Evolution

Title: Evolution

Series: 1^st in the Evolution Universe

Author: Artemis

E-mail: ArtemisRaine@hotmail.com

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Lex/Clark

Classification: Romance. Action Adventure.

Disclaimers: I don’t own the pretty boys or their friends in the Smallville or Gotham universes. If I did, the CLex would be riftless and eternally in love. Neither money nor profits were made in the creation or posting of this story, and I have no money anyway. Snake bite story inspired by a real incident as discussed on the Montel Williams show.

Spoilers: Season 1; parts of Season 2. Helen never happened.

Summary: Clark made a mistake, and to pay for it, he’s indenturing himself to the circus. Lex isn’t so happy about this, and determined to help Clark out, he sets into motion events that reshape their world.

Challenge: CLex Fest Wave 7: The First Line… “I took a job at a circus because it seemed the only right thing to do,” Clark said.

Warnings: Same Sex (MALE/MALE) relationship. If this turns you off or offends, go back now. One scene of non-consensual molesting, but no rape. Also a little squicky hitting on of one of the main characters by one of Clark’s parental units. Kind of gross, but not disgusting IMO.

Author’s Notes: MINOR SPOILERS AHEAD. DO NOT READ IF YOU WANT TO READ THE STORY UNSPOILED. I’ve never heard of Lex’s birthday being stated, so I picked a date one my own that I thought fit him---both his personality (using astrology) and with having amethyst as his birthstone (the power of purple!). Author’s Notes II at the end of the story. Thanks to my beta Rogue. January 2004.

Evolution

“I took a job at a circus because it seemed the only right thing to do,” Clark said.

Lex’s only reaction was to blink, and after several moments of silence, a slight frown marred Clark Kent’s perfect features, with little lines forming between his brows and full lips tugging down in a sign of pique.

Again, Lex could only blink. He had just about all of Clark’s expressions mentally catalogued, to be called up for review or for his admittedly pitiful jerk off sessions late at night, so seeing Half-Pout #23 wasn’t too surprising or disappointing. In fact, it was one of his favorites of the Half-Pouts because it was ambiguous enough to still turn into a Smile #14 or into Full-Pout #5---and Lex would deny it to his dying day, but a pouty Clark was a magnificent creature to behold, and one he would give up his entire inheritance just to have the privilege to stay in the same room and watch him breath.

And yes, he was a genius who was entirely too bored at times to catalogue the facial expressions of the produce boy with such scientific exactness.

Of course, being the same genius who was also entirely too obsessed with said produce boy, and incidentally with all the strangeness of Smallville that always seemed to link back to the produce boy who was his best friend, he might have coincidentally categorized, labeled, and numbered each expression due to the teeniest, tiniest crush-like affections he bore for the raven-haired youth.

A lesser being might even call such affections head-over-ass-completely-in-love-I-see-the-stars-in-his-green-eyes kind of affections, but Alexander J. Luthor was not such a lesser being. All the beings of Earth---or at least America, and perhaps parts of Asia---knew that Luthors were impervious to such foolishness.

At least that’s what Lex tried to tell himself on a daily basis, and sometimes it was every five minutes when he happened to be within the immediate sphere of the unearthly radiance and beauty of the angelic creature that was his best friend.

Not that he’d be stupid enough to fall in love with anyone.

So obviously, he wasn’t in love with Clark. Merely in lust, with perhaps some affectionate best-friend-sort-of feelings mixed in. And of course, he loved Clark, because everyone who knew the boy loved Clark. He was too kind, good, and gentle to not love. So it was okay if he loved Clark, as long as he wasn’t in love. He couldn’t help reacting the same way any breathing person would when it came to Clark Kent.

Well, except for Clark’s classmates. And everyone else in that idiotic school, including all the personnel, because they couldn’t see a young god amongst them if he was wearing flannel and right underneath their noses. Lex still got pissed off whenever he thought about the scarecrow incident, and the Luthor-side of his psyche usually started demanding floggings and castrations of the entire football team if he thought about that night too long.

“Lex, are you listening to me?”

The dulcet tones of his beloved---er, he meant to say best friend and Lex completely repressed that line of thought because damn it! He was not in love with his best friend! The dulcet tones of his best friend recalled Lex back to his home office in the castle, where Clark had stopped by to visit after school let out, and he couldn’t help but stare a little as Frown #9 made its appearance. Lex had always been secretly amused at the fact that Clark became so petulant when Lex’s full attention wasn’t on him.

Admittedly, Lex’s full attention was usually on Clark when the teenager came to visit or if Lex ventured out of the castle to find Clark. Unknowingly to Clark, Lex’s partial attention was usually on Clark the rest of the time as well, which made for some interesting mental acrobatics for Lex to justify and explain to himself why there was nothing wrong or significant about the fact that a part of his brain was permanently hard-wired to Clark-Kent-Thoughts 24 hours a day.

As far as the petulance, Lex knew better than to kid himself or to hope that maybe it meant something more. Clark was a teenager, and every teenager thought they were the center of the world. Especially the Smallville Teenager, for this sub-species of teenager from this very odd town seemed to truly believe they were the center of the world. Lana Lang, princess and business partner, had believed this since toddlerhood and was the epitome of the phenomenon. Clark, as divinely magnificent as he was, came in a very, very close second. Every teen that Lex was introduced to through Clark or the weekly mutant attacks seemed to regard the world and the people around them in terms of themselves. In this, Clark was completely normal, which seemed to be a state of being Clark was always obsessing over.

Not that Lex desired hope of anything more. Because he wasn’t in love. At all.

Now Lex frowned. As pretty as Clark was, Lex had built up an immunity to his dazzling beauty---or so he told himself repeatedly---and wasn’t tempted to run his fingers over golden skin, to smooth out frown lines, or to press his own lips to that frown to see if it could be kissed away or turned into a brilliant smile. He was above such things. Really.

