Author's Note: please be aware that, as usual, this is fresh off the press, and as such this fic has been spell-checked but not necessarily anything-else-checked

*

Me, cook?! HAHahahahaha (or Fire and the frying pan)

*

Monday, Nov.. 25

"Hey, Clark," Isis said with a smile as she wandered into the study. "Waiting for Lex?"

Clark turned. "Uh huh. Have you seen him?"

"Mmm, I think he's still fencing with . . .Johann? Bjorn?" She shrugged. "Something Swedish. Hey, I never got a chance to thank you."

"For what?"

Isis was close enough to punch him. So she did. "For saving my life silly."

Clark ran a hand through his hair. It was time for a trim. "Lex did most of the saving."

"Yeah, and I already thanked him, like, a month ago. Besides, you also saved me from the Evil Cornfield," she added melodramatically. She looked around, "Jeez, where's the thunder and lightening when you need it," she wondered aloud. "Anyway, all that aside, this is the third time you've saved my life, Clark."

He was beginning to feel like prime rib -- mostly because Isis was circling him. Finally she stopped, but Clark felt his cheeks go hot when she wrapped her arms around his neck, their bodies flush together.

"I just want to show my appreciation, Clark. Especially since it feels like you've been avoiding me," she murmured.

"N-not avoiding. I mean, I h-haven't been avoiding you. It's just, you know, worked out that way?"

" 'Worked out that way?'" She chuckled softly. "You don't even know. Do you?"

He shook his head no. Okay, so he had been avoiding Isis, but not because he wanted to. This was the first time since the kidnapping that Clark could even be near her without feeling faint. Pete had come up with a theory: The doctors had told them that Isis would be excreting Tripps from her pores for a few weeks. A month, tops. "But remember when her eyes went all green? I bet somehow the meteor rocks got into the batch of Tripps they gave Isis so she's secreting that too. Man, talk about your contact high."

But Clark was pretty sure that the all-over . . .body tingle he was feeling had nothing to do with meteor rocks.

"Ice. . . What are you doing to Clark?"

Isis threw her head back, forcing Clark to support her arched back. "Nothing, Lex."

"Then why is Clark as red as your hair?"

She straightened in Clark's arms, studying his face intently. "Must be a capillary problem," she announced. "You know, you really should have someone look into that, Clark. Maybe Lex? He's all biochemically y'know."

Clark's gaze jumped from Isis' mischievous eyes to Lex's amused ones. Well he thought they were amused, although the closer Lex came the more annoyed he looked. "Um, Isis," Clark said quickly, "I, uh, feel appreciated already. No thanks needed. Nope. None at all. Really."

"But I want to thank you."

Lex paused mid step. "Listen to him, Isis."

"Mmm, but what if I don't want to?" she purred, staring into Clark's eyes.

"You thanked me already," he assured her.

"Uh huh."

Was the room spinning, Clark wondered, or was it the rush of blood away from his brain?

Lex put firm, possessive, hands around her waist. "Isis," he warned.

She tilted backward to look at him. "Yes, Lex?"

"Let Clark be."

"But what if I don't want to?" she repeated. Then pulled Clark down as she stood on tiptoe.

Lex found his hands trapped between their bodies, unable to pull away. Unable to do anything but watch. And support them when Clark stumbled forward into Isis' blackhole kiss: all tongue and lips and devouring mouth.

This is nothing like kissing Chloe.

Isis pulled away slowly, Clark's lower lip between her teeth. Her laughter was rich and deep, echoing between the two men, as Clark followed her down -- like a starving man after his first meal.

Lex's hands slipped from her waist as Clark stepped back. With dry sarcasm he noted that Clark's eyes seemed to "be a bit glazed."

"Huh?" Chloe had definitely not kissed like that. Not even Lana when she had been under the thrall of the Nicodemus flower. Isis even tasted different; Chloe was sharp, tangy, a bright citrus while Lana had been like the smoky aftertaste of food off the grill -- enticing but dangerous.

