Blue and Red

by LLC

Date: (c) February 2002

Fandom: Smallville

Pairing: Clark/Lex

Rating: PG-13 (for slash and m/m interaction)

Author's Notes:

Blue and Red was written conjunction with a fan fiction contest run by the LexSlash Yahoo Group. This was essentially a challenge story, with the parameters: A slash story, involvement by Lex in some way, a reference to Valentine's Day, and a reference to roses. This story got some help at the last minute thanks to a few wonderful people who offered to give it a quick beta in order to meet the deadlines surrounding the contest. They have my most heartfelt gratitude for their unselfish efforts. And special thanks to Theresa for both the beta and the summary description of the story--for whatever reason, I just couldn't come up with one I was happy with, so she jumped in, in the most Clark-like way, and saved me.

This story is set between the first season episodes "Hug" and "Leech." (That is, while Victoria Hardwick was still involved with Lex, but after Clark found her snooping in Lex's computer, and later Clark rescued her from drowning in Lex's bathtub, in the episode "Shimmer.")

This is a Lex/Clark slash (well, maybe pre-slash) story. You've been warned.

Part One

Lex Luthor walked slowly down the sidewalk on Byrne Street, one of Smallville's busier thoroughfares. His lunch meeting had finished ahead of schedule, and he felt no compulsion to rush back to his dreary yet impressive office at the fertilizer plant or his equally dreary yet impressive office in the library of the transplanted castle he currently called home. So, he wandered vaguely in the direction of his latest bauble, "Europe's finest expression of automotive design and artistry" (at least for this month), and attempted to enjoy the weather--an unseasonably mild February day in what had been an unseasonably mild winter for the prairie state of Kansas. He slipped off his overlong black jacket and folded it over an arm, exposing the deep blue shirt he wore along with dark trousers and shoes for all to see.

He stopped for a moment and tilted his head back slightly, closing his eyes and immersing himself in the sensation of warmth afforded by the bright rays beaming down from a crystal-clear sky. He pulled in a deep breath, the air hovering just at that point where the barest hint of winter's chill faded into the promise of spring, a rebirth of life. It was still weeks away, he knew, but he could almost swear the scents of the new season were already on the air.

Simple pleasures, he thought to himself with a smile. Things he would never have imagined finding, let alone coming to value, in a hick town where he ran his father's crap factory. Things he spared himself the time to appreciate far too infrequently. The trail before him, the one blazed by such exemplars as Napoleon and Alexander, did not include many opportunities to stop and smell the roses.

Roses. His mind made the connection and led him back to his foreordained path, specifically the steps on that trail that lay ahead in the next few days, and his smile faded. Victoria Hardwick. His one-time… How to classify her? Certainly not "companion." "Lover?" Perhaps, in the most physical, gross sense of the word. And now that the voluptuous British woman had reentered his life, she had become both more and less to him than ever before. He had cast them as partners, co-conspirators in a plot to overthrow both of their fathers' vast business empires, brash young Olympians bent on usurping their respective Titan predecessors. A pretext, clearly. Likely she pictured herself a modern-day Mata Hari, inserting herself into his life and business dealings at the behest of her father in order to further the elder Hardwick's private agenda. That was a scenario for which he had already prepared. Still, there were roles to play and moves to make until the game reached its inevitable conclusion.

Lex opened his eyes and refocused, and a familiar blue pickup truck caught his attention. The smile that had fled from his lips at the mental image of an overly buxom pawn in his personal game of world domination began to slowly return at the thought of a tall, ebony-haired farm boy with a smile that shone brighter than the orb raining light and heat down on him from the heavens above. Clark Kent. The young man who had saved him, befriended him, and who mystified and intrigued him more with each passing day, with each set of odd events or strange combination of improbable circumstances that seemed to feature Clark at its center.

Lex rarely gave anyone his trust, and yet he trusted Clark completely, despite his certainty that Clark had lied to him repeatedly in the months since they had met. Clark was a terrible liar. Still, Lex had never pressed him on his attempted deceptions. It had been tempting, the thought of demanding and perhaps even obtaining answers about those events and individuals Clark was not ready to discuss--Jeff Palmer; Sam Phelan; Kyle Tippet. And yet, more than the satisfaction that any such understanding would bring, Lex desired, even burned, to understand the deeper truth. What secrets were so important, so powerful, that this outwardly uncomplicated boy had to lie, to hide away, to deny himself the relief and release of sharing the dark burden he bore so plainly? If not with anyone else, then at least with Lex?

Clark was like a glorious puzzle, apparently so simple and yet filled with unexpected intricacy and convolution. A puzzle Lex intended to scrutinize, to examine from every angle, inspect and dissect and eventually solve, laying Clark's secrets, his true self, bare before him.

