The Memoirs

 Jonathan was sitting on the porch, rocking in his chair.  Cold and crisp but the night was beautiful, and he drank the hot coffee at his elbow out of his favorite cow cup as he looked over the farm. 

 

Not a bad thing to show for forty years.

 

Clark was running so hard. It was all a blur, the ground being eaten up by his old tennies at a lightening clip. The lands around him turned from urban to rural, comfortable, crops and cows and the big soft moon and home. How did he say he could ever leave? How could he leave this place? How? How could he ever leave?

 

Why did he love Lex so much, and it hurt so bad?

 

The wind was still blowing as he stopped in front of his father. Dirty, dusty, tear streaks dried now with the dirt that had been blowing in from the west, from the ground his feet had kicked up. He just stared at his father, for a good, long moment, nothing but the trees and the wind, his old coffee cup and Clarks thumping pulse.

 

"Hi."

 

"Hi, son."  Jonathan took in the dirty, tear-streaked face, the heaving shoulders, the dust trail behind him.  He knew, the way that fathers knew things about their sons, that something was wrong, capital W wrong.  "Come on inside; your mother and I just finished dinner a little while ago and we're gettin' ready for bed."  He got up and instead of holding the door open, held out his arms instead.

 

Clark walked up the steps... setting the suit case down on the porch and wrapped his arms around his dads waist, leaning in to hug him, softly, numbly. "I... is it okay? I can come back… back later, if you're gonna sleep and stuff. I know you get up early, and I don’t want to bother you guys' routine."

 

"It's okay, son.  Come on."  He hugged Clark tightly, and then opened the door.  "No, don't come back, and don't start all that.  Come on in the house; tell us what's goin' on."  He stuck his head in the open door.  "Martha?  Clark's here."

 

Oh, Martha loved visits from her baby. Ever since he left he'd made it a habit to come by once a week, hug them, kiss them, when the phone calls at night weren't enough.

 

She loved her baby to death.

 

But when she looked up from the stove, wiping her hands on a dish rag, and saw her son...then something else entirely kicked in her gut. Maternal instincts ran rampant, and her eyebrows rose high to her hairline as she stepped forward. "Clark? Baby?"

 

"I needed t… to see you guys." He whispered, clearing his throat and saying louder, "I wanted to visit."

 

Jonathan nodded as he handed his son over to Martha.  "We're glad you did, son.  You know we're always glad to see you."  He went to the refrigerator and pulled out a soda, setting the can on the table at Clark's usual place.  "Wanna sit down and tell us what all's been goin' on?"

 

"Okay." Clark murmured, and sat in it automatically, looking up at his father hazedly through the dirt and grime. "Sorry I didn’t call tonight."

 

Something huge was wrong. Big. Her son never looked like this, with the exception of when Big Betsy had died in child birth. But nothing, nothing like that even compared to how he looked now. "Drink up, sweetie. I've got some apple pie in the fridge, I'll get you a piece, okay?"

 

"Thanks, mom… I’m not hungry." He didn’t think his belly would accept anything even resembling soda, but he drank it because it seemed to calm the lines in his fathers face a little.

 

"It's okay, we don’t mind.  You can drop in anytime; this is still your home, you know."  Jonathan went to the sink and started wetting a towel under the faucet.  "What's wrong, Clark?"

 

Before his father had finished saying the words, Clark simply lay his head down on the kitchen table, and sobbed. He cried so hard he could barely grasp for breath... falling forward out of the chair so it skittered behind him, and he cried as his mother dropped to wrap her arms around him. Soft, warm, scented like a mom should smell and it was his mom, his mom, who was holding him, and that was okay. That helped.

 

The pain was outrageous.

 

"Shh...shhh, baby," And Martha’s eyes, when they looked at Jonathan, had a million thoughts, emotions, fears. He'd killed someone. Lex was dead. He hadn’t been able to save someone. Oh, God, her baby.

 

Jonathan knelt down on the floor beside him and Martha, wrapping his arms around his waist and rubbed his back.  "It's all right, son.  We're here.  We're gonna help you through this, whatever it is."  He laid his cheek on Clark's shoulder and hugged tightly.  "Come on, Clark... we're here."

 

"I didn’t know, I didn-didn’t know and I was so s-stupid to think I would u-u-u-understand and I’m dumb and he's dumb and he's gone, h-he hates me and I-I can't be... believe he..."

 

"Alright... alright, shh." Martha murmured softly, one arm wrapping tightly around the one Jonathan had around his waist. "Shh, sweetie, its going to be fine, but you need to tell us what’s wrong, okay? Shh, baby." Her heart wrenched, and she was so glad, so very glad her son knew how to deal with his emotions the way a man should. Sharing them with his parents.

 

"What did he do to you, son?"  Jonathan's hackles were already rising, and he was trying to think where he'd locked up the shotgun after he'd cleaned it the last time.  "Clark?  What did he do to you?"

 

 

 

It was several long minutes before he could respond. He poured his emotions out, in this place where he was safe and unjudged for who he was, where it was okay. He slowly let go of his mom, gazing at her in thank you, and sat up straight, shaking his head and rubbing his cheeks. "He didn’t do anything to me. I can't tell you, dad. It was just something I wish I never… never had to see. And I’m playing the victim and Im not, I’m just so angry at him and I hurt him so badly, I know, but I couldn’t not say anything, and now he hates me and we're not aushna' anymore and that’s it, that’s it, its over and I love him so much."

 

Martha, even being a true through and through woman, didn’t understand a word. She just rubbed her sweet sons hair, his shoulder, holding him tightly even after he let go.

 

Jonathan blinked and tried to make sense out of the mess that had just poured out of his son.  "Lex didn't do anything to you, but he did something that's upset you, you said something to him about it--which it sounds like you should have--and he's sulkin' over it?"  He didn't let go either, but he did rock back on his heels so he could look Clark in the eye.  "That bout right, son?"

 

Clark nodded, miserable, and looked up as his chin dimpled and trembled. "He t-thinks I hate him, and I don’t, but I’m mad and I don’t like being mad and this is so new and I want it to go away."

 

Jonathan hugged his son hard.  "Clark... son... bein' mad at somebody's part of bein' in love with 'em.  You'll get mad at Lex, he'll get mad at you, and somehow, you'll both end up all right about it."  But this had to be serious, so he plowed on.  "But this... Clark... you gonna tell us what happened?"

 

He shook his head, closing his eyes and laying his cheek on his raised knee. "I can't. You'd go ballistic, and I don’t want you to. He made a mistake... I don’t think he even saw that it was a mistake until I pointed it out, and I told him that I was disappointed and I could feel him close off and he was going to cry, and I almost made my baby cry, dad, and he was standing there and I.." He trailed off, another quiet crying jag starting, shaking as he set his face on his knees.

 

Martha’s fingers were soothing, even as her mind warred, and her eyes sent her husband a million thoughts. Lex had done something very bad without realizing it, because of the lifestyle he'd had before, that she was certain. And Clark… Clark, being her sweet, wonderful, innocent son... had become witness to it.

 

Her innocent baby wasn’t so innocent anymore, though, and hadn’t been for a long time...even if he'd always be an adorable ten year old in her mind.

 

"I won't go ballistic, son... I won't even get out the shotgun."  He put his arms back around his son and squeezed tightly.  "Was it drugs, Clark?"  Pure guess, because that's the first thing that came to mind about Lex's previous lifestyle.  "Alcohol, drugs, what?"