"Sweet," Clark blurted, finally refocusing. Isis had definitely been sugary like . . . "Hey, where's Isis?"

Lex patted his naive friend's shoulder as he walked to his desk. "She slithered out almost a full minute ago." Lex remembered the way her fingers hovered over Clark's lips, as if to touch him, only to laugh and slip away. What Lex said was, "You act like you've never been kissed, Clark. You have kissed someone, haven't you?" Lex restlessly moved to the pool table as two spots of color blossomed on his friend's cheek.

"Of course I've been kissed."

"Mrs. Kent doesn't count, Clark."

Clark made as if to throw something. "I'll have you know I've even initiated a kiss or two--"

"Good man, Clark."

"But they were nothing like . . .like that." Lex's raised brows begged an explanation. "It was like . . .I guess it was like . . ." Finally Clark threw up his hands. "I don't know, it was probably how a small star feels next to a black hole."

"Irresistible?"

"Yeah, and a little scary too. Because it was so intense," Clark added hastily. He went to lean against the pool table beside Lex. "You aren't mad at me, are you?"

Lex turned to him. "Why would you think I'm mad?"

"Maybe not 'mad.' 'Upset' is probably a better word."

The eyebrows again. Questioning. "I seemed upset."

"Yeah. Mostly at Isis, but I thought maybe a little at me too."

"Why would I be upset that my best friend got to kiss a beautiful woman. Heck, I even got to watch. Now I can cross voyeurism off my To-do list for today."

Clark smiled, satisfied. "Good. Because I know you told Isis to stop and she didn't, but I could of stopped her if I really tried and--"

Lex put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Clark, stop. You have nothing to worry about. It's not like Isis and I are in a relationship."

*

Lex barely gave Isis a second glance when she pirouetted into his study, announcing dinner in less than an hour. Although he did manage to notice one thing. "You're dripping."

"Well yes, that's what happens after someone emerges from a swimming pool -- they drip. Sometimes for hours if it's humid enough."

His eyes flicked from the flatscreens to Isis rocking on her heels. "You're making puddles on my hardwood floors."

"And if I take a step to my left it'll be on your Persian rugs. Jeez, Lex, you didn't seem to have this problem when you showed me the upstairs pool two weeks ago."

Lex didn't deign to answer.

"Look, I'll get a towel for my hair if that will help your little temper tantrum, but what should I tell--"

"What was that about with Clark?"

Isis frowned, stilling. "What was what with Clark?"

"Don't play dumb. We both know better," he said to the flatscreens.

"Not that stupid kiss? Is that what this is all about?" Isis dissolved into uncontrolled giggles. "I've never seen you this way, LL. Jealous of Clark-bar, are we?"

"Is there anyone else I should be jealous of? Officer Narning, or Pete for instance."

"Lex! How dare you! I don't know--"

"I think you told Clark that you were 'thanking' him?"

Oh. Oh yes. That had been what she'd said to Lex, hadn't it, nearly a month ago. But of course he saw it wasn't the same. Clark was a sixteen year old boy, and Lex was . . . Lex was. "You are not jealous."

His steely, level gaze met hers.

"Obviously you see it wasn't the same."

"Wasn't it?" Sitting back in his chair Lex laced his fingers together. "I take it, then, that this is why you haven't been . . . I think Clark would say 'putting out.'"

Isis laughed. If it hadn't been for the shock she might have strode over there and smacked the look off his face. "He'd probably say 'doing it.'" Yes, shock was a wonderful thing.

"Lex," she pulled her still-dripping braids into a bun, "I know we aren't technically in a relationship. I'm not even sure if we're dating, but I'm nothing if not strangely committed. That kiss with Clark was so beyond worthless--"

"You seemed to invest a lot in it."

"So it was intense," she shrugged.

"And what we've been sharing has been . . ."

"It's been . . . You know Lex--" She did stride across the floor, and around his desk, to stand over him. Isis rested her palms on the arms of the chair. "You know what? You're a Grade A jerk, LL," she said quietly. Lex sat stoically as she straddled his lap. "Especially if you can't feel the difference between nothing and something."

