A/N: I don't own any of this.

I freely admit to being totally clueless about Smallville canon. This is AU (obviously), set somewhere around where I'm up to in the series, which is late Season 3.

It's also completely contrived. I forgive myself. Hopefully you will too.

In Vino Veritas

"In wine is truth."
~Plato

He had come to Lana's going-away party at the Talon, but Clark wasn't in a celebratory mood.

He'd had no other choice than to come to the party. Things between him and Lana had reached new lows in the last few weeks - but there was always friendship to preserve and so he'd had to put in an appearance. She hadn't seemed very interested in talking to him, though. They'd exchanged a few tense words about Paris, but then some other friend had pulled her away and she'd seemed only too glad to go.

"'Bye, Clark," she'd said. That was it. All this time, all they'd been through – and that was all she'd had left to say to him.

Clark leaned against a column and looked around the room; it was full of brightly colored decorations, loud music and crowds of people who'd come to wish Lana well. To him it was nothing but noise, though; loud, discordant noise to match his messy, tangled emotions. How was he supposed to feel about Lana leaving?

If he was to be honest with himself, hadn't she left him a long time ago?

A hand placed solidly on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts.

"Hello, Clark." Lex looked, as he always did, a little out-of-place amongst the teenagers congregated in the Talon. But of course, he'd have wanted to say goodbye to Lana too. Her plans had left him needing to find a new manager for the place, but he'd been gracious, said all the right things about expanding horizons and life beyond Smallville.

Lex always seemed to say the right things at moments like that. This time was no exception. Concern made faint creases on his forehead as he leaned closer and, so only Clark could hear, said, "You're looking ... about how I'd expect."

"Is it that bad?"

Lex just grimaced. "... Sorry. Do you want to get out of here?"

Clark nodded gratefully, and they fell into easy step as they headed towards the door. As they passed through the crowd, his eyes sought out and found Pete's, Chloe's, and finally Lana's. In the first two he found an expression of understanding and the promise of a phone call tomorrow. In the latter there was only silence.

The night air was cool on his burning face as they stepped out into the street. Clark waited on the sidewalk in front of the Talon while Lex went to pull the car around. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he allowed himself a moment with the morose thought that things would never be the same again. But then here was Lex roaring up to the curb and Clark climbed into the Porsche, eager to be anywhere else.

"What's the plan?" Lex asked.

The loft or the mansion ... Clark didn't want to go home. He didn't want to lie to his mom about how great the party had been, or think about the evenings he and Lana had spent cuddled up on the old sofa in the barn. In recent months, since he and Pete had grown distant and especially since Lana had announced she was leaving, he had found the most comfort in Lex's friendship and evenings spent playing eight-ball in his study. "Pizza and pool?"

"Sounds perfect."

-

Sometimes Clark beat Lex at pool, but most of the time he didn't. Lex was more than a decent player, and even though Clark was used to holding back by now, his hands were too large and his arms too strong to shoot as softly as he needed to. Luckily Lex never seemed suspicious when Clark didn't pay enough attention and sent the cue ball bouncing off the table and across the room. He seemed to find Clark's clumsiness amusing.

And Clark felt pretty sure that the times he did win, it was because Lex let him.

Tonight Lex wasn't throwing games though. He seemed to be taking it very seriously, and challenged Clark at every turn to think his shots through carefully. Clark knew the pressure wasn't competitive; Lex was trying to keep him distracted. He was grateful for it, and for an hour or two it seemed to work.

After the sixth or seventh game though, he was starting to feel very weary. Pretending never came easily, despite how much practice he got or how many different roles he needed to play.

It was Clark's turn, and Lex had left him with a pretty bad break. After considering the table for a few moments, Clark just sighed and put his cue down.

Even from across the room, Lex could tell. "Talk to me, Clark."

"I don't know ... I guess I just didn't totally believe she was leaving until tonight."

"She's not leaving forever. Who knows what could change in time?"

"No," Clark said, his mouth set in a straight, hard line. "It's over."

Lex came around the table to place a hand on Clark's shoulder. "You don't know that for sure. As long as love lives, there's always a chance."

Clark sighed. "That's the thing though, Lex. … I don't think I do love her anymore."

He could understand Lex's incredulous expression. He had spent the last three years acting like a lovelorn idiot over Lana. It had come to be something that everyone just expected from him. But it had been some time now since he'd begun to realize that he only clung to Lana in fear of letting the past go.

"Don't get me wrong – I care about her. And she's been almost the central point of my life for so long … It's like even not being with her gave me something to do. But if she's not here … where does that leave me? Who is Clark Kent without Lana Lang to pine over?"

Lex was silent for another moment or two. Then … "Clark, far be it from me to contribute to the delinquency of a minor – but I think you need a drink."