 

He shook his head, even though his father had hit the mark, and his whole body screamed yes. "Dad, please, don’t ask, I can't tell you, I can't, dad, please."

 

The exact same thing was going through Martha's head. She never would have expected her night to end quite like this. She'd made fajita's--Nell's recipe, for supper, and had been pleased when Jonathan had made happy grunts through the whole meal. So strange, how after twenty years of marriage, she could still get pleasure out of making her husband a meal, and watch him enjoy it.

 

She thought, for a long time, that it would never happen again. Night after night, making dinner that tasted like ash in her mouth, until... until everything had blown up, and she'd been ready to go. Bags packed, lose ends tied up. And then her husband, the man whose side of the bed had been so cold for so long...had warmed to her in a way he hadn’t in as many years as she could remember. He'd held her, and gazed at her like the young man he once was, and she felt her heart beat, sing, and cry for him.

 

And now, her baby, was going to have to learn an important lesson in life. People weren’t perfect, even the person you love most in the world. They make mistakes... and its up to you to deal with it. Leave, or stay and work it out, for the sake of love found once in a lifetime.

 

She hoped her baby would make the right choice, whatever it was.

 

"It's alright, Clark." Martha soothed very softly, gently stroking his hair from his eyes. "Its alright, sweetheart, we know you cant tell us. Can you tell me how you felt?"

 

"Betrayed." Clark mumbled from his stuffed nose and throat. "He... he made this huge mistake, and everything I’ve ever stood f-for, everything dad and you have taught me, and then I... I saw him, with i-it, and we went out to club, a-an-and he paid w-with it, and I don’t..." His voice crumbled, his chin shook, and he lay his head back on his knees.

 

Jonathan hugged his son hard, rubbing his cheek against Clark's shoulder.  He'd guessed it was drugs, and Clark had just confirmed it; Clark wouldn't get twisted up about money or alcohol like he would drugs, and he rubbed his son's shoulders.  "Is he using it, Clark?  Do we need to intervene?"

 

He shook his head, rolling it back and forth on his knee caps, and keeping his face buried in them. "N-no, he wasn’t, no drugs, he isn’t taking a-any. He bought it a long t-time ago, so when we ever...he could, cold pay, but I don’t w-want to go anywhere where he has to pay with drugs, and I d-didn’t know, and I love him and he didn’t... he d-didn’t understand why its so bad."

 

Martha rubbed his shoulders too, gently laying her chin on the top of his head as she looked at Jonathan and sighed very softly. "Baby... you learned a valuable lesson tonight, sweetie. Lex's world," She quickly corrected, "His old world, works that way. They pay with drugs, they pay with sex, they pay with anything they can think of. Lex might not do it anymore, but the place h...he must h--he took you to a club?" Her eyes suddenly darkened. "What kind of club?"

 

"A regular one." He whispered, and thank God his face was in his knees. He flushed pink. "I--" Didn’t drink, Clark? You sure did. 4 drinks all together. Don’t lie. "I wanted to go."

 

"Clark... Lex didn't have the benefit of bein' raised like we raised you.  Lionel didn't bother to tell him right from wrong, just... do what you gotta do to win.  I don't know why, don't know when it happened, but that's just what Lex does.  Yes, it's wrong.  It's not what you know to do.  But it's all he knows how to do."  He squeezed his son tightly around the waist.  "You gotta understand somethin', Clark.  People screw up sometimes.  Big time."  His glance flickered to his wife, love in his eyes.   "But if you got love in your heart for 'em, then you gotta learn to forgive 'em their mistakes, and teach 'em different.  He tol' me that you taught him how to love him... you can teach him what's right 'n wrong."

 

Clark looked up, now. His heart was tight in his chest, his throat, his eyes were rimmed with red, and his chin was just trembling so softly. "T... tea-teach him? Teach him that? But he's so old, d-dad, he wouldn’t... he'll look a-at me like I’m just a kid, and I am, he'll never.."

 

Lex took her baby to a bar? Hmmph. She was going to have a talk with young Mr. Luthor as soon as she could get to a phone. Martha gently touched Clarks too long hair, gently sweeping it from his temples and eyes as her husband spoke. The love in his eyes was only reciprocated in her own, and she gently squeezed his fingers, mouthing softly, 'love you'. "He's a good boy. He has his heart in the right place. But Lionel... he was mourning, Clark, for many years... the most important years of Lex's life. When Lex needed him the most, Lionel just couldn’t, and he grew up and did the best he could on his own. But now he has his father, and Mr. Senatori, and you...and your father and me. He has a lot of people, where he didn’t before. He's so blessed to have you, to have his best friend as someone who can share his life with him, and he knows it. He's trying...you just need to help him, baby. Show him what’s right, and what’s wrong. Help him."

 

And it broke her. Because Lex was only a kid himself, young and stupid and so sweet.

 

Jonathan nodded.  "You know that Lex doesn't look at you as just a kid, son.  If he did, then I wouldn't have a record of 2 for 2 walkin' in on you guys together," he said, emphasis on together as he scrubbed his face with his hands.  "When you and I had our fallin' out, and Lex was defendin' you, he said that you'd taught him how t'be a friend, that you'd taught him how t'care for people, and that you were teachin' him how t'love you."  He squeezed Clark's shoulder tightly.  "If he thought you were just a kid, then you wouldn't been able to teach him all that stuff."  He heaved a deep sigh.  "Never thought I'd be sayin' this, but don't underestimate Lex Luthor and how highly he thinks of you."

 

"I don’t." Clark sniffled softly, rubbing the heels of his hands over his eyes. "He loves me, he's told me a million times or more. He does anything for me, dad, he'll do anything I need for him to do. He loves me, I know." All he wanted to do was go find a corner of the barn to cry himself to sleep in peace. "I love him, and he loves me." He sniffled again, rubbing his eyes again as he heaved a heavy sigh and let his legs fall Indian style. "'m sorry you walked in on us."

 

Martha. Paled. Jonathan had walked in on them? Having... oh boy. If she ever saw it, she'd need therapy, she was sure of it. Her baby boy, who'd clung to her legs and drawn on her walls was not having sex, and that’s how it would stay in her mind. Darn it. "Don’t worry, baby. You boys had a fight… its healthy, did you know that?"

 

"Im crying." Clark mumbled. "How is this healthy?"

 

Martha laughed very softly. "Fighting is good. it means you're huma--...or, well," She blushed, and it got a small smile from her son. "Human enough. Fighting is natural... if you didn’t fight, you'd get bored."

 

"Fightin' means you got a strong relationship, son.  Fightin' means that you're not afraid to disagree about somethin'.  Like your mother and I used to fight over Lex.  We weren't afraid to disagree about it, cause we loved each other, and we knew we could take it."  Jonathan slid his hand over Clark's back and gripped Martha's hand tightly.  "Somebody needs to find Lex and give him a good ass-kickin' and tell him the same thing I'm tellin' you.  You had a right to be upset, but you gotta realize, Lex is different than you."

 

Martha gripped the hand just as tightly, and smiled at her husband over Clark’s head. "That’s right. No matter what, fighting means you're both strong, and you’re not afraid to speak your mind. That’s the way to intimacy. Every fight you have, the deeper in love you are, because you can understand your partner more than you did before. Of course, through the whole fight, you want to knock their brains out, but at the end.." She nodded gently. "Its worth it."

 

"I can’t... I can’t see him tonight." Clark whispered, rubbing his cheek with his hand. "I have to wait. I can’t see him, because... because then, he'll think I’m sorry for telling him no to the drugs and I’m not, I’m mad, and..." His breath hitched. "I’m going to go up to the barn."

