Title: Baby!Clex Story -- Chapter 1, He Followed Me Home . . .
Author: PepperjackCandy
Series: Probably.
Archive : Smallville Slash Archive, my writing at fanfiction.net
Rating: PG (Probably "G," but what the heck)
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Category: Friendship fic, for now. Archived at SSA under "AU," since "friendship" isn't an option
Spoilers for: Nothing.
Disclaimer: I own nothing Smallville-related, or related in any other way to Clark Kent, Superman or any of the various creations of the wonderful folks at DC Comics.
Feedback: Always welcome, either by e-mail or using the review system at fanfiction.net.
A/N: Short version, the overall tale here is fluffy like little bunny rabbits. Complete and utter foof. It may have odd moments of angst, but generally if you want angst? Move along. Nothing to see here. This may or may not end up being a romance. When I started it, I actually envisioned a sort of Dawson/Joey thing here, but it may turn out that Martha has other ideas. We're currently in negotiations.
Also, there was a tree in the playground of my grade school. It was at the far end of the building, down by the fifth and sixth grade classrooms. That's the tree that Lex is under at the start of this story.
=======
Envision a world in which Lex's parents were both in Smallville during the meteor storm, and they were both killed by a meteorite.
Further, imagine that Lionel Luthor wasn't exactly the financial success his PR said he was. In actual fact, Lionel Luthor was a gambler, and he gambled with Lex's future. At the time of Lionel's untimely demise, Luthor Corp was operating at a serious deficit, and the entire Luthor family fortune went to paying off Lionel's business debts.
So, orphaned and broke, little nine-year-old Lex has found himself at the mercy of the Lowell County foster care system . . . .
=========
Two weeks after the world ended, Lex Luthor returned to school
Everything about the public school that his foster "parents" sent him to was unfamiliar to the boy, who had always gone to what his father had assured him were the very best private schools.
Four o'clock that afternoon found Lex under a tree in the schoolyard, crying. He knew that his foster "parents," who were nothing like his real parents, so he didn't know why he was expected to name them such, were expecting him back at their house, but his wig was uncomfortable and he just wanted to go back home. Even though there he knew that there was no longer a home for him to return to.
Lex sniffled loudly, hugging his knees to himself when a young boy, hardly older than four or five, walked up to him, regarding him solemnly.
"What?" Lex snapped. "You come to stare at the freak?" With that, he grabbed the ill-fitting wig from his head and threw it at the boy, who merely let the offending object hit him and fall to the ground.
"Go away." Lex ordered, pressing his face to his knees.
When he looked up again, the boy was still there, staring at him with those impossibly blue eyes. Eyes that Lex couldn't look away from.
Silently, the boy held out a hand.
Lex took the proffered hand and stood unsteadily. A distant part of his brain knew he should pick up the wig from where it lay on the ground, but he stared at it like it belonged to someone else as he let the dark-haired boy lead him off the playground.
They walked for what must have been miles, hand-in-hand. It felt somehow comfortable, sharing space with this strange, quiet boy. Like this boy was someone he'd waited nine long years to find again after a separation.
Lex didn't think he'd ever walked as far as the boy took him, but strangely, the long walk didn't affect him. They reached a farmhouse that Lex had never seen before, and the idea of facing strangers made him nervous. The boy seemed to sense his anxiety, though, and tightened his grip on Lex's hand ever so slightly, wordlessly communicating reassurance.
A beautiful auburn-haired woman, who reminded Lex of his own late mother, ran into the living room as they came through the front door. "Clark! Where've you been? I've been worried sick!" She grabbed the strange, quiet boy in a fierce hug, not noticing that the boy's hand was still connected to Lex's.
Belatedly, the woman noticed Lex, and Lex's hand, still holding the boy's hand. "Who is . . ." her eyes widened, and Lex could hear her thinking this is that boy. The Luthor boy. The freak who lost his hair -- and his parents -- in the meteor shower. But the boy, Clark, merely tightened his grip on Lex's hand, and Lex drew strength from this peculiar, umbilical-like connection to withstand the woman's scrutiny.
"You must be Lex Luthor." She gave Lex a smile that Lex couldn't see any falseness in, and said, "I'm Martha Kent, and this," she pointed to the boy, "is my son, Clark. Though I see you've met already." She looked pointedly at the two boys' linked hands.
Lex put on his very best manners, still clutching Clark's hand in his, "I'm very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Kent."
