"There is no disguise which can hide love for long where it exists,

or simulate it where it does not."

-La Rochefoucauld

The fastest boy on earth he might have been, but still Clark Kent had a tendency to run late for things. Of course, tonight he had an excuse in the fact that he couldn't exactly run to the mansion using his super-speed. The risk that someone would see him was too great, and besides, he hadn't wanted to risk getting his clothes dirty by running through the fields.

  It had been difficult containing his excitement all evening, as he'd got ready, and even more difficult hiding his awkwardness when his father had said, grinning;

" Changed your shirt again Clark? Thinking of impressing all those millionaire's daughters with the Kent charm?"

Luckily, a teenager was entitled to be embarrassed by any reference by parents to one's love life. Still, he felt an uneasiness then, not only at allowing them to believe what they wanted to, but at the knowledge that he might never be the son they hoped he would be.

  Oh, they might stay amused at his crush over Lana for a while, but eventually he knew the talk would come; the one that told him he should move on, and get himself a real girlfriend, that these were the best years of his life, and eventually, there would be his mother's teasing comments about how, after all, she did want a grandchild one day.

  He knew them so well. He treasured their wonderfully considerate, loving and supportive attitude towards him. But in the end, they were parents. At some point Jonathon would start to wonder why he hadn't had to share anecdote's about his own first venturing into dating, why he couldn't embarrass his son with his advice on the eternal mystery that was women.  Then there would be concern. Either that he had some secret sex life he was hiding from them, or that something was wrong with their son.

  The future had always scared Clark, knowing he had some destiny, but unsure as to what it was; knowing that the day would come where he had to leave the protection and support of his parents, and go off into the world keeping the secret of his powers to himself. Now, there was a sickening dread to thoughts about anything more than a couple of months away. It was a dread of disappointing, a dread of rejection, and above all else, a dread of the sickened look on their faces the day they found out the truth.

 It was at times of that dread, with comments like his father had made that night, seeing his anxiousness, that made Clark wish all this was not happening. It was when he found himself silently begging any listening deity to make him normal, to take all these feelings away, to make this somebody else's problem.

  And then he would remember the images of his dreams, and the feeling of peace and comfort that came with them. It was merely the impression of a moment, of two bodies entwined, holding each other and hearing each other breathing; but that impression filled him with an all-consuming yearning whenever it crept into his mind.

 And so he had shaken away his panic, his fear, and had allowed himself to be filled with impossible, illogical hopes of what tonight might bring. The thought of being able to sneak in a casual brush of Lex's hand, to hold his eyes for a fraction of a second longer than usual, to make him smile or laugh the way that no-one else could…all of this made his heart beat faster, and filled him with a secret joy.

 Martha had driven him there, feeling a mother's pride at how grown-up her son was, and at the wonderful opportunities he was getting in life. Clark also knew that unlike his father,  she would not be insulted when he asked her to drop him off at the gate, rather than driving up to the front door of the castle. Martha appreciated that Clark would have a hard enough time fitting in with these people tonight without her parking the pick-up next to all their limo's, or whatever these rich-kids rode around in. She just prayed that Lex wouldn't neglect him tonight – as uncertain as she was regarding his friendship with her son, she knew it was important to Clark, and she didn't want to see it ruined by a culture clash tonight.

  Clark had walked up to the front door through an array of parked cars. Chloe would be disappointed, as there really were very few limo's there; instead, he passed a couple of young men admiring each other's convertibles, and reeling off all of the stats. Clark laughed silently to himself. In Smallville, a truck was a truck, a pick-up was a pick-up, and – on the outskirts - a tractor was a tractor. You didn't need to know cost, horse-power, the type of engine, or how quickly it could get up to 60mph.

 He followed a couple in front of him, in through the heavy front door, noticing gratefully that he didn't look too out of place yet – the guy was wearing dark, smart/casual clothing as well, leaving all the style and show of money to his date. She had on what was surely an original designer outfit, that must have cost thousands, despite the scarcity of material.  Clark shook away those feelings of guilt, when he considered what his father and Pete would say at his complete lack of reaction to this beauty in front of him. But try as he might, the curves, the low neck-line, the flattering cut of the material – it did nothing for him. The female form just seemed... uninteresting to him. Unfamiliar, something he could look at only in a detached way.

 On entering the house however all thoughts were removed from his mind other than complete shock.

The place had been transformed.

 The castle had always seemed empty, with too high a class to it, in his opinion. He felt like he was in a museum every time he came, always cringing at his footsteps on the wooden floors echoing around him, afraid to touch anything, or wary of tripping over some expensive Persian rug. Lex's study was the only place that even had a semblance of someone living there, that he had seen. He'd generally avoided wandering around the place before, so foreboding was the atmosphere it held; he remembered how guilty he'd felt that night Chloe had been doing her interview and wanted to go sneaking around, and how surprised he'd been when he'd got to see more of the place when Amy's brother had been stalking around. He couldn't believe that Lex actually lived in this place sometimes. It was then that he always felt pity for his friend. This was a place to live, not a home.

  Bu now the lofty rooms were filled with life, and colour, and sound. There were uniformed attendants he'd never seen before waiting to take guests' jackets, and serving drinks and refreshments, while all around there was a mass of bright-eyed beautiful people, in beautiful clothes, laughing and chatting above  the sound of music coming from somewhere.

