Title: Running Wild
Author: PepperjackCandy
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Category: AU/Futurefic
Spoilers for: Nothing

Disclaimer: I own nothing Smallville-related, or related in any other way to Clark Kent, Superman or any of the various creations of the wonderful folks at DC Comics. Some Like It Hot is copyright 1959 by MGM/UA Communications Co.

Feedback: Always welcome, either by lj comment, e-mail or using the review system at Complete, total AU. Pete, and not Jimmy, is the photographer because I honestly believe they're going for a Chlete ending. Contains hints of the plot of Some Like It Hot. The story title is the title of a song sung by Marilyn in SLIH.

Clark took off his suit jacket and pushed a finger through the hole. "Now do you see why we need to get out of town, just long enough until the D.A. has enough to put Edge away?"

Perry sighed, "I don't have anything for you, though. All of the foreign correspondents are in the field. I don't even have any out-of-town human interest stories. The only thing I have is this." He handed Clark a pamphlet. "And that's only because Lois is in Pokolistan."

Clark looked the pamphlet over carefully. "We'll do it."

At this, Pete looked at the pamphlet, "Oh, hell, no. No way. Uh-uh."

"You want to do this, or you want to get shot?"

Five hours later, Polly Ross and Clara Kent walked into their first panel at the National Woman Journalists' Association's annual convention.

"I can't believe we're doing this," Pete grumbled as they stuck their name tags to their newly-enhanced chests.

"I can't believe my ears. P. . . Polly Ross doesn't want a chance to hang out with beautiful women?"

"It's not like I'm going to get anywhere with any of them. Well, unless they're lesbians, in which case they'd definitely not be interested in me."

"Well, even if you can't touch, you certainly can look."

Just then an attractive blonde passed by.

"I wonder where she's going," Pete said as he took off after her.

Two corners and an escalator later, she took a seat near the back of a room where the financial planning panel was in progress.

Pete sat in the same row, three seats over, and Clark sat next to him.

Clark was soon engrossed in the discussion. Pete, on the other hand, was engrossed in the blonde.

The panel concluded and before the blonde could disappear, Pete stepped forward. "Polly Ross," he extended a hand.

"Chloe Sullivan." She responded, returning his handshake. "I'm with the Gotham Gazette. And you're," she looked at Pete's name tag. "From the Daily Planet. We're practically neighbors."

"Imagine that."

"I was about to pick up some lunch, why don't you and your very quiet friend . . ." She waited for an introduction.

"Clara," Clark's voice cracked, "Clara Kent."

"We'd love to join you, wouldn't we, Clara?"

"Oh, yes. That'd be lovely."

They had their lunch at the one of the sit-down restaurants in the hotel, an outdoor cafe near on the waterfront side. Soon the two men realized that Chloe wasn't paying any attention to them, she was staring at a yacht floating a couple of hundred feet from shore.

"It's a very nice yacht," Clark said, trying to bring Chloe back into the conversation.

"Oh. Sorry. It's just, you know, that money's not supposed to buy happiness, but it can't hurt, you know? My mom left when I was little and I've always craved security, permanence. At least that's what my therapist says."

"And that yacht represents permanence? It seems that it'd be more about transience, since it never stays in one place very long."

"Yeah. But the money it takes to live like that -- that says 'security' loud and clear."

The two men nodded in understanding and went back to eating.

After the meal was over, Chloe and Pete went back to the convention center. Clark stayed on the waterfront, watching the water. He glanced away from the yacht for a second, when he heard a splash. He looked back at the yacht. He could see a bald head bobbing up and down next to the yacht. The man started to flail, and Clark, hoping his wig was firmly attached, jumped into the water.

Clark feared that the man was going down for the metaphorical 'third time' when he reached him. He grabbed him around the underarms and dragged him toward the marina, where he heaved him up onto the pier and then climbed up himself.

The man, the very attractive man, wasn't breathing, so Clark gave him CPR. Soon he was coughing up water, then he was breathing normally.

Only then did Clark think to check his wig, which was still attached perfectly.

His breasts, on the other hand, were bobbing in the water near the yacht.