Martha seemed startled by Lex's introduction. "I'm pleased to meet you, too." She said with as much aplomb as she could manage when talking to a nine-year-old boy with a death-grip on her apparently-mute son's hand.
Lex looked at Clark, who merely looked back impassively. Then Clark smiled, and as Lex found himself returning Clark's smile, he realized that Clark had released his hand. And he hadn't even noticed.
"Aren't the Johanssens looking for you?"
Lex shrugged offhandedly. "They have three other . . . foster kids." He said the final two words as if it were a foreign concept to him, rather than his new way of life. "If Timmy hasn't set anything on fire yet, they might notice I'm missing."
Martha seemed startled at Lex's boldness. But before she could respond, she heard the kitchen door slam shut. Her eyes widened and she quickly left the room.
Jonathan was just crossing the kitchen towards the living room as Martha caught him. "He's home." She said in a whisper, hugging her husband tightly.
Jonathan heaved a sigh of relief. "When'd he come home?" He whispered back as they released their embrace.
"Just a few minutes ago."
"Why are we whispering?"
"Clark didn't come home alone." She motioned for her husband to follow her, and pointed into the living room.
Lex and Clark were sitting crosslegged on the floor across from each other. Clark was rubbing his hand over Lex's bald scalp as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Isn't that the Luthor kid?" Jonathan whispered.
Martha nodded. "He followed Clark home. Or Clark led him home. I'm kind of sketchy on the how of it, but it's the strangest thing I've ever seen."
"He really is as bald as the rumors say."
"Not that. Them. It's like they understand each other or something." She sighed. "I'd better call Ira and Jolene and tell them that Lex is here. They're probably worried."
Lex was enjoying having Clark touch his head. It had bothered him when others touched him. The wig certainly bothered him. It was uncomfortable and always made him feel like some kind of dead animal was strapped to his head. He was thinking how nice it was just sitting there without that wig on his head, just watching Clark examine his bald scalp like it was something miraculous.
"Why are you so quiet?" Lex asked finally.
"He doesn't talk." He heard a man's voice respond shortly and looked up to see a young blond man framed in the doorway of the living room. "He's been with us for two weeks," the man's eyes slid off of Lex momentarily, but then returned as if they'd never moved, "and he hasn't said a word since. The adoption is all but final."
Lex cringed away from this man, too many memories of Lionel Luthor going through his head. But Clark turned to the blond man and smiled, and Lex relaxed a little. He knew that Clark wouldn't smile at the man if there was a reason to be afraid of him.
Meanwhile, Martha was on the phone with Jolene Johanssen. "Jolene, I just wanted to let you know that Lex Luthor is over at our house."
"Oh. I hoped he was all right. Timmy! Put that down, right now! I didn't see him with the others when they came home. Timmy, I'm only going to say this once. Should I come over and get him? Timmy . . ."
"It's all right, Jolene. You sound like you have your hands full. Is it all right if Lex stays for dinner? Jonathan or I will bring him by afterwards, if that's all right with you."
"Oh. Yes. That's fine. Joan, will you stop Timmy before he gets out . . . "
With that, Martha found herself talking to the dial tone. She noticed that Jonathan had walked into the living room and went after her husband.
Jonathan was perched on the edge of the sofa, watching Clark and Lex looking at each other. The strange communion between the two little boys was unchanged, and Jonathan seemed as baffled by it as she had been.
"Lex?" She called out.
"Yes, Mrs. Kent?"
"I spoke to Mrs. Johanssen, and she said that you may stay for dinner, if you'd like."
"Thank you. I'd love to." Again with the odd, too-grown-up mannerisms, like he was accepting an invitation to play bridge or croquet. "Would you like me to stay for dinner?" This was directed at Clark, who answered with a beatific smile.
Martha, unwilling to stop watching this extraordinary boy with her son, wondered idly if a pizza would be cold by the time it reached the farm.
But, knowing that it would be, if Luigi's was even open today - they kept odd hours - she headed for the kitchen, leaving Jonathan alone with the boys.
Jonathan felt superfluous. He knew he shouldn't leave an approximately five-year-old alien alone with a strange bald nine-year-old, but they seemed so content, so self-contained, as they watched each other, that Jonathan just knew that they weren't going to get into any trouble.
"Can you talk? Or do you not know how?" Lex asked Clark solemnly. "Do you speak English? Parlez vous Français? Sprechts du Deutsch? Hablas español?"
