Poetry in Motion
            by Nymph Du Pave

            Chapter Three: The Surprise

            Lex massaged the back of his neck, remembering his strangled reply.

            ~"You did what?"~

            Clark had been full of humor all throughout their lunch until they got outside and he'd taken Lex's silence to mean that Lex really was angry.  Lex was, of course, not.  He had just been thinking about Clark's offer to come over, wondering if it was still valid or if he should just drop the boy off at home and head back to the morbid, dank, multi-story abode that his father was so damned proud of.

            Clark had been so worried that he'd jumped the gun and committed Lex to something that he really didn't want to do, and there, he was right.  Lex didn't want to do it.  But if Clark wanted him to jump off the communications dish atop 62 floors of LuthorCorp, naked sans a pair plastic wings on his back, and try and fly down to the street below, he'd do it with a grin on his face.

            So maybe reading poetry in front of a bunch of strangers wouldn't be that bad.  And it wouldn't be so much harming his image in the town's eye as builing onto it.

            He remembered the sorrowful look on Clark's face as they hopped into his Jaguar.  The farmboy had been truly afraid that he'd pissed Lex off.

            Lex breathed in remembering how he caught himself inches before cupping Clark's face, pretending at the last moment to pick a stray piece of lint off his immaculate company.  It was getting harder and harder not to touch Clark and he was deathly afraid of what he'd do given the right situation and motivations.

            He'd assured Clark that he wasn't angry and then learned that the boy had offered not only their services but Chloe's and Pete's.  Whitney was also supposed to show up for the reading with his own works.

            Lex, now sitting in the Fortress of Solitude, couldn't wait to hear that.  He stared down at his mock Whitney-poem wondering whether or not to show Clark.
 

            Lana is so pretty,
            I think I soon can touch her titty
            Football's great
            But work's made me so late
            That now I'm not
            On the team.
            I like faux crucifixions
 

            Am I nuts?

            He crumpled up the page tossing it into Clark's wastebasket.  He could never show that to Clark.  Especially since he'd giggled like the prepubescent teen he'd never received the chance to be when he jotted down the word 'titty'.  And he wasn't even sure Whitney knew what 'faux' meant.

            Whitney's not that dumb.  And after his father's death and recent friendship with Clark you should reevaluate your tendency towards cruelty.

            He shook his head, knowing that the likelihood of that was slim.  He was mentally vicious to those that either stood in his path to reach his beautiful, soft, kind farmboy, or hurt said farmboy.  He didn't know he if could change that.

            Footsteps echoed throughout the Fortess and Lex straightened himself up instinctively, pulling the hem of his shirt down to where it would tighten against his torso and show off his chest and arms a little better.  He was proud of the shape he was in and, though he didn't flaunt it, he wanted Clark to know it was there.

            Not that Clark prefers muscular forms, he scolded himself.  Dumbass.

            "How's it going up there?"

            "Meritoriously," he said, sarcasm dripping.

            Clark laughed.  "That is so not a word."

            "I can’t believe this has to be original," he complained.  "I can't believe we can't just read our favorites."

            "I can't believe Lex Luthor's whining."

            "Why not just sign me up for the firing squad, Clark?  That'd be more fun."

            Clark came up the steps with a bright smile and a tray of food.  Lex ignored the pounding in his chest and stood to help but the boy just shook his head.

            "I've got it."

            Lex couldn't help but sigh as he sat back down.  The prurient thoughts seemed to come naturally, even though Clark was so ethereal and surely deserved better than his best friend always thinking pervertedly erotic things about him.  Still, Lex could not escape the clearly defined estrus he'd found.  Whenever Clark was around, he was happy and horny.  He wasn't sure he wanted to escape it.

            "It’s so cool that we're allowed to eat supper up here.  The last time I did this I was, like, ten."

            Lex's mind supplied to his drooling eyes that ten had only been five years ago for Clark, where as it had been eleven for him.

            That sobered him fast.

            "Well, I don't know,” he started with a weak smile.  “With the way your father abhors me?  I'm sure his skin crawls every time you-"  Lex trailed off catching Clark's panicked 'not now!' look and hearing the extra set of footsteps- softer, less striking- too late.

            "Shit," Clark whispered, startling Lex.  The boy closed his eyes in a wince.

            Jonathon made his way up the rest of the steps with the second tray.  Coughing uncomfortably in the ample, dense silence, he nodded at Lex.  His lips were pressed flat together in a look of reluctant acceptance to Lex’s presence not only in the barn, Clark’s personal place, but in his son’s life in general.

            For a moment cold washed over Lex as he realized with finality that there would never be a genuine reception for his attendance at the Kent house.  Though Martha was warm to him, kind, she still kept her distance, being overly polite and not inviting Lex for anything unless it was seemed rude to do otherwise.  She was kind to him for what he meant to Clark, unlike Chloe and Lana and Pete.  She genuinely liked Clark's other friends.

