Disclaimer: Supernatural and Smallville are not mine.

Summary: When Sam meets an eighteen-year-old Lex Luthor at Stanford, safety and normalcy become a dream.

Sam broke through more passwords and encryptions than should be needed for a dirty congressman more or less a reporter, worked through three sweet runs by Lex, drank six cups of coffee, survived eight hours of what he called 'mad hacking skillz' – a phrase that led to the first sweet run when Lex insisted Sam was falling asleep on him – and managed a tiring call to Caleb at three in the morning.

"Do you know what time it is?"

"Good morning to you, too. It's Sam."

"Do you know what time it is?"

"About three?"

"If it was three, I wouldn't have answered the freaking phone. Time change, genius."

Sam sighed. "Fine; tell me what time it is."

"Too damn early for a phone call."

Sam snorted. "That sounds like a knock-knock joke – without the knock-knock."

There was a shuffling sound as Caleb readjusted the phone. "I don't care if you're a college boy now. If you're ass is drunk-dialing me, I swear to god…"

"It's important. I need you to get a little info and some warning to my dad."

"You couldn't call him?" There was a pause. "Oh, yeah. Shit, I told you it was too early. Let me get a paper." There was more shuffling to be heard. "This important info; do I tell him I got it from you?"

"Tell him you got it from the grapevine."

"Sure thing." Fifteen minutes later and Caleb changed his mind. "Grapevine, his ass. He's not gonna' go for that."

"Just stall him. I know you'll fold sooner or later anyway. Even Pastor Jim folds with him."

"With your daddy, it's either fold or shoot him. I think his ass would probably haunt me even after I fried his bones and Jim's a holy man."

Sam legs cramped after his first step away from the desk and the two stacks of disks. "Damn it," he muttered, dragging himself onto the edge of the bed.

Lex came out of his bathroom showered, dressed, and annoyingly awake. "Did you finish?"
He gestured to the other side of the room. "You put the virus over there," he said. He brought his leg out, then in, wincing at the movement.

Lex winced with him. "I can finish it."

"Don't mess it up."

"It's a virus, Sam. The whole point is to 'mess it up'."

Sam fell back on the bed, and his cracking back was clearly heard. "Don't mess it up before you get it in."

"It's not as though I'm going to throw it out the window."

Sam grunted. He stared at the ceiling, not surprised when it started to move in front of him. "Get more sweets…sugar donuts and coffee."

"Right," said Lex, noncommittally.

Sam considered getting the sweets himself but the ceiling was still moving.

'Coffee brings you up and drags you down,' John Winchester had said when he'd tugged another cup away from Sam's hand the night before finals.

Up and down and Sam was well aware of the direction he was going now.

Sam lay face up, his legs hanging off the bed and his hands on his stomach. When Sam's breathing evened out, Lex poured himself a cup of coffee.

He'd have to drop the laptop off somewhere near White's hotel before the man thought to visit Stanford again. He debated buying a little red bow to place on top. The only real purpose was to be a smart-ass about it but… Lex nodded. He'd buy one.

A phone rang and Lex picked it up on reflex. It was Sam's. His finger moved to the off button when he realized this but someone was already talking.

"I hope your ass wasn't really drunk because the damn pit bull's headed your way. Hello!"

Lex brought the phone up to his ear. "Sam fell asleep. Should I be telling him something when he wakes up?"

"Who the hell is this?"

"I'm a friend of Sam's. You sounded serious."

"Friend of Sam's; that doesn't tell me much."

"My name is Lex." There was no reply. "Do you need my social security number? I don't have an autobiography written but I'm working on it."

"All college boys are smart-asses," the man grumbled. "Lex Luthor?"

"That's right."

"You were on that damn tabloid. Your ass better run from the pit bull, too. Wake Sam up. Jim will condemn me to the fiery depths of shit-hell if I don't warn him."

"Shit-hell?"

"It's where I'll be forced to deal with shit for eternity. If the big guy really wants to torture me, it'll be Winchester bullshit. Wake him up!"

It took Lex rolling him almost completely off the bed for Sam to wake up. Even then, his fingers fumbled with the phone and his eyes drifted shut as he brought it to his ear. "'Lo." His eyes opened and a small frown appeared on his face as he got a reply. "Caleb? Wait, slow down."

That earned him a loud reply and Lex could distinctly make out the word 'ass' a couple of times; my ass, your ass, Luthor's ass, stupid-ass, asshole…

Sam sat up in the bed, rubbing at his eyes. The last vestiges of sleep were quickly leaving him as he listened. "What the hell does the tabloid got to do with it?" There was a reply. "He saw it?" Sam paled before narrowing his eyes. "What does it matter? It's none of his damn business!"

Lex handed him a cup of coffee.