Clark simply watched Lex. He appeared to be listening, but he didn't say a word.
"I think you can talk. You just don't know our language. Maybe I can teach you." Lex said with simple innocence.
Clark looked at his father, then looked back at Lex, silently asking Lex to follow him. Jonathan stood, as well, and stayed a few paces behind the boys as they walked outside. He could hear Lex talking, but couldn't hear what he was saying as Clark led Lex out towards the barn.
"It's nice that you have a mom and dad." Lex said to his willing audience of one. "Mine died two weeks ago. The same day I lost my hair. Mrs. Johanssen, she's my foster . . . my foster mother, she says that another child's parents died the same day. A girl. Laura or," he paused, self-editing, "or something like that." He sighed. It felt good to let it out. "I don't know what I'm doing here. I used to live in Metropolis, and went to private school. I think I still have my uniform somewhere. I haven't really looked for it."
They walked into the cool, dark confines of the barn. "Is this a barn?" Lex asked, then answered his own question. "Of course it is. That's a stupid question. I've just never been in a real barn before. You know, a farm barn, with cows and things. I've been in stables of course. My mom loved horses, so I've been riding as long as I can remember. Can you ride a horse?"
Lex paused as if waiting for Clark to answer.
"You've only been here two weeks. Hardly enough time to learn to ride Western, let alone English. And you're awfully young, anyway. I wonder where you lived before."
Lex, allowing time for Clark's silent answer, shuffled his feet in the hay scattered on the floor, enjoying the rustling sound it made.
Jonathan hung back, making sure the boys didn't venture too far into the barn, and keeping himself between the barn and the storm cellar, where Clark's space capsule was hidden. This Luthor kid seemed different from his father, but Jonathan wasn't going to take too many chances with family secrets.
The two boys stepped farther into the barn, and Jonathan couldn't see them anymore. "Boys!" He called. "Come on out of there."
"Yes, sir." He heard Lex's dutiful response followed almost immediately by the two boys stepping back out into the sunshine.
The boys continued their odd, one-sided conversation. "I'm supposed to do homework tonight. But I left my books at school intentionally. If I have to wear that awful wig, I think I should be let out of doing my homework. Shouldn't I?"
Lex looked at Clark.
"Yeah, well, maybe not." Lex said as if Clark had answered him. "But maybe the teacher'll let it slide this once." He grinned at Clark as if they shared a secret.
"Jonathan! Boys! Dinner!" Martha's voice called out from the back porch of the house.
"Coming, Martha!"
Jonathan waited, watching the distance between the Luthor boy and the storm cellar door, as the two boys walked, so close, nearly holding hands, into the house for dinner.
"Go wash your hands, Clark. Show Lex where the bathroom is." Martha instructed her son as the two boys crossed the threshold into the kitchen.
Wordlessly, Clark did as his mother bade, leading Lex down the hallway to the downstairs bathroom, where they washed their hands in companionable silence.
"You're right." Jonathan said to his wife once they were alone. "Damnedest thing I ever saw. Like . . . telepathy or something."
"Well, we've been hoping for someone, a peer, for Clark to bond to."
"Yeah, and we got it. In spades."
Martha kissed her husband quickly as the boys returned to the kitchen. "Go wash up. I'm not waiting dinner for you." She told him as she pushed him down the hallway towards the bathroom.
Lex looked at the table assessingly. Martha had read enough etiquette books to know that he was trying to size up the 'head' and 'foot' of the table. "You can sit here." She indicated the normally-empty fourth chair at the table.
"Thank you, Mrs. Kent." Lex said solemnly as he took a seat in the chair she had indicated. Clark, wordless as ever, slid into what had become his usual seat.
Jonathan returned to the kitchen then, taking his seat as well. Martha put a large bowl filled with spaghetti and meatballs, covered with tomato sauce, in the center of the table.
"Would you like some milk, Lex?"
"Yes, please, Mrs. Kent."
Martha poured two glasses of milk, one for Lex, the other for Clark, and placed the glasses in front of the boys. Then she took her seat.
She could see Lex waiting patiently to find out how dinner was served in the Kent household. "Would you like to say grace, Lex?" Martha asked, just to check out the boy's reaction.
"No, thank you, Mrs. Kent."
"Jonathan?"
Martha and Jonathan bowed their heads, leaving the two boys staring directly at each other, sharing identical expressions of bewilderment.
Apparently, Lex thought, wherever Clark came from, they don't . . . say grace . . . either.