            Lex was not wanted by anyone except Clark and- though warmth spread through his belly at his friend's ability to see something worthy in his soul- his heart felt chilled.

            “Have a nice supper, Clark.  Lex.”  Jonathon nodded to him stiffly again and all of Lex’s hopes for a ‘No, I don’t really hate you, Lex’ speech flew out the window behind him.  He hadn't even known he'd held such inane fancies.

            Fuck it.

            He sat down on the couch, suddenly tired, and held his head in his hands.
 

            +_+_+_+_+
 

            Clark wanted to scream at his father, but it wasn’t as if he didn’t know the behavior was due.  The moment Lex opened his mouth about Jonathon, Clark knew exactly what would happen.  Jonathon would graze the borders of polite and out-right rude, not mentioning anything about what Lex had said.  He would leave.  Lex would feel bad and try to push it aside, like he was stronger than that.  Like it didn’t matter, though Clark knew different.  Lex would then try and excuse himself, citing an early meeting in the morning that he 'really should get home and rest' for.

           The mansion is not his home, Clark thought bitterly.

            He turned and saw Lex, noting the norm hadn’t happened.  Lex instead had slumped on the couch the moment his father headed down the loft steps.  The vulnerable position startled him, his best friend’s smooth head held gingerly in clenching and unclenching hands, the soft sigh and heavy breaths…

            Was Lex finally about to break?

            No.  No way.  The last person to truly upset Lex Luthor would be my father.  Lex can deal with him and his stupid prejudices…  Right?

            Clark quietly tread over to the couch and sat next to Lex, suddenly unsure of the impact that Jonathon Kent had over the young scion.  Could the things his father said actually jolt Lex?  Clark knew it hurt his feelings but…  But was he right in assuming that Jonathon's words cut deeper than he'd previously believed?

            Gently he placed his hand on Lex’s back, ready to remove it if Lex sensed more than friendship from Clark.  True, he loved to touch Lex, but this was more.  Lex needed him, didn't he?  And Clark found himself needing the comfort almost as much as he was sure Lex did.

            “I’m fine, Clark,” came Lex’s strangled voice.  “Just…  It’s just…”

            “The headache,” finished Clark, knowing Lex's lie well now.  “You seem to be having a lot of those lately,” he commented quietly.

            Lex sighed.

            “It could be a tumor.”

            Lex chuckled, but it was such a slow, sad sound that it cut at Clark's core.  “'Kindergarten Cop'.”

            “No, actually," he swallowed at the empathetic thumping his heart was performing.  He'd never seen Lex like this.

            ~"You're the closest thing to a friend I've ever had.  You don't have to hide anything from me."~

            Well, almost never.

            "I'm really worried that it might be a tumor.”

            Another laugh, more genuine, and this time the older boy punched him.  A light punch in the arm, no impact to it whatsoever, but something Clark recognized as…  human.  As normal.  It was the sort of thing that you did when you were feeling vulnerable and someone was helping you past that vulnerability.  A joking gesture to dislodge overpowering feelings of intensity and intimacy.

            Clark didn’t like Lex upset, but vulnerable was another thing completely.  Vulnerable was something that Clark never could hide from his best friend, a state of mind and physicality that Lex saw him in all the time.  The only times that he'd seen Lex in the same state of affairs was when he'd just saved his rich friend from certain death, or when Lex was tying to find out what his secret was.

            And still it had never been this strong, this extended or this… willing.

            His hand was still on the taut, warm back and if he didn’t get it moving soon, it might take over the situation.  It might pull Lex closer, and then his lips might ask for something Lex would never give him, could never give him.  Somethings in life just didn’t make sense, and though he knew these feelings for Lex made all the sense in the world to him, he didn’t want Lex to leave because his stupid farmboy friend had just complicated their friendship, their relationship, all to hell.

            He started to rub Lex’s back.  “I’m sorry my dad acts like an ass around you, Lex,” he said, startled that he was admitting out loud that his father was less than perfect.  “I love him but…  He just can’t see past what his father’s taught him.  He thinks that since he never listened to a word Grandpa said while he was alive, the man's word should be his bible now.”

            Lex looked up at him, eyes too bright for Clark’s comfort.  There was something in them that Clark recognized in an instant.  His heart threatened to fall to pieces there on the floor.

            Lex was silently begging him for a reason.  Any reason that could explain why he did everything in his power to prove he wasn’t Lionel, to prove he truly cared for Clark, to prove that he had a semblance of ‘human being’ and ‘sentiment’ inside of him…  He was imploring from Clark a reason why he could do nothing but good in front of the Kents and still be treated as if he’d tried to hit their son with the Porsche.  As if he had personally dumped all of the LuthorCorp waste on their property.

            As if he shot me in cold hatred, Clark thought.