 

She gently took her sons leg, shaking her head before he could rise. "No… there’s something I need to talk to you both about."

 

"He offered you drugs?"  Jonathan's head shot up.  "He offered you drugs?" he repeated, shocked.  Then he changed his gaze to his wife.  "What is it, honey?"

 

"No, dad." Clark couldn’t help it. He wound his arms around his dads waist, hugged, and laughed softly. "I told him not to use it for payment." But then his mom spoke and he let go of his father, sitting up and looking at her. "What’s wrong?"

 

"Nothing..." She shifted a little, and plopped her skinny tail on the linoleum. It was warm, thanks to the floor heater she'd bought from K-Mart. Nine ninety-nine, and it warmed the wood floors and tile up right as rain. "Well, something." Two months along worth of something.

 

"Good."  Jonathan wrapped his arms around Clark and returned the hug.  "We're waitin' to hear it, honey."

 

It was good that they were both sitting down, and as it was her way, she didn’t beat around the bush. Easier spoken then alluded to, she always said. "I’m pregnant."

 

Jonathan had been crouching on his heels, and fell back hard on his ass.  "You're... you're.... you're..."

 

"No idea, but its there, and its growing, and he or she will be born seven months from now." Martha murmured, and hugged him just as hard, giggling into his ear and holding him… then reaching out, and yanking Clark in too.

 

Clark was stunned. Just...completely stunned. He didn’t know how his mom… after all this time. He'd figured his parents had Ew, ew, ew!! had sex, since he'd been here with them. Why now? But he hugged back, just as hard, tightly, wrapping his arms around the both of them. "Okay… so... this is kind of really cool."

 

"That's... amazing!"  Jonathan held tightly to his wife.  "That's... God, honey, that's wonderful!"  A few years late! he chastised himself.  "Boy or a girl?"

 

"I don’t know yet." She grinned at him, shaking her head. "Its only two months along. I should start showing in another month or two." God, and being pregnant again was... scary, but indecently wonderful. She was giddy with the pleasure of it, and her eyes danced. "We're young people, yet... this is going to be amazing."

 

"I’m gonna go up to the barn... you guys celebrate." Clark smiled at the both of them. "Congratulations, mom."

 

"You want to stay, baby? I've got some apple cider around here somewhere."

 

He shook his head, squeezing her hand and, because he knew his father wouldn’t kill him for it, ruffled his hair. "You crazy kids. Heh." And off he went.

 

Jonathan looked at Martha with his eyes wide.  "A baby... we're going to have a baby.... our baby."  He slid his hand over Martha's stomach, palm pressing against it though he knew he couldn't feel anything yet.  "You know when this happened?  Was it that night?  In Metropolis?"  He stroked her stomach through her blouse.  "Martha... this is wonderful."  He kissed her softly, and then jerked back.  "No!  I can't do that!  I gotta be careful with you!  Good Lord, honey!  You can't keep working around here like you have been!!"  Jonathan was agitated.  "You can't strain yourself, not with the baby!!!"

 

She sighed at him. Deeply, and gazed into his eyes, gently sweeping his fingers with her own. "I’m not the porcelain doll I was with Lex, sweetie. I promise, things...they'll be okay, okay?"

 

And Clark.. .Clark walked into his barn, his place of solitude, of comfort, of wonderfulness. And the first thing he saw was a blue tie… Lex's. Forgotten, on the desk, still laying in the box it had been given him to. A joke between the both of them, because Lex had accused him of never owning a tie in his life… and had bought him one with Piglets all over it, and the words "For my shy baby" inscribed in gold lettering on the end of the tie.

 

And he wept, crumbling to the floor, grasping the tie in his hands, and holding it tightly to his heart.

 

About two hundred miles away, Bruce was trying to give Lex back his. He'd been called to the front desk, notified Lex had come in, except.... when he found him, in the lounge, he hadn’t quite expected to see what he did. It was his friend, alright. His face was streaked, his clothes rumpled and wrinkled. And he had the beginnings of a true party for one in front of him.

 

Bruce sighed, softly, simply tucking his fingers in his khaki linen slacks, black sweater warm against his chest and his shoes whisper quiet on the carpet as he slowly pulled the seat out in front of his good friend and sat down in it. His fingers folded, his brow rose, and he remained silent.

 

Lex barely looked up.  "Bruce!  Happy to see you, man.  Lemme buy you a drink.  Don't let me drink alone, y'know."  He turned to the bartender, his grip firm on the scotch bottle.  "Get the man here... anythin' he wants, and put it on my bill, all right?"

 

So he had the beginnings of a nice drunk happening.  He needed to get deep, deep into said drunk before he could deal with Bruce. 

 

"Look at you. Aren’t you breathtaking." He quirked a small smile, sitting back in the plush leather stool, crossing his legs under the bar and raising a brow, as he motioned to the bartender. "Martini, dry." He folded his hands in his lap, taking in his best friends stance. "Your stench is really invigorating. Reminds me of those sex halls in Portugal you took me to, mixed with street bum and Lula's Taxidermy and Grill." His voice hitched as he kept the laugh contained. "Its very pleasant."

 

 

 

"Kiss my ass, Bruce," Lex slurred out.  "Shut the fuck up and drink."  He tilted the bottle back, his head with it, and just held his throat open as he poured the liquor down it.  He barely even needed to swallow anymore; just pretend like he was sucking a cock and bam... open throat. 

 

"If you push it in further, I’m sure you could give it head, too." Bruce murmured, not unkindly as his drink was set before him by the slightly embarrassed bartender. "What happened tonight, Lex?" He sipped his drink, and found it dry, hard...good, but not as good as he made it himself.

 

"A fine question."  Lex thunked the bottle down onto the table and turned watery eyes onto his friend.  "Pity I don't know the answer.  If I had to guess?"  Lex had to take another slug of scotch before he could answer.  "I'd say Clark left me."

 

"Holy hell, Lex!"  Dick had just walked into the bar behind Bruce; it had taken him a bit longer to get dressed, and he couldn't help the exclamation.  "What bottle did you crawl out of?"  He slid onto a stool beside Bruce.  "Whatever he's having... give me the total opposite," he told the bartender.

 

His. Brow. Rose. It hit his hairline and beyond before he could calm it, and the appearance of his lover only strengthened him as he shook his head at his lover. "I told him he smells like a strip joint and a seedy bar, but did he believe me? Pfft. No." He said it deadpan, brow lowering delicately now. "What, exactly, did you do?"

 

Dick took the club soda that the bartender offered him, and handed it to Lex.  "Here, man.  Drink this."

 

Lex knocked the glass away.  "Fuck you too, Dick."  Another slug from the bottle.  "Now I know why he calls you that."  Yet another drink.  "I think... I think he got pissed when I tipped Gene two kilos."

 

"Watch it, Lex." Warning growl, deep in his throat, that was half purr as he sipped from his glass. Unsaid--Don’t take your anger out on my mate. You go there, and I'll kick your fucking ass to the moon, even if you are my best friend. Of course, then Lex had to go and say that, and Bruce rolled his eyes heaven word. "Why, God? Why do you send this idiot to me? What can I do, really?"

 

Dick slipped his hand onto Bruce's shoulder and squeezed.  "It's okay, Bruce.  Just let it go."  He grinned inside, warm and gooey because Bruce was defending him.  "The question is, why'd you go and do a stupid thing like that where a kid like Clark could see it?"

