TITLE: What Are You Doing New Year's Eve? [Chapter Four]
AUTHOR: Nymph Du Pave
FANDOM: Smallville
PAIRING: Lex Luther/Clark Kent.
RATING: PG-13

Chapter Four
 

He touched the medallion around his neck, thinking of Clark's last words. Oddly, enough he'd found that wearing the thing had indeed forced him to think more about his driving. He went slower, especially around turns and bridges- one in particular- and strayed from icy patches. He kept closer to the posted speed limits and during a small trip into town, busy as it was on Christmas Eve, found himself using tips from the defensive driving class he had taken almost seven years ago. It was as if the necklace embodied all of Clark's concern, taking control of him and compelling him to be more careful with the life that the farmboy had spared and invested in.

Arriving precisely five minutes before the time Clark asked him to be there- the only person other than his father that he ever bothered to extend this courtesy towards- he didn't see anyone around outside, so he took the moment to just sit in his car, fingering the silver gift from Clark and watching the nocturnal sky saying it's nightly farewell to the sun, the starry firmament being revealed inch by aching inch.

He sighed. All day long he had been tormented by his memories of last night coming back to both please and haunt him. Pleasing him were the recollections of Clark's innocent touches; the ones before he had screwed up. The looks Clark was always giving him, the fact the he had been allowed to drink from the other boy's cup, and that he hadn't been judged for even a moment when Clark realized his fear of heights… Best of all, the part that pleased him to most, was the profound moment when Clark had explained the gift he had found for Lex.

"The only thing I need," he whispered. Clark thought it was protection, and though he certainly needed protection- mostly from himself- he knew what he really and truly needed most was Clark's unending presence in his life, and he had almost cost himself that company because of his stupid lust. Lust that had become very powerful, but not so much so that couldn't have stopped himself from acting on it.

Idiot.

Clark, however, being the wonder kid that he was, had most likely taken pity on him for his crush, his desires, and wanted to give the Luthor another chance at the friendship. Lex didn't want pity, but couldn't handle distance, not from the one true friend he'd ever had, not from the one person who wanted nothing but a friendship from him. So he'd take the pity, live with it hoping that the memory of last night would eventually fade, like the colors in the sky were doing now. Clark would no longer feel sorry for him, the pity that had originally run so deep would eventually become very small, just melding into the friendship. Only a semblance to emotion, a tiny fragment of the whole that Clark would never be able to decipher.

Staring out the windshield, he caught movement from inside the barn, and got out to see if it was where Clark was biding his time. As Lex neared the farmhouse, he tucked the medallion under the neck of his shirt, feeling awkward about Clark's reaction to him wearing it.  He noticed the strings of bulbs strategically lining the house and actually found himself anticipating the ceremony that a mere half hour or so should bring.

It would be Clark of all people that would get me into the festive spirit.

He'd no longer cared for Christmas, as he had no reason to celebrate it. His father had been cold, non-existent during the holidays ever since Lex's mother died when he was eleven. No trees, no dinners, not even a Christmas tiding since Lex moved out at eighteen to go to college.

He could still remember the sweet times with his mother and father, then his idol, sitting around a sparkling tree with a multitude of presents- mostly his- gleaming under the tree. Times when Christmas Eve had been as it was supposed to be: pure anticipation for a child, all about the glee- and toys- that the next day would hold.

Times when his father, still brutal to outsiders, had a soft spot he kept preserved and open to his two family members.

Lex allowed himself a dreary little smile at the memories of the days long since past, days he knew would never come to be again. His mother had been the glue holding the Luthor's together, and the loss of her had unraveled their close-knit chemistry sending the two males to ruefully scatter to their own lives earlier than a father and son should have. It was harder seeing Lionel now the way he was, the way they were, knowing that the two of them had once been very close, that they had once cared.

Father and son.

Even on the best of days Lionel and he had nothing on Clark and Jonathon. The two had what seemed to be the perfect father-son relationship, and Lex sometimes envied that. Not always, because he had been born accustomed to what his daily life afforded him, but every now and then he'd like to be able to savor a little parental influence within the cold stone walls of the manor.

It humored him a little to think that he'd be welcoming in Christmas Eve- and possibly early Christmas Day depending on how long the Kents kept him over- with Jonathon Kent, though he doubted the humor was a collective entity.

Despite the man's intense dislike for him, he respected the senior Kent, and had a penchant in his heart for someone who obviously cared so much for his son. No, Jonathan didn't know Lex, didn't know who he was as a person, but he immediately became a shield trying to protect what he still saw as his 'little boy' from the inimical influence of the Luthor domination. Of course, no one knew better than Lex about what his last name could do, what kind of hurt it could inflict, and he would go to the end of the world to keep Clark from ever having to endure that kind of agony.

He just had to find a way to convince Jonathon of that.

"Clark?" he called out as he neared the barn where the farmboy spent so many hours. As he entered he saw the last of the flickering shadows dancing on the wall and realized that this was what had caught his attention from the car.

He was going to head over to the house when his curiosity got the better of him. He walked over to the steps leading up to the loft and- one hand jammed into the pocket of his open winter coat, the other holding tightly to the splintery banner- ascended them, watching his feet on each step.

Clark's personal space, he thought. He remembered telling Lana Lang at her last birthday party of one of his: coat closets, where he would hide during parties and get-togethers that made him feel out of place and undesired. The only difference between his closets and his friend's 'Fortress of Solitude' was that people wanted to be around Clark Kent and his bright, contagious smile, so they eventually came looking for him. No one had ever come looking for Lex as he hid there, though the few that had stumbled upon him had always momentarily raised his hopes. Tragically, they were only depositing or picking up their fleece, wool, or mink garments. Those coats had been Lex's harborage. He'd spent hours camouflaged between huge and soft, furry coats, comforting coats of people who could've given a rat's ass about the lonely little boy taking refuge along side their costly garments.

It had been his secret desire that once, just once, his father would find and sit down with him. They didn't have to talk, there were no words that either of them could have made fit. He just wanted to sit there in concealment and quiet with his father. To this day he couldn't help but wonder if his father knew just where his son had been.

He reached the top of the loft and immediately noticed the lack of the telescope, Clark's eye into the world of everything Lang. Wondering if Clark had taken it in the house to clean or fix it, he walked over and stood a few feet from the open loft door, not daring to get any closer. The sun was setting low on the horizon to the north-west, so he had nothing but a full shot of inky-black sky to the south-east, sprinkled with a few glittering solitaires, most hidden by clouds quickly moving to blanket the sky. He remembered the forecast calling for possible snow.

He spotted Lana's house a little ways down the dirt-road and brought up a mental picture of Clark's love and minor obsession. It was obvious why Clark- and how many others?- fancied the enigmatical brunette. She was as sweet and gorgeous as they came, innocent, but not nearly as naive as one would think. Much like Clark himself. They'd make the perfect couple.

His lips pulled back into a grim line, and his proud shoulders fell. To find himself jealous of a sixteen year old girl, envious of her and desirous of her farmboy's affections… It was not someplace he would have ever imagined himself being, and yet here he was, wallowing in the insecurity, in the rivalry that only he himself knew existed.

It was safer that way, though. He would then be the only one to see himself fail miserably for the first time in his life. The only one to see himself internally struggling to pick up the pieces of his shattered soul and try to find balance as Clark finally won out the heart he'd been pining for, for years.

"What are we looking at?"

Lex about jumped out of his skin at the voice behind him. He turned to see Clark standing at the top of the stairs, grinning from ear to ear.
 
 
 
 
 

...To be continued [will be finished before X-Mas, I PROMISE!!]