SUMMARY: Chapter Three Lex deals with the parental units, who haven't noticed anything too out of the ordinary with their son. Yet.

WARNINGS: Rated Teen for language and sexuality. Veers into the realm of AU after the episode "Red" from Season 2. Because I just – LOVE red kryptonite!

DISCLAIMER: So many people own Superman and Smallville that I don't even know where to begin. We'll just sweepingly say Siegel and Shuster, DC Comics, and the show's creators. It's this twisted copyright situation, anyway. But I'm not making any money of them, rest assured. Just – playing with them. In my mind. It's not my fault they picked Tom Welling and Michael Rosenbaum, eh!

AUTHOR NOTE: My version of red kryptonite varies from the show's use. In comic canon, red kryptonite causes a different reaction each time Superman/Clark is exposed to it, and the results typically last 24 to 48 hours.

Slant

Chapter Three

Are you sure you're alright, son?" Jonathan Kent stared at Lex with concerned eyes. This was a sight he was probably never going to see again in his entire life, so he made sure to absorb every single aspect of what most definitely qualified as paternal love (he'd never really experienced this himself, but judged that it was indeed real based on an educated guess).

"I… uh, yeah, umm, Dad." That was the worst, most poorly constructed sentence Lex had said since he was old enough to speak more than two words at a time. But really, it was all he could manage. And who could blame him? He was – by some unknown force or mystical power or scientific experiment or act of God – in the body of none other than Clark Kent, Smallville's own charming little boy scout and, ironically, Lex's best friend. Impossible might have been the right word had he lived anywhere other than Smallville, and certainly Lex was not immune to the oddities of this town. But he'd never been through anything so drastic as body switching!

Martha – that is, mom – came around the kitchen corner and put one soft, cool hand to his forehead. Some of her red hair fell forward and brushed Lex's cheek. He suddenly felt like sobbing. If he'd blacked out in front of his own father, he probably would've gotten a lecture on weakness and "Luthors aren't afraid of anything" and how he had probably put on the stunt for attention. Here there was only concern, simple concern, and worry, and love. Dammit, Clark was the luckiest human on the planet Earth.

"You feel a little warm, sweetheart." Lex had sort of noticed that too. Apparently Clark's body didn't get cold very easily, because even though he had found himself lying on a cold wooden floor when he'd first awoken from his miniature blackout, he'd still felt warm.

"It's nothing. Really, mom, I'm fine." Lex hoped he sounded halfway convincing as Clark. He'd heard the family interacting multiple times before, and he hadn't said anything too out of the ordinary, at least not yet. But he didn't know how long he could keep up the façade - he and Clark were very different people.

"Is your vision acting up again?" she asked, sounding worried. Lex had no idea that Clark had trouble with his vision, but he went with it. What else could he do?

"Um, yeah. My eyes felt sort of funny. I suppose – I mean, I guess it just messed around with me a little. But it's better now. I feel fine." Please accept that. Please don't question me further. Even though I'm fascinated that you care, please stop asking…

"Alright, Clark. You just be careful." Lex nodded more vigorously than perhaps he should of, and consequently nearly fell off of the stool. When he'd first sat down on it, his back had automatically found its ramrod-straight position and hands went folded carefully into the lap. When Jonathan had given him an odd glance, he'd forced himself into a slouch, and rested his heavy arms on the table. Even if he wasn't Clark Kent, he'd damn well better act like Clark Kent, at least while he was inhabiting the younger man's body. The last thing Lex needed was for Jonathan Kent to figure out that Lex had somehow taken over his son's body (Lex thought about that for a second or ten in an entirely inappropriate way). The man would be out for blood. Lex's blood. The fact that Lex's blood was currently Clark's blood was, surprisingly, a comforting thought. Jonathan wouldn't hurt him when he was Clark…

Right?

Hopefully.

Now, he needed to consider his options. It was never safe to assume anything, least of all in Smallville, but he'd hazard a guess that if he was in Clark's body, than Clark would be in his. So, he needed to find himself - who was, if his casual assumption was correct, Clark – and… well.

Do something.