 

" 'm notta idiot."  Lex finished the bottle, and glared at it for a moment.  "Give me another one."

 

The bartender flicked worried eyes over to the sober man.  "S-sir?"

 

Lex slammed the empty bottle down on the bar, shattering it.  "GIVE ME ANOTHER GODDAMNED BOTTLE!" he roared. 

 

"Get him some coffee, sir, if you could." Bruce nodded at the poor, abused bartender, and his eyebrow cocked up high as he dared Lex to scream at him. Sober or drunk, he'd never crossed that line. He demanded respect, dammit, and gave it as he received it. "You're the biggest fucking idiot I’ve ever seen." More words. Sigh. Dammit, couldn’t he just sit back and watch, like always? He worked his way through his brain, looking for the right ones, and spoke quietly and elegantly. "You took Clark clubbing and let him see you were packing drugs. Isn’t that magical."

 

The bartender fled to the other end of the counter.

 

"Want me to go up and lay him out some clean clothes and run a shower?" Dick asked quietly.  "Or you need help manhandling him up to his suite?"

 

"Tol'you we were goin' out.  Ask'd you to be... fuck, what's the word... escort."  Lex reached for Bruce's martini.  "Said no.  S'it was just me'n Clark."

 

Bruce pulled the linen napkin and the martini away, right out of Lex's reach. "Lex, you're slurring." Another roll of his eyes at the heavens, blaming the Great Deity for this mess with a sigh. "Yes, Dick... and some aspirin. Lots... and lots of aspirin."

 

He rose to his feet, pushing his martini further down the bar, and spun Lex's stool around as he spoke. "Bartender, please have the coffee sent up to suite 760." And he lifted his skinny friend by the arm, winding it around his shoulder as the other went around too skinny a waist. "I could probably throw you to the room. Like a flying squirrel--you'd catch the tail wind and flap your way right on up."

 

"You got it, Bruce."  Dick disappeared, sprinting up the stairs and foregoing the elevators so he could beat the other two men back into the suite.

 

"I... am not slurring."  Lex pulled himself up proudly, nearly toppling into Bruce as he stood up too fast.  "Luthors... don't slur.  Especially me.  Who has learned to drink his way through whatever problems come his way."  He didn't battle the firm grip on him; he knew from experience he wouldn't win.  "Tha's right... throw me away.  Jus'like Clark."  He sagged then, and choked back a noise that might have been a sob.

 

"I bet if I threw hard enough, you'd crash right through my library windows back in Gotham. A little harder and you'd splash in the Atlantic. God knows you need cold water in the face. Idiot. Start from the beginning, alright? One foot in front of the other." Bruce showed him, like a little kid, as they began to sashay their way to the elevators. "Left... right.... your other right… there we go. Keep walking. Don’t cry yet." The second part was said softly. "Christ, you stink."

 

"I can walk, thank you!"  He tried to jerk away, but ended up tripping over his own feet.  "Don't stink."

 

He made disapproving noises anyway. "Something happened with Clark?"

 

"Told you in the bar--where we should still be, by the way--that he left."

 

A heavy, soft sigh, which led them right into the elevator, after a nod and a winning smile at New York’s senator, and his wife. As soon as they were in, he realized he didn’t have enough fingers.

 

Dammit.

 

He pushed the button with the tip of his shoe, nearly falling over in the process and hanging on to Lex as he straightened himself and took the weight back.

 

Yeah. So maybe he just gave half of Metropolis's elite a good look of his crotch. So?

 

Lex leaned against the wall, rubbing his bald head against the rough paneling.  God, it felt good to feel it scraping against the back of his head.  So much so, that he kept doing it.  Over and over again.  thud... scrape scrape scrape.  thud... scrape scrape scrape.  thud... scrape scrape scrape.  Didn't care that he was peeling off layers of skin.  Didn't care a damn bit.

 

He needed to be hurt.  Physically hurt, beaten, bruised, something to overwhelm the huge, horrible, sinking ache in his gut, just for a little while. 

 

Another choked back noise.

 

It cut deep. Deeper then he'd thought, and Bruce watched until he couldn’t anymore, gently tugging his friend up. "Lex...hey." A cup of his jaw, holding it in both hands to really look at him. At the pain in Lex's eyes. "C'mere. Hey." Ever so gently, so softly, he wrapped his arms around him and hugged him, tightly. Just held him as close as he could, the floors dinging quietly in the background. "Lex. He hasn’t left you... come on. Talk to me." He murmured. "We've been friends for a long time... there’s never been anything you couldn’t tell me. Talk to me about this."

 

Lex wrapped his arms around Bruce's wide bulk--a place where he'd never had admitted to anyone, even Bruce, that he felt safe and protected--and sobbed.  "He did leave me, Bruce... he did.  He said I wasn't good enough; that I wasn't the man he thought I was, and that he didn't want me near him.  He--he said he couldn't believe me, he--he even thought that I was still doing drugs while we were seeing each other."

 

It broke his heart, in tiny, shuddering shards. Lex never, never did this, with anyone, but him. And the last time he'd crawled into his arms like this had been when he was 16, and his father had done something or other that had hit the tip of the ice burg. The call had come in the middle of the night, and he could remember, like it had happened yesterday, his then sweet lover crawling into his bed and sobbing.

 

They'd not grown any less painful as the years had gone by.

 

Each tear made him want to rip his heart out of his chest, and as they made it to the top floor, that held only their suite, he gently held him, and walked with him to the open door waiting for them. "Its okay. Its alright, Lexy, shhh." Came his whisper and his palm, wide and comforting, soothed his heaving back. "Shhh, shh."

 

"It's not all right, Bruce, it's not.  Nowhere near close to all right." 

 

Dick heard the elevator chiming and opened the door, and when he saw Lex crying into Bruce's shoulder, he disappeared.  Like lightning, Dick made himself scarce by slipping into the bathroom, and turning off the shower.  Instead, he started the tub running, scalding hot water that would hopefully be relaxing.

 

Lex let Bruce lead him into the room, and didn't let go of his friend's waist.  "It's not all right," he said again.  "Clark left, Bruce.  Just like Mother did, just like you did, everybody I've loved left... what's wrong with me?  I didn't do anything bad, I swear.  I did what I always do.  I'm not a bad boy, Bruce, I swear."

 

Every word tensed Bruce's belly up, tighter and tighter, and he led him to the thick, cozy couch in the lush living room, leading him to the pillows and pulling him in close. He hugged him, soothed him as only he knew how to do, shaking his head and pressing his cheek into the top of his head. "Shh. Shh, Lexy, its okay. Don’t cry, don’t cry like this, you're breaking my heart." He murmured, holding him tighter and rocking. Words, he wasn’t good at. Comforting, he was excellent at. "You're not a bad kid, Lex, not at all. You're not, you hear me? Start from the beginning, tell me what happened from the beginning. I’m here, okay? I’m right here, hold on to me and tell me."

 

Huge gulp of air, and if Lex had realized just how much he was breaking down he would have been completely appalled with himself.  As it was, he was fighting to hold on to whatever it he had left.  "Clark... Clark and I, we went out tonight.  Brandywine, that fucking transie club over on Cabroza.  My old block; I used to fuckin' live at that club, man.  I had some of my best highs there, but that was before I met Clark.  But he wanted to do the whole dressing up thing, so that's where I took him cause I knew it'd be safe for him to be there if I was.  After a couple drinks and a little dancing, we went upstairs, right?  Little rooms.  We had sex.  Great sex.  probably the last sex we'll have."  Another harsh sob.  "Kinda messed up our makeup and clothes, so we were gonna change.  Called Gene, the bouncer.  told him to get my keys from the valet and get the suitcase outta the trunk--packed extra clothes for Clark and me.  Always tipped the guy two hundred bucks and two kilos of coke.  Clark flipped when he saw the kilos.  That's when he left.  Well, he said all those things, then I left.  Left him the car keys and a couple thousand bucks."

