A/N: I'm using some direct quotes from the show (specifically from 1x8, Jitters) in this chapter, which I guess means I'm supposed to remind everyone that I don't own them, or Smallville, or any of these characters.

Chapter 3 - Concussion

Lex's father had wasted his time and money in hiring the best chefs in the state to work for the mansion. None of them had anything on Martha Kent.

The air had been a little tense as Clark and Mr. Kent reentered the house and sat down at the dinner table. Mrs. Kent kept her eyes on her work as she served each person far more than Lex thought he could eat in a sitting; Clark kept glancing back and forth between his father and Lex; Mr. Kent gave Lex a single glare before looking over at his wife and giving her a very-obviously-forced smile.

Lex felt the need to apologize for existing. That wasn't a new feeling in and of itself, but it was especially uncomfortable to feel that way while sitting next to Clark. Clark never made him feel that way.

Most of the tension melted away when Lex tasted the food, though. His eyes widened, then fell closed, and when he opened them, all three pairs of eyes were on him. They were smiling, and his face felt a little warm, but he managed to smile back a little after swallowing. After that, the conversation flowed naturally.

They talked about the farm for a little while, then Mr. Kent asked Clark about how the field trip had been before the situation with Earl. Clark repeated back some of the terrible jokes Gabe Sullivan had told their tour group, and Lex almost found himself laughing along with the rest of them—not because he hadn't heard the jokes before, but because he had, and he could imagine them in Gabe's voice.

An easy, comfortable conversation, stories and laughter over good food. It felt strange, like nothing he had experienced at home—at least, not since his mother died.

Clark stood and cleared away dishes from the table, then he began washing the ones in the sink. Mr. Kent wiped down the table and put away leftovers, while Mrs. Kent stood by Clark with a dish towel and dried the plates he handed to her.

Lex stood from the table and watched awkwardly, rubbing his neck. "Mr. and Mrs. Kent, thank you for dinner, and for everything, but I should let you get back to your evening. I'll go call a driver and—"

Mr. Kent breathed in to speak, but Mrs. Kent beat him to it. "Oh, you don't have to do that. I can give you a ride whenever you need to go."

The implication in her words was clear: she didn't want him to go yet. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Can I help with cleaning?"

Once again, Mrs. Kent spoke just as her husband was about to. "Not this time, Lex. Next time you're over for dinner, we'll put you to work, but I don't want you to overexert yourself right now. Why don't you get your ice pack and have a seat on the couch? We'll be out in a few minutes."

He almost missed what she'd asked him to do, and even when he realized it, his feet were slow to respond. Her words kept echoing in his mind: Next time you're over for dinner...

She didn't just feel sorry for him for his injuries. It wasn't even that she was trying to thank him for something he'd done today. She wanted to have him over again. As a friend, or at the very least, as Clark's friend.

He sat down on the couch in their living room. He pressed the ice pack into his head, but only because she'd asked him to. He felt no pain, and he barely registered the coldness of the ice. He was thankful he was alone in the living room, because as her words echoed in her mind over and over again, his idiotic grin only widened.

The four of them sat on the couch watching the news that evening. Martha sat between Lex and Jonathan, Clark sitting at the floor between herself and his father.

Martha periodically glanced over at Lex to make sure he wasn't falling asleep. Truthfully, she was hoping she would be able to convince him to spend the night in their guest room so that she could make sure his concussion wasn't getting worse. Granted, it would be easy to convince him if he did fall asleep on their couch, but she also wanted to check in with him and give him some pain meds before he turned in for the night.

Jonathan and Clark talked and commented on the news stories, and although Lex remained silent through their conversation, he didn't show any signs of drifting off yet.

All four of them quieted when the news reported about the day's events at LuthorCorp.

"Mr. Luthor, what can you tell us about Level 3?" a reporter asked from behind the camera.

"I think you're referring to a redundant storage area at the base of the plant," Lionel told the cameras. "Mr. Jenkins is a very sick man who desperately needs medical attention—"

Lex stepped out in front of his father. "That's why my father and I have pledged to find Mr. Jenkins the best medical care possible. He was a LuthorCorp employee, and here at LuthorCorp, we always put family first. Isn't that right, Dad?"

Jonathan muted the television and looked past Martha, directly to Lex. "Is it true?"

"Jonathan," Martha warned, but he shook his head.

"I want to know," he said.

Lex frowned, taking the ice away from his head. "Which part?"

"Are you really going to pay for Earl's medical care?"

"Yes, we are. I said it on television so that my father couldn't get out of it."

"Did you do it for Earl, or for the PR?"

Martha sat up to block Jonathan's view of Lex. "Jonathan, that's enough!"

"Dad, you're not being fair," Clark piped up.

"Stay out of this, Clark," Jonathan snapped, then narrowed his eyes at Lex. "It's a simple enough question."

Martha placed a hand on Jonathan's arm. "Jonathan, Earl took Lex's employees hostage, and Clark's classmates. He hurt Lex, and he almost got both Lex and Clark killed. If there's anyone to blame—"

"He was sick." Jonathan pulled his arm away from Martha and pointed a finger at Lex. "Because of your company!"

"Dad!" Clark jumped up.

"No, it's okay, Clark." Lex sat up straighter and faced Jonathan. "You're right, Mr. Kent. I did feel responsible for what happened to Earl Jenkins. My plant is my responsibility. That's part of why I did what I did."

"And the other part?"

"To rub it in my father's face. He wasn't going to do anything for Earl, any more than he would have done anything for me. My father would have let me die today."

Silence. Martha watched Jonathan, ready to stop him if he tried to say something else, but he said nothing. If anything, his expression softened a little. She breathed a sigh of relief, hoping he'd picked up on the deeper truth behind Lex's statement: that he and his father weren't on the same side.

"This was a bad idea. I'm going to call a driver." Lex stood up from the couch.

He stood up a little too quickly. He gripped his temples and doubled over, gasping.

Martha stood and put an arm around his shoulders, supporting him so he didn't fall. "No, Lex. I'm going to take you up to our guest room. I'll drive you home in the morning."

"Mrs. Kent, I really don't think—ahh." Lex winced again.

"You're right, this was a bad idea. Watching the screen isn't good for your concussion, and neither is the stress. We should have had you sleep right after dinner."

"Then let me go home."

She glanced up at the screen again, where the news was wrapping up the story about LuthorCorp with a shot of Lionel holding Lex in a stiff, awkward embrace. Her blood boiled.

"Lex, is your father at the mansion?"

He straightened up a little, though keeping his hands on his temples. "Yeah, I think so."

"Then you're not going back tonight. We'll lend you a set of Clark's old clothes and a toothbrush, and I'll take you home in the morning." She glanced at Jonathan, daring him to argue, but he remained silent, holding up his hands slightly in a silent surrender.

Lex grimaced a little and stood up straighter, effectively shrugging away from Martha's supporting arm.

Martha stayed close by in case he stumbled. "Lex, I don't want your concussion to get any worse. I know you're going to have a tough conversation with your father, and I don't think you're ready for that tonight. So I'm taking you up to our guest room."

"Mrs. Kent—"

"I'll drive you home in the morning. But you're staying here tonight."

He hesitated a long moment, then nodded just slightly.

She held out an arm, which he accepted, and began to lead him toward the staircase.