  Clark suddenly felt so out-of-place he couldn't move. He felt like he'd just invaded some members-only club, waiting for someone to kick him out, though he knew in his heart that he knew this place better than anyone there. He'd spent more time here than any of them – unless there happened to be another Victoria here he didn't know about…

  That was a thought that threw him. Something he hadn't even considered. What if Lex had a date tonight? What if he went around the entire evening with a girl on his arm? What if after that, Clark would have to watch them sneak off upstairs at the end of the evening, and stand here alone among all these people, trying not to think about what they'd be getting up to…

  He felt almost physically sick at his own foolishness. Why hadn't he thought of any of that? Why hadn't he asked Lex, before he'd agreed to the invitation?

 And just then, the sea of people before him parted, and he saw Lex standing there, a beautiful blonde leaning in close and talking with a seductive smile on her face.

He could have turned and ran right then. He felt like he'd been punched in the stomach – at least, punched in the stomach by something that could hurt him. He felt sick.

 But there was no chance of escape, for barely a second later, Lex looked up quickly in his direction, as if sensing his presence.

 "Clark!" he called clearly, motioning for his friend to come join them.  Lex ignored the confused look on his companion's face at his purposeful interruption to their little tête-à-tête, but quickly put on her most welcoming smile, as Lex introduced them:

 "Ella Rosenberg, I'd like to present my good friend Clark Kent."

 He watched as Clark took Ella's offered hand, with a strange look on his face. In fact, Clark didn't seem too keen to even meet his eyes at all. A little phased by the unusual behaviour of is normally good-natured friend, Lex somehow felt the need to clarify Ella's position..

 "Funnily enough Clark I was making Miss Rosenberg's acquaintance myself, just a minute ago." He said in the amused sounding, silky smooth voice he reserved for everyone except Clark. It was the voice of the suave, sophisticated host, in control, and looking forward to an evening of socialising.

 Clark seemed to regain a small amount of his usual enthusiasm at that, and gave his goofy Clark Kent grin, even if there was a hint of something …'off', in his voice.

 "Well then, you're one popular girl."

 She laughed a seemingly open and friendly laugh.

 "I guess I am. I, ah, was just telling Lex here that my father's in the same business as him."

 Lex felt a conflict building within him then. He half felt annoyance that he should have let Clark interrupt him when he was close to getting some information, and he half felt relief that Clark had arrived to stop her from draping herself all over-

-wait, what was he thinking again?

  He should be feeling very pleased with himself at having caught this girl's eyes so easy in the evening. If he played this right she would be like putty in his hands; she'd give him the information innocently, and then allow herself to be swept away by her wealthy, seductive host and be flattered into sharing his bed tonight.

 So why the fuck did he find his eyes being increasingly drawn to Clark's well-fitted sweater -suggesting a hellishly-toned body underneath – instead of to the low-cut neckline of the girl beside him,  looking up at him with fascinated green eyes…

  Dammit, he couldn't just stand here between them, listening to Ella babble on about all the people she'd met here, while Clark merely nodded politely having no idea who she was talking about. Wasn't this why he'd invited Clark after all – as an escape from the mindless chatter that bored him so much at these function he was obliged to hold, as part of  the elite Metropolitan set?

 "- and you see that girl in the blue Versace? I nearly died when I realised who that was she'd come with – that's the Mayor's nephew. And after that crisis over her father's company's shares last quarter-"

 He knew this. He knew all of it. And it bored him so much.

As good as he was at what he did, as successfully as he countered all his rival's moves, and negotiated his way around his father's interference, Lex couldn't honestly say he enjoyed his job. He'd been taught to see business as a battle. And whereas wars were, sure enough, exciting, intense, constantly changing, constantly setting you new challenges; in the end, very few twenty-four-year-old men wanted to spend all their waking hours fighting a battle. Especially one he felt he'd merely inherited from his father.

 It was incessant. The rules kept on changing, new developments were made, but for Lex, it was his whole life. His family was non-existent. Lionel Luthor was both his boss, and his enemy, but never a father. The women, like Victoria, like Ella, were all just pawns in more games of big-money companies. There were but two things in his life that were pure and uncorrupted, that he could trust, and most importantly, truly find happiness in ; the memory of his mother, and this dark-haired school-boy with his compassionate strength, under his mild, graceful appearance.

 Now, Lex couldn't even consider himself as something to trust, to depend upon. Because he felt so damn screwed up at the moment, full of anger for allowing himself to feel some of the things he was feeling, and at the same time angry at the world for telling him that he should be angry, should be in denial...should be unhappy.

  Well screw the world, his father, and these people. He was practically still a kid. He was allowed twenty minutes with his best and only friend.

"I'm sorry Ella, but you've reminded me that there's something important I must discuss with Clark." He gave her that fake smile, and spoke in that way that seemed so polite and civil, but left no room for denial.

Ella paused for a second before saying, "Oh of course. I understand". She hoped she sounded knowing and mature, figuring that this Clark Kent must be a close business acquaintance of Lex's.

 That had been one thing Lex hadn't worried about ; anyone wondering why a school-kid had been invited. Clark Kent did not look sixteen. That was really the problem, wasn't it…

 Lex screamed inwardly at himself for allowing thoughts like that to creep up on him, and with that smile on his face, he took Clark by the arm, and led him away towards his study.

TBC

R/R – I mean it. glare