Of course, it wasn't just Clark's secrets that Lex wanted to expose. In the name of their friendship, perhaps the first truly genuine one of his life, he did his best to control his urges when it came to the beautiful (not handsome--beautiful) young man. On occasion, he tested Clark, flirted with him to see if any interest in something more than camaraderie had developed on his part. But until he received something other than a relatively chaste mixed signal in response, Lex would work hard to content himself with friendship. And the occasional fantasy. Maybe a rare ogle.

With that, he pulled his thoughts back to the present. He glanced around to see if he could locate the Kent family's prized son. After a moment, he turned and was about to admit defeat and continue his trek when he finally spotted Clark through the window of the department store across the street. The teenager stood, a pained expression on his face, as his mother handed several items to him and appeared to wait for him to respond. He looked blankly between the clothes and then back at the comparatively small woman, shrugging his shoulders. Martha Kent reached out, snatched the clothes from Clark's hands and moved away, beckoning her son to follow. Clark closed his eyes, bent his head back, and spread his hands out in an obvious prayer for deliverance that lasted only a second before he jolted at some apparent scolding, his eyes wide, and then reluctantly trudged after his mother.

Lex smiled, remembering long and uncomfortable sessions with tailors and clothiers, being poked and prodded and pinned under the watchful gaze and forceful direction of his own mother. Perhaps he, for once, could rescue Clark. He darted across the street and into the store that was bedecked with heart-shaped signs garishly advertising the sales and special bargains to be found within. Once inside the busy establishment, he maneuvered his way toward the slightly bobbing head of his tall friend, easily visible over the displays and racks of clothes.

"Clark," Lex said in greeting as he caught up to the young man.

Clark turned at the sound of his name and flashed his enormous, toothy grin as he caught sight of Lex. Clark's eyes dropped a touch, focusing on Lex's shirt, and that impossibly appealing smile widened even further. Lex returned Clark's smile, knowing the reason for Clark's added pleasure.

"Hey, Lex. What are you doing here?"

"I was just passing by." Lex lowered his voice slightly. "You looked like you might be in trouble," he added with a conspiratorial grin.

Clark's face turned serious and he nodded. "Mom always goes crazy when there's a sale. She's like a huntress stalking her prey. She likes to stock up on clothes for all of us when the bargains are good."

Lex nodded, his gaze drifting down to the clothes Clark held under one arm in a bunch. His eyes narrowed slightly as he noted a theme--everything was the same color. "You must really like red," he remarked.

Clark twisted his lips and rolled his eyes a little. "Not especially. It's the sale."

Clark pointed up at a sign, and Lex looked up and read: "Valentine's Day Special. Everything Red 50% Off."

Lex made a few mental connections. "They do this every year?"

Clark nodded.

"And you always get your clothes when there's a sale?"

"Usually," Clark answered with a nod, seeing where Lex was going. "She makes me come for Memorial Day, too. Red, white, and blue."

Lex smiled and shook his head. That, and his mother's influence, certainly explains certain recurring patterns in his attire.

Clark started to smile in return, but his expression turned fearful at the sound of his mother calling his name. "Oh my God, here she comes again," he whispered, and Lex smiled sympathetically at his friend's discomfort.

Martha burst from between the racks of shirts and sweaters, arms wrapped around at least a dozen articles of clothing. "Now, Clark, I really want you to--" she was saying, but stopped short as she spotted Lex next to her adopted child. "Lex, how nice to see you!" she chirped cheerily. The rich blue shirt he wore caught her eye, and she added, "You look very nice today."

Lex reflexively glanced down at his chest and then back up at her. "Thank you very much, Mrs. Kent. It's your son's doing, actually."

The redheaded woman cocked her head slightly at his comment. "Really?" she asked.

Failing to note Clark's panicked expression and the way the young man was waving his hands slightly until it was too late, Lex continued. "It was a present from… him," he finished, finally seeing Clark but unable to understand the reason for his distress.

Martha's eyes narrowed and her gaze turned on her son. "You actually went into a clothing store?" she asked, surprise evident in her tone.

"To buy a gift," Clark explained defensively.

Lex's confusion at the exchange must have been obvious. Martha caught the look on his face and then proceeded to explain. "I've always had to drag Clark kicking and screaming to shop for clothes. He acts like it's the worst form of torture possible."

Clark shrugged his shoulders. "It's different when it's for somebody else."

Lex grinned at the interaction between the two. Still, he decided that Clark deserved a reprieve from his predicament, even if only a temporary one. "Actually, Mrs. Kent, I hope you don't mind, but I wanted to borrow Clark for a few minutes. I could use a hand with…" He faltered for a second, mind racing frantically. "…getting something to my car," he finished. Clark was standing behind his mother, nodding frantically and mouthing silent thanks to him.