The next morning, a florist delivered a huge bouquet of flowers to Pete and Clark's room. Pete was still babbling incessantly about Chloe.

The card that came with the flowers said, Thank you for saving my life. Have dinner with me tonight? Love, Lex.

Pete read over Clark's shoulder, "'Love,' huh?"
"It's just a saying."

"I don't know. Maybe I'm not the only one who's going to find love this week."

"Love?" Clark responded skeptically.

"Yeah. I mean, I think so."

And you think that she's going to be all right with it when it turns out that you're not a girl?"

"She's straight. So all I have to do is take off the dress . . ."

"Pete!" Clark interrupted.

". . . and put on a pair of pants," Pete finished as if Clark had never interrupted.

"You seem to be missing a big part of the word 'incognito'."

"I'm not gonna say, 'Hey, baby, name's Pete. Pete Ross.'" He made a shooting motion with his index finger and clicked his tongue. "And besides, Metropolis is hundreds of miles away. Who's gonna recognize me?"

After another morning of seminars, Pete ducked into the hotel's clothing store and picked up some men's clothes. Then once he was changed, he set out to 'just bump into' Chloe.

Two hours later, Pete resurfaced, "Are you going to take Lex up on his offer for dinner?" he asked hopefully.

Clark was instantly suspicious. "Why?"

"No reason."

"Pete . . . ."

"All right. Chloe sort of thinks that's my yacht."
"Pete!"

"And so I figured that if you could keep the real owner busy . . . . " When this approach didn't seem to work, he continued, "Clark, I think she's the one. This may be it."

"And you want to start out by lying to her. You know how well that's always worked for me."

"I'm not lying to her. I just sorta told her that I could take care of her need for family. Only since I couldn't tell her that I knew about that, she took it the wrong way and leapt to some conclusions."

Clark sighed heavily. "I still don't like it."

"But you'll do it."

"Yeah," Clark acceded, as much because he wanted to see Lex again -- purely to see how he was doing, he told himself -- as because he wanted to help Pete.

Two hours later, Clark, in a dress he'd bought in the hotel's boutique, and Lex sat at a table in the cafe where he, Pete, and Chloe had eaten lunch. Clark had, of course, seen photos of Lex Luthor, and even seen him in person in passing occasionally. But nothing had prepared him for the intensity of the blue eyes as they fixed on Clark as if he were the only person in the room.

"So, did you visit the ethics panel?" Lex asked in a tone that Clark was sure was pointed.

Clark glanced down at his inflatable cleavage, which he had rescued from the water at superspeed once he was sure Lex was all right, surreptitiously. "Ethics?"

"Yes, discussing underhanded methods of getting interviews, paparazzi techniques, whatever it is you female journalists talk about."

Clark felt momentarily guilty about attending this conference under false pretences. But then he remembered getting shot at. Then he remembered Pete getting shot at, and knew that going undercover was the only thing he could've done, short of outing himself as Superman in front of Edge's goons.

The police should be making their move soon.

Lex asked Clark about his upbringing, and Clark, not wanting to give too much away, deflected the question back to him.

Lex looked at him, seeming to examine his very soul, then began. "I'm an only child. Now for most kids, they'd end up spoiled, but my dad treated me like he was a drill sergeant . . . ."

Clark was in the habit of keeping an ear out for his name, both as Clark Kent and as Superman, and he was surprised right out of Lex's tale when he heard someone inside their hotel say, Clark Kent. He tuned in better.

"I'm sure the guy in the picture is Ross. Kent can't be too far away."

"Let's start looking in the public areas of the hotel. You take the stores. I'll hit the restaurants."

"Who's got Ross?"

"Murph saw him going out towards the marina, so he followed him."

Shit!

Clark stood, "I've . . . I've got to go."

"You have enough for your story?"

"What?" Clark asked, genuinely confused.

"You know that if you wanted to interview me, you just could've called my secretary."

"You think I saved your life for a story?!?"

"Didn't you, Mr. Kent?"

Clark walked to railing separating the cafe from the waterfront. He could see a motorboat pulling away from the pier, heading in the direction of the yacht.

Lex followed him. "Are you going to deny it? Try to convince me that I'm wrong?"

