A/N: This chapter takes place in the summer interlude between 2x1, Vortex, and 2x2, Heat.

Chapter 15 - Summer

Martha didn't let a full two weeks pass during the summer without calling to invite Lex to join their family for dinner. He didn't fight her invitations, and if he had to turn one down, he offered an alternate time, which she always accepted. Running the farm kept the Kents about as busy as he was, but their schedule was usually more flexible than his around dinnertime. Lex invited them over in return a couple of times, but the enormous size of his dining room felt cold compared to the intimacy of her kitchen, and the food at the mansion was odd to their tastes, while Lex raved about Martha's cooking.

Jonathan didn't take any part in inviting Lex over, but he didn't complain when Martha told him Lex would be coming, either. Jonathan's attitude toward Lex improved considerably as well, though it was clearly difficult for him. Despite his deeply ingrained habits and long-held opinions, he seemed to keep in mind his word to Martha—that he wanted to treat Lex as one of the family. He smiled and shook hands with Lex when he arrived, made pleasant conversation over the meal, and walked Lex to the door at the end of the evening, reminding him he was always welcome. His actions were stiff at first, like he was forcing himself, but he loosened up over the course of the summer.

More than once, though, Martha watched Jonathan hold his silence when Lex was talking about his work or referencing one of the many debacles he and Clark had faced over the previous year. She was sure Lex could read Jonathan's desire to speak as well as she could, and she always held her breath, worried that Jonathan might say something hurtful or damaging, but he never did.

A couple of times over the summer, Jonathan gave Martha a curious look when she announced that Lex would be joining them for the second time in the same week. He didn't complain or demand an explanation—just gave her the look—but she did give him a reason on both occasions.

One of the times they had him over twice in a week was because of LexCorp getting on its feet—she made Lex's favorite foods and baked two pies to celebrate, and they ate dessert while watching news reports about the plant reopening. When the news anchors interviewed Gabe Sullivan, who had only good things to say about Lex, Jonathan clapped him on the back and said, "I'm proud of you, Lex." Lex didn't reply, but when Jonathan looked away, Martha caught Lex blinking and rubbing his eyes.

The other time was because Clark had seen him looking distressed and managed to get him to confess that his father had berated and backhanded him after an argument, so Clark invited him over. Instead of asking questions or drawing attention to the reasons he was there, Martha just made sure to give him an extra-long hug and a quick kiss on the offended cheek before and after dinner. She gave him some homemade ice cream to take back to the mansion, Clark kept the dinner conversation light and made Lex laugh throughout the evening, and even Jonathan gave him a couple of pats to the shoulder that might have almost been considered a side hug.

Martha might have asked how a blind man managed to accurately aim a blow to Lex's face, but she was worried that she already knew the answer: Lionel had slapped Lex often enough that he didn't have to look to hit his target. After Lex had gone home and Clark to bed, she spent a part of the evening crying softly in Jonathan's arms, imagining what Lex's childhood must have been like.

Clark had already been spending a few hours at the mansion every week. Early in the summer, he started hanging out there in the afternoons on the days Lex would be coming for dinner, or if Lex could spare the time and energy, shooting hoops in the driveway. The result of this was that both boys would come in for dinner at the same time as each other, rather than Lex having to knock on the door on his own.

To Martha, this made him seem less like a guest and more like Clark's brother. More and more, she was starting to feel like she had two sons.

Lex pulled into the driveway at the Kent house, and Clark climbed out of the car before he did. Lex was usually the one who drove Clark home after they hung out at the mansion, though he never quite understood why Clark didn't call him to get a ride over. Clark always just said he liked walking, but it was an awfully long walk. Smallville might have been a small town in terms of population, but as a farming town, it wasn't exactly geographically small. But Lex didn't feel the need to push the issue.

Lex glanced around the Kent property. It felt like coming home. The tension drained from his shoulders and back more than it ever did in response to his massage therapists. His eyes fell on where he'd seen the truck for the past few months—it was missing.

"Where's your dad's truck?" Lex asked.

"Oh." Clark rubbed the back of his neck. "Remember, it wasn't his. He was borrowing it from a friend while they were on vacation, until he could get a new one."

"So where's the new one?"

Clark looked away. The slight pink in his cheeks was the closest Lex had ever seen him come to blushing.

Normally, Lex would have interpreted Clark's embarrassment to mean there had been some sort of accident, and it had been partially—or entirely—Clark's fault. But he would have heard about that. He knew enough about the Kents' financial situation to guess the truth, and now he felt like a jerk for asking.

"We'll get one soon," Clark said finally. "We need it for the farm."

Lex nodded slowly, following Clark into the house through the door to the kitchen. Mrs. Kent was facing away from them, rummaging through the refrigerator.

"Hey Mom! We're home." Clark's voice was bright and cheery, bearing no evidence of his earlier discomfort.

Mrs. Kent closed the refrigerator door and turned around to face them. "You're late." She gave Clark a quick hug, then a light whack on the back of the arm after release. "You too, Lex." A hug and a whack, same as Clark. "Wash up. Dinner in five."

Lex had a hard time keeping the grin from his face as he waited for Clark to finish washing his hands. He'd never realized just how much he'd missed "mom hugs" until Mrs. Kent started giving them to him every week. He was really going to miss them for the next few weeks. He had to go away on a business trip, which he was already dreading enough without having to think about how much he would miss the Kents.

