Poetry in Motion
            by Nymph Du Pave

            Chapter Five: The In-Between

            It was the third time that Clark woke up and, instead of being closer to Lex this time, he was farther away.

            He sighed and rolled over, finding the other sleeping bag suspiciously empty and folded up in a nice little square.

            "Good morning to you too, Lex," he muttered sadly.  He wasn't really surprised that the older boy had taken off, though.

            Clark had come back from the house with Lex's water and sleeping bags.  Lex had looked at first oddly alarmed and then satisfied at the sight of the bags slung over Clark's shoulder.  He'd been writing so Clark left him alone other than to inquire if he wanted to spend the night.  Clark after all, had his own thoughts to escape pondering for a while.  He didn't want to have to explain a raging hard-on to Lex.

            Lex had nodded at his question, hesitant but not at all displeased with the idea of staying the night.  That made Clark smile, happy that, despite what had happened, Lex was still somewhat comfortable around him.

            They'd worked on their poems for another twenty minutes before Clark had honestly become too tired to write.  Trying to ignore the thoughts that his brain kept shooting at him and being successful had managed to take a lot out of him.  He'd slipped into the bag and into another pretend sleep, struggling for another forty minutes with introspection.  On Lex.  On Lex's strong and obviously willing body.  Why hadn't Clark just kissed him?  What would have happened if he just kept Lex's body pinned to the couch?  Why couldn't he have just climbed to the cushion beside Lex, curled up- this time letting Lex see his wakeful state- against that cozy body and told Lex everything, starting with that day eleven, almost twelve years ago and ending with his desperate declaration of love and lust?

            He'd not been aware that he'd even gone to sleep, but he'd stirred a few hours later to find Lex nestled in the red sleeping bag a mere foot from his.  His pale face had been so close, a mysterious Mona Lisa smile graced the porcelain doll complexion.  Clark hadn't been able to resist.  He'd reached out a tentative hand to graze the smooth skin and the memory of being on Lex's lap sudden rushed back.  Lex's hardened shaft, so willing and inviting, moans and whispers issuing from Lex's lips.  He'd nuzzled the tender, swollen part with a fire in his gut, wanting all the more to just reach out, unzip and…  And…

            And what?

            That was the reason he'd not kissed Lex.  The more he wanted it to go further, the more he didn't.  Lex's desire had been right there, not just under his nose, but pressed to it.  And he hadn't acted.  He wasn't sure how he felt about sex.  He'd done things on his own, little things, things just to get himself over the edge, things to satisfy the teenaged hormones.  But he'd stopped initiating sessions for fear of possibilities.  Until recently, long brown hair and same-sorrel eyes, soft curves and pouty lips had embraced his fantasies.  Then Lex came and showed him what a real, true fantasy was supposed to be.  What fascination and lust truly was.  He'd had a crush on Lana.  Long and invigorating and sweet.  It held the place in spring dreams and winter things.  It was the kind of memory you looked back on with a rose-colored tint and you thought of how sweet the older days were before life became more complicated.  Before things got too real.

            Before you started to live.

            Lex…  He was something different.  He brought something to the table that was blaze and hazard, but at the same time there was a gentle kind of comfort, not just innocuous but ingratiating.  It was both fire and water, the volcanoes and the oceans.  It could stop all life or began to breed it and this kind of love- he never doubted that love was what this was- was for all seasons, the kind of affection and devotion that lasted a lifetime of moments that would later be recalled with no tint necessary.  The real thing would be beautiful enough to stand on it's own.

            Clark just had to find a way to get there.  He had to rid himself of the fears, the stigmas and be willing to grasp what he and Lex deserved to have.  Everything fit so well.  Lex wanted to be needed in a way that didn't involve money or contacts or his father- Clark didn't give a shit about any of that.  Clark didn't need Lex in anyway- but then he did.  It was the good kind of need, the kind of need that had to do with hearts still beating and lungs still breathing.  Clark needed Lex in the most human way possible.  And he wanted him even more.

            He'd find away to tell Lex.  He'd find away to get over his self-conscious problems and be there for Lex.  After all, he didn't want Lex to get another offer from Lionel and this time take it.  There was no way he'd allow Lex to leave without the older boy knowing just how he felt.

            He sat up and rubbed his eyes.  Taking in a deep breath of morning air, he identified the smells of pancakes and hot syrup, bacon and eggs.  His mother was apparently making a large breakfast.  Grinning, he got up and stretched.  Thoughts of yummy food filled his head, something his tummy needed right then.  He ran down the steps, out the barn and to the house at top speed, his stomach barely finishing a growl it started when he first smelled the sustenance.

            He opened the door, shutting it behind him.  "Hey Mom!" he called out.

            "Clark!" she hissed from behind him.

            He spun around to find her taking off her apron and flashed her a grin.  "Pancakes?"

            "Why'd you run from the barn?!  Are you insane?"