Her mouth on his was insistent, demanding, cajoling and teasing in turns. With her tongue she begged entrance to his mouth, and with her teeth she demanded it. Insistent hands kneaded the back of his neck: audience participation was a must.

This was what Des'ree's kisses had been like. Kisses full of heat and longing. Kisses that had started in his office and led to the bedroom. They were full of a attack and retreat -- a lick along the roof of his mouth . . .lips dragged across his own. There were fevered eyes and heavy breathing.

Lex braced himself for a second onslaught -- he was not falling for this again -- as Isis descended. But he was unprepared for . . .gentleness: for her near-chaste brush of smooth dry lips against his own. And instead of continuing, she rested her forehead against his for a heartbeat. Her hands slid from the back of his head to cradle Lex's jaw gently in her tapered fingers. Isis' lips pressed against his once more, soft, gentle, patient, as her fingers caressed his jaw.

It was just her lips and fingers, but Lex soon forgot about everything but the warm woman atop him. His executive chair, his mahogany desk and richly appointed office were as real as an expensive VR experience.

This was . . .this was a slow burn. This was a promise. Isis wasn't manipulating him, pushing all the right sensual buttons to get him off. She was giving. With her mouth and hands, tongue and nibbling teeth, she opened herself to Lex, giving and giving until, finally, he began to take. The parts of her body became part of his sensual reality as Lex's hands roamed under clothes. They went as far down as her low-riding lounge pants, and as high as her bra-strap. The offending article slid forward as she arched her back.

Isis squirmed in Lex's lap as his attention refocused on her stomach. Her breasts. She knew things were going too far too quickly when Lex dragged his mouth from hers and took her hands from his face. If he raised her arms over her head . . .If he got her shirt off . . .If he kissed her anywhere below her chin right now she was lost. And Isis wasn't . . . She just couldn't.

"No. Lex, not here--"

"My bedroom, then," he said thick-tongued. Lust-dark eyes looked into hers.

"--not now. I'm sorry."

"Isis."

"I know I should stop doing this to us. To you. Maybe it would be better if I moved back to the boarding house?" she suggested, sliding off his lap.

Lex caught her wrist and pulled her back. With a soft sigh he placed her arms around his neck. "Who said anything about moving out? But you're right, you can't keep leaving me like this," he growled, hips thrusting.

"I could take care of that." She ground down onto him.

Where her eyes always that dark, Lex wondered as he stifled an involuntary moan. "Devil spawn."

She licked the skin just below his lower lip. "I'm an angel."

"An angel of torture."

"If it makes you fee better, I'm just as hot and bothered."

"Really?"

It was Isis' turn to grab Lex's wrist as he tried to sneak past her waistband. "Nuh uh," she reprimanded before bringing his fingers to his lips. Before he quite knew what she was going to do, his middle finger had been sucked into her hot wet mouth.

"Jeez! Isis!" His hips jerked involuntarily.

She released his finger and laughed, hugging him close and burying her face in the crook of his neck. "I meant it when I said I'd take care of you. It's not fair that I keep bringing you so close--"

"And leaving me here," Lex finished drily.

Isis smiled into his neck. "Exactement, cher. I really am devoted to this . . .dining together and shows and kissing and laughing and mild affection--"

"I think it's called 'dating,' Ice."

"Hmm, 'dating.' That could work. So yeah, I'm hardcore about this whole dating thing. I know the Lex I knew from Metro U probably would have found some other chick to get him off by now, but you're a different man now, aren't you."

She sat up suddenly. "Aren't you?"

Lex held up his hands defensively, eyes twinkling. "Very different."

"Because don't think I haven't seen the way Sharelle, The Jiggling Maid, looks at you Mister."

It was all so comical he laughed.

"You would think that child was made from blond jello," Isis muttered darkly as she settled herself against Lex's neck again.

"We've been invited to the Kents for Thanksgiving," Lex told her after a long time. "Or you have."

