Title: Lessons From The Heart

Author: kendermouse

Email: princess_nomad@yahoo.com

Rating: R (barely) – dang it!

Summary: Not all lessons are learned in the classroom.

Feedback: Is better than Hot Chocolate on a Cold Kansas December day

Notes: Written for the Clexfest 10th Wave Challenge: Professor - Mentor type

Disclaimer: Don't own them. If i did, Lex would be treated better. ::grin::

Authors comments: This took an unexpected turn on me, but i think it worked out ok. It was suppose to be a lot "hotter" but the boys suddenly got shy. Who knew? Hope you enjoy it.

Lessons from the Heart

by kendermouse

~~~~~~~~

“He remembered me, Lex. Professor Kirschner, Undergraduate coordinator for the Department of Communications at Met U, faculty advisor for the Metro Voice actually REMEMBERED me!”

Lex smiled at the enthusiasm in his friend’s voice. “Well, you are rather memorable, Clark.”

“No, Lex. You don’t understand.”

Lex could hear Clark’s exasperation through the cell phone connection.

“Professor Kirschner is the guy that sent out that big packet of information at the beginning of the year. You remember, the one that kept apologizing because he didn’t have the up to date information on the journalism degree because they were in the process of revamping their curriculum checksheets.”

“Oh,” Lex commented bemusedly, “of course. *That* packet of information.”

“You don’t remember, do you?” Clark accused.

Lex chuckled. “No. Not really,” he admitted. “But go on.” Lex leaned back in his custom-made desk chair, work momentarily forgotten in light of his friend’s enthusiasm.

“I was looking at the Met U display at the Senior Collegiate Fair and this older guy in a suit with a really odd tie starts asking me how I was liking the fair. So we start talking and I asked if he had any of the updated journalism sheets, mentioning that the packet I’d gotten said they’d been revamping them. The guy stops and looks at me and asks where I’m from.”

Lex’s expression turned pensive, “Why was he asking where you were from, Clark?”

Clark’s chuckle relaxed Lex a little. “Don’t worry, *dad*, he’s not gonna start stalking me.”

“Funny, Clark.”

“Anyway,” Clark continued as if Lex’s sarcasm had never been uttered. “I told him I was from Smallville and expected to have to tell him where that was. Instead, he just squints a minute, looks at me and says. ‘Mr. Kent, Smallville High School, Print journalism interest.’ He REMEMBERED me from just one letter of interest, Lex! It was SO cool!”

“That’s great, Clark. So, how did the rest of your collegiate day go?” Lex asked mildly. While he listened to his friend’s excited commentary about the day’s activities, Lex made a quick mental note to have Professor Kirshner’s background looked into, just for Clark’s safety of course.

~~~~~~~~

“So you’ve finally decided, then?” Lex grabbed a soda from the fridge for Clark and a Ty Nant for himself before joining his best friend on the expensive leather sofa.

“Yeah. I think so. Dad’s still pushing for K-State, but I’m not wanting to go into agribusiness. Mom finally got him to stop suggesting it every two minutes.”

Lex chuckled at the image. If anyone could handle the Kent men it was Martha. The woman was a force of nature. The fact that she’d survived as Lionel’s assistant for as long as she had was testament to that. “So what did your mother suggest?” he asked curiously.

Clark shrugged. “She just helped me look at the pros and cons of each school. She kind of liked the looks of Wichita State’s program, and it’s a good school and I liked the people and all but…” Clark shrugged.

“But what, Clark?” Lex prodded, wanting to know what prompted the light blush staining his friend’s cheeks. He strained to hear the quickly mumbled reply but failed. “What was that, Clark?”

“...their mascot is a walking shock of wheat.”

Lex laughed. “They were a school founded by wheat farmers, Clark. What did you expect? Besides, how is that ANY different than an imaginary blue and red bird with a huge yellow beak wearing combat boots or a purple wildcat? And you have to admit, WSU has a good Communications program.”

“Yeah,” Clark agreed reluctantly, “that’s pretty much what Mom said, too. And I agree. Really. I do. But… Professor Kirschner still wins in the pro’s column.”

Lex nodded in agreement. He knew how much of an impression the professor had made on his young friend. He also knew that Professor C. Daniel Kirschner was a man of integrity and skill with a reputation for demanding the best from his students and for grooming them to be the best at what they did. He would be a good mentor for Clark and Lex was pleased with his young friend’s choice.

“So,” he asked conversationally, “when exactly does the semester begin at Met U?” He took a deep drink of cool, imported water before finally turning to look at his jubilant friend. “And when do we need to have you moved in by?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“He is SO unfair, Lex!”

Lex tried to keep the smile off his face at Clark’s petulant tone. “I’m still not sure why you’re so convinced of that, Clark. A ‘C’ is not the end of the world. Besides, it was your first paper for him. First tests or papers tend to be a little lower than normal because students are still trying to figure out exactly what the instructor is wanting. You’ll do better on the next one, I’m sure.”

“I should have done well on this one,” Clark pouted.

Lex was amazed at what that pout could do to him, even over the phone. He sighed. “When is your next paper due, Clark?”

“The *revised* rough draft for our term paper is due in two weeks.” Confusion over the shift of topic was evident in Clark’s voice. “Why?”

Lex mentally reviewed what was on his calendar for the next two weeks. Remembering nothing too pressing, he made his offer. “Why don’t you fax me your draft with the instructor’s comments and I’ll go over it? Then we can discuss it over the phone the next evening. Sometimes having an outside opinion on a paper can help.”