            Lex had been under the influence of another meteor-infected- if Chloe's theory actually held true- human being, couldn't remember a thing, expressed worry that he might have injured Clark during his inebriated stupor.  Nevertheless Clark's father no doubt still held grudge over the situation.  Grudge that Lex could never know about.  Therefore he'd never understand why he couldn't be trusted in Clark’s presence.  Why such enmity pored from the elder Kent at such a unsettling rate.

            Clark swallowed, pressing that thought away.  Lex needed a reason he could grasp.  “He and his father…  Grandpa died during a really bad argument between them.  Dad thought that Grandpa was wrong about something and later, after he passed away, it turned out he was right.  Ever since Dad never doubted anything else he’s said.”

            Lex frowned.  “What was the argument about?”

            There was a deep inhalation and they both looked towards the loft stairs.  “Your father,” muttered Jonathon.
 

            +_+_+_+_+
 

            Clark blushed and looked away, no doubt embarrassed that his father had overheard their conversation.  Lex turned towards Jonathon, not the least bit perturbed by the other man's eavesdropping.  “I don’t understand.  My father?”

            Jonathon nodded.  “Let’s just leave it at, I owe Lionel a debt I never thought I'd have.”

            Lex watched as Clark and his father shared a look.  Jonathon seemed to telling Clark he was walking a fine line telling Lex things that were none of his business.  Clark flushed with guilt but did not look down, apparently deciding Lex was trustworthy with their little family feud secret.  Either way, both looked like they needed to have a talk and it was getting late.  He didn't mind getting in the way of, or enduring some Brady Bunch heart-to-heart; he had several times.  On Lana.  On farmwork and homework and chores.  On driving.  Once even on drinking.

            He had the feeling though that this was going to be a full out argument.  He just hoped it wasn't the one that would eventually remove Clark's light from the end of his tunnel.

            He stood and shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling depressed and rejected.  "I really should be going."

            Even as Jonathon was nodding his approval, Clark's hand shot up to clutch Lex's elbow and pull him back down to the couch.  "No!"

            Lex dropped onto the couch, wincing at the tightness of Clark's grip, but happy for the desperation evident.  Even if it was just to prolong company in order to escape from the eventual fight, Clark needed his attendance, and he was fine to give it up.

            Clark noticed the wince and jerked away from Lex.  "God.  I'm sorry," he whispered.

            "Clark?"  There was an edge of worry and fear in Jonathon's voice.

            "Are you alright?" Clark asked, troubled and ignoring his father.

            Lex frowned at the typical overreaction.  What was it with Clark that made him think everyone else was as fragile as blown glass?  "I'm fine, Clark."

            Clark nodded.  "Dad?" he started, looking up at his father.  "Lex and I were just talking.  I'm sorry that I mentioned Grandpa, it just seemed-"

            "You were right."

            Clark and Lex both looked at him stunned.  Jonathon just stared at his shoe.

            "Lex, I apologize that I have never really given you the chance that my son's friendship with you implies you deserve.  It's just…"

            Lex and Clark waited patiently.

            "I trusted your father once.  A long time ago.  We were- pretty close.  We lost contact over the stupidest thing.  When I went back to him after years, I needed a favor.  He seemed to be there in my time of need, in mine and Martha's, and I thought…  Well, that doesn't matter.  Years later he produced a debt he suggested I owed him."

            "I'm sorry."  Lex had never doubted that Jonathon disliked him because he was worried for Clark's sake and to find that it was something his father did personally to them…  It didn't really surprise him.  After the incident at Level 3 his father really couldn't surprise him any longer.

            And there was always the look Lionel and Jonathon shared.  His father's ~"I never forget a face"~.  Despite himself, his curiosity was winning out.  He tucked it into the recesses of his mind, something to pull out later and mull over.  Maybe he'd even eventually ask Clark for a more detailed version of the story.

            "I apologize, Lex.  Clark has always been a tremendous judge in character.  Even all the more so lately, and maybe it's…"

            Lex's heart held still in his chest, frozen in hopes that Jonathon would just finish his goddamned sentence.

            "It's probably time I gave you a little more then a weak benefit of doubt."  He walked over and reached his hand out.  Lex took it, finding promise in the callused warmth.

            "Thanks, Mr. Kent."  He was thankful his even voice betrayed not an inch of the emotional gratitude he felt.  "I appreciate that."

            Jonathon nodded and took his hand back.  "You boys enjoy your dinner.  Martha made brownies for desert."

            With that he turned and headed down the steps.

            Lex turned to Clark, eyebrows raised.

            "What?" Clark whispered.  "Don't expect me to understand him.  He's my father, remember?  He's more of a mystery to me than anyone else."
 
 
 
 
 
 

            TO BE CONTINUED...

            * I'm not really sure where the whole Jonathan thing came from.  The direction completely switched and it came out of nowhere really.  That's actually why I titled it 'The Surprise'; it surprised me.