 

Bruce fought to take it in as Lex, a sweet, weepy mess in his arms, told him everything. He held him closer, turning further on the couch to bring him in closer, and shook his head as his eyebrows furrowed and he frowned. "Oh, Lex. Lex, he's sixteen. That’s what happened, that’s what was the problem. You took him out dancing as a chic, had sex with him there... he must have already been peaked on adrenaline. And he's a farm boy... fucking Christ, Lex. He's a sixteen year old farm boy. I love you like my brother, you know it, but what the fuck where you doing taking him out like that? What would you have thought, all those years ago, if the roles were reversed, and you were in his place and I in yours?"

 

Lex blinked.  "He wanted to go," he said simply.  "So I took him."

 

"Answer my question." He murmured.

 

"I'd have thought you knew somethin' I didn't."  Lex didn't bother pointing out he'd been drinking by the time he'd met Bruce. 

 

"If you saw me with two kilos of coke, Lex, what would you have done?"

 

"Asked for a line."  Lex twisted away.  "I didn't know he'd flip out on me like that, Bruce!"  The alcohol was wearing off and he was sobering up faster than he wanted.  "I need a drink."

 

"No." He grabbed his arm, and pulled him back. "Don’t you do that. Lex, he's an innocent kid from the sticks, whose never known what sex or drugs really are other than an after school special he watches while eating cookies and milk. Alright? You need to wake up and smell the coffee. You want to do everything with him, and he's your lover, and he's just as great a person as I’ve ever met. But its too goddamn soon. You've got a lot to teach each other yet, and you weren’t ready to go to a damned transvestite club, as much fun as its apparent you had, until the crack incident. You've both got a lot of growing up to do, and I thank God its you and him."

 

Bruce was struggling for the right words, really, he was. But when he didn’t find them, he settled on his hawk eye.

 

Dick turned off the water in the bathroom, and stuck his head back into the room.  "The bathtub's full, Bruce.  Hot water and everything." 

 

"That's not true, Bruce.  There's--hell, you know about Clark.  He's different than anyone else I've ever known, and he knows what I used to do!  He knows what he can and can't handle, and goddammit, he wanted to go and I took him!"  Lex looked around, and then shoved everything off the coffee table, sending newspapers, lamps and coasters to shatter and spread on the floor.

 

Bruce watched the flash of temper, eyebrow raising but not saying a word about the crash and the papers flying even as he tucked Dick's words away in his mind. "He knew, but do you think he'd ever seen it close up until tonight?" He suddenly stood, and snagged Lex by the shoulders, giving him a good, hard shake. "Think Lex. You're a smart boy. You love him, and he loves you. I’m not saying this is your fault… you didn’t know he'd react like this. What I am saying is that instead of going Aerosmith on your hotel room, you talk to him. He's a scared kid. Understand? Scared. Kid. So are you, but he's six years younger then you. Be a man and take care of it. Push the issues away and talk to him, before you lose the best thing that ever happened to you."

 

"I tried, Bruce!  I tried explaining and he wouldn't listen!  He kept saying that I didn't get it, and that I wasn't who he thought I was!  He.  Doesn't.  Want.  Me.  Anymore."  A dark, deep growl.  "He made that perfectly clear."

 

"Stupid ass. Stupid. Do you think you're aushna, the love of your fucking life, would throw you away that easily? Are you mentally deficient, or what the hell is your problem?" Alright. So. Maybe Bruce was a little angry now. Unexpected, but he worked with it. "You're going to throw away two years worth of friendship, six months of the best love you've ever had, for this? Have you really turned into that much of a wimp?"

 

"I'm not a wimp!" Lex yelled back, whirling on his friend.  "Don't you ever use that word again, Bruce!  EVER!" he bellowed, his voice raising.  "That's NOT a word that you even understand, I don't EVER want to hear it, EVER AGAIN!"

 

Good. The more blood that flowed in that thick head of his, the faster he'd get over the liquor, the faster he'd get back and argue with Clark and fix things. "You're a wimp." And Bruce's eyes challenged. "You're going to throw it all away because you're scared, am I right? You’re going to take his words and you're going to walk away and you aren’t going to look back." He grabbed Lex's arm, rubbed over the tattoo hard. "This? Its a lie, isn’t it? This can’t be real, you can’t be mates like this, because of course he'd throw you away after doing something stupid like you did." He dropped his arm, took Lex by the shoulders, and shook him again. "Of course he can’t stand you, the one person who makes his eyes light up, the one person he told me was going to be by his side until the day he died, the one person he knew accepted him for who he is. Of course, what the hell was I thinking?" He let go again, and glared at him in disgust.

 

 Lex shoved away from Bruce.  "Shut the fuck up."  He cradled his forearm gently, fingertips stroking over the tattoo.  "You don't know what you're talking about.  He's not in my head anymore."  He kept stroking.  "It's not a lie.  It wasn't a lie."  Harder rubbing now.  "He loved me.  But he's gone.  It's done." 

 

Bruce was sure he'd never gotten this furious in his life, but the forceful way wasn’t working. He shrugged, lightly, sitting on the couch, crossing his legs calmly, elegantly resting on the fluffy cushions, and looked at him. "That’s fine. Then come back to Gotham with me. Leave your old life behind... your father and Dominic have their business, you’re free to go wherever."

 

The thought of leaving Smallville--leaving Clark, without the chance to even see him again--turned Lex's blood to ice.  "I can't."

 

Bruce carefully kept the smug look off his face. "Why can’t you leave?"

 

"I just can't.  I can't leave him.  I can't not see him."

 

"Go see him." He murmured, rising once more. "Clean yourself up, because you smell like the wrong side of a trash basket. And go to him. Go talk it out. There’s nothing your love can’t rise above... you just need to remember it. Its a lesson I learned, the hard way."

 

"He doesn't want to talk to me, Bruce," Lex said softly.  "But I have to see him.  Just... to make sure he's okay."

 

"No, of course he doesn’t want to." Bruce said easily, leading him to the bathroom. "And neither do you. But pride isn’t the way to go, about this."

 

Dick got up from his recline on the toilet seat as Lex came in, and he started walking out the door.

 

Lex caught his arm.  "Dick.  I'm sorry about the crack I made downstairs."

 

Dick shrugged, and gave a cocky grin.  "Not a problem, man.  We all do shit when we're drunk; it's cool."

 

Lex let Bruce keep pushing him into the bathroom, and he started peeling off his sweater and jeans, not thinking twice about the bite marks on his throat and chest.

 

Bruce saw them, though. And all he could think, for several moments, was his own sucked and bitten marks from just a little bit ago. He glanced out the door, meeting his lovers eyes and giving him a pleasure filled expression, before back down to Lex with an eyebrow risen. He offered a shoulder to be leaned against, and straightened him when he tipped a little too much to the left. "Phillip’s going to drive you home. I called him before coming downstairs… he should be waiting already."