Lex gave a small internal sigh, admitting to himself that the pathetic sigh sounded an awful like despondency, and smoothed out his features. Steel blue eyes flicked up to meet discontented green ones, and he inserted calmly, “Of course, I was listening, Clark. I was just absorbing this newfound self-determination towards your latest endeavor and the misfortune that it coalesced from.”

That got a dark scowl sent his way. Clark said, irritation coloring his voice, “Lex, could you try that again in English? Just because you don’t want to hurt my feelings doesn’t mean you have to throw a bunch of big words at me.”

“Why would you think I don’t want to hurt your feelings? Not that I do, but I’m not sure why you think it’s imminent.”

“Cute, Lex. And I don’t appreciate the very not-subtle attempts to increase my vocabulary. I’ve told you, I’m not studying to retake the SATs. My SAT score was good enough. So what if Chloe got a better one.”

“Clark, I just think it wouldn’t hurt to retake it. You’re what, third in your class?” At Clark’s reluctant nod, Lex continued, “So, you have a strong A average, are fairly high in class ranking, have been top in your class the last six quarters, and with a killer SAT score, you could go wherever you wanted.”

Clark just shrugged, his face still twisted into displeasure. “Geesh, Lex. You’re just like Hermoine. Always griping about tests, and studying, and preparing for OWLs. Or in this case, SATs. There’s more to life that studying and school.”

“Please. No Harry Potter references, Clark.” Lex heaved an exaggerated sigh as Clark’s face only grew darker. Sometimes you just had to fight drama with drama. “Fine. What do I know? It’s not like I went to one of the best schools in the country. Do whatever you want.”

After staring at Clark for a few moments, the boy glaring daggers at the wall as he pointedly ignored Lex, he gave into his friend’s very obvious production of hurt feelings. Knowing Clark, he’d missed his line, whatever the hell it was. He asked himself for the millionth time why he involved himself with teenagers, even as his eyes dragged over the tense form in front of him. In all of its golden glory.

Too bad Clark felt the need to wear layers upon layers all the time. Someone really should take the boy shopping. He’d offer, but he chose his battles carefully with the elder Kents. Clothes wasn’t worth the hassle.

Lex thought back in their conversation and took a stab in the dark. “So, why is it that you think I’d want to hurt your feelings, Clark? You know I wouldn’t actively seek to do that to you.”

The scowl receded from Clark’s features, and Lex watched, entranced, as Clark bit his lower lip. He fidgeted slightly in his seat for a few moments, then said in a rush, “’Cause Chloe said I was being stupid and Pete just laughed at me and Dad got mad and started yelling, while Mom got quiet and looked unhappy, and no one understands that it’s the right thing to do and I just got to because if I don’t then they could lose a lot of money, and then they might have to fire people, which would cause them to lose more money, which would mean they’d have to fire more people, and then before you know it they’d have to close, and everyone would be all out of a job and it would be all my fault!”

Lex merely blinked again. Rapidly. The deluge of information was quickly processed in his brain, and when added to the story Clark had outlined earlier and his passionate plea just now of having to do the right thing---and the Luthor in him couldn’t help but smile indulgently at the naivety and innocence of that declaration---and his misery at the eventual downfall of an entire micro economy of performing artists, Lex quickly came up with a solution.

He stood up, moving from behind his desk, and said to the boy across from him, “Why don’t you go sit on the sofa? I’ll get us something to drink.”

“But I don’t want---”

He cut him off, merely saying, “Go.”

A half-hearted glare was his reply, but the teenager stood up and walked over to the leather sofa. One thing Lex appreciated about Clark was that he knew when to be directed and when to make a stand. Lex made his way to a bottle of his father’s best scotch. He poured a generous glass for himself, while pouring a smaller amount into a second glass. He made his way back to the sofa, and a silent Clark, and handed him the glass with the smaller portion before seating himself on the neighboring cushion.

There were just days when Clark contact necessitated large amounts of alcohol, or in more extreme cases, large amounts of pretty happy-inducing pills with the large amounts of alcohol. Today might be such a day for the former, but Lex was optimistic and willing to start out small.

“Lex, I don’t really like---”

“Sip it. Don’t gulp like the last time. Scotch is an acquired taste, and this isn’t a chugging contest.”

“But---”

“You’re practically vibrating from tension. This will relax you a little. Besides, weren’t you the one who came to me a month ago and complained you were nearly eighteen and didn’t know anything about drinking?” Lex raised his eyebrows slightly and noted the slight flush that colored Clark’s cheeks at the reminder of a prior bout of teenage angst. “You wanted to learn, so consider this your next lesson.”

“But my parents---”

“Won’t be able to tell a thing, Clark. There is no way you’re going to become intoxicated from that small amount.”

Clark rolled his eyes, but did as he was instructed and took a sip. He made a small face, but didn’t say anything and took another. At this obvious surrender, Lex took a drink from his own glass, planning out what he would say.

“Now, in order to make sure I understood you completely, let me recapitulate your situation. You were making your way home from Pete’s on Sunday when you saw an animal running out of the corner of your eye. You stopped the truck, investigated, and found a two-headed dog. During the attempted capture of what you’d erroneously assumed to be the latest meteor-mutated animal, you accidentally killed the dog. Shortly afterwards, as you were trying to decide what to do with the body, an irate and thoroughly unpleasant woman found you and, as you put it, ‘bawled you out’. The two-headed dog, in actuality, was a runaway attraction from the circus that had set up in a neighboring town. Due to the guilt trip she laid on you, combined with your own existing guilt complex, you now feel obligated to indenture yourself to the circus for the summer and until they can find a replacement dog.”

Pure, unadulterated teenage misery nodded back at him.