Jonathan said, "For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful. Amen."
"Amen," Martha repeated quietly. She picked up the bowl of spaghetti and turned to Lex. "Would you like me to serve you?"
"Yes, please."
Martha served Lex, then Clark. While she sliced the spaghetti on Clark's plate into bite-sized pieces, Jonathan served himself, and then Martha took what remained in the bowl.
"So, you're what? Nine?" Jonathan asked, making conversation.
"Yes, sir." Lex responded, stunning Martha and Jonathan with the ease with which he rolled the pasta onto his fork.
"So then, you're in . . . third grade?"
"No, sir. Fourth." He looked down at his plate. "They gave me some tests."
Jonathan assumed he must be talking about placement tests, rather than medical tests. "Oh."
"Do you enjoy living with the Johanssens?" Martha asked.
"I don't know." Lex responded. "There are a lot of children in the house."
"And you're used to being an only child." Martha said understandingly.
Lex let that comment go without response, silently slipping back into that odd communion he had found with Clark.
Soon, the meal was over, and the stilted conversation could mercifully be put to an end. "Would you like me to drive you back to your house?" Jonathan asked.
"Yes, please." Lex said, meeting Clark's eyes once again.
He walked over to Clark and they touched their hands to each other's, as if reassuring themselves of each other's reality. "May I come back tomorrow after school?" Lex asked.
"If you don't have any homework." Martha, ever the mother, said. Then she caved, just a little, "Or if you do, you can do it here."
Lex smiled at her. A rare, genuine, warm smile. The kind he'd once shared with his mother, and now seemed only to find with Clark. "Thank you, Mrs. Kent."
Jonathan and Lex left for the inevitably-silent ride back to town.
"You'd better start getting ready for bed, Clark." Martha told her son. "I'll let you stay up until your dad gets home, but then it's off to bed for you."
Clark happily trotted off towards the stairs, then turned back to face Martha. "Mom." He said, just as clearly as if he'd been speaking for years.
Before she knew what was happening, Martha was on the floor, kneeling by her son. "What was that?"
"Mom." Clark said, just as clearly, and beamed at her warmly.
When Jonathan returned home from the Johanssens', he found his wife crying tears of pure joy. Clark's bedtime was postponed that night.
Author: PepperjackCandy
Series: Probably.
Archive : Smallville Slash Archive, my writing at fanfiction.net
Rating: PG (Probably "G," but what the heck)
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Category: Friendship fic, for now. Archived at SSA under "AU," since "friendship" isn't an option
Spoilers for: Nothing.
Disclaimer: I own nothing Smallville-related, or related in any other way to Clark Kent, Superman or any of the various creations of the wonderful folks at DC Comics.
Feedback: Always welcome, either by e-mail or using the review system at fanfiction.net.
A/N: Short version, the overall tale here is fluffy like little bunny rabbits. Complete and utter foof. It may have odd moments of angst, but generally if you want angst? Move along. Nothing to see here. This may or may not end up being a romance. When I started it, I actually envisioned a sort of Dawson/Joey thing here, but it may turn out that Martha has other ideas. We're currently in negotiations.
Also, there was a tree in the playground of my grade school. It was at the far end of the building, down by the fifth and sixth grade classrooms. That's the tree that Lex is under at the start of this story.
=======
Envision a world in which Lex's parents were both in Smallville during the meteor storm, and they were both killed by a meteorite.
Further, imagine that Lionel Luthor wasn't exactly the financial success his PR said he was. In actual fact, Lionel Luthor was a gambler, and he gambled with Lex's future. At the time of Lionel's untimely demise, Luthor Corp was operating at a serious deficit, and the entire Luthor family fortune went to paying off Lionel's business debts.
So, orphaned and broke, little nine-year-old Lex has found himself at the mercy of the Lowell County foster care system . . . .
=========
Two weeks after the world ended, Lex Luthor returned to school
Everything about the public school that his foster "parents" sent him to was unfamiliar to the boy, who had always gone to what his father had assured him were the very best private schools.
Four o'clock that afternoon found Lex under a tree in the schoolyard, crying. He knew that his foster "parents," who were nothing like his real parents, so he didn't know why he was expected to name them such, were expecting him back at their house, but his wig was uncomfortable and he just wanted to go back home. Even though there he knew that there was no longer a home for him to return to.
Lex sniffled loudly, hugging his knees to himself when a young boy, hardly older than four or five, walked up to him, regarding him solemnly.
