SUMMARY: Chapter Four Having a normal human body comes as a surprise to Clark. No duh.
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 Four
Clark awoke without his normal crash into the bedsprings. He yawned, stretching his arms up above his head, pushing his heels out as far as they could go for that really good waking-up body stretch.
Crack.
He froze. Blinked his eyes. His – his spine. It had cracked. It hadn't hurt, but it had cracked. It never cracked. Clark sat up, rubbing his eyes furiously. He could've imagined it. It had been a late night. And –
Suddenly his head seemed to explode with pain. He let out a low moan, falling back into his pillows.
Pillows?
Pain?
What in the name of Pete was going on?
His internal thoughts reminded him of his father ("what in the name of Pete?", was he serious?). Who was gonna kill him for not being up early enough to help with the early-morning chores. But his head hurt. It hurt badly. Not as badly as a strong dose of meteor rocks, but it was pretty close. And his spine –
Something was incredibly wrong, but at the moment Clark's head hurt too much for him to want to puzzle it out. Thank God it was a Saturday, or he would've been in a lot more trouble. But he was in trouble as it was. It wasn't the meteor rocks, but the very fact that he was in this dizzying, vertigo-like pain was almost frightening. He tried to remember what had happened last night, and came up with nothing that would explain this. He'd walked through a thunderstorm, fallen down a hole, superspeeded home and gone to bed.
And now he had a headache. And his back was making funny sounds. Trying vainly to overcome the headache, he pushed himself up, swung his legs over the side of his bed, and promptly fell over onto the floor.
Damn! That hurt! Something was wrong, very, very wrong. He opened his eyes wide and took a look around the room. Very, very, very wrong. There had to be a good explanation for why he was in what his mind instinctively told him was Lex's bedroom. Certainly it looked like the grand master suite of a castle, and since Lex's castle was the only castle nearby…
Lex's bedroom. Talk about your ultimate fantasy.
He hadn't just thought that. He hadn't.
It was one thing to think about your best friend a lot. That was normal. Or – well. Clark wasn't normal, but he hadn't thought that thinking about your best friend wasn't normal, either. If that made any sense. Which it barely did in his muddled mind.
Okay. Back to the bedroom.
He was blushing now. Standing up, using his left hand as a support, he touched his right hand to his cheek. Warm, alright. But his hand was freezing. Yet another new experience. He stood shakily, feeling weak in the knees from the headache. God, it was feeling worse. He was in Lex's bedroom, of all places, and he felt like he was gonna -
Oh God.
He barely found the toilet in time, and when he did, he retched for what seemed like hours (it was really more like two minutes, but when you're throwing up the contents of your stomach, let's see how long two minutes feels likes to you). That was worse, much, much worse, than the headache. Clark wrinkled his nose as he smelled the hot stuff in the toilet, and flushed it down, grimacing. Feeling around, he found a faucet and hauled himself up, almost losing grip of the porcelain and falling again. Turning on the faucet, he scooped some blessedly cool water onto his face and gargled some in his mouth, spitting it out and ridding himself of that horrible acidy taste. He looked up into the mirror, dazed.
Oh. My. God.
"Lex!" he shouted. How was Lex here, in front of his face? In the bathroom mirror? "Lex…?" the reflection of Lex with dark bags under his eyes mouthed his name and blinked bleary blue eyes.
Get a grip, Clark. You're seeing things. You're dreaming. You're making that face you always make when you're confused, except now Lex is making it too. The Lex in the mirror.
I'm Lex.
The world is a very, very, very odd place.
That was Clark's last thought before he stumbled out of the bathroom and collapsed back on the bed.