“She didn’t really guilt me, Lex. I mean, I destroyed one of their main attractions. I did something wrong and now I have to fix it.” Clark added in a smaller voice, “And she wasn’t really unpleasant. She was mad. Can you blame her? I killed her dog.”

Lex barely managed to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. He’d heard Clark once too often mourn the lack of pet in his life. Surprisingly, the Kents seemed to be the only farm in the United States that had no dog running around the yard or a cat in the barn. Clark had always wanted a pet, but his parents had forbidden it in the past, and the reason was always left unclear to Lex, though he could case, and it was preposterous to think otherwise. Like he’d said, the boy really was too sweet and good to be true. Which was why Clark needed a keeper. It was appalling how many people took advantage of the kid’s big heart.

It was to be expected that the infernal female from that traveling circus was able to stumble on this weakness of Clark’s for small fuzzy animals because this was Smallville and these types of things were the norm. Of course she was able exacerbate the boy’s already over-grown and indoctrinated sense of responsibility and self-induced guilt to achieve her own goals. It was the way things worked around here. Like Clark didn’t feel guilty enough over everything in this fucked up town. The boy would feel guilty for the lack of rain in the desert, so it wasn’t a stretch that she’d been able to get him to feel guilty over a freak dog that was running around wild and trying to bite innocent farmboys.

Lex snorted. He could just hear her trying to make the teenager feel like he’d killed a beloved pet when it was just some mutated mutt with a birth defect that the circus probably found in the butt-end of nowhere. Sort of like Smallville.

“Clark, it wasn’t your fault.” He held up a hand as Clark opened his mouth to object. “How were you supposed to know that it wasn’t a meteor mutant? We have them running around all over, so it wasn’t an improbable deduction. And you told me that the dog was vicious and was trying to bite you…with both heads. You were defending yourself and what happened was an accident. You weren’t culpable of any wrongdoing. In fact, I can call my lawyer and have him go to work on this right away. The circus had a responsibility to protect the public from their rabid ‘attraction’ and if anyone bears legal responsibility, it would be them.”

“No, Lex, don’t. No lawyers.” Moss green eyes looked beseeching at Lex, anguish and wretchedness clear in a too-expressive face. It wasn’t any wonder the boy couldn’t lie to save his life. “I killed her dog. And the circus could lose a lot of money. I have to do the right thing.”

“Clark, I assure you, if they were depending on a two-headed dog to attract their client base, they were well on their way to bankruptcy anyway. What happened with the dog is incidental.”

Clark shook his head. He asked unhappily, “You think I’m being stupid, don’t you?”

Lex sighed, aloud this time, and put his hand on Clark’s knee. He gripped it lightly, trying to give a consoling, supportive vibe to his friend. He was always unsure about the appropriate gestures for this sort of thing since he had no personal experience to draw from, other than perhaps a few body memories from a far-distant childhood where he received a few motherly hugs and touches. “I would never think that. You aren’t being stupid. You’re being you.”

“Which is stupid.” Clark sank back into the sofa, slouching in a bout of teenage peevishness and mopeyness. “Chloe and Pete already said so. You don’t have to lie.”

Blue eyes narrowed, and a sharp voice bit out without thinking, “I don’t lie, Clark. Not to you. Remember, that’s your job.”

Clark’s eyes shot up, staring at Lex in disbelief, in both guilt and shock. Cheeks bloomed a becoming and pretty red, offsetting dark lashes and hair in an exquisite contrast, and Clark sat straight up. “Lex, I---”

Lex raised his hand, cutting of the latest in the line of lies. He may be not-in-love with Clark, but he really didn’t want to hear that beautiful mouth spill out another lie or try to put the blame on Lex yet again. “Forget it, Clark. I shouldn’t have said that. But on your part, you shouldn’t have accused me of lying. I know you’re not stupid, and I would never accuse you of being so. You can be dense at times, amazingly clueless, but not stupid.”

Relief, guilt, and outrage fought for dominance. Outrage won by a hair, and Scowl #12 was sent his way. However, Clark looked as dark and threatening as a wet kitten. Lex would never point it out to him, but the vast majority of his scowls mostly made him adorable.

Yup, definitely not in love.

Lex sighed internally, a common occurrence for him since his exile and a malady he’d never experienced in his twenty-one years prior to knowing Clark Kent. He’d forlornly accepted his doom long ago that he was completely whipped when it came to the farmboy sitting next to him, and sadly enough he wouldn’t even receive the compensation of really good, really mind-blowing sex as a consolation for existing in such a pathetic state of being.

The Luthors truly were cursed.

“Not funny, Lex.” Clark sent a narrow-eyed, evil look his way. Unfortunately for Clark, it was mostly an Evil-Lite look that was about as scary as the idea of a Lana with a personality.

On second thought, less scary. The idea of Lana with anything more than her limp-noodle personality was disquieting at the very least. And angry-boy looks were being cast his way.

He smiled faintly, his voice teasing as he drawled out, “Now, Cher---”

“I told you not to call me that,” Clark said darkly, cutting Lex off immediately.

“If the shoe fits,” Lex said innocently. “Besides, Chloe is always saying you have the soul of a blonde…”

Another dark look and Clark sprung. Both were laughing fifteen minutes later, Clark triumphantly and Lex breathlessly. Clark had jumped on Lex, wrestling him to the ground in the latest show of barbarian behavior, and while Lex fought off the big brute valiantly, it was a fight fated for failure. Like in many past wrestling bouts, this one too ended in a vicious tickling fight that Lex was predestined to lose, with Clark sitting victoriously on Lex’s stomach and pinning the more slender frame effortlessly. Lex pushed ineffectively at the brick wall currently holding him down, giggling helplessly as fingers danced up and down his rib cage and under his armpits.

“Okay, okay,” Lex wheezed, in between fits of uncontrollable laughter. “I’m sorry. No more.”

