His Prince Charming

Both men watched as the dark-haired beauty of Smallville High worked her way through the crowd and away from them, "So," Clark grinned, turning his attention back towards his friend, enjoying the rare sight of a genuine smile crossing his features, "Lana says you were here the other day with a cute brunette," he playfully elbowed Lex, oblivious to the dark look that crossed his face at the mention of his former companion, "Anyone I should know about?"

Lex snorted and raised his mug to his lips while mumbling under his breath, "Don't worry, Clark, you're the only brunette in my life…" He took a sip and glanced back towards his friend, and began choking on his coffee when he saw the boy's widened eyes and mouth slightly parted in surprise.

Barely registering that he was being pounded on the back, the bald man's eyes were watering by the time he could breath again. Hands resting on his knees, and unsure of when Clark had managed to slip the cup from his hands, he sucked in a deep breath and looked around, dryly noting the passing looks of amusement he had received from some of the patronage. He straightened slowly and cleared his throat before turning back around, facing the counter instead of Clark, he laid his hands down on the rail to steady himself before speaking, "uhm… wrong tube?" He offered meekly, eyes trained on the cup in front of him. He couldn't believe Clark had heard!

"…guess so…" Came the soft reply from the area to his left. Shit. Taking another deep breath to brace himself for the next few minutes, he turned to face the object of his… right. "Clark, look…" His blue eyes were still wide, but at least he had managed to close his mouth and wasn't gaping like a fish out of water, "About what I said—"

Clark took a sudden step forward, his expression almost urgent at Lex's words, and he stepped in, invading the space around his friend. Lex struggled not to take a step in retreat. Luthors do not get flustered, his Clark-addled brain murmured someone behind its suggestions to grab the boy and kiss him or to take him right there. "Somewhere else." The roughly whispered words drew him back to the reality of the coal-haired boy in front of him and the way he was running a pink tongue over those suddenly dry lips. "Please…"

Lex glanced around the Talon, and then nodded in affirmation when he was sure that no one was watching them anymore. Turning on his heel, he started for the exit, leaving Clark to follow him. Fighting his way through the surging mass of teenage bodies as they entered the already packed coffee house, Lex made his way to the gleaming Jaguar in the front of the building. He turned off the alarm and unlocked the door with the push of a button and was soon sliding into the soft leather of the drivers' seat. Key in the ignition, he turned the sound system up a couple of decibels as Clark settled into the passenger seat and pulled the door shut behind him.

The ride to the Luthor Mansion was a silent one, if not quiet, and Clark spent the better part of the trip wringing his hands and wishing he hadn't tucked his shirt in so that he could toy with the hem to ease his nerves. Every once in a while, he snuck a glance in Lex's direction, seeing the muscles in his jaw working and the way his eyes remained trained on the road, for once, he didn't bother to speak – as if the music would let him – and decided instead to wait until they had reached their destination.

Clark, debating whether or not he should say something first or wait for the silence to be broken by the other party, didn't realize that they had reached said party's home until the car skidded to a stop, spraying gravel.

Still silent, Lex shut off the engine and got out of the car, Clark following in suit. The castle held an eerie quality, the soles of their shoes clicking, or squeaking as the case may be, on the hard wood floors as they cut through the rest of the rooms and came to a stop in the study.

Lex headed straight for the wet bar set up in the back of the room and poured himself a double. Clark shifted from foot to foot, hands deep in his pockets, unsure of what to do now. He was startled when Lex began speaking again without warning.

"Clark, about what I said–"

"No." This time Lex's eyes widened, surprised by the force behind the word, "Don't… don't say you regretted it, or that you didn't mean it… w-whatever it is you meant, that is…" Clark trailed off, watching the corners of Lex's mouth quirk into his trademark smirk.

"What I was going to say, is that, I didn't mean for you to hear that. It was… a mistake," He paused, wanting to see what more, if anything, his dark-haired companion had to say.

"Oh." It was said in a small voice, while he toed the carpet in front of him, "S-so… now that I have… have heard you, I mean," Lex smiled at the sputtering way Clark had of expressing himself, "Uh… what did you mean?" He finished and peered anxiously at his friend, awaiting an answer.