"What?" Lex snapped. "You come to stare at the freak?" With that, he grabbed the ill-fitting wig from his head and threw it at the boy, who merely let the offending object hit him and fall to the ground.
"Go away." Lex ordered, pressing his face to his knees.
When he looked up again, the boy was still there, staring at him with those impossibly blue eyes. Eyes that Lex couldn't look away from.
Silently, the boy held out a hand.
Lex took the proffered hand and stood unsteadily. A distant part of his brain knew he should pick up the wig from where it lay on the ground, but he stared at it like it belonged to someone else as he let the dark-haired boy lead him off the playground.
They walked for what must have been miles, hand-in-hand. It felt somehow comfortable, sharing space with this strange, quiet boy. Like this boy was someone he'd waited nine long years to find again after a separation.
Lex didn't think he'd ever walked as far as the boy took him, but strangely, the long walk didn't affect him. They reached a farmhouse that Lex had never seen before, and the idea of facing strangers made him nervous. The boy seemed to sense his anxiety, though, and tightened his grip on Lex's hand ever so slightly, wordlessly communicating reassurance.
A beautiful auburn-haired woman, who reminded Lex of his own late mother, ran into the living room as they came through the front door. "Clark! Where've you been? I've been worried sick!" She grabbed the strange, quiet boy in a fierce hug, not noticing that the boy's hand was still connected to Lex's.
Belatedly, the woman noticed Lex, and Lex's hand, still holding the boy's hand. "Who is . . ." her eyes widened, and Lex could hear her thinking this is that boy. The Luthor boy. The freak who lost his hair -- and his parents -- in the meteor shower. But the boy, Clark, merely tightened his grip on Lex's hand, and Lex drew strength from this peculiar, umbilical-like connection to withstand the woman's scrutiny.
"You must be Lex Luthor." She gave Lex a smile that Lex couldn't see any falseness in, and said, "I'm Martha Kent, and this," she pointed to the boy, "is my son, Clark. Though I see you've met already." She looked pointedly at the two boys' linked hands.
Lex put on his very best manners, still clutching Clark's hand in his, "I'm very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Kent."
Martha seemed startled by Lex's introduction. "I'm pleased to meet you, too." She said with as much aplomb as she could manage when talking to a nine-year-old boy with a death-grip on her apparently-mute son's hand.
Lex looked at Clark, who merely looked back impassively. Then Clark smiled, and as Lex found himself returning Clark's smile, he realized that Clark had released his hand. And he hadn't even noticed.
"Aren't the Johanssens looking for you?"
Lex shrugged offhandedly. "They have three other . . . foster kids." He said the final two words as if it were a foreign concept to him, rather than his new way of life. "If Timmy hasn't set anything on fire yet, they might notice I'm missing."
Martha seemed startled at Lex's boldness. But before she could respond, she heard the kitchen door slam shut. Her eyes widened and she quickly left the room.
Jonathan was just crossing the kitchen towards the living room as Martha caught him. "He's home." She said in a whisper, hugging her husband tightly.
Jonathan heaved a sigh of relief. "When'd he come home?" He whispered back as they released their embrace.
"Just a few minutes ago."
"Why are we whispering?"
"Clark didn't come home alone." She motioned for her husband to follow her, and pointed into the living room.
Lex and Clark were sitting crosslegged on the floor across from each other. Clark was rubbing his hand over Lex's bald scalp as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Isn't that the Luthor kid?" Jonathan whispered.
Martha nodded. "He followed Clark home. Or Clark led him home. I'm kind of sketchy on the how of it, but it's the strangest thing I've ever seen."
"He really is as bald as the rumors say."
"Not that. Them. It's like they understand each other or something." She sighed. "I'd better call Ira and Jolene and tell them that Lex is here. They're probably worried."
Lex was enjoying having Clark touch his head. It had bothered him when others touched him. The wig certainly bothered him. It was uncomfortable and always made him feel like some kind of dead animal was strapped to his head. He was thinking how nice it was just sitting there without that wig on his head, just watching Clark examine his bald scalp like it was something miraculous.
"Why are you so quiet?" Lex asked finally.
"He doesn't talk." He heard a man's voice respond shortly and looked up to see a young blond man framed in the doorway of the living room. "He's been with us for two weeks," the man's eyes slid off of Lex momentarily, but then returned as if they'd never moved, "and he hasn't said a word since. The adoption is all but final."