 

"Call Clark's house and see if he made it home all right; I left him the Aston but I didn't stick around to see if he took it."  Lex lowered himself into the hot tub with a sigh.  "Christ."

 

"You made the right choice, Lex," Bruce murmured, nodding and waiting until he was alright to step back. "I’m going to get everything packed and ready, alright?" And he turned on his heel, and left, the bathroom door clicking shut behind him.

 

And just couldn’t help a grin at Dick, pulling him into his arms and rolling his eyes heavenward. "I’m a man of little words. Why do these people continue to taunt me until I speak?"

 

Dick laughed, a tad evilly.  "Because, man... there's nothing that says challenge like the strong, silent type."  He wrapped his arms around Bruce's waist and squeezed.  "Me... I like 'em strong and silent.  Means I get to tell 'em what to do."

 

"I’m so whipped." He murmured, and allowed himself a tension releasing kiss. He dragged his fingers around his lovers waist, dipping him forward and low, kissing him like he was right out of a black and white movie, hard and thick and completely serious.

 

Until he saw the arched neck, and then he had to feast on it, too.

 

"Yes, yes, you are," Dick muttered into his lover's mouth, and then sighed happily when he felt his lover's hot mouth slide over his neck.  "Bruce... man... you're about two more licks away from startin' something I'm not sure you wanna start with Lex soakin' in your bathtub," Dick warned, hooking his leg around Bruce's waist.

 

"I know." He'd never tell this to his love, but Lex's predicament only made Bruce love Dick more, appreciate and adore him, and he nibbled all the way down his throat before slowly, softly, raising him up to his feet again. He nibbled on his ear, his cheek, jaw, nose, peppering soft, tiny little nips everywhere until he was sated for the time being. "I love you, Mr. Grayson."

 

"I love you, Mr. Wayne," Dick answered softly, sliding his hands through the thick waves of Bruce's hair.  "I take it we're going back to Smallville too now?"

 

"Not yet." He murmured. "There's a hot tub we haven’t had sex in yet."

 

"Mmmm... now I could get used to this... think I could talk you into a hot tub for Wayne Manor?" Dick growled softly, biting Bruce's earlobe.

 

"No. Won’t ruin my floor plan." He mumbled back, arching into the kiss as he raked his fingers down his back, and up under Dicks sweater to stroke over hot skin.

 

"So we'll stick it in the cave, and you can write it off as a business expense," he teased.  "The cave doesn't have a floor plan."

 

"Sure it does." Somewhere. "Gonna get a pool installed later this month...did I tell you?" He let go of Dicks earlobe before he got more ideas, though his fingers still rubbed the small of his lovers back. "A lagoon. Just because." And it had been so long that he did anything just because that he grinned for the hell of it.

 

"A lagoon... only you, Bruce."  Dick hid the giggle against Bruce's shoulder.  "Only you would put in a fucking lagoon."

 

~  ~  ~ 

 

Lex was busy scrubbing himself clean in the bathtub.  He didn't smell that bad, no matter what Bruce had said, but... yeah.  He did need to clean up before he tried to talk to Clark.  He rubbed his fingertips over his tattoo, and sighed.  Aushna'... where are you, Kal-El?  Oakenepel needs you.  He put his head down on his knees, sucking in a deep breath as he silently cried for his missing love.

 

Two hours away, Clark heard his lovers thoughts, sobbing all the harder and burying his face in his hands as he kept his own thoughts tightly shut.

 

~  ~  ~

 

His lips quirked. "A heated lagoon...rounded, like the shape of a half circle but thicker and irregular… and there’s a bridge, into a tropical garden." Alright… so maybe he'd been dreaming of it for a long time. But he'd wanted it, and had been terrified of ruining the last thing that he had of his parents. Well this....it would be something for himself.

 

Because he wanted it.

 

"A lagoon and a tropical garden... you are going all out, Bruce!  Heated, no less.  There's my hot tub.  I can skinny dip in your lagoon, right?"

 

"Only if you invite me." Bruce murmured, and slipped out of those drug like arms to get to the door. "I'll be back. Don’t let him escape out the window or whatever, alright?"

 

"Like you think I can control him," Dick snorted.  "But, yeah.  I'll stand guard."  He pulled himself up straighter.  "Robin won't let him escape."

 

"That’s my boy." Bruce said it softly, leaning over, kissing him on the cheek, and disappearing through the door.  He dug his palm pilot out as he walked, paging through the address book until he found the entry for Clark's house.  He rode the elevator down as he was searching, and by the time he'd found it, he was leaning against the front desk.  "I need to make a call out, to Smallville.  The number is, 312-555-6864." 

 

The desk clerk dialed the cordless phone and then handed it to Bruce, who carried it over to the lounge and sat down as he listened to it ring.

 

"Hello, Kent residence." Martha’s voice was warm and pleasant, despite the late hour of which the phone call was coming, and she stood next to the microwave as she finished making the hot chocolate for her son she'd planned on bringing him.

 

"Mrs. Kent?  This is Bruce Wayne calling; could I speak to Clark, please?"  Bruce drummed his fingertips on the side of the chair.  "I'm sorry if I woke you but it's rather urgent I speak with him."

 

"Oh, hello, Mr. Wayne." Martha said pleasantly, looking towards the steps where Jonathan was upstairs showering, then sighing softly. "I was just making some tea, you didn’t wake me up. Clark is...unavailable right now, can I take a message?"

 

How to say this without insulting her?  Bruce sighed.  More words.  He was going to be out of his lifetime quota by the time he left Smallville.  "Mrs. Kent, I don't mean to be rude, but I imagine Clark is just as... unavailable as Lex is right now, and it's in that regard that I need to speak with him."

 

"Ah." Understanding, like a breath of fresh air, and she loaded up her little tray with cookies and hot chocolate and started out the porch door and to the barn. Thank God she was good at balancing the phone on her ear. Heh. One of life’s little gifts. "In that case, you may talk to him. However, if you upset my son, Mr. Wayne, I'll be forced to terminate the call, are we clear?" She said it easily, but swiftly. Martha wasn’t a push over, dammit.

 

"Mrs. Kent... if you do that, then I will call back again and again until I have finished my business with Clark."  He sighed, and tried not to growl at her.  "I'd like to point out that Lex is sitting in the tub in his suite crying, and he didn't have anyone to terminate the call when he was upset, and I'd like to find out exactly what occurred."

 

"I understand. Completely." And her heart went out to Lex, even though she didn’t say it. "However, again. If you upset my son, then you won’t be speaking to my son. Are we clear?" Her voice was shrewd but pleasant. She'd be damned if she'd have her baby hurting worse over it. "Give me a moment, please." She lifted the receiver from her ear, hit mute, and walked up the steps in the barn. The Christmas lights they'd strung together, white as snow, were on, glowing, and her baby... her baby was curled up in the hammock. "Clark?"

 

He looked up... coughing softly and sitting up, quickly. "Mom, hey." Shoes long ago kicked off, Clark flexed his toes in his socks, standing to help her set the tray down. "Thanks, mom."

 

"Bruce Wayne is on the line, sweetie."

 

Oh, God. "Okay, mom. Thanks again." He kissed her cheek, and watched as she left. The barn door shut with a little drafty clack and he sank onto the warm couch, curling up under the blanket as he lifted the phone and hit 'speak'. "Hello?"

 

"Hello, Clark.  It's Bruce.  You and I need to have a bit of a talk."

 

"Hi, Mr. Wayne." Clark answered softly, sipping some of the hot chocolate... loaded with marshmallows. God, he loved his mother.