“Say it,” he demanded.

“No,” he mulishly refused. Luthors never forfeited.

Clark’s fingers moved lightly up Lex’s ribs, and Lex’s frame shuddered at the stimulation on a torso that was already twitchy and sensitive from the impromptu tickle fight. “Say it.”

Lex flopped his arms onto the ground, knowing when to retreat. It was a fine line between retreat and forfeit, but he wasn’t giving up the war, merely the battle. “Fine,” he said, trying to sound put-upon but knowing he just sounded desperate. He tried to sigh heavily, but his dramatics were interrupted as fingers tickled his sides, causing him to writhe and wriggle helplessly as he broke out in more laughter. To his horror, Clark twisted around in a truly awe-inspiring, sticky-fantasy-inducing show of flexibility and grabbed a Luthor leg that led to a Luthor foot. Several minutes later, tears falling from the torture that was being placed upon his poor foot, he was gasping, “Okay, you win. I take it back.”

Clark merely drew a finger down the center of Lex’s foot in a clear threat.

“Clark Kent is the most intelligent, astute person I know.”

“And…” Clark trailed off warningly, his finger making it’s way up to cause Lex’s foot to twitch.

“And not dense. Or clueless. Completely filled with clues.” Lex lifted a hand, pushing at Clark’s chest feebly. “Now get off, you oaf. You weigh a ton.”

Clark just pressed his weight down a little more, causing Lex to grunt. He let go of Lex’s leg and foot, twisting that impressive torso around and walking his fingers up Lex’s side. He said in a sing-song voice, “That isn’t very nice, Lex.”

“Luthors aren’t very nice, Kent.” Lex tried valiantly to sound superior.

Farmboy fingers were poked into his sides, causing more involuntary convulsions.

“But I’ll be nice,” Lex swore, trying to bat Clark’s hands away.

“Because…”

“Because, Master of the Universe, you’ll make me pee my pants if I don’t,” Lex finished sarcastically, still too breathless to sound like anything but the loser in the latest battle of Kent versus Luthor. And sadly enough, Lex knew this was the truth, knew that Clark knew this was the truth, and yes, tickle fights were evil, evil things. Uncontrollable laughter, uncontrollable body twitches, and the threat of uncontrollable urinary release should the tickle torturer truly be merciless.

Evil, evil things.

Lex felt all motor functions flee his body, and he sank back completely boneless as his sore and weary muscles gave into gravity and appreciated the nice carpeting in his office. A fine choice on his part, obviously one of his better decisions. He noted distantly that Clark finally slid off his body to flop next to him, and he peevishly wondered what cause Clark had to flop. The boy had an infinite amount of energy, boundless strength, and the irritating ability to revert Lex back to pre-adolescent behavior…and winning while he was at it. Drat the boy.

After lying on the floor in silence, which was more to allow Lex to get his breath back and to allow Clark to glow in his momentary victory, Lex finally regained his ability to think and speak. His muscles were sore from all the laughing, but his heart was warm in shared happiness and playfulness. He turned his head to the side to look at Clark’s profile, and he asked, “Do you want to work at a circus for the summer?”

Clark paused before answering, obviously thinking of a response, and said slowly, “I’m not really sure. It would be something new, which is kinda exciting. And I like the idea of all that traveling. Only…I’ve never actually been away from home before. Mom and Dad never let me go to sleepovers, and now that I’m older, my friends don’t hold them anymore. I never went away to camp, and because of the farm, Mom and Dad have to be home every day to take care of the livestock and crops.”

“So this would be an adventure?”

“Yeah,” Clark said, nodding to himself. “I sort of like the idea of getting away on my own…but it’s sort of scary, too.” Clark turned his head, meeting Lex’s eyes, and smiled wryly. “Not to sound like a big baby, because I can be away from my parents, but it’s just something I’ve never done.”

Lex nodded back. He said softly, “I’ve noticed they’re pretty protective of you. Maybe…over-protective. You’ve lived the most sheltered life of anyone I know, and that includes this Amish kid I met while I was in college.”

A flash of sadness and guilt slid through Clark’s eyes, and he whispered, “I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever get to leave.”

Lex felt a suspicious spot inside his chest go all soft and squishy, and he frowned to himself. The longing in Clark’s voice was normal in some respects, because what teenager doesn’t want to get away from home---other than Lana---and see the world, yet at the same time it was abnormally intense with a yearning that Lex had only seen on rare occasions. Clark was like some beautiful, exotic bird whose wings were being clipped by the Kents. And as much as they loved him and cared for him, as well meaning as it was meant to be, they were doing him no favors by isolating him from the world. No matter how safe and comfortable a cage was, it was still a cage in the end, despite its pretty yellow farmhouse appearance.

He should know. His father had kept him in one his entire life, and he was still struggling to escape lifetime captivity.

“You will, Clark. I promise,” he said, his voice still soft.

Perhaps this whole circus debacle was a positive development. A way for Clark to slip his parental leash and spread his wings a little. He’d have the opportunity to be around new people, new ways of thinking, and a new environment. The homegrown goodness and morality of the Kents might make for solid childrearing, but the narrow-minded bigotry of the father was limiting for anyone with a future outside of Smallville. And Clark did have a future outside of Smallville, a brilliant one that was just waiting for Clark to step into.

They would have their friendship of legend, and not even the Kents could deny Clark the choice in accepting the destiny of walking by Lex’s side. Lex wouldn’t let them.

He’d accepted he would never know Clark as a lover or a life partner. But he would not be denied friendship and a life companion.

“Dad was really mad, though,” Clark said doubtfully. “He told me I couldn’t go, even if I did kill that lady’s dog. And Mom said we’d wait and see, which means no without saying ‘no’. And what about the farm? I know it’s the right thing to do, but it leaves Dad alone with too much work to do by himself. But I just can’t pretend it didn’t happen, and it’s not like I happen to have a two-headed dog to replace the one I killed.”