Lex cringed away from this man, too many memories of Lionel Luthor going through his head. But Clark turned to the blond man and smiled, and Lex relaxed a little. He knew that Clark wouldn't smile at the man if there was a reason to be afraid of him.
Meanwhile, Martha was on the phone with Jolene Johanssen. "Jolene, I just wanted to let you know that Lex Luthor is over at our house."
"Oh. I hoped he was all right. Timmy! Put that down, right now! I didn't see him with the others when they came home. Timmy, I'm only going to say this once. Should I come over and get him? Timmy . . ."
"It's all right, Jolene. You sound like you have your hands full. Is it all right if Lex stays for dinner? Jonathan or I will bring him by afterwards, if that's all right with you."
"Oh. Yes. That's fine. Joan, will you stop Timmy before he gets out . . . "
With that, Martha found herself talking to the dial tone. She noticed that Jonathan had walked into the living room and went after her husband.
Jonathan was perched on the edge of the sofa, watching Clark and Lex looking at each other. The strange communion between the two little boys was unchanged, and Jonathan seemed as baffled by it as she had been.
"Lex?" She called out.
"Yes, Mrs. Kent?"
"I spoke to Mrs. Johanssen, and she said that you may stay for dinner, if you'd like."
"Thank you. I'd love to." Again with the odd, too-grown-up mannerisms, like he was accepting an invitation to play bridge or croquet. "Would you like me to stay for dinner?" This was directed at Clark, who answered with a beatific smile.
Martha, unwilling to stop watching this extraordinary boy with her son, wondered idly if a pizza would be cold by the time it reached the farm.
But, knowing that it would be, if Luigi's was even open today - they kept odd hours - she headed for the kitchen, leaving Jonathan alone with the boys.
Jonathan felt superfluous. He knew he shouldn't leave an approximately five-year-old alien alone with a strange bald nine-year-old, but they seemed so content, so self-contained, as they watched each other, that Jonathan just knew that they weren't going to get into any trouble.
"Can you talk? Or do you not know how?" Lex asked Clark solemnly. "Do you speak English? Parlez vous Français? Sprechts du Deutsch? Hablas español?"
Clark simply watched Lex. He appeared to be listening, but he didn't say a word.
"I think you can talk. You just don't know our language. Maybe I can teach you." Lex said with simple innocence.
Clark looked at his father, then looked back at Lex, silently asking Lex to follow him. Jonathan stood, as well, and stayed a few paces behind the boys as they walked outside. He could hear Lex talking, but couldn't hear what he was saying as Clark led Lex out towards the barn.
"It's nice that you have a mom and dad." Lex said to his willing audience of one. "Mine died two weeks ago. The same day I lost my hair. Mrs. Johanssen, she's my foster . . . my foster mother, she says that another child's parents died the same day. A girl. Laura or," he paused, self-editing, "or something like that." He sighed. It felt good to let it out. "I don't know what I'm doing here. I used to live in Metropolis, and went to private school. I think I still have my uniform somewhere. I haven't really looked for it."
They walked into the cool, dark confines of the barn. "Is this a barn?" Lex asked, then answered his own question. "Of course it is. That's a stupid question. I've just never been in a real barn before. You know, a farm barn, with cows and things. I've been in stables of course. My mom loved horses, so I've been riding as long as I can remember. Can you ride a horse?"
Lex paused as if waiting for Clark to answer.
"You've only been here two weeks. Hardly enough time to learn to ride Western, let alone English. And you're awfully young, anyway. I wonder where you lived before."
Lex, allowing time for Clark's silent answer, shuffled his feet in the hay scattered on the floor, enjoying the rustling sound it made.
Jonathan hung back, making sure the boys didn't venture too far into the barn, and keeping himself between the barn and the storm cellar, where Clark's space capsule was hidden. This Luthor kid seemed different from his father, but Jonathan wasn't going to take too many chances with family secrets.
The two boys stepped farther into the barn, and Jonathan couldn't see them anymore. "Boys!" He called. "Come on out of there."
"Yes, sir." He heard Lex's dutiful response followed almost immediately by the two boys stepping back out into the sunshine.
The boys continued their odd, one-sided conversation. "I'm supposed to do homework tonight. But I left my books at school intentionally. If I have to wear that awful wig, I think I should be let out of doing my homework. Shouldn't I?"
Lex looked at Clark.