The smack meant almost as much to him as the hug did. It was what she gave to her son for being late, and she gave it to Lex, too. He didn't think she would have done that at the start of the summer—there was a certain intimacy in the fleeting reprimand. Even if it had stung (and it didn't), it made him feel like he belonged.

Mr. Kent came in from the other room and finished up setting the table, and the four of them sat down to eat. Lex felt his throat choke up a little as he looked around the table.

Clark, the closest he'd ever have to a brother since Julian's death, who he gladly would have died for any day of the week. Lex knew Clark was still keeping secrets, but who wasn't? Most days it didn't bother him.

Mrs. Kent, who held Lex when he was hurting and reminded him he was loved and wanted. He never could have dared to hope for the kind of care she'd given him.

Mr. Kent, who at least put on a pleasant face when Lex was around, and even once told him he was proud of him—and that was more than his father had ever done, unless he was trying to manipulate Lex. But no part of Lex really believed the Kents were capable of that. The darkness inside of him occasionally taunted him about it, but even it was half-hearted.

Lex found himself glancing out of the window at the empty space where the Kents' truck used to be. He kept up with the conversation as much as he could, but he was distracted by the empty space. It wasn't fair—the Kents deserved everything, and it wasn't their fault that Nixon had destroyed their old truck. If anything, it was Lex's fault, for setting Nixon on them in the first place.

He could buy them a new truck. His accounts wouldn't even be able to feel the cost. He'd tried before, when Clark had first saved his life, and they'd returned it to him. And he'd tried to invest in the farm, only to have his offers ungraciously rejected. And he'd tried to reimburse the Kents for the livestock and land they'd lost during Lex's conflict over Club Zero, but Mr. Kent had rejected him then, too—hard.

Mr. Kent had been much more civil to him over the summer, though. He wasn't sure what had changed—he suspected Mrs. Kent had something to do with it—but maybe it was enough that they'd accept his help now.

Clark was the first to finish eating and bring his dishes to the sink; this was as good a time to offer as any.

"I'm headed out on my trip tomorrow morning." Lex stood with his plate as well. "So I won't be around for the next couple of weeks."

"We'll miss you, Lex," Clark said.

"Believe me, the feeling is mutual. I, um . . ." He turned back toward the table, where Mr. and Mrs. Kent still sat. "I want to thank you for your hospitality, especially over the past few months. As you know, this has been a trying time for me, between my father's injury and difficulties with LexCorp. You all have given me so much more than I deserved, in terms of—"

"Hey." Mrs. Kent stood and walked over to him, pulling him into a brief, tight hug. "None of that. This is what family does."

His throat tightened as she stepped back and smiled at him. Family. She called him family.

If he wanted to say it, he'd need to spit it out. "I know your truck was destroyed. I want to buy you a new one."

Her jaw dropped, and Mr. Kent's eyebrows raised.

"Lex, would you come take a walk with me for a minute?"

Lex swallowed and nodded. He followed Mr. Kent out into the cool night air, hoping desperately that he hadn't somehow unwittingly destroyed what he had.

They walked for a couple of minutes before Mr. Kent spoke. "Lex, I know I haven't exactly been kind to you the last couple of times you've offered money or gifts. We're very proud of our work and our home, and we work hard for everything we have. We don't take charity."

"It's not charity. I'm not a charitable man."

"My wife disagrees," he grumbled.

Lex looked over at Mr. Kent, though he kept his eyes on the ground as they walked. "I gave Clark the truck as a thank you for saving my life. I offered my help with the farm as a genuine business investment. And the check you gave back to me was to replace the land and livestock you lost."

"Okay. But you gave Clark concert tickets and football tickets, you lent him your limo, you hired someone to set up a drive-in theater for Lana's birthday, you call in an army of medical specialists from Metropolis every time one of his friends breaks an arm—"

"Clark is my friend."

"Yes, and friends sometimes give gifts, but usually for birthdays and Christmas. And not cars. Small things, or something sentimental."

"Because that's what most people can afford."

Mr. Kent made a face. "That might be. But it's not about that. It's about what the receiving party can feel comfortable accepting without feeling indebted."

Lex almost laughed out loud. Mr. Kent really thought they could be indebted to Lex if they accepted his help? Lex owed them his life, for saving it and for giving him a place in their family. Owed them his pathetic, worthless life, a hundred times over.

He grimaced. If his gifts were really making them uncomfortable, and they wanted him to stop, he owed that to them, too, even if he didn't agree.

Lex took a deep breath. "Okay, I understand, Mr. Kent. But would you reconsider accepting my reimbursement for your livestock?"

"No. Because I know it wasn't LuthorCorp that did it, and it definitely wasn't your fault."

"I know, but you were caught in the crossfire of my fight. The money means nothing to me, and it would mean everything to me to be allowed to give it to you."

Mr. Kent stopped walking and turned to face Lex, arms crossed.

Lex had a hard time keeping himself from cringing. A long minute passed.

"Fine," Mr. Kent said finally. "But that's the last financial help you're giving us."

"Okay." They'd come full circle in their walk, and they approached the door to the house. "But I'm not going to stop with the medical specialists if any of you get sick again. I'm not taking that kind of risk."

Mr. Kent laughed, his smile wide. "I think I can accept that."