Lex was silent as Clark scowled, complaining bitterly, “Dad’s always harping on me to do the right thing, and then when I try, he tells me to think of the family as an excuse to be selfish. That’s so hypocritical. And it still doesn’t make it right no matter how he tries to justify it.”

Lex mentally agreed, pointing out to the Clark in his mind that the same could be said when it came to the Kent philosophy of lying and life. Doing the right thing, being a good neighbor, being honest and having morals and all that shit was fine as long it didn’t cost you anything personally. When it did cost something, when it threatened family secrets, the Kents couldn’t lie fast enough and woes be to any outsiders who tried to point that out. Those who questioned the righteousness of the Kents, as well as their honesty, were quickly shuffled off the farm and out of their lives. Their definition of outsider was anyone who wasn’t named Kent.

At least Luthors were open about being liars, cheaters, and self-interested SOBs. And when a Luthor was out for blood, they did it to your face.

Kents, on the other hand, worked from the shadows. They showed one face---all smiles and kindness---but really had another hidden from public view. And anyone who challenged that public face was scathingly told how selfish, despicable, and shameful they were. A dagger to the back was the Kent choice of attack, with that damn public face to hide behind.

Lex wasn’t blind. Not only had he been on the receiving end of such a diatribe by Clark and Jonathan, but he’d seen each of Clark’s friends go through the same treatment to a different, lesser degree. It was an unstated decree that if you wanted Clark’s friendship, you didn’t question him. Ever. About anything. Or he would drop you quickly and completely.

No, he wasn’t bitter. In fact, he could start an I’m-not-bitter club with Chloe and Lana. He was pretty sure they felt exactly the same way.

But what if Clark didn’t want to work at the circus. God alone knew Lex wouldn’t want to, even if it meant getting away from Lionel for three months. And there were other ways to achieve short-term parental freedom. Lex was a master of the concept, as well as the practice. Plus, there was the fact that the hussy who’d conned Clark into his newest writhing mass of guilt would have three months to continue to manipulate the kid.

Lex’s eyes narrowed as he stared sightlessly at the ceiling. No one manipulated Clark. Except for him, and even then it was done for Clark’s own good. Plus, who knew what this woman wanted. One look at Clark, and Lex would have tried his best, too, to sweep the boy away for a summer to do a lot of illegal, sticky things that he refused to acknowledge at this time.

It was this thought that clinched it for Lex. No one did sticky things with Clark. While Clark would never do sticky things with Lex, he refused to allow anyone else’s slimy fingers to mar the perfection and innocence that was Clark Kent. The crush on Lana was tolerated, barely, because he knew there was nothing overtly sexual about it. Clark was just fulfilling his fantasy of playing knight errant to the town princess---ice princess, as far as Lex was concerned---and defiling the princess was nowhere in the program. Thus, it was easy to help Clark win the princess---over and over again, which was tiring at times---and support their holding-hands saccharine-sweet dating rituals.

Besides, Lex wasn’t even sure if Clark had reached sexual maturity yet. Despite the boy’s full-grown body---godhood physique aside---Clark had never shown the typical teenage boy horniness or vulgarity common in American males. Maybe Clark’s people didn’t reach sexual maturity at the same age? Clark might not feel a sexual pull towards anyone for years, if not decades. Or maybe the difference in species was greater than the similarity in superficial appearances suggested, and Clark wasn’t capable of feeling sexual desire for another species?

Lex tabled these thoughts, knowing from past experience that it could spin his mind and scientific soul into a tizzy of speculation and conjecture, which would only end up with him brainstorming over dozens of questions he’d mostly likely never have the opportunity to ask. He’d go over these latest ideas later and add them to the ever-growing list of Clark Questions he’d compiled in his mind.

Yet, while these would be filed under the Biology category, which was fascinating and exciting, his favorite category was Naked Clark. Like what kind of underwear did he wear: Boxers or Briefs? Cotton or silk? Maybe a weak moment of teenage rebellion had inspired him to buy and hide away a pair of thongs in the back of his underwear drawer. And was Clark more of a chocolate, whip cream, or caramel kind of person? And when rimmed, would the boy whimper or scream?

The burgeoning image of chocolate and caramel covered naked Clark, except for a black silk thong which Lex would remove with his teeth, was immediately dispelled as a finger was poked into his side.

“Lex, I’m trying to whine about my parents here. You’re supposed to listen, and then commiserate on how horrible and evil they are.”

“Sorry,” he said automatically. “You’re parents are completely evil. So evil, in fact, they make the Marquis de Sade look like Mother Theresa.”

Lex looked over in time to see Clark blink his eyes in confusion, his face twisting up as he tried to work out what Lex said.

Lex just mentally decried the poor quality of a public school education, an institution obviously meant to educate the masses in an inefficient and ineffective manner due to a people and a government that rarely thought in the long-term. As much as he resented it at the time, was it any wonder his father sent him abroad for his education? “Never mind, Clark. A literary reference. I agree, your father was being hypocritical. If you feel this is the right thing to do, he shouldn’t tell you to give them the finger.”

“Lex! Dad didn’t say that! Exactly. More like tell them, ‘I can’t help you, sorry about the dog, but good luck anyway,’ and then walk away.”

“Clark, aside from cutting the proverbial apron strings and heading out for a cross-country adventure, do you actually want to work in a circus?”

“Ummm…”

“Because there are other options.”

“There are?” Skepticism was clear in Clark’s voice.

“Of course. There are always options. And if there aren’t, you create them.”

“It’s not always that simple, Lex.”

Lex pursed his lips. “Perhaps not, but very little in life is simple. Just because it’s complicated or complex, it doesn’t make it undesirable. Nor does it derive from the reality that you always have a choice, even if that choice is to not make a choice.”