Isis snorted indelicately. "You know Mrs. Kent wouldn't not invite you." When he didn't reply she took another track. "Is that why Clark was here, to make the invite?"

"And to spend some 'quality time.'"

She settled herself more comfortably in Lex's arms. "Did I ruin that?"

"I wouldn't say ruin . . ." Silent laughter shook her shoulders and Lex wondered if she were falling asleep. The last time a woman had fallen asleep on his lap she had been giving Lex a lap-dance. She too had left him with an aching hard-on, as he recalled. Of course both parties had been high.

He nudged Isis gently with his shoulders. Eyelashes tickled his neck. "How've you been sleeping? Still having nightmares?"

*

Friday, Nov.. 15 - Saturday, Nov.. 16

Someone was screaming. Far away. Lex had to get up. Stop them. Stop her. A high-pitched scream. A Her. Lex had to stop her. Save her.

Lex struggled through the press of bodies. The faceless nameless woman clinging to his naked waist. Hands holding him. Pulling him. Sticking to Lex's skin.

She screamed. Again. Piercing. Yes, a girl. He . . .knew her? The faceless woman clutched his left shoulder. He pulled.

She screamed.

I'm dreaming.

Lex was up, struggling against the twisted bed sheets and stumbling over his own feet in his haste. He found Matthews, be-robed and shaggy, putting his key to Isis' door. There was a heartbeat of recognition between them, then Matthews pushed open the door.

The screaming had stopped a moment before they'd entered and the silence was eerie. Lex sense other servants crowding the door behind him and ignored them. Moonlight illuminated the room in colored patches that seemed to shift as he navigated around a small table. There were whimpers in the deeper dark. A mumble. A gasp. A plaintive No.

Matthews passed him in the dark: less cautious and more sure. "There are tissues on the desk there."

"How long?"

Another plaintive No.

"These past five nights," Matthews says as he smoothes Isis' furrowed brow. "Earl can hear her from his room.

Bright eyes shone out of the darkness. "Martin." She struggled up from the bedding as Matthews helped her. "I'm sorry. I woke everyone up again, didn't I?" She rested her head against Matthew's shoulder. "Lex is still asleep, isn't he?"

She said it with an assurity Lex hated to destroy. He sat on the bed, "No Isis."

"Oh God . . .I'm sorry." Matthews got up from the bed. Isis followed him with her eyes. "I know you've had a long day," she said to the butler's back.

"Why didn't you tell me you were having nightmares?"

Isis turned at Lex's voice. "Hmm? Oh, I didn't want anyone to worry. I knew you'd go to my aunt and uncle . . ." She drifted off as the housekeeper came back into range, bearing a teacup. "Thank you."

"I can keep a secret with the best of them, Ice."

Isis' focus shifted back to Lex. "I'm not accusing you of . . .of . . . I meant that I knew you'd feel obligated to say something to my family."

But Lex was pretty sure that he wouldn't -- the idea of telling the Rosses out of some sense that they ought to know only just occurring to him -- and remained silent.

Which brought Isis' gaze up from her tea to Lex's hooded eyes. "You don't have to stay with us. I know you had a long day. A long week. I was just about to shoo Mar-- Matthews away."

But it didn't look like the man was going anywhere. Nor was Lex. More tea was brought up.

The rest of the house settled in for sleep as Lex and Matthews settled into chairs around the bed. Isis brushed imaginary hair from her face. "So, what now?"

"We wait for you to go back to sleep," Lex said softly, a small smile hiding his weariness.

Her laugh was short, echoing in the dark. "I don't think so." Isis piled up the pillows behind her and sat back, legs crossed.

"Then we talk," Matthews said.

But Lex had had a long day. A long week. After a few minutes the comfortable conversation between Matthews and Isis became a comfortable background hum. The last conscious thing Lex would take with him into unconsciousness was someone taking his teacup from his numbing fingers.

"Sir!"