-

Lex had come across the hand-blown decanter and matching glasses in an antique shop in downtown Smallville weeks ago. He'd been looking for a going-away present for Lana, something poignant to remind her of what she was leaving behind. That often happened to him – he'd go looking for something for someone else, but come home with something for himself instead. As failings went, he considered it a harmless one.

In the end he'd just told Lana that the Talon would always be waiting for her. That was the best gift he could think of, and she'd seemed pleased by it. He'd thought about reminding her of someone else who would always be waiting for her, but at the last minute had held his tongue; he had grown tired of pretending to play matchmaker for Lana and Clark. If he was to be brutally honest about it, he was rather glad Lana was leaving.

He was looking forward to having Clark to himself.

Lex didn't fool himself into thinking Clark was interested in anything more than friendship, of course. He'd accepted that almost as soon as he'd accepted that what he himself felt was different. It hadn't been easy, but he was rather proud of how he was handling it – which was to say, hiding it.

He knew it was going to be harder now, without Clark's constant focus on Lana as a smokescreen. If he and Clark were together more – and he hoped they would be – that created much more opportunity for slip-ups.

For instance, it was probably unwise of him to be pouring them each a drink. But he too was feeling jittery tonight; he would just stay on his guard so he didn't say anything foolish.

The woman behind the counter in the antique shop had told him that the red stones embedded in the decanter's collar and the snifter stems were meteor rock. He'd smiled, knowing it was nonsense – meteor rock was green, after all. But he'd been captivated by how they caught the light, and thought the decanter looked lonely for some fine cognac.

-

Clark didn't notice the red kryptonite until the glass was in his hand; and by then, of course, he was not at all inclined to put it down.

Lex didn't notice the flush that came over Clark's face as he took the brandy snifter in his hand; he'd turned his back to pour his own glass and arrange his thoughts so he would sound like the concerned best friend – nothing more.

Turning back, Lex raised his glass in Clark's direction with his most carefully leveled gaze. "This won't fix anything, but it's something to enjoy at least. Cheers, Clark."

Clark knocked the cognac back in one hard swig. Lex's expression was surprised, and a little disapproving.

"If you want to drink like that, I can pour you a scotch instead; this is meant to be savored."

"Come on, Lex. Are you going to act all highbrow or are we going to get drunk?"

"I didn't realize that's what you wanted. I just thought, a little something to take the edge off ..."

"Take the edge off what?"

Lex blinked. "Lana? And how her leaving has cast you into existential dilemma? Isn't that what we were talking about?"

"I don't want to talk about Lana," Clark huffed, holding his glass out. "Again."

Lex poured, but his eyes never left Clark's face. "Take it slowly, if you don't mind." he said crossly. "I hate to see it wasted."

"It's not wasted – it'll get the job done."

"Look, Clark, it's not my place to tell you what to do, but I've never known you to drink yourself into oblivion. So why don't we just talk about it?"

"What's to talk about? Lana and I are done. Have been for a long time now."

"So if you're so over it, why the sudden desire to get blind drunk?"

Clark's expression was piercing and just a little ugly as he looked Lex dead in the face. Lex couldn't help a swiftly indrawn breath – it was a very un-Clark-like face, and something in it made him instantly uneasy.

"Why do you care so much anyway?" Clark sneered. "You've always kind of hovered around the edges, trying to push me and Lana together. What stake do you have in it?"

Lex suddenly felt as if he were walking on a tightrope in the rain. He smoothed his features and his tone as only he could. "Maybe I wanted to see my best friend happy."

"Maybe you wanted some vicarious thrills."

"You think I wanted Lana?" Lex scoffed and half-turned away, still discomfited by the strange gleam in Clark's eye. "Don't be ridiculous, Clark … she's not exactly my type."

The red kryptonite had honed Clark's senses to a razor edge, but the force of his realization still took him by surprise. "So it's me, then?"

Lex was suddenly very, very still. "I think you've had enough."

"I think I've hit a nerve. Where's your witty comeback? Or maybe I got it right for once?" Clark's fingers flexed around his now-empty glass. "I think I have got it right. I can't believe I never thought of it before now … but it makes perfect sense. There's no reason for the fabulously wealthy Lex Luthor to want to hang around some nobody teenager from Kansas. Why he'd spend his precious time and money trying to find out all that nobody's secrets. You've always had some kind of fascination with me, Lex. Is that what it's all about?"

The room was spinning, but Lex hadn't even touched his cognac. His mind beat frantically, wondering what slip had betrayed him, or how he could uncorner himself. His panic made him sharp of tone. "Stop it, Clark."

"I'll stop when you deny it," Clark retorted, his certainty gaining momentum with every word. "I don't think you can. You've told me lots of little lies before, about things that weren't important, but I don't think you can look me in the face and lie about this."

"You're one to talk about lies!" Lex shouted, color rising suddenly in his too-pale face. "Don't you dare reproach me for my secrets, when you've never shared yourself with me in any way that really mattered!"