Clark sighed, rolling onto his side and propping his head on his elbow to look at Lex. “I wouldn’t mind it. I’d love to get away from the farm for the summer. I love it there, but it’s not like…like I love farming. Not that I’d ever tell Dad that,” he quickly added. “Because I think he’s still sort of hoping I’ll take over the farm some day.”

Lex had to stifle the urge to tack on a ‘Hell, no’ onto that observation. Unless Clark truly wanted to become a farmer, there was no way he was allowing Jonathan Fucking Kent to pressure his son into becoming one. He might not have had a choice about going into business, but he sure as hell was going to make sure Clark had his choice of career paths. He’d already won the coup over journalism and Met U.

Jonathan had tried to convince Clark this past school year to send in applications next year for the journalism department of Met U, his reasoning that it was the only extra curricular that Clark was involved in, thus his only chance for a scholarship and going to college was for journalism. Never mind that the reason Clark wasn’t allowed to participate in anything BUT the school newspaper was because of Jonathan Kent’s fanatical control over every aspect of his son’s life. Even then, it was a tribute to Chloe’s persistence and tenacity, and her inability to understand the word ‘no’, that got Clark on the paper in the first place.

Lex still remembered the old days, in that first year and a half, when he’d looked up to Jonathan Kent and thought him the paragon of fatherhood and the ideal of a caring husband. However, after seeing the look in his eyes after Lex had killed Nixon---even to save Jonathan’s life---the look that still remained to this day, compiled with all the other verbal abuse and slander over the following months and years, not to mention finding out that the Kents were even more controlling than Lionel Luthor when it came to the life of their only son, had pretty much destroyed all of Lex’s illusions about the wonderfulness of all things Kent. While Lionel might use blunt force to hammer his way into Lex’s life, Jonathan used guilt and familial obligation like a scalpel to manipulate Clark’s.

There was a lesson to be learned in that because clearly Jonathan’s method had worked marvelously over Clark.

He still liked Martha, even if she sided with her husband over most things, because it was pretty hard not to like Martha. She was obviously part of the reason Clark had such a sweet disposition. So if he resented her a little for following the Kent party line when it came to Luthors, as well as raising Clark to hide all his beauty and intelligence, he couldn’t help but also be a little fond of her as well.

Jonathan was another story. He tolerated and put up with the man’s abuse for the sake of friendship, but his rosy-colored view of the superficially-at-first-glance Rockwellian family was disabused.

Thus, Lex had very subtly, and sometimes not so subtly, shown Clark that he shouldn’t limit his college choices due to his father wanting to keep him within driving distance of the family farm. Scholarships could be won---which Lex would ensure regardless of where Clark went or what he studied---and college majors could be decided while in college. Also, Lex had chosen choice moments of Chloe-discord and discontent to point out that journalism was Chloe’s dream. She woke up and her first thought was about what new story to investigate or write, and she went to bed reviewing all the stories in her mind that needed work the next day. Clark did neither.

Books and magazines left in opportune places, like in the study where Clark came to do his homework a couple of times a week, covered topics that interested Clark, such as astronomy, robotics, and literature. Lex encouraged him to enter a creative writing contest in the fall, which Clark placed second. To ensure victory, he scoured dozens of college course catalogs that he had his personal assistant acquire and had highlighted courses he thought Clark might find interesting. They were from the best schools in the country, and any school that peaked Clark’s interest received a personal call from Lex Luthor to ensure the admissions department courted and wooed the boy like he was the last virgin bride in a country full of single men.

Lex still felt a warm glow of success over Jonathan’s defeat when he remembered how Clark had decided to send in an application form to Met U, but he had also decided that he’d be applying to other schools, too. He still had the summer to look over college brochures, videos, and websites, but he knew Clark planned to apply at Kansas State and at least four out-of-state colleges, including Lex’s alma mater Princeton. In addition, he’d decided he wasn’t applying for the journalism program. Instead, he’d be applying for the liberal arts program so he could make up his mind after taking a variety of classes. He’d told Jonathan that while journalism might still be a possibility, it was by no means a certainty.

That had been a very good day for Lex.

“Well, your dad will get used to the idea of you choosing another path. Your mom has already told you she just wants you to be happy and that she’ll support you in whatever you decide to do.”

“Yeah, but what if she didn’t mean it? Dad said the same thing, but I knew he didn’t mean it. Besides the disappointment, he’s still mad about the journalism program. I think he thought I’d write for the local paper here in town, work on the farm, and eventually take over and retire from the paper.”

Lex merely snorted. “He’ll survive the disappointment. All parents go through it and survive the reality that their kids move on to live their own lives.”

Clark sent a dubious look towards Lex, but nodded. “So how else can I make up for killing Peaches?”

“Peaches?” Lex asked delicately, sounding out the word like it was a foreign language.

“The dog, Lex.”

“The dog’s name was Peaches? You probably did him a favor, Clark. He was probably in the circus not because of the dual-heads phenomenon, but because he was beat up by all the other dogs and had to go into hiding somewhere.”

Clark’s reply was a cuff to the shoulder.

“Fine. I only speak the truth, Clark.” Peaches. What an idiotic name for a dog, especially a ferocious one with two sets of teeth. Though, as blue eyes traveled languidly up and down a lean, male form, he could maybe make a case for why the name was more apt for Clark. Peaches were sweet, which Clark was undeniably. He was positive Clark would taste just as sweet. Hell, he’d sell all of LexCorp to find out if that ass was as delectable and soft as he imagined. Not to mention that he’d love to give Clark the blow jobs to end all blow jobs. Tongue his cock and his balls, bite along those thighs, and make Clark forget all about the hot-and-cold Miss Lang.

