SUMMARY: Chapter Five Lex isn't noticing anything out of the ordinary about Clark's body yet, either. But then things get a little stranger.

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 Five

Lex wasn't tired. He walked, naturally finding himself in Clark's easy, loping stroll, arms swinging, feet taking impossibly large steps. He felt better then he had in weeks, months, maybe years. There were advantages to being in the body of a healthy sixteen-year-old farm boy (even if he didn't look at all like he was sixteen, both a blessing and a curse, depending on whether you were talking about Clark's opinion or Lex's).

This had to be one of the strangest things that had ever happened to him. Well, there was really no doubt about it. Lex had been through a lot in the past year, and even more in the preceding ones, but this beat driving a car off a bridge, being kidnapped by a dead man, and almost getting shot multiple times. It really had to be some sort of karma from his earlier, wilder days. Still, if whatever force there was out there running the universe had seen fit to give Lex Clark Kent's body, he wasn't going to complain.

Intellectually, of course, he knew that this was a very bad thing. His friendship with Clark had already gone through more than its fair share of ups and downs, and they'd only known each other for a barely over a year. Still, he'd felt closer to this high school boy (Lex has to remind himself – boy, boy, boy) than anyone else in his entire life, with the exception of his mother and Pamela. Both of which were irreplaceably gone. But then this innocent young farm boy saves his life, and all of a sudden Lex is fighting to have a real friendship with him, fighting to become a member of his family and earn Clark's parents' approval, as if it's the only thing that matters to him.

The fact that Clark is, quite frankly, absolutely beautiful has almost nothing to do with it. The fact that Clark is unaware of this fact has a lot to do with it. Lex has liked men before; it's no secret to him that he's bisexual. If anything, it fits in with the image. Suave playboy, son of a billionaire - rumoured to be a sex god. Lex smirks to himself, and then wonders how it must look on Clark's face. Clark smiles widely and openly and plainly, and each time Lex sees it he thinks he must be going crazy not to lov- well, feel very strongly for him.

But Clark is still such a mystery. It was, in fact, Clark that had motivated his regrettable drinking binge the previous night. Lex wasn't prone to heavy drinking normally - the idea of being drunk, losing control, was something that had appealed much more to him in his youth. After the – incidents - that had come with such stupid decision-making, he'd pretty much limited it to casual drinking, a glass or two, no more. But he'd had an urge to forget last night – a powerful one.

Clark had offered to live with him. In his penthouse. In Metropolis. Just the – just the two of them. Clark had obviously been unbalanced. Something was wrong. Of course, Clark's parents had been their usual reticent selves concerning what had happened. Once again, Lex had been left out of the loop. Wryly, he thought to himself that he should be used to it by now.

Still – the fantasy had been pervasive, overwhelming. It had taken a great deal of restraint on Lex's part to offer not just the penthouse, but his body as well. Lex would not normally consider himself submissive in the least, but there was something so commanding about Clark. Something in his eyes that said, I can take you to places you've never been. Lex was betting very highly on his friend being a virgin, but that sexual energy was there all right, just waiting to escape. Just waiting for the right person.

God, Lex wished he were the right person.

It was because of these thoughts that Lex had wished to escape for a little while, to forget all the barriers that stood between him and Clark: Clark's secretiveness, his obvious heterosexuality, his age, his parents… Lana, hell, even Chloe. Everything that stood between them was a great big solid wall surrounding a fortress heavily armed and manned by thousands, all waiting for Lex to try it, just try to get to Clark. And with it, the promise of his imminent slaughter.

So he took his expensive brandy in his expensive decanter and set out for a night of forgetting about Clark.

Failing miserably, of course.

But, on the bright side, by this body-switching madness he had managed to subvert the horrible hangover that his body was sure to experience. Healing quickly did not, apparently, prevent a massive headache from forming after imbibing far too much alcohol.

Interrupting Lex's thoughts was the squeal of tires. He tensed, and stopped. He'd only gone about halfway to the castle, and was walking along the side of yet another of Smallville's mostly-deserted roads. He stepped away, looked back and squinted. Had he actually heard that? There wasn't anything on the road –

Wait.

A car was approaching. Lex had only a few seconds to marvel on Clark's good hearing before he found himself studying the somewhat erratic movement of the car. It was still little more than dot on the horizon, but it seemed to be weaving back and forth. What the –

It was one of his cars. What in the hell was going on?

The red Jaguar. Why did it have to be the red Jag? That was his special car, the one he would probably never drive. The one he'd bought on a whim, even though he preferred silver and black to red, even though it was too ostentatious for Smallville (as were his other cars, but at least they lacked the colour's obvious call for attention). Why'd he buy it?

Clark. Dammit, it always came back to Clark. Not that he resented him, or anything - but when was the last time a person had become so pervasive, so overwhelming, in his thoughts that he'd purchased a car just because it matched the colour that said person always seemed to be wearing?

The red Jag. Could someone have stolen it? It was closer now, much closer. This person was obviously driving at only thirty or forty miles an hour. The wavering of the car – it was as if the person was over-compensating for the car's tight turns. Someone who was used to driving something much bigger.

Like a truck.

Lex squinted. He didn't know what could possibly be wrong with Clark's vision, because he seemed to be seeing at twenty-twenty, if not better. The sun shined down, reflecting off of the Jag's windshield, darkly. Anyone could be behind the wheel. Anyone. And they could be trying to run him over.

Lex was prone to fits of paranoia, but considering all that had happened to him, he found it to be a just paranoia. And it was still coming toward him. He was off the road by now, staring, feeling as if he should do something. Like run away as quickly as he (that is, Clark) possibly could. But something told him to stay, and stay he did, staring at the bright red moving closer, closer…

The car screeched to a halt in front of him, and Lex prayed that the brakes hadn't suffered too much. The person driving battled with the door a few moments before managing to open it with a bang. One foot stepped out, then other. Long legs. A sudden upward movement, a muffled curse, and Lex found himself staring at –

"Get in the fucking car."