Clark couldn't help but notice how rage made Lex's already-singular appearance all the more striking. He knew what he was doing; he knew he wasn't himself. Or was he? The red kryptonite had only ever stripped away his inhibitions, made him bold enough to reach out and take what he wanted. So was it really all that unbelievable that this tension – this attraction – he suddenly felt had been there all the time? That maybe he'd just needed a little irradiated rock to bring it to the surface?

His voice was just fractionally softer as he replied, "Would it make it easier if I told you I feel it too? There's some kind of force between us, Lex – I don't know why it's suddenly so clear to me, but it's been there all along. Maybe it's time we stopped pretending it's not there. Maybe we should stop hiding from each other and see what real honesty feels like."

Lex simply could not process what was occurring, and in his confusion could cling only to dignity and denial. His posture was rigid with both as he strode across the room. "I can't imagine you're drunk on two brandies, Clark, so the only other possibility is that you've completely lost your mind."

He moved as if to walk past Clark and out the door, but Clark's hand shot out and clamped down hard on his wrist. "Why is it so hard for you to admit I'm right? I can see it in your face, Lex, I know damn well when you're lying to me."

Lex wrenched from Clark's grip. "Don't push me, Clark – you may not like what you get."

"Do you think you scare me?" Clark scoffed. "I want to hear you say it! Or is it that you just can't stand to be vulnerable? To admit your real feelings?"

His chest constricting, Lex tried desperately to convince himself that this wasn't another psychotic break. "Why are you doing this? Do you think I don't suffer enough already?"

"There's no reason to suffer! I just told you how I feel, why can't you just say it?"

"Because that's not how it works!" Lex roared, and in one fluid motion grabbed the glass from Clark's hand and threw it across the room with all his might. It shattered against the wall into a thousand glittering fragments.

As the red kryptonite's effects suddenly drained from him, Clark's vision slowed as if he were running at full speed. He saw and heard as each of those sparkling shards hit the floor.

Then things returned to normal speed and he realized that Lex was still shouting at him; he was mere inches from Clark's face.

"I don't get the same kind of options you do, Clark – I don't get to tell anyone what's really in my heart. I'm not like everyone else – I'm a Luthor, I can't be trusted, and everything I ever love I ultimately destroy. It's my destiny. So what would be the point, then, of telling you how I feel? I'd just be dooming you to torment, too – and I care too much to do it. But you would force me!"

Clark stared with horror at what he'd done. He'd been careless and clumsy again, and this time there was no chance he could convince Lex he'd imagined it. This was an entirely different bridge they'd driven off of.

"Lex ..." he murmured, lamely.

"No – you know what, Clark?" Lex cut him off angrily. "If we're damned either way, at least I'm going to enjoy it."

His kiss was like his anger – hard, hot, all-consuming. It took Clark's breath away and for a moment he felt as if all his strength had deserted him; his hands fumbled for something to hold onto. They found Lex's back as if by accident, but with that light touch Clark regained his equilibrium.

Lex's eyes, which had been screwed tightly shut against whatever Hell yawned before him, blinked open in shock when Clark did not pull away. The moment of hesitation was all Clark needed to take control of the kiss, to gentle it and transform it from a punishment to a reward. His hands on Lex's back exerted gentle pressure, trying to draw him out of his despair and closer to his own heart.

Lex pulled away instead, looking for all the world like he was near to tears. "You spoil everything," he choked.

For a moment they just stared at each other, not sure whether they were friends or adversaries or now something else entirely.

"I don't believe in that kind of destiny, Lex," Clark whispered, "and I think together we could make a different one."

Hurt and shame and confusion suffused Lex like light, leaving him dizzy and uncertain of himself. This was crazy – it had to be. Lex Luthor did not lose control of situations, did not allow his secrets to be exposed.

Lex Luthor did not get his heart's desire.

And yet, business had taught him well by now that opportunity often reared strange and unexpected. So his original strategy hadn't worked out – why not scrap it and come up with a new one? If he could just compose himself, he could take back the control he'd lost.

And if he did, would Clark let him kiss him again?

His eyes were glassy as he reached out with his pale fingers and placed them, almost timidly, on Clark's cheek. "This isn't how I imagined this happening."

"I don't care," Clark said, his own tone urgent. "All that matters is what we do next."

A pause, and for the space of a few heartbeats Clark was almost afraid of what Lex might say. But then the moment passed and left behind it the Lex Clark knew: his manner calm, his face smooth, his mouth turned in at the corner in a cocky half-smirk. "I can think of one or two things I'd like to do next."

"All right then. Let's go."

Clark's indestructible shoulders made a sound like a ton of bricks as they crashed against the wall. He wasn't even entirely sure he hadn't left a dent.

Lex, who had pressed him there with another maelstrom of a kiss, was far too preoccupied to notice.