            The kitchen door flew open and his father rushed in, panting.  "Martha!  Clark!"  Jonathon saw them and looked around frantically.  "Did he see-"

            "No, thank the Heavens.  He's using the restroom."

            Clark's mouth fell open.  Lex didn't leave?!  "Oh, God!  You mean-!  Shit!"

            Martha hit him with her apron.  "Clark!  Language!"

            "Martha," started Jonathon, resting against the door.  "I think in this situation he's got more than enough reason to-"

            "I'm so sorry," he interrupted, realizing he almost exposed himself and his family.  Oddly enough he didn't feel panic at the idea of Lex knowing about him, just at his parents knowing that Lex knew.  "I had no idea that Lex was still here."

            "What did you think?"  Clark turned to find Lex entering the kitchen.  "I'd just run out on you?"

            "Well, after last night, yeah."

            Lex stiffened.  Clark almost slapped himself on the forehead, seeing the muted panic in the rich boy's eyes and the sudden worried interest in his parents'.

            Shit!  Me and my big mouth!

            Jonathon looked at Lex, wary.  "What happened last night?"

            "Yes, Clark," asked Lex coolly, still very much uneasy to Clark's trained eyes.  "What happened?"

            Clark shrugged putting on his most carefree manor and walked passed his mother to wash his hands.  "Lex was really tired.  We both were.  I thought he'd just conked out on the couch then woke up and gone home."

            "I used the sleeping bag."  He almost sounded hurt.  "I just woke up really early and couldn't get back to sleep."

            "Yes," Martha threw in.  "Lex helped with the breakfast this morning."

            Clark's father laughed.  "So anything burnt?"

            Lex smiled.  "I'm actually a fairly good cook.  I learned from my mother."

            Jonathon and Martha both nodded.  Clark had told them about Lex's mother once in an effort to try and shed some light for Jonathon.  It had almost worked.  Martha smiled softly at him and placed the pancakes on the table.  "I'm sure she was very proud of you, Lex."

            Lex looked to Clark.  "Overly so."

            Clark blushed amazed, again at the depth with which Lex let him in, and pulled out a chair for Lex before choosing the one between Lex and his father for himself.  He was always amazed by the range of expressions that Lex was capable of.  He could tell by the last one that Lex knew Clark had divulged information about the boy's mother.

            Lex sat down next to him and the same time the telephone rang in the next room.  His father started for it.

            "I've got it, Jon," Clark's mother scolded.  "Go get cleaned up."

            She excused herself and Lex leaned over to whisper to Clark.  "It's okay, you know."

            Clark faced him.  "What?"

            "That you told them."

            He looked down again, embarassed.

            "Clark, it's okay."  Lex stroked his shoulder.  "Really.  It's not exactly a secret.  Her death was on every television set and in every newspaper in the country.  And many internationally."  He looked up at Lex, unbelieving.  He hadn't actually thought about it, but it did make sense.  The Luthor family was rich and famous, worldwide industrial celebrities and capitalist geniuses.  When one died, everyone was going to know.

            Still…  If Clark's mother ever died…  He knew he couldn't handle that kind of publicity.  Being reminded so many times everywhere you turn.  And Lex had been so young.  How long had the worldwide broadcast lasted?  "I'm so sorry."

            The emotion and genuine sorrow in his voice obviously stunned Lex and Clark watched the tears spring into his eyes.  "It's fine, Clark."

            Lex began to turn away, but Clark reached out.  His fingers caught Lex's chin and forced the older boy to look at him, then dropped back into his lap.  Lex's gaze was fierce and shiny and Clark really had no clue what he was doing.

            "You're my best friend, Lex.  I hate seeing you in any pain."  He moved closer until their faces were only a few inches away.

            "Clark, you-"

            " I love you, Lex."

            Lex's eye grew wide.  "You mean-"

            "Lex!"  Martha's voice, naturally very calm and reserved, was loud and a bit on the shrill side.  "The telephone's for you!  I think there's been some emergency, but I can't tell.  I don't understand Italian at all."

            +_+_+_+_+

            ~"You're my best friend, Lex."~

            "Four minutes, sir."

            Lex nodded to the pilot.  "Thanks."  He watched as the mansion became visible on the horizon.  The problem in Italy, a bomb threat to the LuthorCorp European Headquarters, had left him uneasy and a little unnerved.

            He checked his watch.

            Oooh.  Three minutes and fifty-three seconds.  Big difference.

            He stretched, hearing and feeling pops in three different sections of his back.  He felt miserable and was actually welcoming the bed he called his own in his father's domineering castle.

            He shuddered.  The man was going to be there.

            ~"I hate seeing you in any pain."~

            Then you'd hate to see me the past twenty hours, and certainly the next two.

            His phone rang again and he looked at the ID, not at all surprised when Clark's number came up on the second ring.  He pocketed the phone.

            "The Kents again?"

            "Yes, Dad."  He watched as his father flipped through reports, the loud, harsh wind outside not a bother.

            "It's four AM, son.  They want something."

            "Yes, you're right," he conceded.  "They do."  To make sure I'm alright.