 

"I suppose it'd come as no surprise to you that I found Lex downstairs at our hotel, drinking himself into oblivion, would it?"

 

"No." He answered just as softly, and refused to let himself get worked up on the phone with Bruce Wayne.

 

"I see.  Would you mind telling me why I found him like that?"

 

"Don’t you know? Didn’t he tell you?"

 

"I'd rather hear it from someone sober."

 

"I--" His voice cracked before he could stop it, and he cleared his throat gruffly. Manly like. There was something about Bruce Wayne that always made him question his manliness, because Bruce was so damn masculine. "He had crack. In his... his bag."

 

"And was he smoking it?"

 

"No... h… he had it. He used it to pay some guy for getting his luggage."

 

Bruce paused.  "I'm waiting to hear the rest of it."

 

"We went out. We... we went out dancing, at some club that Lex used to go to. I never… it was the first time, I was ever in one, but we h-had fun. And we went upstairs, and... and we were intimate with e-each other." Clark swallowed, laying his cheek on the couch as he pressed his back to the arm of it. "And... we needed clothes, and Lex, he always thinks to bring stuff we need. He... he called the door guy… girl… whatever, to bring a suitcase up for us, and th-the next thing I know he's taking crack out of his bag, a whole bag of it, and he didn’t understand w… why I was so angry."

 

"You were angry because Lex was giving out illicit drugs to someone?"

 

"Yes! YES!" Clark nearly cried it, before catching himself. "He was giving that man drugs that could kill him and it was perfectly okay in his mind and he didn’t even understand why I was so mad, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t stay, I had to leave and he left first and he left me there, in some drag bar and i-it…" He choked on his voice, closing his eyes and laying back down. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes for fear of bursting into horrid, emasculating tears.

 

"Would you like to know why he left you there, Clark?"

 

"I know why. Because he finally saw what a dumb stupid kid I am."

 

"Because he thought you didn't want him."

 

His heart was broken, but he stood his ground. "I’m angry at him, but h... he's mine." And it was so simple a phrase, so simple a truth, because Lex... just... was. There was nothing more about it. He just was.

 

Bruce sighed.  This was not an easy conversation.  Nor was it a fun one.  But dammit... he was not wasting words.  "Why don't you try telling him that, Clark?  He feels like you don't want him anymore because he's not the person you thought he was."  And here was a little bit of anger.  "I know you're young, Clark.  But you know Lex.  You knew that what you said was going to hurt him, and you made no effort--at least, that Lex told me of--to explain yourself or to try and reassure him of anything.  I've half a mind to take him back to Gotham City with me to work on the merger there."

 

"Don’t threaten me." His voice was dark, but strong. "Don’t threaten to take him away from me, because I'll hunt you down to the ends of the earth if you do. And yeah I knew it would hurt him. It was supposed to. He had drugs. Drugs, and if the cops had stopped us, he would be in jail for ten to twenty as we speak. Drugs, when he was with me, and don’t make this seem like its my goddamn fault."

 

"It's both your goddamned faults," Bruce growled.  "And I'm not threatening you, Clark, I'm telling you.  You might be... what you are, but I've been what I am for a damn sight longer, and I think that I'm a match for you.  Now, you and Lex either jerk your heads out of your collective asses, or he's out of here until you both get straight."

 

"Don’t make him sound like he's a dog, goddamn you trekney gramphta!" He growled, very darkly, and very deadly. "He's not your animal, he wont be told where to go and what to do, and I swear to god if you try it you'll regret it."

 

"Oddly enough, Clark, I told Lionel Luthor that about six years ago."  Bruce didn't let the shiver of unease he felt show in his voice.  "Remember who's lover Lex was first." 

 

Maybe pissing the super powered alien off wasn't the best idea he'd ever had.  But he had to do something to get him and Lex on the same page again.

 

Jealousy was hot and painful in his gut, and it writhed like a can of worms. "He's my lover now. Don’t touch him. Don’t look at him. Don’t do anything to him. Don’t even talk to him. Do you think I’m stupid? Don’t you think I knew you were going to call, and do this? I’m not going to feel bad and apologize for him having drugs, Mr. Wayne. He told me, that part of his life was done. He told me it was done. No more lovers, no more alcohol and parties all weekend and half the week and it was like it was happening again, and he had drugs that he gave to that man, and my best friend’s mom died of a fucking overdose and I don’t want him to die, okay? I don’t want Lex to die because he's human and he's not strong like me and he can die any day and he'd be gone and I'd be alone."

 

"You are alone, Clark."  Bruce sighed.  "At this moment, Lex is sitting in his suite, crying.  ALONE.  Because he feels that you've abandoned him.  And yet, like a sick little puppy dog, he refuses to leave Smallville because he wouldn't be able to see you, across the street, if he did."  Hard voice now.  "You, little boy, need to realize something and realize it now.  Lex's old world is not a pretty place.  I don't know, nor do I care, what you thought it was.  Cute little stories and after school specials, maybe.  I simply don't care.  Lex lived in the REAL WORLD, Clark.  And he's got a past he's not proud of, but if you're going to blow up at every part of his past you don't like... I won't let you keep hurting him like this."

 

"HE IS MINE!" He roared, loudly, so hard that the window panels shook. Panic, hot and wet in his chest to match the squirming worms now screaming in terror and fury. "You have no right to speak to me like you can take him away! He is mine, I am his, don’t you dare sit there and threaten to take him away!" His words hitched, his chest tightened, and tears flooded his eyes. "He's mine, I’m his."

 

He was nothing but a little kid. That’s it. A kid. And again, for the second time since they'd decided to take a chance on each other, Clark felt so disgustingly inadequate.

 

"If he is yours Clark... then come and get him.  Don't let him sit alone and be hurt.  If he is yours... fucking take care of him."

 

Clark hit the off button to the phone, and set it on the couch underneath his upraised knees. He pulled the blanket up higher, his knees closer, and closed his eyes until the sickly, dizzy panic peaked, and finally receded. Pain, now, hot and thick, and he closed his eyes again until it to, receded.

 

Bruce waited.  Five minutes, then ten, and then dialed again.

 

He lifted the receiver...gazing at the little caller ID number and hitting on as he brought it to his ear. "Yeah."

 

"Over your tantrum now, Clark?"

 

"I hate you, so much."

 

"I'm sure that's a sentiment I'll return to you over the years."  Bruce sighed.  "At the moment, I'd just like to know if you're some semblance of all right so you can talk to Lex."

 

"No, I’m not."

 

Bruce sighed again.  "Then he won't be here in the morning."

 

"I’m not his keeper." He said softly. "My insides sometimes don’t let me think clearly, but I know I’m not. He can do whatever he wants. I don’t control him."

 

"Yes, Clark.  You do."  He was really, really tired of sighing.  "You control every aspect of Lex's life, and if you don't realize that, then you don't deserve him.  Weren't you listening to me when I told you he wouldn't leave, though he's miserable, because of the chance to just see you?"

 

"He doesn’t trust what we have. He doesn’t trust it, at all."

 

"Think carefully, Clark.  With the things you said to him tonight... did you give him a reason to?"  And then he growled to himself.  When the hell had he become a fucking relationship counselor?

 

"You can never understand what he and I have. Never. You'll never understand it, and you'll never know why this can’t work f he doesn’t trust it and I don’t want to talk to you anymore."

 

"If you don't talk to me, then I'm not going to tell you what Lex said about what you and he have."

 

"Don’t talk to me like I’m a child."