Lex released the maid's wrist as he opened his eyes. Dawn had only just come and a glance at his watch let him know the young woman had awoken him minutes before his body-clock normally went off. He stood stiffly, catching the coverlet as it slid from his body. "Where are Matthews and Miss Ross?"

"Mr. Matthews is just taking his shower, sir, and I thought I saw Miss Ross going to the kitchen."

"Why didn't Matthews wake me?" he asked as if he expected her to know.

"He probably fell asleep in the chair again." She shifted her weight from leg to leg, anxious and having trouble hiding it.

"Then why not Isis?"

"I don't think she ever went to sleep."

With a nod of thanks he let the girl get on with her work and left.

*

arms aching walking through blackness

glint of metal off starlight

LEX!!

male voice: LEX

BANG BANG

fire in the darkness starbursts BANG

feel the impact feel bone splinter shatter EXPLODE

feel the bullet move feel it tear through tissue burn skin rip blood vessels

drown

drown in your blood

every breath a death sentence

hot blood hothot blood gurgle up your throat through your fingers out your mouth

your mother comes

stands over you

gun hot sizzling steam in her hands

your mother points aims fires

time to think: If I die in my dreams, will I die in real life

watch the bullet race----

*

Present

"Don't worry about me," Isis said as she slipped from Lex's embrace. Leaning over she dropped a final kiss on his forehead. "Don't forget dinner in half-an-hour. Or maybe 15 at this point."

"Which again reminds me: The Kents . . .Thanksgiving dinner . . .don't forget to RSVP."

Isis rolled her eyes. "Mr. Kent may not be fond of you but they wouldn't extend an invitation they weren't willing to have accepted. You should go. I'm sharing Turkey Day with the fam. Even Dad's flying in from Gotham."

"According to Clark half the town's been invited, the Rosses included. I think even Nell and Dean are coming into Smallville just for this."

"Then why aren't you going, Lex?"

"Annual family dinner."

"You don't sound too thrilled."

"I'm not."

"Okay, I guess I'll have to go on your behalf then," Isis said with a shrug. "Maybe you'll be able to break early? I know Clark'll be happy to see you there."

"And you, Ice?"

"All that rivaling male testosterone in one house? And other girls to witness the melodrama whilst digging into popcorn? Wouldn't miss it."

*

Thursday, Nov. 28, Thanksgiving Day

As per Martha Kent's instructions, Isis was pulverizing the biscuit dough with her fists. She felt muscles cord in her arms and back, and wondered if you could pull something while baking.

A glance over her shoulder let her know that Chloe and Lana weren't getting it any easier. Thank God they were wearing Clark's ratty T-shirts because, between the three of them, there was enough flour, feathers, internal organs and accompanying bodily fluids to ruin an entire department store collection. Surprisingly Lana was the most gung-ho about it all. Maybe that's why Mrs. Kent gave her Internal Organ Duty, Isis muses Chloe was at the sink washing feathers and feather-grit from her hands.

"Make sure you get everything, Chloe. I need you to help Isis with the kneading next."

"Sure thing, Mrs. Kent.

"Slave-driver," she muttered next to Isis, who laughed. "And here I thought you were getting off easy, Ice."

"Nope. Just different. Although Mrs. Kent suggests working out your aggression on the dough."

"Is it helping?"

Isis laughed. "My dough-kneading or my aggression?"

Chloe shrugged.

"Well Mrs. Kent hasn't complained yet." And it doesn't hurt to beat up my nightmares... even if that won't stop them.

Martha stopped behind them, inspecting the dough. "Okay Isis, your batch is ready. Bring that over here so I can roll it up and then you can help Lana dress the turkey." Martha must have seen the queasy look that darkened Isis' face, because she put a reassuring arm around the young woman as she steered Isis across the kitchen. "Don't you want to feel the satisfaction of knowing you helped make Thanksgiving dinner this year? That your partly responsible for all the happy faces and full stomachs?"

"No."

Martha laughed. "That's okay, dear. You get to do it anyway."

*

Even laden down with trays, which the Ross men were quick to relieve them of, the girls admired the work the men had done on the living room.