Lex gave yet another internal sigh, this one of gloom. It appeared even Luthors could fall prey to saccharine-sweet sentimentality as they slide ever further into mental instability. Any day now, he expected to see his father come by with men in white and lots of drugs to soothe the poor crazy person as they led him into his padded cell.

‘This is for your own good, son,’ his father would say, long hair wild and sharp teeth showing. ‘The Kent boy has corrupted you, made you sick, and you need help.’

Fuck you, Dad.

“To answer your question, there are ways, and I’m still working it out in my mind. Tell that circus woman---”

“Ms. Williams,” Clark interjected.

“---Ms. Williams,” Lex smoothly inserted, “That you can’t give her a definite answer, but that you plan to provide restitution. You weren’t going to join the circus until after school lets out in six weeks, so you have time. I guarantee I’ll have several options for you to choose from in a week’s time, and at least one of them will meet with your satisfaction of doing the right thing for Ms. Williams, her entertainment enterprise, and yourself.”

“Well, okay,” Clark said slowly. “I guess that works. But don’t do anything without tell me first.” He looked at Lex suspiciously, as if he was imagining all the sneaky things Lex might do in the name of helping a friend.

This time Lex did roll his eyes, as undignified as that was. “Yes, dear. I won’t break any laws nor will I instigate any mischief.”

Clark’s reply to his snark was a playful punch to the shoulder.

“Hey, wonder boy, you’re the one who wants to runaway and join the circus.”

****

“Mrs. Kent.” Lex inclined his head respectfully to the redheaded woman at the door.

“Lex!” she exclaimed, wiping her hands on her apron, surprise clear on her face. “I apologize for the mess. I’m right in the middle of baking pies for the fundraiser Clark’s class is holding.”

Lex had to smile at the flustered woman, and he had to admit it was charming to see the usually coifed and neat Martha splattered with flour and smeared with what appeared to be berry filling. She had her hair pulled back into a ponytail, giving her a younger appearance, and she portrayed a natural beauty that was apparent with the lack of make up.

Lex thought it a pity, in many ways, that she’d lost her job as Lionel’s assistant when Lionel moved back to Metropolis. Naturally, she’d stayed in Smallville, and while she seemed to be just as happy as a farm wife as opposed to working for one of the most powerful men in the country, Lex felt she was letting her mind and talents stagnate by choosing to remain a housewife. He recognized that it was a personal choice, but he couldn’t understand why she didn’t work out of her home, maybe start up some sort of business through the Internet or open a shop in downtown Smallville. For example, he’d heard the Johnson family, who owned the bakery, was selling the business and moving back to Iowa now that their last child was about to graduate from college.

On the other hand, and in a petty part of his mind, he was glad she’d been let go. He’d tried to win the approval and respect of both elder Kents for over a year, and he’d received little more than a cautionary kindness from Martha that she seemed to show towards anything that breathed, while he got insults and distrust from Jonathan. He’d have given Martha a job if she’d even hinted that she was trying to find work outside of the home, not that she would have taken it from him. But Lionel Luthor needs an employee, the Kents need a little additional money, and viola! For some reason, there was a marked distinction between a paycheck signed by Lex and one signed by his father, and the former was not shown any favor in the Kent household.

It was a slap in the face.

In addition, the Kents wouldn’t have had financial problems if they’d accepted his loan offer during that first year. Instead they went to the bank, ended up losing money hand over fist with the tornado because they hadn’t been able to afford full insurance coverage, not to mention the crops and livestock that were decimated, and they’d continued to lose money over the following two years. Clark was left with no money from his parents for school and the farm couldn’t afford to support either his tuition or cost of living at any college, just like Lex had predicted so long ago. They were one bad crop away from having to declare bankruptcy and losing it all. One bad winter followed by a cold summer, a drought, or some other natural disaster would wipe the Kents out completely and the family farm would no longer be in the family.

In fact, he was convinced the only reason they hadn’t lost the farm yet was due to Clark. If they hadn’t used the boy for manual labor, working through the summers for free and doing the work of a handful of men, they would have lost the farm by now. They couldn’t afford to hire help and still make enough of a profit to make their loan and mortgage payments, so the child labor of one Clark Kent had been Kent Farm’s salvation.

So, yes, that petty part of him liked seeing that he had been right and they had been wrong. He’d told Jonathan and Martha this would happen, that Clark would be left with nothing for college, and they’d shoved his offer back in his face. Looked at him like he was offal beneath their feet, and his offer was something even lower.

He’d love to tell Jonathan ‘I told you so’, and would have except it would have caused problems for Clark at home about his persistence in befriending a Luthor. While he didn’t want the family starving, and he truly did bemoan Clark’s financial state, he felt a degree of satisfaction that Kent pride---and Jonathan’s bigotry---had proved destructive and detrimental in the end. Luthor generosity and economic savvy, on the other hand, would have proved beneficial and practical had it been accepted.

He had no idea what the Kents planned to do once Clark left for college. He wouldn’t allow anyone to guilt the boy in denying himself a higher education, but Clark did the work of at least four men. In fact, he was the only reason the Kents could even have a fully functioning livestock farm and an organic crop farm. He’d found out with a little research that you could only manage one or the other because of the massive workload each type of farm required. It wasn’t too hard to deduce who had been keeping the family farm in business, especially when you traced back to when the Kents expanded their farm to include the organic production. In fact, the only reason he could imagine the other farmers in Smallville never called the Kents on the impossibility of the existence of their farm was the town’s almost conspiracy-like atmosphere of blindness to anything strange or odd.

Which still left Clark going to college and the Kents unable to compensate for the workload that would be left behind. Jonathan Kent would NOT be able to afford to hire four employees to work the farm, not unless he had a cache of gold buried under the basement or hidden in the storm cellar.

