SUMMARY: Chapter Seven Is Clark acting like Lex or is it the other way around?
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 Seven
Lex watched Clark-who-looked-like-Lex (this was going to get more confusing before it became less so) with an unfettered surprise as he drove the Jag back toward the castle. Lex knew, intellectually, that the expression of intense anger on his face was an expression that he had most likely used before, and yet it seemed so much more like Clark than like him. The mouth was pursed in a youngish manner, the nose wrinkling slightly, eyes darkening from their normal pale. He's been too shocked to say anything, and that's perhaps the most surprising thing. Because he can always find something to say. That's his gift.
"Dammit, Lex – say something." Lex, who has allowed his thoughts to wander and was staring blankly at the road, started suddenly at the sound of his own voice. But he wasn't thinking aloud, was he? No, it must have been…
"Clark?"
"We've established that, Lex. But with you looking like me and me looking you, everything I say will sound like you and when you talk, we'll –" Clark quit, looking decidedly comical, his-turned-Lex's face twisted into a parody of annoyance and near-humour.
Lex found that he was forcing his mouth to stay shut, forcing himself to keep from laughing, knowing it would only be that hysterical, frightening laughter when a situation is just too horribly twisted to properly comprehend. The car sped along at a steady pace, and the silence was deafening. Lex couldn't stand it. But before he could come up with some clever quip to deliver, Clark had started talking again.
"What are we going to do?" this was a sort of moan, and Lex had the feeling Clark was resisting the urge to bash his – Lex's, that is – head into the steering wheel. Which was a good thing, because Lex knew that his poor baby had already suffered enough damage from that reckless little drive earlier. Not that anything so dramatic would really hurt Lex's body, either. Not after all the other shit, not after flying off a bridge and getting shot and burned and, hell, everything. But the idea was the important thing.
"As soon as we get back to the castle, we can discuss it, Clark." Amazing how reasonable he can make Clark's voice sound, when it normally takes the petulant, childish tone or this optimistic, light one. Amazing how much blight a Luthor can bring to a person.
"Amazing how you can sound so calm about this, Lex." Lex started, thinking for one irrational moment that Clark had suddenly developed (had already had?) mind-reading powers. And really, with the current situation, who was he to question the irrational?
"I can lie as well as the next person, Clark." And strangely enough, Clark cracked a small, cynical smile that so resembled Lex's own that for a moment he was sure that he was only having a metaphysical out-of-body experience, that he was really watching himself. Then he looked down at his large, golden-tanned, calloused work hands and decided against that. He and Clark had, by some curse or miracle, truly exchanged bodies. Although as to their mentality, Lex was currently finding himself in debate. Clark cursing was a totally new experience, and driving one of Lex's cars, and having this strange attitude so reminiscent of Lex's own…
He wondered briefly if he would start finding the irresistible urge to wear flannel, then shuddered, deciding that the mere idea was an impossibility. There were some things that he and Clark would never share, and taste in clothing was certainly one of them. But then again, so what? For what could you possibly share more closely then your own bodies?
Instantly his mind is clouded over with images of a decidedly inappropriate nature, given the circumstances. Hell, inappropriate in general.
"Lying isn't going to do anyone any good here, Lex."
Funny, Clark, but I think tell you the truth about my thoughts right now would be a bad idea.
"You're right." And Clark laughed, loudly. Startling, to hear it from Lex's vocal chords. But pleasant, too, knowing that Clark was still Clark no matter whose body he currently inhabited. With the fucked-up way things were turning out today, it was a relieving constant, strange cursing aside and cynical smiles aside. "What?"
"You must really not be feeling well, Lex, to agree with me about something so – so blatantly." Lex smirked, wondered how Clark's face must look with a smirk, then looked away, spotting the castle in the distance.
God, Clark's eyes really were amazing.
Lex had noticed this before he was in Clark's body, of course. Those shimmering hazel-green eyes could probably have competed alone against all of Helen of Troy's beauty, and won. The sentiment was decidedly un-Luthor-like.
"Don't get too used to it, farmboy." Lex was telling this to himself, really, though he said it allowed. Don't get used to it. Because this could be a good thing, and good things had a way of shattering, in Lex's experience. But Clark's answering smile was vague. He was looking at his hands, encased in Lex's leather driving gloves (worn for fashion, he could admit to it).
No – not his hands. His hand. He kept glancing down at the right one, flexing it curiously.
"What's wrong?" Clark's eyes (his eyes) flashed an unreadable look at Lex, then immediately returned to gazing at the road.
"Nothing. I mean… nothing."
Lex felt a strange stirring in the pit of his stomach, a cold one. All this time, he had mentally accused Clark of being horrible at lying, unable to keep it out of his face, his expression. He was still horrible at it. But Lex was looking at himself now, and he saw this glint, this strange sort of sad shimmer, in his eyes.
He had always prided himself on his ability to mask his deceptions and his lies, but that look – that one singular look in his eyes, lasting milliseconds, gave it away. Gave him away. Funny, that he was more upset about this then the fact that Clark was lying. Funny.
Lex's thoughts didn't have a chance to swirl deeper into depression. There was a querulous feeling, this weird churning and gripping, in the pit of his stomach, followed by the loudest grumbling sound he had ever heard a human being's stomach make. It happened again, and Lex put his hands to his stomach, looking down at it wide-eyed. Christ.
If Lex had thought hearing himself laugh like a regular person was strange, the near-hysterical laughter that erupted from him-turned-Clark now was positively bizarre. The car swerved as it reached the entranceway to the castle, and Clark, visibly struggling, pulled it back under control, still laughing.
"Hungry, Lex?" Lex frowned in this utterly childlike and defensive manner.
"I didn't have breakfast, alright? I was in too big of hurry trying to get out of the house before your parents suspected something and Jonathan tried to shoot me." Clark parked the car in the garage, and then turned to Lex, casually lifting a single eyebrow in a purely Lexian manner.
Maybe they were going to start inheriting one another's traits, after all.
"I'm surprised you got here without passing out. I can't really live without breakfast." Lex's stomach growled in agreement.
"So it would seem."