervously at the suds dripping down the washer's sides. "I ... um ... said 'yes'."

The remainder of the powder fell into the machine. Lex stared at Clark for a long moment, emotions passing over his features too quickly to analyze. A strange mask descended and Clark felt cut off ... abandoned ... and he couldn't figure out for the life of him why.

"That's wonderful," came the cool reply. "I'm very happy for you, Clark. You've gotten everything you wanted, even without my help. Congratulations." The sopping-wet washer top was banged down and Lex jogged up the basement stairs, disappearing at their top, the door clicking shut behind him.

"Lex?" Clark called up, but no answer was returned. "Lex ..."

He stared long and hard at the darkened staircase. Something had gone wrong and he wasn't sure what. Why would Lex be angry that Lana asked him out? It wasn't as if he were interested, no, he'd made that quite clear, so it must have been something else. But what?

Clark sighed and pushed himself down from the dryer. Shut off the washer and let some of the suds drain away before resetting it to a lower speed. It spluttered back to life and Clark stared at the swishing clothes, suddenly dreading the rest of the morning.

What should have been the greatest day of his existence was going downhill fast ... faster than even he could possibly run to catch up with it.

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At exactly eight that evening, Lana Lang arrived at the Kent farm, wearing pastels and looking as pretty as an Easter egg. She greeted Clark with a brilliant smile and drove them both to a tiny Smallville restaurant called "The Eating Place" wherein somewhere between the soda order and the arrival of the bread basket, a revelation hit Clark like a proverbial ton of bricks.

Lex was angry because Lex was jealous.

Jealous of Lana asking Clark out, jealous of him accepting and his heart suddenly soared, even as Lana was ordering her appetizer. Chicken fingers, no sauce, and Clark stared sightlessly at his menu like a man possessed.

Lex was jealous.

"And you, sir?" the waitress asked. "Would you like something to nosh on?"

Clark stared stupidly at her, trying to get his bearings. "I'll have ... I'll have the soup."

He didn't know what soup, didn't care what soup and was profoundly grateful when the waitress didn't ask. It might get him out of there faster, and on his way back home so he could talk to Lex and make everything right again. How sweet it would be to tell him that he had nothing to fear, that Clark wanted him and him alone and that they were going to be very happy together for as long as Lex wanted.

Hell, he might even get a kiss out of it.

Clark smiled senselessly at the thought, then jumped when a voice intruded on his pleasant train of thought. "Clark?"

Lana's face suddenly came into focus and Clark winced. "Sorry," he smiled weakly. "A little wool gathering there."

She didn't look pleased. "I see. Is something bothering you?"

"No. Nothing's bothering me at all." A lie, and Clark wanted to kick himself ... hard. Why couldn't he have traded in his old obsession for a new one without leading the old one on? He had to learn patience, that's all there was to it and until then ... but, oh God.

Lex was jealous.

"Why so distracted?" Beautiful eyes narrowed, examining him. It was obvious that Lana Lang wasn't used to a distracted date. "Is there something going on?"

Clark ducked a little under their scrutiny. "Oh, you know ... the farm. The 'rents. Everything." His shirt collar grew tight and a tiny bead of sweat rolled down his back as Lana's expression went from sourly suspicious to outright disbelieving.

This was going to be the longest date in history.

Lana bit her lip, then nodded. "I hear Lex Luthor is staying with you. That must be kind of stressful."

Clark brightened at Lex's name without meaning to. "Oh no," he insisted excitedly. "Lex is great. Dad is starting to warm up to him, even after he wrecked the fence." He smiled at the memory. "Mom loves him, actually thinks he's sweet. He's been a big help too ... well, when he's not destroying things. We have a great time together and he's telling me about all these interesting things ... movies, books, philosophy. Did you know he has an advanced degree in biochemistry? That he was a summa cum laude? It's pretty amazing, when you think about it. He's only twenty-one and he's done so much."

Lana listened to Clark's gushing ode, first with confusion, then with a strange understanding. "I see," she said softly with what looked to Clark like a frighteningly knowing nod. "Guess that living with Lex isn't all that stressful after all." She picked up her soda, played with the straw, then scanned the room for the waitress. "The service in here is awful slow, isn't it?"

Sadly, and Clark swallowed past a tightening throat. "Yeah." He looked down at his closed menu, feeling very much the heel. "It sure is."

To Clark's surprise, Lana's hand crept into his and he felt her tiny fingers squeeze his. "So while we wait, why don't you tell me more about Lex?"

The kind smile returned to Lana's pretty face and a new, brotherly emotion filled Clark's heart at her touch. It was over between them ... over before it had begun and yet, the friendship still remained. Not a bad night's work for a moron like me, Clark thought.

Not bad at all. "Nah," he replied, shaking his head. "Why don't you tell me about your upcoming show horse competition in Metropolis? Is Buttercup ready?"

Lana laughed. "As ready as her rider. Which means she'll be eating grass through most of it probably."