Lex heaved a sigh and moved to settle in an ornate armchair, "Clark…" another sigh, "Look Clark, what was said was said, and I'm not going to lie to you, I wish you hadn't heard that and it was foolish of me to say it," He held up a hand, striking an almost regal pose, Clark mused, to cut off his friend's protests, "But, you need to realize something, What I said – it doesn't matter what it means, because–"

"Damn it, Lex! It matters to me!" And this time Lex's jaw did drop and Clark would've been supremely pleased, if not a little amused, at having finally shocked him into speechlessness. Would have been… were he not so angry with him already. Instead he took a deep breath and sat on the footstool in front of Lex's seat while peering up at him earnestly, "It matters."

Lex slowly closed his mouth, taken back by the intensity he found in the young Kent's gaze. He swallowed, and when he spoke again it was little more than a croak, "Why?"

And then that goofy, naïve as all hell, farm boy grin split his gorgeous face, and again Lex had to struggle not to kiss the boy. "Because."

And now he blinked. And blinked again. "Because?" His eyebrows furrowed and his voice took on the dry tone it always did when he was annoyed, "This is serious, Clark!" And suddenly he was up and pacing back in forth and Clark tried not to get dizzy watching him, "You don't seem to realize that there are implications to this. Big implications. And now you're joking around and acting like none of this matters, and really it doesn't, or at least it shouldn't. Maybe you should just go home now, Clark. Forget about what happened, and leave, because this is just–"

"Just what?" Clark had cut off his rant with softly spoken words, almost not loud enough to hear, but Lex must have, because he stopped and turned slowly to face the boy who was still sitting there on that footstool, playing with the hem of his shirt that had somehow gotten untucked while they were there, looking innocent as all hell, and damn if it didn't nearly break Lex's heart when he spoke again. "Just stupid? Just… just…" And he looked up now, those gorgeous blue eyes drawing Lex in, "Just what, Lex?"

So he sighed, and kneeled on the floor in front of him, "I was going to say, 'just impossible', Clark… because it is…" reaching forward, knowing it was crazy, and brushing an errant lock of hair away from the boy's eyes, "…you know that, don't you, Clark?" He would never get enough of saying that name. Seemed like every sentence in which he was addressing his friend, he must use his name. It was… perfect… just like the rest of him.

But he was drawn from the reverie by a more than slightly displeased voice, "Why? Why is this impossible?" And there was another sigh for an answer – he seemed to be doing that a lot lately – and then his hands were being gripped by Lex's.

"Because." And he looked up, surprised, and saw that rare, laughing sparkle in those grey-green eyes. So he laughed, because it was ridiculous. He was sitting in the castle, telling the prince that nothing was impossible, when he didn't even know himself.

And then those wonderful hands were gone, and he stopped laughing, sobering quickly at this sudden lack of contact while Lex turned to pour himself another drink. And so he risked it all, because after tonight, if he didn't, what was left? "What's impossible?"

More softly spoken words. God, that kid's voice would be the death of him… So he gulped back what he had left in his glass before setting it down and then looked back over at Clark, "What do you think I meant?"

And that hopelessly shy gaze turned away again to stare back at his hands while he shrugged lightly, "I… I guess… umm… well, I was hoping it meant… well… what it meant was that… uh…" And then Lex lost what little patience he had left.

Strode forward and pulled him out of his seat, gazing into those owlishly blinking eyes briefly before pulling him closer and down and covering that beautiful pout with his own lips. And then, groaning deep in his throat when he felt a hand rest tentatively on the small of his back. And forcing himself to untangle his hands from that unruly mane and pushing back and away and soon across the room, because he didn't trust himself within fifty feet of the boy if he were wearing full body armor, let alone five inches away when he was flushed and disheveled and longing and, Oh God…

So he gripped the back of the chair and gulped breaths of air and reminded himself that fifteen…

"L-lex… are y-you o-ok?" And still so concerned… he growled at the absurdity of it all. "I'm fine," More edge than he had intended, and he took another deep breath before speaking again, "I'm fine, Clark. Are you alright?" And no answer, but he could nearly feel him nodding.

"W-was…" and suddenly, courage he didn't know he had, and he drew himself up and covered the distance to stand in front of Lex again, "Was that what you meant?" And an incredulous stare before a very un-Luthorlike snort of amusement, "Yes. Yes, Clark, that was what I meant." And he's shaking that gorgeous, powerful head now, silently laughing at him.

So he smiles, because that's what he meant, too. And he says so. And this time, he enjoys leaving him speechless, and decides to keep it that way, reaching forward and gripping the front of what must be a two hundred dollar shirt. And then he's back where he belongs.