“Lex, you’ve got to be busy. I can’t ask you to do that for me.”

“You didn’t ask. I offered,” he countered. “Besides, it’s fairly slow around here for a change so helping you out would give me something to do.”

Clark’s chuckle warmed Lex, reminding him how much he missed seeing his best friend. “All right,” Clark conceded. “But if you’re too busy I’ll understand. And Lex,” there was a long pause, “thanks.”

Lex couldn’t help the smile that bloomed at Clark’s soft thank you. “Hey, it’s... it’s what friends do,” he reassured awkwardly. “And... you’re welcome.”

~~~~~~~~~

"Final papers will be due in three weeks. No late papers will be accepted, *Period*. If this is a difficulty for you contact me by next week and we will discuss your situation.” Professor Kirschner’s rich baritone voice filled the small room. “If you have any other questions, you have my office hours, *please* endeavor to use them.”

Clark grinned over at Macy Gardner as they both packed up their bags. Macy winked at him, her green eyes sparkling with mischief as she nodded towards the students already stampeding for the classroom door.

“And Mr. Kent,” Professor Kirschner’s voice was raised slightly to carry over the noise of students changing classes.

Clark looked up, startled. The professor’s back was turned towards them as he erased the neatly written comments from the large chalkboard at the front of the English classroom.

“A word with you before you join the retreating throng of your classmates, if you please.”

Macy’s eyes widened as she glanced back and forth between Clark’s pale face and Professor Kirschner’s back. She leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially. “I don’t know what you did, Clarkbar, but you are SO busted.”

“I didn’t do ANYTHING,” Clark protested just as quietly. “Maybe he just has further comments on my rough draft. I mean, we did spend most of the class tearing it apart.” Clark sighed, pleased but still a bit unnerved at being used as a “How to support your thesis in a term paper” example in class. He shrugged his backpack up on his shoulder, reluctantly moving to the podium at the front of the room. “Besides, if *anyone* should be ‘busted’ it’s you for all those sarcastic remarks you put in the margins of your notes while Derek was talking.”

“Can I help it if he’s an idiot and proves it every time he opens his mouth?”

“Today, Mr. Kent.”

Clark blushed at Professor Kirschner’s sharp tone. “Yes, sir,” he replied automatically.

Macy smiled at him encouragingly. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Besides, if you’re not at the student union in thirty minutes, I’ll send Disk in with his camera. I’m sure he’d be able to get good enough crime scene photos that you’ll be avenged.”

Clark scowled at her, making her smile even brighter.

“Very droll, Ms. Gardner,” Professor Kirschner stated from right behind her. “But I have yet to be convicted of murdering a student in my Freshman English class and I don’t intend to risk that record now.” He winked at Clark over the top of Macy’s head and Clark relaxed minutely.

Macy jumped, her dark hair whipping around to obscure her wide, green eyes. “Sorry, sir. I mean, of course not, sir. I mean...”

“Dismissed, Ms. Gardner,” Professor Kirschner intoned quietly interrupting Macy’s rapid fire babbling. An elegantly raised eyebrow and the stern set of his thin lips sent the tiny woman scurrying out of the now disserted classroom. He waited until she rounded the corner before turning back to Clark, his pale blue eyes dancing with merriment. “A reputation, whether deserved or not, can give one a distinct advantage. Remember that, Mr. Kent.”

“Yes, sir,” Clark agreed absently. “Sir,” he began hesitantly, “may I ask why you wanted to speak with me? Was there something wrong with my rough draft?”

“On the contrary, Mr. Kent. Your revised rough draft was quite stellar.”

Clark could almost hear the “but” coming.

“It was well thought out and very skillfully supported and organized.” Professor Kirschner propped his hip on the corner of the table behind him. “And quite a change from your first draft.”

Clark smiled, remembering the long phone calls with Lex as the older man played devil’s advocate to every point Clark attempted to make, forcing Clark to dig even deeper into his subject. “Yes, sir. I had a lot of help with my revision. My friend L...” Clark paused, realizing just how few Lexes there were in Metropolis. “Alex,” he amended quickly, “spent a *lot* of time serving as my sounding board. It wouldn’t have been nearly as good without his input.”

The professor’s eyes seemed to look through Clark for a long moment, as if weighing Clark’s words. “This ‘Alex’ is a good deal older than you, I take it?”

Clark’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Yes, sir. But I’m not sure...”

“And you and he engage in such discourse frequently, if I am not mistaken?”

Clark nodded, not sure exactly where his professor was headed with his statements.

“That would explain a great deal. Mr. Kent,” Professor Kirschner removed his wire-rimmed spectacles and met Clark’s eyes easily. “I must admit I had some...” Professor Kirschner paused as if choosing his next words extremely carefully. The pause made Clark distinctly nervous. “...reservations, about your second draft. However, your ability to defend your thesis and all appropriate supporting material has shown me that my reservations were unfounded.”

It took Clark a moment to realize what exactly his professor was implying. Comprehension dawned accompanied by disbelief and not a small amount of anger. “You thought I CHEATED?” Clark looked at Professor Kirschner, hurt by the accusation. “I... I would NEVER do that! I mean, my folks would KILL me and L… Alex wouldn’t be far behind! I can’t BELIEVE you thought…”

“Mr. Kent, that is quite enough.”

Professor Kirschner’s strong but quiet tone cut through Clark’s tirade.

“I did not ask you to see me to accuse you of duplicity in your work. I asked you to see me to apologize for my assumption and to encourage your progress.”

“Oh.”

Professor Kirschner smiled. “I am not above admitting to my mistakes, Mr. Kent. Regardless of what some faculty may believe.”

Clark chuckled at the wry tone. “But sir, if you hadn’t said anything, I never would have known you suspected anything. So... why tell me?”

“Because I feel that such improvement and obvious talent should be encouraged.” He stood, putting on his glasses and gathering his books and briefcase. “However, you may find that some instructors are not as open-minded about such... abrupt changes and I would hate to have your grades suffer because one of my illustrious colleges decides that a freshman could not possibly display such maturity of material.”

Clark was stunned at the admission. Surely they wouldn’t.

“I’m not saying that it *will* happen, Mr. Kent,” the professor reassured. “I am simply saying that if it *should* occur, I will be more than happy to speak on your behalf.” Professor Kirschner steered the unresisting Clark towards the door. “I am impressed, Mr. Kent and I look forward to reading your final paper.” With a final, companionable pat to Clark’s shoulder, Professor Kirschner melted easily into the passing throng of students.

Clark shook off his momentary confusion and started toward the student union, taking out his cell-phone and speed-dialing his best friend as soon as he exited the building.