"I don't have time for this," Clark muttered as he stepped off the patio, Lex doggedly following him.

He gave up the idea of trying to lose Lex with the excuse that he had never admitted to being Clark Kent, so it didn't matter if Lex found out that 'Clara Kent' was Superman.

He headed for a clump of bushes, where he began to take off his clothes. Before Lex could do much more than gawk, Superman was standing where 'Clara' had been just seconds before.

He made to take off, and Lex grabbed him by the shoulders. "Oh, no. Not until you explain what the hell's going on."

Clark shrugged. "It's your call." Then he wrapped his arms around Lex and took off, landing seconds before the motorboat made it to the yacht.

"What's going on here?" Chloe demanded as she stepped out of the cabin, her hair in disarray. "Superman!" she exclaimed when she noticed Clark.

"What are you doing on my yacht!?" Lex yelled, totally ignoring the fight going on behind him.

"Your yacht? Pete!"

Pete emerged from the cabin, then.

"This guy says that this is his yacht." Chloe looked to Pete for an explanation.

"Um, well, it kind of is."

"So you lied to me."

"No! Not at all! I promise. Not when I said that I love you and not when I said that I could give you what you need."

"And what I need is . . ."

"A family." He stepped closer to her, running his fingers through her blonde hair. "I'm one of five kids. I'm not rich. You misunderstood."

"And you let me believe it?"

"What can I say? A man's crazy when he's in love."

They kissed then, allowing Lex a chance to look around for Superman, who was gone.

Lex rubbed his face and sat down hard in a deck chair. He looked up when he felt a hand on his shoulder, surprised to see that it was Clark's. He'd changed back into his Clara outfit. "You and Chloe are going to have to go to the police to give a statement about finding two armed men on your boat. Pete and I need to be kept out of it."

"I'm sorry I doubted you. You're obviously just here to protect Mr. Ross," he intentionally didn't look at the couple, who were still kissing deeply.

"No." Clark took the next deck chair. "We were both undercover to protect ourselves. You were right. I am Clark Kent. Morgan Edge's goons were after us. We thought that no one would think to look for us at a conference for women journalists.

"It was a good idea. It took them a couple of days to find us," he grinned sheepishly.

"So you weren't trying to interview me?"

"No! I only went to dinner with you to give Chloe and Pete some alone time. And then I stayed because I thought -- I hoped -- that you were interested in me."

"Oh, I was. I was just angry that I was so attracted to you, and it was pretty easy to find out that there was no Clara Kent at the Planet. So I leapt to a conclusion."

"That's why I thought this was your yacht," Chloe interrupted. "There wasn't any Polly Ross at the Planet either. So when you turned up this afternoon, I recognized you. I hoped to catch you out by acting like I thought this was yours, but I got the surprise of my life when you managed to get me onto the boat. Then I decided that maybe this was your yacht after all."

"So you thought that the Planet pays me enough to buy a yacht?"

"I didn't have much time to fact check. For all I knew, there was a Ross family fortune somewhere."

"My folks aren't rich, but they get by. I don't think I'd've been able to make it on my photographer's salary if my folks hadn't been able to help out once in a while. Our real wealth is in family, though."

"So where does that leave us?" Clark asked Lex.

"Fortunately, I have a thing for heroes," Lex said, climbing into Clark's lap and kissing him.

Together, Clark, Pete, Chloe and Lex ferreted out the majority of Edge's goons over the weekend. Consequently, the two men -- as men -- were able to return to work the next Monday.

Clark's cell phone rang soon after he began work.

"You made it to work all right?"

"Good morning, Lex."

"I'm just not sure it's safe for you to be back at work yet."

"We make a great team. We found the goons, and Superman brought them in. I'll be fine."

"Or maybe I'm not worried, and I just like you in a dress."

They shared an amused silence.

"Speaking of clothing, we need to get you fitted for a tux."

"A tux?" Clark responded dubiously.

"My dad's having a little get-together this weekend."

"And you want us to go together."

"You'd be my date. Is that all right?"

"Um. Yeah. Sure."

"Hey," Lex responded with a smile. "It'll be fine. As a very wise man said not all that long ago, we make a great team."