He laughed with her and the food finally came, and the night passed more quickly than he'd originally thought. There were so many things to look forward to: Lana's friendship, an entire summer at home and that wasn't even the best thing of all. If only because ...

Lex was jealous.

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Clark returned home at ten in the evening, shivering with excitement. He'd already started to plan what he would say to Lex before dessert and had it almost memorized by the time Lana dropped him off in front of his loft. Lex was going to deny, then he was going to argue, and then Clark was going to kiss him, whether he was ready or not.

It was all going to be perfect.

Clark jogged up to the loft's staircase then fell back at the sound of an unfamiliar voice -- deep, sonorous and more than a little menacing. Ducking into the shadows, Clark peeked around a support beam, then dropped back even further when he saw the owner of the voice, his wild hair and beard contrasting sharply with the spotlessly dapper clothes beneath.

"You impress me, Lex. Every time I think you can't embarrass me further, you prove me wrong."

"Why, thank you, Father." Lex showed a brittle smile. "I live to please."

Disdainful flick at a bit of straw on his glove and Lionel Luthor glared at his son. "So I see. Vacationing with the local pig farmers will do wonders for your standing in the business world, not to mention those swirling rumors about the state of your mental health -- rumors I've paid good money to quash. Don't you care at all about your future?"

"Two weeks ago I didn't have a future, except as a chunk of living fertilizer six feet underground until one of the "pig farmers," as you so inaccurately call them, yanked my ass out of there, saving you a considerable amount of time and expense in the long run," Lex replied dryly. "New sons are expensive, Dad. I'd have thought you'd be grateful the old one still had a little life left in him, thanks to Clark."

Clark shrank back as Lionel glowered at Lex. "I rewarded that young man with a substantial amount of money. I didn't think he'd insist you come over and play farm hand with him as well." Dark brows knit together. "Or are you playing some other game with him?"

Lex visibly bristled. "Leave Clark out of this. I owe him my life."

"And nothing more." Lionel regarded his son with a bare disdain that made Clark's skin crawl. "You are allowed certain luxuries in this life, Lex, but this ... " He waved his arm around the loft contemptuously. "... isn't one of them. You're not meant to slither through the dung and dirt with the lowly masses, you have much greater things to attend to."

"Such as carrying on the family's 'good' name?" Sarcasm dripped from Lex's voice. "Too late for that, Father." He leaned back with a feral smile. "Face it, the Luthor legacy is steeped in shit. Literally."

Something frightening prickled through the air, and Clark's eyes widened as Lionel approached his son, deliberately ... and dangerously. "The Luthor legacy is what you make out of it, Lex," whispered Lionel as he slowly walked forward. "And while I know you'll never quite achieve what I have, I do expect a certain level of competency to be maintained after I'm gone. I didn't come this far to have you and a barn full of trailer trash ruin it."

To Clark's shock, Lex actually began to incrementally cringe backwards as Lionel came closer, the faintest flicker of fear crossing his face.

"So take care, son ... while I'm patient, I do have my limits. And this time, defiance is not an option."

"Go to hell!" Lex spat, obviously unable to control his ire. "And I hope you burn in it!"

Lionel merely smiled and the sharp crack of a violent slap echoed through the loft as Clark jumped. He gaped in horror at the hand-shaped welt that rose against Lex's pale cheek, livid and red. Rage flushed through Clark hotly as he debated picking Lionel Luthor up and showing him exactly what slithering through cow dung felt like, but something in Lex's face stopped him in his tracks.

It was a quiet dignity that shone bravely forth, replacing his fear. Lex was hurt, but not cowed and Clark stayed where he was, watching him change, seemingly before his eyes.

"Thank you, Father," Lex said without emotion. "Your consistency is as comforting as ever." He smiled thinly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an early morning tomorrow and I'll be needing my sleep to attend to the work at hand. It's very busy here on a farm, as you might have guessed."

Lionel looked surprised at his son's lack of emotion, but only for a second. Something shone in his eyes as well, and Clark could barely stand to look. "You do that," he said threateningly. "And be sure to take full credit when payment time comes. Because it's coming, Lex -- the time when your 'friend' Mr. Kent and his family will regret ever having met you."

And with that, Lionel Luthor turned on his heel, stalked away and was gone.

Clark watched as Lex's shoulders slowly slumped down in what could only have been an agony of defeat. He stepped shakily out of the shadows and walked over to Lex, who stood in the middle of the loft as a statue might, silent and still.

He reached out and lightly touched Lex's bruised cheek with the back of his hand, trying to soothe away the heat of Lionel's blow.

"Don't worry," Clark said softly. "I'll never regret knowing you."

Grey eyes looked up and desperately searched his, looking for something Clark wondered if he ever could define.

"Don't be so sure," replied Lex miserably. He burrowed against Clark, who held onto him tightly, hoping against hope that Lex wouldn't feel the wild tripping of his heart or the heat that threatened to sear him for eternity.

"Oh, I'm sure," he said, holding onto Lex as if for dear life. "So very sure."

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end of Part Six

Click here for Part Seven

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