Martha gave him a hesitant look. "Now? Lex, really. I practically had to hog-tie him and lash him to the front of the truck in order to get him here."

"It will only take a few minutes, I promise," Lex countered smoothly, turning on the charm while he held one hand up as if swearing an oath of honesty.

"C'mon, Mom," Clark prodded. "Lex literally just helped us save the farm from Bob Rickman and that contract he made Dad sign." Clark leaned down a little, getting closer to his mother, and continued in a stage whisper. "Besides, he's a good customer. We need to keep the customers happy."

Martha looked between the two young men skeptically.

"I swear I'll come back and try on everything you find while I'm away," Clark added, upping the ante. "No complaints."

"Now that would be a first," Martha said as one of her eyebrows arched, but then she chuckled and shook her head. She motioned toward the front of the store with her chin. "Go ahead."

Another huge smile threatened to split Clark's head open, and he gave his mother a fast hug. "I'll be right back," he said.

"You'd better be, young man," she told him gravely. Clark gulped and nodded, and then started to move away, but Lex put a hand on his arm to stop him. The young heir turned back to address Clark's mother.

"Mrs. Kent, before I go, I just wanted to double-check. Gerde was going to call you about a delivery for a special meal tomorrow…" Lex told her, referring to the estate's private chef.

Martha nodded. "I spoke with her this morning. Clark will drop everything off tomorrow, no later than five o'clock."

"Excellent. I appreciate your help on such short notice."

"We appreciate the business," she said with a puckish grin. "I'll see you later."

Lex nodded a farewell and the two friends made good their escape. Once outside the store, Clark exhaled loudly.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Clark chattered earnestly as the two began walking toward the street corner. "If I had to stay in there another minute, my head would have exploded. I owe you one."

"I'm glad I could be of service. What kind of friend would I be if I wasn't there in your hour of need?" Lex replied teasingly.

Clark beamed and the pair continued their stroll. "So, what did you need me to help with?" he asked after a moment.

Lex looked up at him slyly. "Conversation. I told you, I was passing by and saw your plight."

Clark gaped at him in mock horror. "You lied? To my mom? Again?" he asked in quick succession, clearly trying to sound astonished but failing to conceal the humor in his tone. "You're lucky she forgave you after that fast one you pulled a few months ago, tricking her and Dad to come out to the mansion. You'd better hope she never finds out about this."

"Just don't rat me out, and I'll be fine. Besides, it's not like I've got you fooled. I've never pretended I'm anything other than a bad influence on you," Lex quipped. Giving Clark a wolfish grin, he continued. "You should watch yourself around me. I'll lead you astray."

Clark smiled at him, evidently trying to look devious, less innocent. It was one of the most amusing things Lex had ever seen. The boy had no idea how appealing his openness and utter lack of guile was to Lex. It made his thoughts turn briefly toward avenues of corrupting Clark that would probably shock his innocent young friend, but he pulled himself away from that train of thought quickly. Not a good idea when he was this close. Close enough to touch.

The pair crossed the street and continued toward the space down the block where Lex had parked his car.

"Aren't you a little old to be clothes shopping with your mother?" Lex asked, his tone making it clear he was just asking out of curiosity, not trying to put Clark down.

"I know. It's just... well, I really do hate shopping for clothes. It's the most boring thing in the world to me. I never used to give any thought at all to how I looked or dressed. Even now I don't really care all that much, as long as I don't look too much like a dork. But Mom loves it. When I was little, she would dress me up in an outfit, take a picture, change me in to something else, take another picture, and on and on. I think she was just so thrilled with having a kid that she overdid everything at the start. That was probably the beginning of the abiding clothes hatred."

Lex nodded, smiling at Clark's description.

"Besides," Clark continued, "she and Dad pretty much let me do anything I want--I've been driving for almost two years, they don't give me a curfew--so I figure I owe her." He shrugged his shoulders, and then grimaced. "I still hate it, though."

"Well, I guess that really does make this special," Lex said, gesturing with his hands at his chest, indicating his shirt. "I never did thank you properly. I was surprised when Gerde told me you had left the package along with your regular delivery." He looked over and up at Clark. "I was even more surprised when I opened it. What inspired this?"

"Just a present," Clark replied. "You always wear the same thing. Purple, gray, black. Purple, gray, black. It's like you're going for the vampire look."

"I have other clothes," Lex protested, trying to sound mildly offended despite his amusement and interest that Clark had even noticed how he dressed.

Clark looked unconvinced. "I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen you in something different. I just don't get your desire to look like a big walking bruise."

Lex actually gaped for a moment at that comment. "You think I look like a bruise?" he asked through a chuckle.

"When you wear that purple and black thing, well, yeah, kind of."

"And so, to fix that, you got me a shirt that's… blue…" Lex said dubiously.

