Spoilers: A coupla moments from 'Nicodemus', and 'Jitters'

In response to the first reviews to this chapter: yes, this was a tad more rushed than other chapters: it's a mixture of the fact that I'm at that point where I should really be doing important exam-type study now, and the fact that I've had the layout of this chapter in my head since the beginning, but by the time I actually got to it I kinda had to adjust it because I've taken a slightly different route than intended.

  Correction re:ages…the wonderful info at Smallville fanfiction resources say that at the time of the pilot Clark is 15, and Lex 21, and tho' the setting of this story is a tad ambiguous, I'm gonna work from that. Apologies if my correction here leads to any discrepancies later on. This story is getting v.long y'know – it takes ages to check through it for mistakes.

  So, chapter 11. 11's my favourite number y'know. See why…

The moment you have in your heart this extraordinary thing

called love and feel the depth, the delight, the ecstasy of it,

you will discover that for you the world is transformed."
-J. Krishnamurti

  Clark watched in surprise, fear, and nervousness as Lex shut and locked the door behind them, and leaned back against it for a second, shutting his eyes.

 "Lex what is it?"

Lex laughed bitterly.

 "I'm sorry Clark. I'm not quite feeling myself tonight." He looked at this boy, the cause of all his problems standing uncertainly in the middle of the room. He tried to keep his expression normal, and made his way over to his drinks cabinet.

 "Drink, Clark?"

Clark frowned at Lex's strange mood.

 "No, thanks, you know I can't."

But Lex was already downing a small glass of something expensive and potent.

 "No, of course you can't." he found himself letting out a bitter laugh, and at that moment he hated himself for acting up in front of his friend, hated himself for this sudden anger that had come across him; and anger which he was allowing past his normally controlled exterior.

  So, half-hating himself, and half not caring, he made his way to a sofa and flung himself down.

 "Lex what's wrong with you? Why'd you tear out of there so fast?" Clark's voice was full of concern, as he came and sat next to him.

 "I just…needed a break, Clark. That's all."

And that should have been it. He should have stopped there, pulled himself together, smiled the Luthor smile, and laughed it all away. They should have returned to the party; he would have continued mingling with the guests, no doubt countering some bitter comments and accusations, while dealing out a few of his own, while he went around charming everyone else.

 But he just couldn't bring himself to get up and open that door. It was mostly quiet in here, save for the dull hum of conversation from the party and his own tired breathing. It was still, it was private, and he didn't have a hundred faces to search through; guests to impress, battle or seduce. He could just sit here on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. So relieved to have found this momentary escape, he began talking to Clark in a way he always said he wouldn't.

  There had been close calls of course; he had talked about his mother when Clark had found him looking for her watch; Club Zero had let him know just how vulnerable he was, and the secrets he hid. And that time after they were held hostage at the plant, watching Clark hug his parents with nothing but  love, while his own father embraced him coldly, full of nothing but annoyance and hatred – after that, he'd wanted to scream out, to let Clark know how damn lucky he was, to ask he why he got a home with loving parents while he got nothing but contempt.

  In their Friday night meetings, he had come close again. When Clark had opened up to him, telling him how he felt about his birth parents, Lex had nearly reciprocated. He'd been so close to confessing his own family problems, his own loneliness.

  But he was Lex Luthor. He was in control. He was someone to be wary of, someone to idolise perhaps, or according to most people someone to be suspicious of; but never pitied. Never looked at with compassion, with understanding. Never loved.

 Something had snapped tonight though. Tonight he'd felt himself crumbling, felt the face he put on was transparent, and worried that all would see who he was. So he'd run away. A Luthor never ran away. He was tired of being a Luthor thought.

 He took a deep breath and kept staring up at the ceiling.

 "I think I hate my life." He said calmly, matter-of-factly.

 He turned and looked at Clark, the poor boy's brow wrinkled in confusion, his face full of concern.

 "Is that what you wanted to hear Clark?" he said, his eyebrows raised. "Because there you have it. Welcome to Lex Luthor's mind." He knew his voice sounded mocking, drunk with self-loathing.

 He peered down into the glass in his hand, still with a drop of liquid left.

 "You should feel privileged." He continued, before taking another drink.

 Clark couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. Was this the anger, the sadness that he had always suspected existed in Lex? Was he finally letting him in, showing him his hurt, his vulnerability?