"Hey, the boys did good, Martha," Mrs. Ross said. She kissed her husband as she handed him her dish.

"Yes they did. Think they deserve a reward?"

A chorus of manly Yeahs went up around the room. Chloe, Lana and Isis booed. "We did twice as much work as they did!" "I have guts under my fingernails!" "My hands have kneading callouses!"

Martha and Janice looked at each other, then over the bickering children to their adult counterparts. "I think dinner's reward enough, Janice. What do you think?"

"I think I agree."

Marcus Ross, Jonathan and Gabe voiced their displeasure as a male show of solidarity only. They were hungry and the rich smells weren't helping. And they knew better than the boys who really had the upper hand at the moment. Soon everyone was settling down to eat.

Half a dozen people jumped up when the doorbell rang.

"It's Nell and Dean!" Clark shouted from the foyer.

"Clark, you were raised on a farm, not with the cows," Martha chided as the couple settled into the place left for them beside Lana.

Before Clark could decide whether to grin or blush the bell sounded again. He sprinted back into the living room. "Isis, it's for you."

With an ear-to-ear grin, she struggled out of her place around the already crowded table and ran into her father's arms. "Daddy!" she said into his coat.

Father and daughter embraced for a long time before parting. "How's my favorite daughter doing?"

"I'm your only daughter. And good. Better. C'mon, give me your coat and let me introduce you to everyone. Knowing the Kents they're waiting for us so they can start."

"Was that their son who opened the door for me?"

"Uh huh. Clark. Sixteen going on seventeen; only adopted son; good kid. Saved my life twice. Cute as the dickens--"

"Isis."

"Daddy. As I was saying: Has major crush on one dark-haired Lana Lang and is the object of one blond Chloe Sullivan's major crush." She led him into the living room, his greatcoat weighing her down. "Everyone, this is my Dad, Malcolm Ross. Dad, this is Everyone." Isis lumbered away as they made proper introductions.

The Ross cousins shared a grin when she saw that her father had taken a seat next to his brother, moving Isis between Pete and Clark.

Everyone turned to the head of the table when Jonathan Kent stood. "I think we're all ready for dinner." A murmur of agreement rose from the table. "In that case I think I'll say grace so we can be on with it.

Almost twenty heads bowed in anticipation.

"Good bread. Good meat. Good God. Let's eat!"

A roar of approval went up from the men. Martha threw her linen dinner napkin at her husband. Jon raised his hands for silence. "Since my beautiful wife objects I'll have to say a grace more worthy of her." A faint blush stole across Martha's cheeks even as she bowed her head.

"God, we thank You for another year together. We thank You for this food and the hands that prepared it. We thank You for friends and family to share it with. And God, we thank You for being able to come together for many more years to come. Amen."

"Amen."

"Let's eat!"

It was quickly apparent that nearly twenty people couldn't eat at the table at the same time. At least not comfortably -- there were already bruised ribs just from sitting together. And others were expected to drop by, if not actually stay for a meal. "I told you we should have had it in the barn, Martha," Jonathan quipped.

They would have to eat in shifts. "I don't mind," Chloe said, relinquishing her seat. "After all that plucking and kneading and boiling, I'm not exactly hungry."

Isis stood. "Ditto."

Pete also gave up his seat, as did Clark, Nell and Mrs. Kent.

Isis took Chloe's arm and suggested they "wander around."

"It's 35° out there!"

"Downright balmy for Kansas. Hey, it's not like I'm suggesting we go in bikinis. Coats are definitely a prereq to this adventure."

Pete was at the ready. "If I may . . ."

"No wonder you're the lady's man, bro, if you help all the girls with their coats."

"Only the beautiful ones," he said with his trademark smile, offering them each an arm.

Chloe turned to Clark. "You could learn a thing or two."

"I keep trying to teach him but . . . I'm starting to think my man Clark's hopeless."

Isis came to Clark's defense. "Not hopeless. Just . . .special."

With a shake of his head, Clark started pulling at his coat, turning back toward the kitchen "where it's safe."