Sam took a huge gulp, went for another gulp, and stopped suddenly. "My fault? It was a little picture on a stupid-ass tabloid! I'm not the one with warrants all over the damn country!"

Lex figured it would be a good time for selective hearing. He moved in front of the computer to finish loading but stopped when he heard his name.

"He's got nothing to do with it!" Sam listened. "You told him? I'm surprised he didn't try dragging me out of Metropolis!" He listened some more. "Best guess? He was waiting until he got in trouble. Then, he could blame it on me. 'You fucked up, Sam. I told you you'd just screw it up. Here's proof.' All stashed in his journal like another one of his fucked up cases!" He got up, banged his cup down on the table, and began to pace.

Lex moved it behind the coffee machine before Sam got the urge to throw something.

"That's bullshit! He doesn't carry tabloids around with him! You know why he kept it!"

Lex began placing the discs in their case, using a note card to separate them. Sam continued to pace behind him, occasionally shouting into the phone.

"How far away is he?"

"What the hell does he think he'll do?"

"More likely to get us arrested!"

"Yeah, well, Pastor Jim also thinks the world will one day be a better place."

"'If I leave, I don't come back.' I'm not his son anymore. He said it."

Lex closed the case and placed it into his messenger bag. He stopped the virus and closed up the computer. The laptop went with the case.

"I'm not staying so he could come here and fuck with me!"

Lex pulled the bag over his shoulder.

"I don't care! I'll call back later." Sam snapped the phone shut. He yanked his jacket off the chair and put it on as he moved out the door.

Lex followed him. He locked his door. He had to jog to catch up with Sam's long strides. They reached the exit just as two guys were entering. Sam barreled into them, sending the one in front stumbling backwards. Lex allowed a small smirk when he saw who was stumbling in after a late night.

"Hey!"

"Fuck off, Marcus," Sam growled.

Lex's smirk widened as he passed the surprised boy.

Sam didn't stop until he hit the street. He finished fixing his jacket.

Lex stopped behind him. "Were you planning on walking somewhere?"

Sam didn't turn around. He was taking deep breaths and fiddling with the bottom of his jacket. They stood there until his breathing slowed. Sam turned back halfway. "Can you give me a ride?"

Lex nodded.

He headed to San Francisco with his music on loud and the air condition on so high that it made his eyes sting. It was freezing in the car but Sam didn't acknowledge it. He stayed slumped in the seat, directly facing the vents. He'd bring his hands up to scrub at his face and then resume his position.

Sam didn't speak again until lunchtime. "Didn't you have class?"

"There was nothing important."

"Thanks for the ride."

"No problem."

Sam drummed his fingers on the table, his eyes shooting around the restaurant. "Did the virus ever go through?" Lex passed him the bag. He yanked the computer out and began working. His fingers went back to pounding the table whenever he had to wait for it. "I could've wrote my own virus, you know? I learned years ago."

"That would have taken some time."

"Yeah… I was a little behind on the physical part back then. I was too small. I used to be short."

"I find that hard to imagine."

Sam laughed softly. "Yeah, I just shot up one day. Back then, though, I was short. I didn't really have a lot of speed or strength. So, I learned to work with my head. I got some geek friends and they showed me a lot of stuff. I figured the rest out on my own. I was good at that. I became real good with computers and with school and it felt good, you know? To be good at it."

"It feels good to be good."

Sam smiled. "Let me guess, your next sentence is gonna' have the name Luthor somewhere in there with the words 'real good'."

"Luthor's are real good with many things." He smirked as Sam laughed. "Believe it or not, though, this Luthor used to be a pushover."

"People used to tell you what to do?"

"No, I was the literal push over and shove over and punch at."

"You couldn't kick their ass?"

Lex shook his head. "I didn't know how to fight then. Then, this man who works for my father showed up and he said he could teach me. I learned real fast and I was good at all of it."

"It felt good to be good?"

"It felt good to be good."

The waitress came with their food. Sam waited until she left before beginning, "Once upon a time, there was screw up one and screw up two. They learned to kick ass. One was smarter and one was richer."

Lex continued, "The latter was infinitely better-looking with style and grace."

"The former could out lie the devil and had much better taste."

"You have better taste in what?" Lex asked, looking doubtful.

Sam glared. "Women, screw up two."

"Okay, I'll give you that." Lex went on, "The richer was a charmer while the smarter could be quite rude."

"The richer was an asshole who couldn't cook his own food."

"The smarter should really change his attitude from the norm, considering he left his wallet in my dorm."

Sam patted at his pockets and groaned. "The smarter swears his mouth will be still, if the good rich man would please take the bill."

"I'll think about it."

"I'll pay you back."

"And so the story ends with the richer on top, and the smarter close to a date with the dishes and mop."

"Asshole."

How is it?