 "Why do you hate your life Lex?" he asked quietly.

The earnest approach probably hadn't been what Lex was expecting, as a wave of something…that same gratitude Clark\k had seen that night at the Beanery, came over Lex's face.

 He stared back at Clark with incomprehension.

 "Why do you care Clark?"

 It wasn't a hostile reply, it was a quiet question, full of a need to know the answer.

Clark avoided those eyes, searching his own for answers.

 "I don't know."

 Lex gave a small amazed smile.

 "You're lying." he said quietly.

  Clark's eyes darted up quickly, enough for Lex to feel a knot in his stomach form at the panic he saw in them. Oh God, was I right? Could he feel…was it not just wishful thinking? He started to ask again,

 "Clar-"

"You're avoiding the question" Clark interrupted, successfully re-directing Lex's thoughts. He was on the offensive now.

 "Why do you hate your life Lex? You've got so much…"

Lex shook his head at his young friend's view of the world.

 "Not to go all clichéd on you Clark, but money really isn't everything. It's certainly something, but it's not everything."

  He wanted to tell Clark all his thoughts now. He wanted to say how he hated fighting these goddammed battles, how he hated his father for being such a son-of-a-bitch, for never loving him. He wanted to tell Clark how he missed his mother, how he had done since he was a kid. He wanted to tell Clark what he never had; that he was his only true friend in the world. He was the only person who cared about him, and Lex hated himself for all the times he let his suspicious nature get the best of him, for all the times he'd lied.

 But as much as he wanted to, he couldn't go that far. He smiled that fake smile at Clark.

 "My life's not as wonderfully successful and independent as you might think Clark. Its difficult, it's trying and even I lose out sometimes."

"Is that happening tonight somehow?" Clark ventured.

Lex deliberated for a moment or two before answering.

 "Yes. There are things I'm meant to do tonight. Things…that I always do. It's how it works."

 Clark watched him as he spoke quietly, almost musing to himself.

 "I'm sorry, I don't understand." he said eventually.

Lex laughed to himself and looked around in a dry kind of amusement.

 "No, you couldn't understand Clark. You're lucky. You've got your perfect little life on your farm, with your little entourage of friends, and your schoolboy crushes on cheerleaders."

  He knew he was becoming cruel now; he was treating Clark with the condescending attitude that he had felt for a little while, in the early beginnings of their friendship, but which he was ashamed to voice now. He regretted his words the minute they'd left his mouth, and he inwardly cringed at his own self-destructive behaviour, as the only friend he had looked away from him with hurt and anger in his eyes.

   Clark got up, hands in pockets.

 "Clark-" Lex began, his tone coming out to his great dismay as more annoyed than regretful.

" No, you know what Lex? Don't pretend to know me, or know the problems I have in my life!Don't you think that I'm hurting too? That there might be things that I want and can't have? You think I never feel screwed up too? I-"

 He stopped himself from saying anything else in his anger and his hurt. Was this the way Lex really saw him? He really was just a naïve little school kid to him, wasn't he? He shook his head in rage and contempt and turned to leave, fighting away the stinging of his eyes and the lump in his throat.

 Lex meanwhile sat in shock. He'd seen something in Clark then he'd only ever had glimpses of before. It was a rage, a complexity, a hidden well of passion that amazed him; he remembered seeing it in the Nicodemus incident when Clark had grabbed his arm with surprising force in the street, and demanded answers from him with a darkness behind his eyes; then later when he'd advanced on him in this very room, telling him their friendship was over, in his pretence for Pete's benefit. It had scared him then, this other side to Clark Kent. But it had also entranced him, and thrilled him.

  At that moment Lex could put his finger on that final piece of the puzzle; that elusive quality that had torn him up so much inside; it was that part of Clark, beyond the friendship, the concern, and of course, the body, that had made him cry inside with confusion; it was this secret hot passion inside Clark that he'd seen before, and fallen victim too.

 It was the thing about him he knew he loved with a love aching, undeniable, lusting and stronger than anything he'd ever felt in his life before. He needed it. He needed him.

Clark was halfway to the door when he felt Lex's strong grip on his arm, turning him around.

 Before he even had a chance to respond, he felt the sweet hot taste of Lex's lips on his own.

TBC

swinging a watch before your eyes

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