Notes: Deanine, you are correct. ;) But we love Evil!Clark, now, don't we? :)

Ruby Truth - Valentine Michel Smith

The scruuunch-swish of leather filled the house. The spree had resulted in the purchase of a lot of cowhide - and damn near everything they could find in black.

Not to mention the sunglasses. Lots and lots of sunglasses. Clark also insisted Gwen purchase several pairs of CFMPs - his favorites were the acrylic mules with the mega-platforms and stiletto heels. Daaaayuum. He would've pondered the apparent development of a shoe fetish, but he was in the midst of making plans. And lookin' good. Ok, maybe in a little Keanu/Matrix.

Clark snickered. Maybe he'd rename Gwen.

Maybe he'd rename himself. "Clark" wasn't his choice, and if he was all about what he being himself, then maybe he should consider a change.

Gwen stepped from the bedroom, a goddamn vision in latex and leather. "Turn around," said Clark. Fuck, that ass looked even better in those pants.

Clark closed the distance between them in a heartbeat. He grabbed Gwen by the waist and placed a finger on her lips, tracing their moist burgundy curve. "What color's that lipstick?"

"Splatter," answered Gwen. She slipped a finger into Clark's waistband.

Clark quirked an eyebrow. "Really? It's so dark, so -" His tongue met hers as he inclined. If they didn't stop, they'd never get out of the house. " - Red." Clark drew a finger over his own mouth, smearing bright scarlet along the digit.

They had things to do.

Places to go.

People to see.

Ok, a quick romp wouldn't derail the entire plan.

Several hours later, Clark and Gwen headed to the Kent farm.

The Ferrari pulled to a stop in front beyond the yard. Mashing his foot on the gas pedal, Clark summoned a growl from the engine and spun the vehicle, spitting gravel and dirt in the car's wake as it came to rest.

Clark cranked the stereo, climbed from the coupe. He opened the door for Gwen.

Gwen immediately began removing the meteor rocks that lined the yard. Clark hadn't been specific about the reasons they needed to go, and she didn't ask. Still, he'd belatedly offered up something about "superstition."

Gwen continued pitching rocks to the far side of the yard. Eventually, Clark had a clear path to the house. "Mom," Clark shouted, "I'm home!"

Inside, Pete and Martha stiffened. While they both suspected it was just a matter of time, Clark not showing up meant he might move on and let them be. His arrival reduced the small hope they held to a tiny wisp of steam, evaporated.

Martha swallowed involuntarily. She collected herself, then patted Pete reassuringly.

Pete peered out the window. "He's not alone," said Pete and watched as Clark grinned and waved at him.

"Who's with him?" Martha sounded surprised.

"A woman."

"Lana? Chloe?

"No. She sort of looks like 'Trinity' from The Matrix. Cept her hair's longer."

Martha craned her neck to see.

"She's on the porch. Clark's in the yard."

Flashing a deadly smile, the alien walked up to the steps and waved again. "Hiya, Pete!"

Pete pulled away from the window. No, fuck it. He wasn't going out like that. He leaned back to the window and shouted through the glass. "Clark, you might wanna rethink this."

"You have got to be kidding me. That's a joke, right?"

"No joke, Clark. You know me. You know what I sound like when I'm serious. Now, you tell me."

"Oh, I think you're serious. But we also know you must be deluded. Step away from the pipe, Pete. And Mom, open up. Get rid of the rocks, and welcome your son."

Pete heard the sound as Martha cocked the shotgun. It shocked him back.

Pete stepped away from the window and turned. No time for questions. No time to think or breathe or speak.

Clark's voice dropped to the growl he'd summoned at the bar with Jessie. "MOM, DON'T MAKE ME COME IN THERE!"