~~~~~~~~~

It took Lex nearly ten minutes to find the office of Professor C. Kirschner. The small office was sequestered deep in the heart of the Sanderson School of Communications building next to the offices of The Metro Voice, the school's campus newspaper. Once there, he stood a moment at the open office doorway, silently studying the older man with a critical eye. Professor Kirschner's back was to the door, allowing Lex the opportunity to study the professor freely, which Lex took unashamed advantage of. The good professor was older; sixty-three next month according to the dossier his investigator had provided him after Clark had expressed such awe of the man. He was slender and nearly bald sporting only a well-trimmed, silver-gray fringe at the base of his skull.

The office itself was neat but not sterile. The walls were lined with bookshelves filled with worn and obviously loved editions. A few pictures of the good professor and a diminutive, dark-haired woman smiled out from between the books, adding a further homey touch to the small space.

“If you’ve come about your paper, you have three minutes to convince me as to why you deserve an extension. If you are here about something else, stop lurking and state your business. My office hours end soon and I do not intend to be late for Celia’s meatloaf.”

Lex couldn’t help the chuckle at the older man’s brusque tone. “Far be it from me to keep you from your dinner, Professor. But I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time.”

The older man turned, his ancient chair squeaking mildly in protest at the move. Intelligent blue eyes studied Lex from behind stylish wire-rimed glasses. The only sign of recognition or surprise was the slight raising of an arched brow. Thin lips, bracketed by a graying, short trimmed beard and mustache quirked in chagrin. “Forgive me. At this time of night on a Friday, I assumed you were a student, as most of my colleagues have already left for their weekends.” The older man rose, moving easily around his desk to offer his hand to Lex. “How may I help you?”

Lex shook the offered hand and allowed himself to be ushered to a chair. “I’ve come to speak with you about one of your students.”

The professor’s welcoming smile cooled. “Unfortunately, as I am sure you are well aware, I cannot speak of a particular student’s progress or situation to anyone *but* the student. Privacy Policy and all, you understand.”

Lex nodded his understanding, unsurprised by the steel underlying the professor’s tone. “I’m not here to ask for information, Professor Kirschner, I’m here to offer some.”

Confusion marred the handsome features. “Indeed?” Professor Kirschner answered warily. “And what information might that be, Mr. Luthor, and how would it impact *my* humble students?”

Lex warmed at the older man’s protective tone. It was a pleasant surprise to find that Professor Kirschner was indeed as scrupulous and protective of his students as Lex’s information had suggested. He could trust this man with Clark.

“Actually, it’s only about one of your students, Clark Kent.”

Professor Kirschner’s eyes narrowed a moment as he studied Lex and Lex suddenly wondered if this was the look Clark had commented on so many months ago after the Collegiate Fair. The blue eyes pinned Lex in place and seemed to take him apart layer by layer, looking for something deep within Lex. Lex shifted nervously.

“Of course,” Professor Kirschner murmured quietly. “Smallville. The LuthorCorp Fertilizer plant there.” His eyes lost some of their hard edge and he smiled at Lex warmly. “You must be young Mr. Kent’s ‘Alex’.”

Lex studied the man across from him for a long moment, confused. “Excuse me?”

“Mr. Kent spoke of his friend ‘Alex’ who had helped him revise his rough draft. If I’m not mistaken, that would be you, Mr. *Alex*ander Luthor,” he stressed the Alex as he said Lex’s full name, making the connection between the names clear. “But that still doesn’t explain why you’ve come to see me.”

Lex settled back in the chair. “I wanted to assure myself that Clark would not be penalized for asking for my help.”

Professor Kirschner’s smile widened, the tanned but weathered cheeks showing well-worn laugh lines. “He spoke to you about our conversation this afternoon.” It was more statement than question so Lex elected to remain quiet. “I was worried how he would react to my confession, but,” the professor paused and looked solemnly at Lex. “I felt, and still feel, that it was a confession that needed to be made. Mr. Kent needed to be forewarned about possible misunderstandings *and*,” the professor held out a silencing hand, forestalling Lex’s protests. “he needed to know he had an ally should such misunderstandings occur.”