"Well, yeah, what's…" Clark replied, trailing off as he thought about it. He looked down at Lex's black pants, and at the coat Lex carried over his arm, and shook his head and frowned even as his cheeks turned a few shades closer to red. "Black and blue," he muttered. He looked at Lex helplessly and shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I never was very good with clothes, obviously."

Lex worked to suppress a laugh. Poor Clark. He reached a hand up and gave his tall friend a pat on the shoulder. "It's okay, Clark. I like your present." Clark straightened a little, his lips quirking back upward. "Victoria hated it, though. She disagrees completely with your assessment of my wardrobe."

Lex watched as Clark's face dropped at the mention of the woman. Clark had made no secret of his feelings and concerns about Lex's current relationship with Victoria.

Lex slowed as they finally reached their destination, his sports car sitting low to the ground, its black paint waxed and polished to a mirror-like finish. Lex turned and leaned against it, facing Clark.

"That reminds me," Lex told him. Clark looked up at him. "I was hoping you wouldn't mind picking something up for me on your way to make your deliveries tomorrow? I know you have to come through town on your way."

"Shouldn't be a problem," Clark said with a shake of his head. "What is it?"

"Roses. I've got a few dozen reserved at Nell's shop. She's slammed because of Valentine's Day. If you could pick them up on your way, it would save her the trouble of having to make the delivery."

"Sure," Clark replied, slipping his fingers into the pockets of his jeans and rocking back and forth a little on his heels.

Lex watched Clark for a second, noting the frown threatening to break out on his face. Clark was never that good at covering up his feelings. "You're sure it's okay?" he asked.

"Of course," Clark responded unconvincingly.

Well, he wasn't going to try to beat it out of the boy. "Good. Thanks, Clark, I really appreciate it."

"So, big evening with Victoria?" the young man asked, obviously trying his best to be casual but failing to completely pull it off.

Ah. Lex smiled a little at Clark, telling himself not jump too quickly to attribute anything more than amiable concern and innocent curiosity to Clark's interest. Even if Clark was feeling a little green-eyed, that didn't necessarily mean it was derived out of anything deeper than friendship. "It is traditional," Lex answered with a small shrug.

"She never really struck me as the flowers type," Clark observed neutrally.

"The flowers, no," Lex confirmed, and Clark gave him a questioning look. "She likes the petals, freshly plucked." Clark still looked confused. "In the bath, or… in bed," he explained.

"Oh," Clark said, nodding but continuing to look perplexed. "Oh!" he said again after a moment, realization evident on his face. The touch of pink came back to his cheeks and ears. "When you two are…"

Lex grinned at him.

"Gotcha," Clark said. He looked away from Lex, the frown that had been lurking before now on full display, marring his appealing features. An awkward silence stretched out between them, but Clark didn't move to leave, so neither did Lex.

"You don't approve," Lex prompted after another moment, hoping to draw Clark out and deal with his concerns.

"It's not my place to approve or not. It's none of my business," Clark said, glancing at him for a few seconds as he spoke but then dropping his eyes to the ground.

"Come on, Clark," Lex chided him gently. "You know you can say anything to me. If something's bothering you, get it off your chest."

The struggle was evident on Clark's face. He looked at Lex, and then looked away in apparent frustration. "I know what you told me, about you and Victoria," Clark finally began. "That not every relationship is about love. It's just… I mean, it's not like I don't understand. You can be with someone and there's nothing to it, it's just physical. But…" Clark looked at his feet, toed the ground a little with his boot.

"It's just not right, Lex. You should be with someone..." Clark blurted out quickly, looking straight up at him, blue eyes stabbing Lex right to the heart. It made his breath catch as Clark just looked at him, torn somehow between hurt and...what?

Clark must have seen something on his face, some reaction. The younger man's expression shifted to a look of embarrassment, and he lowered his eyes. "Maybe I just don't understand, after all," he mumbled softly.

Taken aback my Clark's sudden display, Lex tried to gather his wits. "Clark…" he started, searching for the right thing to say.

"I'm sorry, Lex, please," Clark pleaded with him quickly, regretfully. "I shouldn't have said anything. I'm just being stupid." He paused for a second and looked around, evidently deciding to flee from the uncomfortable discussion. "I'll see you later," he said and turned to go.

"Wait, Clark," Lex said, pushing himself off from the car, preparing to follow his friend.

Clark turned and held up his hands while he continued to move away. "Lex, I should really get back to the store. I... I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" Without giving Lex the chance to say anything more, Clark turned and took off down the street at a jog.

Lex watched Clark Kent, his stunningly good-looking, always enigmatic, apparently jealous, not-quite-the-jailbait-he-was-six-weeks ago friend, go. And not for the first time in his life, he wondered at the universe's ability to deliver exactly what he wanted at exactly the wrong time.

the story continues...