 

"Then stop acting like one."

 

His belly clenched tight. "I’m not acting like a child."

 

"Yes, you are.  You're being a stubborn, prideful, hardheaded five year old and you’ve got at least two years on Lex's behavior."

 

"I’m not any of those things, Bruce. I’m an alien. I’m from outer space. Ever see it? Stars, planets? I’m from there, and my insides, my head is not the same like yours so don’t sit here and tell me I’m acting like a child when I’m not, you prejudiced bastard."

 

"Well, at least you're a little more creative in your name calling than Lex was."  Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose.  "Lex is from Metropolis.  Big city, lots of people, big fat seedy undercarriage, ever see it?  Inside his head is not the same as yours so don't sit there and judge him for something you clearly don't understand," he shot back, echoing Clark's sarcasm.

 

"Maybe we're..." Fear now, a hot spike of it right down the middle of his chest. Maybe they weren’t aushna', maybe, maybe they weren’t and it had all been a stupid fantasy on his part and his throat closed. "No, I don’t understand it. I’m a farm kid from the sticks. I don’t understand much."

 

"Do you understand love?"

 

"Yes." He said it softly.

 

"Then why aren't you with the man you love?"

 

Because of everything. "I'll talk to him."

 

"In person."  It wasn't a question.

 

"No. Something more."

 

"In his head?" Bruce guessed.  "He said something earlier about you not being in his head any longer."

 

"I’ve been listening to him." He said offhandedly, softly. Since Bruce had called he'd closed his ears to it, but now… he could hear self doubt, pain, suffering to match his own. Feel it, heavy in his chest.

 

"Then you won't mind if I call you a bastard," Bruce said conversationally.

 

"I don’t really care. Did you think I’d let him go, completely?"

 

"It doesn't matter what I think, Clark.  You don't want to hear what I think, in fact.  What matters is what Lex thinks.  And as far as he knows, you have let him go completely.  Only he can't let you go.  Do you know, he sat with me a while back and said that his biggest fear was he wasn't worthy of you?  You just proved that fear, Clark."

 

How wrong he was. How desperately wrong. It wasn’t that Lex wasn’t worthy of him. Its that Clark wasn’t worthy of Lex. And every moment that passed, it became more and more obvious. "I don’t want to talk to you anymore. I'm going to hang up."

 

"I'll keep calling until you talk to Lex."

 

"I will."

 

Bruce paused.  "He needs you, Clark."

 

"I know he does." He said softly, hung up, and put the phone down between his legs again, leaning back against the blankets, closing his eyes.

 

And opened the gates back from his thoughts. It swirled like hot fire, the bright light of it, and he reached out, tentatively taking hold of Lex's mind, where he could pinpoint anywhere, and dragged it down ten steps of consciousness. Neither awake nor asleep, he felt his body slowly shut down, breathing softly as if napping. He could barely hold onto his lover, but did when he felt him slipping, grabbing him with hands like iron and pulling him safely to a place in his mind he always thought of as their own. Open terrace doors, long window sheers fluttering in the summer breeze. The sun was warm on his cheeks, as he sat on his red couch in that golden room, with the blanket over his shoulders. He didn’t see his lover for a long moment… looking for him, watching as he kept hold on both their bodies and made sure they were safe in the physical world. Lex?

 

Lex looked up in his mind, looking around before coming out of a corner shadow.  Clark?  He looked around at the room again, surprised to find himself here as he'd just been in the tub moments ago.

 

He slowly stood from the couch… wearing his favorite jeans and his blue t-shirt, because it was what he thought of as himself here, where he could be alone. He came here whenever he was sad or lonely, and the soft, warm bed with white pillows, a million of them, and a fluffy, thick cover invited lazy mornings and soft kissing. Here, though, there would be none of that, and it was like they were really there. Everything felt and looked real, down to the breeze fluttering his hair.

 

He stayed almost six feet away, and refused to go closer. We would be safe here. Everything is safe here.

 

Where is here? Lex asked, not surprised to find that he wasn't talking.  Did... did I dream you?  Part of him knew that had to be the case, because Clark had left him.  Don't go; I need you.

 

I’m not gone. He shook his head, pushing at his mind, strong and agile, to get them so they could "Talk normal." He murmured. Everything became clearer, every sense sharper, and he stood before his lover quietly. "Bruce called me."

 

"Don't hate me," Lex said without preamble.  "Tell me what you think is right and wrong and I'll live by it, just please... don't leave me."

 

"Will you come here...sit next to me?" The couch was inviting, and a piece of home, and he walked over to sit on it. "I don’t hate you. I’m not your keeper. I’m not leaving you."

 

Lex moved quickly, sitting on the middle cushion beside his lover.  "I didn't mean to be bad, Clark."

 

"Stop." He whispered. "Calm down. I’m not leaving, I promise. You're not bad." His emotions were Lex's, Lex's were his, and he felt every ounce of fear Lex had, every single thing he was terrified of. "You're not bad. You're my aushna‘. How could you ever be bad?"

 

He sniffled once, and was mortified.  "Because you said... you said I wasn't who you thought, that I wasn't good anymore because I did something bad."  His voice sounded like the little boy he'd never been.  "I don't want to be bad, Clark.  I want you to love me again."

 

"I never stopped loving you." His voice was broken. "I never stopped loving you. You're not bad… don’t be scared of me. I said stupid things, things I shouldn’t have said. I was shocked, and scared for you. You’re always good, you aren’t a bad person, I promise."

 

"Then you still want to be my mate?" Lex asked softly.  "Still want to be my aushna'?"

 

"If you do something for me. Just for me, for no one else."

 

"Anything, I promise."

 

"Believe in it. Believe in us. Don’t think I would leave you. We are united, we are mates. You hold my marks, and my claiming. You will always be mine, and I'll always be yours."

 

Lex nodded once, swallowing hard.  "I will.  I do.  I was just... so scared."  He put his arms lightly around Clark's waist, as though he weren't sure he'd be welcomed.  "Scared you'd left me, don't know why, but I won't be again."

 

He looked down... felt it, though it wasn’t real, and he wound his arms around him, too, holding him softly. "I’m sorry I don’t understand things. Sometimes I don’t see, and I didn’t see you hurt. I’m sorry."

 

"It's okay.  I'm sorry too... should have realized you weren't ready for it, should have realized it.  I'm sorry, so sorry."

 

"Don’t leave me."

 

"I won't.  Never.  I won't leave you."  He tightened his grip on Clark's waist.

 

"Will you come back?" Clark asked quietly, looking down at the soft, downy head as Lex’s arms held him tightly. He rubbed his back, softly, up and down, as the breeze blew.

 

"I was going to as soon as I got clean; I smelled bad.  And I'd had a lot to drink.  So I had to clean up first."

 

"My ignorance has a high cost." He said softy, and let go of him. "Go back. Get cleaned up...come home."

 

"We were both stupid, Clark."  Lex squeezed his hand tightly.  "I'll be home soon... Bruce said the limo is waiting for me downstairs."

 

"Okay. I'll see you soon, then." His body flexed, in the physical world, and his mind grabbed onto their psyche's. Up, up the ladder of consciousness, until he felt himself sink back into his body, slow and easy. He focused on the real world, making sure Lex was alright before dimming their link. He didn’t want to think, he didn’t want to move. He wanted to sleep. He was exhausted, as tired as he'd ever felt himself be, and he let himself shut down, and fall asleep.

 

His dreams were filled with nightmares.

 

-fin-

 

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