“And just what will that alliance *cost* him, professor?” Lex asked coldly, menace clear in his deathly quiet tone.

“The same thing it costs every student, Mr. Luthor,” Professor Kirschner answered easily, his rich voice tinged with humor. “Continued hard work and dedication to his education.” The professor took a long drink from the teacup sitting before him, his eyes never leaving Lex’s face as the younger man took in his words. Sighing at the mistrust in the young man’s stormy gray eyes, Professor Kirschner set down his tea and moved back around the desk, taking the second chair placing him face to face with the still unconvinced Lex Luthor. “Mr. Luthor,” he said sincerely, making sure he had the young man’s complete attention before continuing. “I am not in the habit of resorting to blackmail when it comes to teaching my students. They will earn the grades they deserve through their own merit and determination. However, if I am in the position to help even *one* of them succeed, then it is my duty as an instructor to do so. And that assistance was all that I was offering Mr. Kent.”

“I truly hope you mean that, professor.” The words were quiet and deadly, promising career suicide or worse should he not mean it.

The professor chuckled, earning him a startled stare from Lex. “With all due respect, Mr. Luthor, I am currently head of the Departmental Tenure Committee, I have successfully raised three female children to adulthood and currently there is a teen-aged, gothic, drama-queen inhabiting her mother’s old room in my home.” Lex looked at him in confusion. “In other words, sir, you do NOT frighten me in the least.”

“I should,” was the quiet and slightly pained reply. “After all, I *am* my father’s son.”

The subtle, self-depreciating tone tore at Professor Kirschner’s heart. “But you’re not here as your father’s son,” he countered gently. “You are here as Mr. Kent’s friend. A role that, if I’m not mistaken, suits you far better than that of Lionel Luthor’s troubled offspring.” Stunned gray eyes stared up at him at the compliment. The fleeting look of guarded pleasure made the professor wonder at the type of childhood the young man before him had endured.

After living in Metropolis all his life, he’d heard the stories of both Lionel Luthor and his wild but brilliant heir. His own youngest daughter had been enamored of the young bad boy, following Lex’s exploits with a fervor that had worried him and Celia at the time. Luckily, Deanna had lost interest in Lex after she’d met Sebastian, the young graduate student she’d then gone on to marry. So the professor had a good idea of the young man’s reputation, but as he drummed into his students time and again, reputations were not always based in FACT. He compared the young man before him to the wild club-child that Deanna had lusted over for so long. That long-ago child could never have helped craft Mr. Kent’s paper. In fact, he doubted that the spoiled club-child would have even bothered to *try* helping someone like Mr. Kent, let alone come to defend the young man’s academic integrity.

Glancing at his watch he came to a decision. Celia would understand once she met the young man. He stood. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to call an end to this verbal sparing for the night, Mr. Luthor. As I said, I refuse to miss Celia’s meatloaf.”

Lex nodded, rising gracefully from the chair. “Of course, Professor. As I said, far be it from me to keep you from your supper.” He offered his hand to the professor; his youthful face a mask of carefully constructed indifference.

The look was not lost on the older man. He shook the offered hand, holding it just a little longer than necessary in order to keep the younger man from fleeing immediately. “It’s not so much keeping me from my supper, as it is leaving my long suffering wife with large amounts of leftovers if I’m not *home* for supper. I’m afraid Celia has yet to master the art of cooking for only three people.” He made a brief show of studying the young man before him. He was struck suddenly by how very easily this young man could be one of his own graduate teaching assistants, young, alone and a bit lost. His resolve firmed. “Would you care to join us?” he offered casually, “Unless of course you have other plans.”

The mask faltered at the unexpected invitation. “Why?” he asked suspiciously.

“Because I would very much like to get to know the young man who has spurred the young Mr. Kent into such a mature and thoughtful paper.” He smiled at the disbelieving look he received. “That, and perhaps I can learn a few of your methods to use on some of my other promising students. Consider it a contribution to the education of future Met U students.”

“I have been meaning to see what I could contribute to academics,” Lex hedged.

“Exactly,” Professor Kirschner encouraged. “Now you know how, *And* you’ll be able to say that you’ve had the best meatloaf in Metropolis, if I *do* say so myself.”

Lex nodded. “I’ll warn you though, I doubt it can hold a candle to Clark’s mother’s recipe.”

“Ah. A challenge...”

The banter continued as Professor Kirschner locked up his office and led his newest “adoptee” home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“FOUR POINT O, Lex! Four point O!”

Lex held the cell phone away from his ear at his best friend’s enthusiastic yell. “I thought grades weren’t going to be posted until after Christmas, Clark. How did you find out your GPA so soon?”

“They won’t be posted until after Christmas, but if you let your instructors know in advance, they can, sometimes, give you your grade.” Clark explained patiently. “So I did. And they did. And I got a FOUR POINT O! I was worried about Professor Kirschner’s class, but he assured me that I’d done ‘A’ quality work! And... he asked if I was going to apply for the newspaper next semester! Can you BELIEVE IT?!”

Lex smiled at the rapid-fire discourse. Clark’s enthusiasm was infectious. “So are you going to, Clark?”

“Newspaper? I’d like to, but it depends on my other classes.”

“You’ll work it out, Clark.”