By the time they got back Pete and Chloe had worked up a healthy appetite, but Isis and Clark held off for another shift.

"Clark, honey, are you all right?"

"Yeah Mom. Why?"

"You haven't eaten anything."

"I'm not hungry."

"That's it. Jon, call an ambulance, Clark said he's not hungry."

A round of laughter chased him out the kitchen. With all the people who had stopped by -- Whitney and his mom were briefly making the 2nd and a half shift before they went visiting in Edge City, while Sheriff Ethan and his wife were waiting for Shift 3 to begin -- no place was safe. Finally Clark decided that, while he may not be good at it, at least he could rib his friends back, and went in search of Pete and Chloe. With any luck Sam and Dave Ross would be feeling brave enough to shoot hoops despite the quickly falling temperatures.

There was a friendly game of three-on-three going when Lex's car pulled onto the already overcrowded Kent lawn. Isis pulled away from the small shivering crowd of spectators -- herself, her dad, Mr. Ross, Lana, Dean and Mr. Kent -- as he got out of the silver car. "Lex! You made it. Just in time for 3¾ Shift. Or maybe it's officially 4th Shift now."

"Huh?" Lex asked as he pulled away from her friendly embrace.

Isis explained the eating situation. "I guess I just forgot to grab a plate watching them play."

As they walked up the driveway Lex asked her to break down the game for him. "Well, I'm not really sure who's winning, but Pete, Same and Chloe are one team and Aunt Janice, Clark and Mike are on the other. You should have been here earlier. Clark couldn't make a basket if he were standing under it."

"If I recall someone else wasn't that great a shot at that age. And still isn't."

"Da-ddy!" Isis' voice climbed as her father managed to tickle her through the woolen layers. "Dad, if you'll . . .if you'll quit a second I wanna intro . . .introduce you to Lex Luthor.

"Dad, this is Lex Luthor my 'landlord,' and Lex this is my father, Malcolm Ross."

"So you're the young man that saved my little girl's life."

"The police saved Isis' life that night, sir," Lex said as he took hold of the elder Black man's hand. "I just made myself available to them."

Isis clapped her right hand on Lex's shoulder. "And so humble too. We'll catch you later, Dad. I mean unless you want to stay and watch the game, Lex, but I'm starving."

"Looks like it's breaking up."

"Huh. Wonder who won."

Clark jogged over. "Lex! You came! I didn't think you would."

Lex tugged his skullcap over his ears. "Neither did I. But I managed to . . .break early, and here I am.

"So tell me, Clark," he threw an arm over his friend's shoulder, "is there any food left?"

Isis let out a snort. "There'd better be! I'm starved."

"Hey Lex!" Red-faced, Chloe joined their little group. "Didn't know you were coming. Hey, you're probably just in time to help the guys clean up the kitchen."

"Aren't I lucky."

"We think so. Right Ice?"

"Absolutely, Clo! Hey, are you hungry, 'cause God knows I am."

"Did someone mention food?"

"Lana," Isis linked arms with the brunette. "Lana, if I hadn't seen you eat I wouldn't have thought you could put away so much."

"What can I say, it's a skill."

*

He had watched her. He had watched her flirt with Clark. Had watched her kiss him. He abandoned her when he could feel it too.

Then he watched her undress. Watched her pull on the bathing suit. He watched her through the mirror. Through iced-chocolate eyes.

He abandoned her for the swimming. It was boring. But he watched her again when she got out. Abandoned her again when she threw herself on him.

And now he supposed he could watch her eat and socialize and be with Chloe and Pete and Clark and Lana thebeautifulpeople but why when his parents were being so charming. He would wait. He always waited.

*

Author's Note: again, thank you guys for all the amazing support I've gotten for this crazy thing. yes i do know where it's going, which is a good thing. yes i do know how it ends, which almost assures that it will be finished. and yes, there is another chapter coming soon. unfortunately real life doesn't let me write like i want to, but i'm working on it.

this is just further proof that feedback really does make or break a story.