            His father looked up at him, pursing his lips.  With the reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose and his gaunt, bony face he looked like an old woman, an old maid.  Lonely, bitter, spiteful.  Unfulfilled.  No matter how much Lex despised his father, he still caught himself worrying for the man.  Being that rancorous, that savage, trusting no one, always looking for an ulterior motive…  It took a lot out of the elder Luthor.

            "Don't placate me, Lex."

            Lex checked his watch.  Three minutes and nine seconds.

            He knew it was no use to argue with Lionel.  He'd learned over the years that his father had been right every time Lex thought he'd made a friend.  But even a genius makes mistakes, and he'd be damned if Clark would ever be willing to use him.

            ~"I love you, Lex."~

            That's the problem.

            Even though the words brought pain to his chest, his heart began to beat wildly out of happiness.  Clark loved him.  Not in the same way, but it was still there.  A best friend's love, something that Lex had never been given in his life, something he'd deserved as a child but never received.  Something he most definitely did not deserve now.  The way he looked at Clark.  The way he thought and dreamt about Clark…

            There were five phone messages on his voicemail.  Clark every time.  Wanting to know how he was.  If he was okay.  If he wanted to come over again.  Not to worry about the time, to just come up to the loft whenever.  Even if Clark was asleep, the boy wanted him to wake him up.  He'd been there.  Waiting. Wanting to hang and talk and to know if Lex was still going to the poetry thing at the Talon.

            There was a beep indicating another voicemail.

            His father sighed and put his papers in his lap.  He ripped his glasses off his face.  "They've called every hour for the last sixteen hours, Alexander.  They want something from you."

            Lex opened his mouth to say something, what he wasn't sure, when he was silenced by his father's next reply.

            "They're manipulating you.  They're liars, Lex, and not like you and me.  Not for profit.  Not for business purposes."  He sighed, and Lex could see something approaching genuine world-weariness.  "I don't know why they do it, but if you should distrust anyone, it's Jonathon Kent and his family."

            Lex smirked to hide his anger and, more importantly, his curiosity.  Did this have anything to do with Jonathon Kent's revealation the other night in the loft?  What had come between the two of them?  What was the favor that his father had performed?
            "The most honest people I know," he said.  "-and I should distrust them?"  His voice was strangely flat, indifferent.  The best teachings of his father were now coming in handy.

            "Lex, I wou-"

            "How can you, of all people, dare speak like that?  You're the most liberal prevaricator I know of."

            "This is different."

            "Different then what?  Then every other lie you've ever told me?"  He felt the helicopter land and he unbuckled his seatbelt.  "Get off yourself, Lionel.  All five Hardwicks put together have been more honest their entire lives than you have the capability to be for four minutes."

            Somebody, a hand, a helper, a generic face, opened the helicopter door from the outside and Lex didn't hesitate.  He jumped out of the bird and to the ground.  He whipped out his cell phone and hit speed dial 1, calling the number that had replaced his father's the instant Lex had received it.

            "Alexander!  This conversation is not settled."

            "Hello?  Lex?"

            He smiled, his stomach untying and relaxing to an extent he'd not known it had tensed.  The voice was soothing, deep and perfect.  Sometimes he'd give anything for a taste, a touch of such perfection in his life.  Right now, all he wanted was a reminder that it was there.

            "Clark, hey.  I just got back."

            "Are you okay?  I left you a few messages."

            "And called quite a few times."

            "Oh, yeah."  Lex smiled.  He could practically hear his friend's blush.  "About that.  Uh, I'm really-"

            "Don't be."  Lex felt his throat constrict as his mind quickly recounted his father's actions concerning Level 3 and his willingness to betray his only son when said son was at his peek.  "It's nice to know that someone cares…  Thanks, Clark."

            "Anytime, Lex."

            Lex heard his father quickly approaching and decided he didn't want Clark to hear whatever Lionel had to say.

            "I've got-"

            "You said there was an emergency situation in Italy and I got worried.  I mean, you never answered and all.  Are you really okay?"

            Despite his father's proximity, he allowed his grin to grow.  "Yes, I'm fine.  I wasn't actually there for that long.  It was mostly just travel time.  A waste really."

            "Good, I-"

            "Lex!"

            Lionel's voice was really getting on his nerves.  There was a silence on the other end of the phone.

            "Clark, I-"

            "Just call me back when you can.  Are you coming over?"

            "I can't."

            Another silence, this one weighted on both ends with disapointment.  "Are you going to be at the Talon tomorrow?"

            He stiffened.  The Talon, poetry, and Clark.  It started at seven.  He could cite work, his father, lack of sleep…  He could use any excuse right now and Clark would forgive him his lack of appearance.  Clark would stick up for him to Lana.  But more importantly, Clark would believe him and his excuse.  And that simple faith made all the difference in the world to Lex.

            "Absolutely, Clark.  Wouldn't miss it for the world."
 
 
 
 
 
 

            TO BE CONTINUED...