“I know. So... you’re coming over for Christmas, right?”

Lex groaned at the mild pleading in Clark’s tone. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Clark.”

“Come on, Lex,” Clark wheedled, “you didn’t come over for Thanksgiving saying you had previous plans. And now you’re trying to back out on Christmas dinner. You’re gonna give Mom a complex.”

Lex laughed. “It has nothing to do with your mother’s cooking and you know it.”

“She's making that Dutch Apple pie you like so much.”

“That is so *very* unfair, Clark,” Lex accused.

“Then come over,” Clark countered smugly. “We really do want you here.”

Lex frowned. “*You* want me there, Clark. I’m not so sure your parents feel the same.”

Clark sighed. “Yes they *do*, Lex.”

Lex could hear Clark muffling the mouthpiece and wondered briefly which parent Clark was speaking with. The click of the second phone-line picking up startled him.

“Tell him we ALL want him here, Mom. He won’t believe me.”

Lex cringed. Clark had called out the big guns.

“Clark’s right, Lex. We would all love to have you over for Christmas.” Martha’s voice was sweetly sincere as she attempted to reassure Lex of his welcome in the Kent home. “Besides, you could look at it as a thank you for all the help you’ve given Clark at school this year.”

“You don’t need to do that, Mrs. Kent,” Lex said quickly. “I enjoyed the challenge.”

“HEY!” Clark’s indignant squawk made Lex chuckle. “I wasn’t THAT bad! Mom! Make him stop picking on me!”

Martha’s delicate giggle made Lex smile even broader.

“MOM!”

“Score one for the bald meany,” Lex thought in amusement. He’d missed the ease with which Clark and his family teased each other and was pleased to be included even marginally. “No, you weren’t, Clark,” he reassured seriously, “You deserve the praise for that GPA. You’ve earned it.”

“And we’re very proud of him for it, Lex,” Martha said softly. “But we know you played a big part in that. And besides, we really would like to have you join us for Christmas this year. Now, before you protest,” Martha continued quickly, “I know your father is out of the country and you’ve given the majority of the staff at the mansion the week of Christmas and New Years off. Susan assures me that there is NOTHING pressing that you need to take care of before New Years. So... you have no excuse for sitting in that empty penthouse, working through the holidays.”

Lex made a quick note to speak with his personal secretary about discussing his schedule with others, then scratched it out and made a note to send Susan a small thank you card and plant to be delivered after the holidays. Lex knew that she’d not discuss his schedule with anyone who didn’t need to know... so that meant that she agreed with Martha that Lex shouldn’t be sitting at home alone on Christmas.

Daniel and Celia had invited him to join them for Christmas dinner as they had for Thanksgiving. But, unlike Thanksgiving when all the children went to the in-laws’ homes, Christmas would be the first time the couple would have all three of their girls home since Deanna’s marriage. Lex knew that between the three daughters, their partners and the subsequent grandchildren, the comfortable home would be filled to overflowing with people. Besides, with Becky so recently out of the hospital after her cancer treatment, Lex was certain the family wouldn’t want an outsider intruding.

And neither would the Kent family, regardless of what Clark thought. “Mrs. Kent,” he began in a tone that had won him many a lucrative business deal, “while I really do appreciate the offer...”

“Lex,” came a deep, masculine voice over the receiver, “don’t bother arguing with her. She and Clark have got their hearts set on you joining us for Christmas and you know how they can be when they’re determined.”

Lex was stunned by the jovial tone in Jonathan’s voice. “I wouldn’t want to intrude, sir.”

Jonathan chuckled. “You wouldn’t be intruding.” There was a long pause and Lex was loath to break it, so he remained silent. His silence was rewarded in a way he never expected. “I’d like for you to join us for Christmas, Lex.” Jonathan sighed deeply before continuing. “I think I’ve been wrong about... a lot of things. And... well, I’d like to get to know the young man who’s done so much for my son and our town. I think I owe you that much at the very least.”

Lex blinked, uncertain how to respond.

“Lex?” Clark’s voice called softly. “You still there?”

Lex still couldn’t find any words to answer.

“Dad. I think you may have killed him,” Clark said teasingly.

Jonathan’s ‘hrumph’ was comfortingly familiar, but Lex was still frozen as he replayed the peace offering.

“Lex?” Clark called again, “Say yes, ok? I’ll even come get you if you’d like.”

“You just want an excuse to drive one of my cars,” he responded automatically.

“Well... DUH!” came the expected reply.

Just as suddenly as the paralysis started, it released, leaving Lex weak and trembling. He inhaled shakily. “Clark, your mother wasn’t threatening to withhold Dutch Apple pie to get him to say that, was she?”

Clark’s laughter was rich and comforting, spilling over Lex’s frazzled nerves and calming them. “No, Lex. She wasn’t withholding pie,”

“Or anything else,” Martha’s voice chimed in cheerfully.

“MOM!!” Clark squeaked, clearly embarrassed. “I *so* did not need that mental image! GOD, Lex. Say you’ll come and save me from my parents! PLEASE!”

Lex chuckled. He looked around his penthouse apartment, taking in the stylish but bland décor and comparing it to the warm hominess of the Kent farm.

“Lex?”

“What time do I need to be there, Clark? And ask your folks if I can bring them anything from Metropolis.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“God. I don’t BELIEVE her!”