That firmly decided, Lex struggled to form a coherent sentence without sounding the least bit like a Luthor. It wasn't as difficult as he thought it would be. "Lex asked me to come over to the castle today, if you – you guys don't mind." Jonathan frowned immediately. That was not a good sign. "Umm… I forgot to mention it you earlier. Sorry?" He tried to emulate the wide-eyed look that Clark sometimes gave him if he was trying to get his way, to one that Lex could never help but obey. He hoped the charm extended to Clark's parents.

"Well –" began Martha, glancing at Jonathan. "I suppose we don't mind. It's been a trying week for all of us. You can do your chores tomorrow."

Chores?

"Okay, mom, thanks!" He slid off the stool, intent on getting out of the Kent household as quickly as possible before he used a five-syllable word or made an allusion to ancient Roman history or some other definitely non-Clark idiosyncrasy. He'd made it through the kitchen and halfway out the screen door before he heard Clark's name called. Lex looked over his shoulder inquisitively.

"Yes, mom?" She had a puzzled expression on her face. Oh, god. What could he possibly have done?

"Shoes, dear?" Lex looked down. Ah. Right. Shoes.

"Thanks, mom," he said, struggling to smile. It must have been one of the mega-watt smiles that Clark was capable of, because Martha's cheeks turned a little rosy and she smiled back. Those really were the most effective of Clark's many facial expressions. Lex jogged up the stairs absentmindedly, not noticing that he'd reached Clark's room in about three seconds.

After he'd awoken from his brief lapse of consciousness and been fawned over by Martha Kent, Lex had quickly come to the realization that Clark's body was clad only in a pair of plaid boxer shorts. The embarrassment of being nearly naked in front of his best friend's mother (even if he was currently in said best friend's body) was soon eclipsed by the fact that he was nearly naked and in the body of his best friend. That is, he was looking at Clark, without the cumbersome clothes he always insisted on wearing…

Thankfully he didn't follow this soon-to-become-erotic chain of thoughts until after a lot of blushing and convincing Martha that he was "okay, really" and getting her out of the room. Nothing like finding oneself with a hard-on in front of one's parents when you were sixteen years old. Hell, when you were any age. Not that he'd suffered that particular problem, but Clark would never forgive him if it had happened to his parents.

It was a very troublesome thing to be thinking these thoughts about one's underage best friend, but Lex had come to terms with it in his own way - that is, following three very specific rules: (1) do not tell Clark that you are bisexual, (2) do not tell Clark that you are attracted to him, and (3) do not touch Clark in any way that may lead to overtly sexual thoughts and thus, embarrassing reactions.

And they were embarrassing. Lex was twenty-two years old, far beyond the age of getting a stiffie near a good-looking girl (or guy, in this matter). But something about Clark was just – impossible to understand. Something that attracted him in a way that was almost frightening in its intensity.

And now he had a chance (probably the only one in his entire lifetime) to see the Kent boy in all of his glory. And it was glorious – that tan extended beyond the usual farmer's lines. Apparently Clark had gotten outside at one point without many of his clothes on, because that tan seemed to go all the way down to –

Stop it, Lex. Yes, he's muscular and broad and imposing and your favorite (okay, currently only) wet dream, but it would just be wrong to even take a peek. Although it was a valiant, and very difficult, effort not to think about Clark's – well.

Lex had grabbed the nearest pair of jeans (okay, second nearest pair, as the first smelled vaguely like a barnyard) and pulled them on, along with one of the only shirts still hanging in the closet, and buttoned it up quickly to prevent any and all temptation. But apparently socks and shoes hadn't played into that quick assessment.

Struggling into a pair now, Lex tried to figure out the quickest way to get to the castle from Clark's house. Clark's parents would probably think it was strange if "Clark" took the truck. Come to think of it, Clark had almost never driven to Lex's place. He'd simply – arrived.

Lex walked back down the stairs, found another of Clark's wide smiles for his parents, and slipped out the door before he could be further interrogated. Outside the scent of last night's rain pervaded the air. Some of the water on the ground had frozen, but a blinding, golden sun was quickly ascending toward its zenith, and the ice was very quickly melting away. It ought to have been considered a beautiful day, but Lex had other things on his mind as he started to long walk to the castle.