"Yeah, well, maybe not." Lex said as if Clark had answered him. "But maybe the teacher'll let it slide this once." He grinned at Clark as if they shared a secret.
"Jonathan! Boys! Dinner!" Martha's voice called out from the back porch of the house.
"Coming, Martha!"
Jonathan waited, watching the distance between the Luthor boy and the storm cellar door, as the two boys walked, so close, nearly holding hands, into the house for dinner.
"Go wash your hands, Clark. Show Lex where the bathroom is." Martha instructed her son as the two boys crossed the threshold into the kitchen.
Wordlessly, Clark did as his mother bade, leading Lex down the hallway to the downstairs bathroom, where they washed their hands in companionable silence.
"You're right." Jonathan said to his wife once they were alone. "Damnedest thing I ever saw. Like . . . telepathy or something."
"Well, we've been hoping for someone, a peer, for Clark to bond to."
"Yeah, and we got it. In spades."
Martha kissed her husband quickly as the boys returned to the kitchen. "Go wash up. I'm not waiting dinner for you." She told him as she pushed him down the hallway towards the bathroom.
Lex looked at the table assessingly. Martha had read enough etiquette books to know that he was trying to size up the 'head' and 'foot' of the table. "You can sit here." She indicated the normally-empty fourth chair at the table.
"Thank you, Mrs. Kent." Lex said solemnly as he took a seat in the chair she had indicated. Clark, wordless as ever, slid into what had become his usual seat.
Jonathan returned to the kitchen then, taking his seat as well. Martha put a large bowl filled with spaghetti and meatballs, covered with tomato sauce, in the center of the table.
"Would you like some milk, Lex?"
"Yes, please, Mrs. Kent."
Martha poured two glasses of milk, one for Lex, the other for Clark, and placed the glasses in front of the boys. Then she took her seat.
She could see Lex waiting patiently to find out how dinner was served in the Kent household. "Would you like to say grace, Lex?" Martha asked, just to check out the boy's reaction.
"No, thank you, Mrs. Kent."
"Jonathan?"
Martha and Jonathan bowed their heads, leaving the two boys staring directly at each other, sharing identical expressions of bewilderment.
Apparently, Lex thought, wherever Clark came from, they don't . . . say grace . . . either.
Jonathan said, "For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful. Amen."
"Amen," Martha repeated quietly. She picked up the bowl of spaghetti and turned to Lex. "Would you like me to serve you?"
"Yes, please."
Martha served Lex, then Clark. While she sliced the spaghetti on Clark's plate into bite-sized pieces, Jonathan served himself, and then Martha took what remained in the bowl.
"So, you're what? Nine?" Jonathan asked, making conversation.
"Yes, sir." Lex responded, stunning Martha and Jonathan with the ease with which he rolled the pasta onto his fork.
"So then, you're in . . . third grade?"
"No, sir. Fourth." He looked down at his plate. "They gave me some tests."
Jonathan assumed he must be talking about placement tests, rather than medical tests. "Oh."
"Do you enjoy living with the Johanssens?" Martha asked.
"I don't know." Lex responded. "There are a lot of children in the house."
"And you're used to being an only child." Martha said understandingly.
Lex let that comment go without response, silently slipping back into that odd communion he had found with Clark.
Soon, the meal was over, and the stilted conversation could mercifully be put to an end. "Would you like me to drive you back to your house?" Jonathan asked.
"Yes, please." Lex said, meeting Clark's eyes once again.
He walked over to Clark and they touched their hands to each other's, as if reassuring themselves of each other's reality. "May I come back tomorrow after school?" Lex asked.
"If you don't have any homework." Martha, ever the mother, said. Then she caved, just a little, "Or if you do, you can do it here."
Lex smiled at her. A rare, genuine, warm smile. The kind he'd once shared with his mother, and now seemed only to find with Clark. "Thank you, Mrs. Kent."
Jonathan and Lex left for the inevitably-silent ride back to town.
"You'd better start getting ready for bed, Clark." Martha told her son. "I'll let you stay up until your dad gets home, but then it's off to bed for you."
Clark happily trotted off towards the stairs, then turned back to face Martha. "Mom." He said, just as clearly as if he'd been speaking for years.
Before she knew what was happening, Martha was on the floor, kneeling by her son. "What was that?"
"Mom." Clark said, just as clearly, and beamed at her warmly.
When Jonathan returned home from the Johanssens', he found his wife crying tears of pure joy. Clark's bedtime was postponed that night.