Macy looked over at Disk who shrugged. They watched in confusion as Clark threw his book bag into the chair behind his desk in the newspaper office then stalked over to the soda machine. Neither spoke as they watched their normally calm friend continue to mutter as he forcefully fed quarters into the coin slot. Macy’s eyes widened as the machine rocked back slightly as Clark pushed hard against the selector button.

“Um. Clarkbar? You might want to take it easy on the poor, helpless soda machine,” Macy cautioned, moving to Clark’s side and placing a calming hand on his arm. “You never know when it might decide to fight back a la Stephen King.”

“Huh?” Clark’s green eyes reflected his confusion.

“Maximum Overdrive. The machines fight back. Death by soda can?”

Clark continued to look at her, his expression growing more and more confused.

“It’s a horror movie, Clark,” Disk offered, clueing his friend in. “Mace wouldn’t go near a pop machine for two weeks after seeing it.”

“Ah,” Clark responded, still clearly confused.

“Don’t worry about it,” Disk said with a smile. “You didn’t miss much. Besides the short story was better.” The young Asian man uncurled from the chair he was currently sprawled in. “So. What happened to turn the happy go lucky, fresh-faced sophomore reporter of this morning into the growling, machine abuser of this afternoon?”

Clark let out a self-conscious chuckle, running a hand through his already messed up hair. “Sorry about that,” he said sheepishly to Macy.

“Hey, man, don’t apologize to me. Apologize to the Soda Guardian over there,” Macy teased, making sure Clark was between her and the machine in question. “Maybe if it knows you weren’t mad at it, it’ll spare your fragile skull.”

Clark shook his head, grinning over the short girl’s head at Disk who smiled and rolled his eyes. “Sure, Macy.”

“Seriously, Clarkbar,” Macy said, laying a hand on Clark’s arm. “What’s got you so riled? I don’t think I’ve *ever* seen you that upset.”

“I just...” Clark took a deep breath, trying to calm himself as he replayed the incident from his last class. “I guess I just never realized how... *shallow* some people can be.”

“What happened?” Disk asked quietly.

“I’m taking Dr. Foster’s Psychology of Sex Roles, right?” Disk and Macy both nodded. “Well. We got into this discussion about gender roles and how different societies have different perceptions of gender and what’s taboo and what’s ‘acceptable’.”

Disk smiled, remembering his own experiences in the class. “Got heated, did it?”

Clark flopped down in a chair, his head falling back as he sighed in frustration. “*That’s* an understatement.” He looked back up at his friends. “And Serena Pollaski, the girl from Bio One last semester?”

“Ms. Perky Tits?” Macy interrupted indignantly.

Clark blushed hotly. “MACY!”

She met his embarrassed gaze with a raised eyebrow. “What? You can’t tell me that her,” she cupped her hands in front of her own, smaller, chest, “*outstanding attributes* aren’t what made you notice her.”

Clark’s blush deepened at the gesture. “NO!” he denied. “She and I both grew up in small towns. We got to talking and comparing our home towns one night after lab.”

Macy looked unconvinced. “Yeah right, Clarkbar. So, what did Miss Per...” she rolled her eyes at Clark’s indignant look. “Miss Small-town do that got you so upset?”

Clark ran his hand through his hair again. “Dr. Foster was telling us about how some cultures don’t attach the same stigma to ‘effeminate’ men that our culture does. He started talking about the Native American tribe that has a ‘third gender’ that is men who perform ‘women’s’ tasks and how those men are valued instead of shunned as they would be in *our* mainstream culture. That led to a discussion of macho versus wimp, then into views on effeminate men and ‘manly’ women which finally ended up as a discussion of stereotypes of gays and lesbians in our culture.”

Disk nodded. “Yep. That’s pretty much how it went in our class too. So, did Dr. Foster come out to the class before or *after* the shouting and name calling about ‘fags and dykes’?”

Clark laughed, remembering the look on Serena’s face when the very “masculine” Dr. Foster started talking about his *husband* and step-daughter. “After. That’s the only reason I didn’t *punch* the machine when I came in. GOD, how can a college aged girl be so... *stupid*?”

“IQ is inversely proportional to chest size?” Macy offered helpfully.

Disk grinned. “Nah. But close in some cases.”

“You are so not helping,” Clark muttered darkly.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry, Clark.”

Clark couldn’t help but smile at his friends. “That’s ok. I guess her reaction just... surprised me. She started going on and on about how homosexuality was wrong and any society who embraced ‘people like that’ was doomed to be abandoned by God, so it was no shock that those ‘heathens’ had suffered so much. Most of the class just blew her off and one of the football players even offered to take her to meet his uncle so she could see what a ‘healthy gay couple’ looked like. She got indignant after that, since pretty much everybody said she was full of it.” Clark shook his head. “Then she looks at me and starts telling me to ‘speak up’ about ‘how it really is’ since I, like her, was ‘from a good moral upbringing’ that these ‘poor misguided city kids’ just couldn’t understand.”

“Damn. I think Mace is right. IQ *is* inversely proportional to chest size,” Disk said in amazement. “She actually *said* that?”

“Yeah.” Clark nodded. “Talk about small-town stereotypes. I mean, my folks are good people and they taught me right from wrong and everything. But they also taught me that everyone is different, unique in some way, and that those differences were what made each person special. It didn’t matter what their skin color was or how much money they had,” Clark paused, remembering his dad’s early objections to Clark’s friendship with Lex. But that hadn’t been so much about Lex himself, but about the bad blood between Jonathan and Lionel. Once his dad had gotten to know Lex as ‘Lex’ and not ‘that Luthor boy,’ he’d grudgingly admitted that he’d been wrong about Lex. Clark doubted that his dad and Lex would ever be hunting buddies, but Jonathan accepted Lex as Clark’s friend and the young billionaire now had a standing invitation to the Kent home whenever he was in Smallville. “or who they loved,” he continued. “You looked at a person for who they were inside. Were they friendly and happy and good neighbors? If they were, what did it matter what they looked like or who they slept with?”

Macy smiled. “I think I like your folks, Clarkbar.”

Clark grinned. “I keep telling you that you and Disk need to come home with me some weekend. Mom and Dad would love you two.”

“So did you actually say that to her, Clark?” Disk asked quietly.

Clark shrugged. “Pretty much. I told her I couldn’t see what difference it made who somebody slept with as long as they loved each other and were good to each other. It’s about the person. Who they are and the type of person they are should be more important than who they share their bed with. She just couldn’t see it.

“So, Dr. Foster started asking her how she felt about gays teaching in schools or working with children like the Native American tribesmen did. She went on and on about how gays shouldn’t be allowed near children and how their ‘obviously deviant mannerisms’ would make it easy to spot ‘them’ and keep ‘them’ from taking advantage of our poor impressionable children.”

Disk snorted. “Oh I bet *that* went over well.”

Clark snickered. “Oh yeah. But Dr. Foster never let on. He just let her keep going, quieting the students who were heckling her by that time. She never had a *clue*. So she finally gets finished and Dr. Foster asked if anyone else had something they wanted to contribute to the debate. The football player said some rude things about small-town bigots, but Dr. Foster shut him down before it went too far. Then Dr. Foster proceeds to inform us that he and his *husband* have faced such accusations before, but that it was refreshing to see that progress was being made in changing the overall perceptions of homosexuals in our culture, even if it wasn’t 100% yet. I thought Serena was going to explode! The bell rang shortly after that and everyone started to pack up their things. Serena grabbed everything but her Psych book and proceeded to tell Dr. Foster that she was going to go straight to the President’s office to complain about him and the filth he was teaching in class. Dr. Foster wrote the President’s phone number on one of his business cards and handed it to her, very relaxed about the whole situation. Then, as she’s storming out of the classroom she stops and proceeds to tell me how I, and anyone who supported such ‘abominations in the eyes of God’, was going to burn in Hell.

“I just stood there. I don’t know that I’ve ever had anyone tell me that.” Clark shook his head. “I just don’t understand how anyone could say that loving someone, even if they’re the same gender as you, is wrong. Love is love. Right?”

Disk shrugged. “I think so. But then, I grew up with a bisexual sister, an African-American adopted brother with Downs Syndrome, and several foster siblings that Mom and Dad still call the ‘children of their heart’. So, as long as it’s healthy and between consenting adults, what does it matter?” His brown eyes flicked over to Macy for an instant before darting away. “Of course, that’s just me.”

“Sounds good to me, Disk,” Macy said softly, blushing lightly before turning back to Clark. “So. Do you think she’ll be coming back to class?”

“I doubt it.”

“Hey, Clark,” Disk asked, his brown eyes dancing with amusement. “You want me to walk you to class on Friday, just in case she is there?” He pulled his long, dark hair forward so it fell around his slender face, adding to its androgyny. He moved gracefully across the room and curled into Clark’s side. Looking up at Clark coyly through thick, dark lashes, Disk licked his lips. “I could play the protective boyfriend,” he purred in a husky voice, “really blow her narrow little mind.” He pursed his lips and mimicked a kiss up at Clark.

“Should I give you gentlemen time alone?” came a stern voice from the doorway.

Clark and Disk jumped apart guiltily while Macy dissolved into giggles at her desk. Professor Kirschner hid his own grin at the antics of his Wednesday afternoon newspaper staff. “So. What ideas do you have for potential stories for the next issue of the Voice?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Clark?”

Clark turned, trying to see who was calling him. “Hey, Doctor Foster,” he answered moving towards the professor’s table while trying to juggle his tray of food, his wallet, and his backpack.

The blonde man rose and quickly caught Clark’s cup as it attempted to escape the precariously tilting tray. “Why don’t you join me, Clark? I’d been hoping to speak with you anyway if you have a moment.”

Clark nodded. “Sure.” He glanced over his shoulder at the clock by the cash register. “I’ve got class with Professor Kirschner in about an hour, so,” he trailed off. He maneuvered his tray onto the table and let his backpack fall to the floor with a loud thump before slumping into the offered chair with a sigh.

“Rough week?” Doctor Foster asked in amused sympathy.

“Midterm is *always* a rough week,” Clark said with a smile as he dug into his French fries. “So,” he asked around a bite of salty potato, “What were you wanting to speak with me about? Did I really screw up the mid-term?”

Doctor Foster laughed. “No, Clark. Your mid-term was fine. I was really impressed with your essay on prejudice and small towns. I wondered if that was the direction you were going to go with that topic.”

Clark shrugged, embarrassed. “I guess I just wanted to show you that not all small town kids are like Serena.”

Doctor Foster smiled. “I know they aren’t, Clark. Samuel is from a small town back east and we’ve gone back there several times for family gatherings. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.” Hazel eyes searched Clark’s face for a moment. “You’re on the newspaper staff this semester, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir. That’s where I’m headed next. Professor Kirschner’s wanting to do a staff planning session before we all leave for the break.”

Doctor Foster nodded. “Good. I thought I remembered seeing your name on one of the editorials last week. I was wondering if Daniel, I mean Professor Kirschner, was planning on covering the Diversity Week activities that are going to be going on after the break?”

Clark thought about the past few planning meetings. “I think so. I think that’s one of the things we’re doing at the meeting, deciding who’s covering what.”

“Great. I was wondering if you’d mind...” Doctor Foster paused for a long moment before continuing. “Clark. You know that I’m the faculty advisor for the Allies program on campus, right? I’m also the faculty advisor for the GLBT group.”

“We have a gay group on campus?” Clark asked, surprised that he hadn’t run across the information while doing the Meetings Across Campus section of the paper.

Doctor Foster chuckled. “Yes, we do. There was an incident several years ago and the group decided it would be better to keep a low profile for a while. People usually find out about us through word of mouth.” Doctor Foster looked at Clark, suddenly serious. “Last meeting the group decided to change that.”

“Makes sense. But what does that have to do with me?”

“I talked to several of the officers of the group and asked Daniel what he thought of the idea. The general consensus was that if *anyone* was going to give the group a fair shot and tell the members’ stories without endangering those members, it would be you.” Doctor Foster’s smile was hopeful as he held Clark’s gaze.

“Wow.” Clark was genuinely stunned. “I’d be honored as long as Professor Kirschner and the other staff don’t mind the rookie covering it.”

“We aren’t going to be doing anything major, Clark. We’re just going to be taking part in Diversity Week,” Doctor Foster reassured. “I know that Daniel generally does stories on each of the groups that are participating and why they feel they’re contribution is important to the overall diversity of the campus. That’s all we’re looking for. Just a story to show that we are here, working and contributing to the campus community.”

“Cool. It’s a great angle. I’ll run it by the Professor and the editorial staff and see what everyone else thinks.” Clark paused. “Would they mind if I brought a photographer? Sometimes it helps having a face to put to a group. It shows that ‘diverse’ doesn’t have to mean ‘not like us.’ I know Disk wouldn’t have a problem with the group and he’s a great photographer.”

“Disk?” Doctor Foster questioned.

“Oh. Sorry, Dong Van Duc. He had your Sex Roles class a few semesters ago.”

“Disk.” Doctor Foster shook his head in amusement. “I remember Dong. He was an excellent student. I tried to talk him into either Sociology or Psychology but he just couldn’t be pulled away from Photojournalism. But do I *want* to know why you call him Disk?”

“Apparently,” Clark smiled, remembering how much he and Macy had had to *plead* to get the whole story from Disk’s sister. “One of his younger cousins saw him sign something with just his initials and asked if he was an action DVD or a comedy DVD. Disk said he was a ‘disk of photos’ and started to snap pictures of said cousin who HATES to have her picture taken. Now all his younger cousins call him ‘Disk’. And apparently he’d rather be confused with electronic media than parts of the male anatomy.”

Doctor Foster choked on his coffee.

“Sorry, Doctor Foster,” Clark said sheepishly, helping the older man clean up the resultant mess.

The instructor waved off Clark’s apology as he fought to get his amusement under control. “That’s ok, Clark. It’s a story worth hearing and I really needed the laugh. Thank you.” Doctor Foster glanced at his watch then pulled out one of his business cards and a pen. He scrawled something on the back then handed it to Clark. “This is when and where the next meeting is. If you have any problem finding it, just call me, my cell number is under the meeting place information.” He rose, taking his tray with him. “I really need to get going. If you or the newspaper staff have any questions or concerns they can contact me as well. Thank you, Clark. The group will really appreciate this.”

“You’re welcome,” Clark said, still not sure why he’d been selected, but glad for the trust in him it implied.

“Off to grade more papers. We’ll see you after the break, Clark and good luck with any remaining midterms.” And with that, Doctor Foster was gone. Leaving a pleased but mildly confused Clark to finish his burger and think.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Kent residence.”

“Mom?”

“Sweetie? Is something wrong?”

“...no. Not really...”

“Clark? Talk to me, honey. Are you ok?”

“Thank you for loving me even... even though I’m... different, Mom.”

“All right. Clark, are you sure you’re...?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I love you, Mom. You and Dad both.”

“And we love you, sweetie. Would you like to come home this weekend? Your dad and I can come get you.”

“No. That’s ok, Mom. I just... I just needed to make sure you and Dad knew how glad I am to be your son and how much you both mean to me.”

“We know that, honey, but it’s always good to be reminded. And we *do* love you, Clark Jerome Kent. Differences and all.”

“I know that, Mom... And... thanks. Well, I gotta go write up my interview article now so I can get it in before deadline.

Tell Dad I love him too, ok?”

“I will, sweetheart. You take care and we’ll see you soon, ok?”

“Sure thing, Mom. Love you.”

“Love you too. Take care of yourself. And remember we’re here if you need us for *any*thing.”

“I know. Bye, Mom.”

“Bye, honey.”

Clark reluctantly hung up the phone and looked over the notes from his interview with Patrice, formerly Patrick, and thanked all the powers listening for bringing him to the Kents.

~~~~~~~~

“Clark! He finally asked me out!”

Clark struggled against the sleep pulling at him.