And Lex knew he didn’t when it came to the latter. He’d checked out the storm cellar, and the rest of the surrounding land, personally a year ago on a reconnaissance mission. It had been child’s play to ensure the family was gone for the day to the local county fair. Lex had always loved mysteries and puzzles, and he had an over-active imagination and an infinite amount of curiosity. The Kent family secrets hadn’t stood a chance.

Lex smiled pleasantly at Martha, years of training both with his father and in boarding schools at the forefront, showing just the right amount of friendliness and openness. “Clark mentioned it to me. He said there’s some debate among his peers as to where they want to go for their senior class field trip, so there’s some in-fighting among the various factions as to how much they need to raise. It’s still a year away, so I’m sure it’ll work itself out, but Clark said there’s a veritable slew of expenditures that they’re responsible for paying.”

Martha laughed, her eyes crinkling in delight, and Lex wondered what was so amusing. Perhaps there was some inside joke to Smallville High fundraising that he was unaware of?

“Oh, Lex, you could say that. It happens every year. Every junior class wastes the first two years of high school not raising any money, to suddenly find out as juniors that they have to start paying for some of the school activities that they took for granted. It starts off with Homecoming and moves to the big one, which is Prom. Then there’s senior year, which includes Snow Daze, the yearbook, the class trip, and graduation gowns. But every year, each class manages and makes due with what they raise.”

Lex’s brow furrowed as he took this in. Preparatory school and boarding school had been very different. The schools were paid generously to raise the children of the wealthy elite, and if more money was needed, there were always parents willing to donate money for buildings named after the family or for favors for future scions. Perhaps he should think about making a donation to the class coffer?

“It was quite different where I went to school,” Lex said with a small shrug, tabling the question. “Do you think many people will come?”

Martha smiled and nodded. “Yes, and it should pay for at least half of Prom. The annual bake sale usually does well, and most of the community shows up. If you have a sweet tooth, you should stop off at the school on Friday.” Martha paused, then added, “I’m afraid if you’re looking for Clark, he’s still at school. Wednesdays are his days to help Chloe with the online edition of The Torch, and he’s usually there for at least a couple of hours. You could try stopping by after dinner, or if it can wait, I know Clark usually visits after deliveries on Thursday.”

Lex shook his head briefly. “No, Mrs. Kent. I’m actually here to see you if you can spare fifteen minutes.”

“Well, I’m not sure…” Another swipe at her apron, her hands smoothing out the material, and she asked, “Is this something about Clark? I’m afraid Jonathan is out in the fields.”

“This shouldn’t take long, and yes, this is about Clark.” He gave a self-deprecating smile to lighten his words and said, “It’s actually about Clark’s newfound desire to runaway to join the circus.”

Martha’s face grew solemn, and her eyes tightened just the slightest. If Lex hadn’t been trained practically from birth to read people and their body language, he would have missed it. “Lex, that’s a family matter, and while I’m sure Clark’s asked you to agree with him, possibly argue on his behalf, I really think---”

“Not at all,” Lex cut in smoothly, “I agree with you that it might not be the best option for Clark at this time. I specifically wanted to discuss this situation with you when Clark wasn’t around. I told Clark I’d look into some other alternatives to solve his dilemma and I wanted to run an idea by you before I present it to Clark.”

“I still think---”

“Mrs. Kent, excuse me for being blunt, but we both know that Clark is dead set on paying some sort of restitution for the dog that was accidentally killed. It won’t hurt to at least hear my suggestion, and I’m completely comfortable with discussing this in the kitchen while you continue with your baking. Fifteen minutes, and I’m out.”

Martha paused, clearly weighing her options, then nodded and led the way back through the house.

After being seated at the kitchen table and accepting a cup of coffee, Lex began the presentation he’d laid out in his mind while Martha returned to her work at the kitchen counter.

“As I’ve stated, Mrs. Kent, Clark does feel accountable for the financial loss incurred by the death of this dog. From what Clark’s told me, both you and Mr. Kent feel strongly about his decision to make up for that loss by working for the circus over the summer while they try to find a replacement attraction.”

Martha nodded, her lips tugged down in a slight grimace. It seemed it was still an unpopular decision in the Kent household three days later.

“Has Clark mentioned any other reasons why he may want to work for a traveling circus over the summer?”

“No, I wasn’t aware that there were any.” Wary interest was apparent as she leaned minutely towards the kitchen table. Her eyes focused in on Lex, and her silence seemed to indicate she was mulling over the implications of that statement.

“Clark didn’t say it in so many words, nor did he expound upon it, but he partially wants the chance to get away from home and achieve a little independence.”

Martha bristled immediately, though Lex had to admit she was good. She showed little sign of her defensiveness, and he was reminded of how she’d had a very different upbringing than that of Clark. “Lex, Clark’s still a child. He may think he’s ready to leave home, but I hardly think it’s appropriate for someone his age to be wandering around unsupervised.”

“Mrs. Kent, I mean no disrespect,” Lex said to soften the next line of reasoning. He knew that he was about to speak some truths she probably wouldn’t want to hear, but it was necessary to build up to the next stage of his plan. “But Clark’s turning 18 next month. Most kids his age are getting ready to leave for college, or to move out of their parents’ homes to start their first jobs or even to get married. You and Mr. Kent chose to enter him into the school system with kids a year his junior, which was your prerogative after years of homeschooling him. Whatever your reasons for that decision, he’ll legally be an adult in a matter of weeks. Aside from that, we both know that Clark is very mature for his age, even more so than most college graduates that I know, and he has a sense of responsibility and a need to nurture that has manifested itself in his weekly escapades with his friends as the town’s silent saviors from the paranormal. To say he’s not capable of enough independence and maturity to bear the absence of parental guidance for three months is to insult not only Clark, but to insult the excellent parenting job you’ve done with him thus far.”

He saw the surprise bloom in her eyes from his compliment, even as she was fighting to deny the truth of what he was saying. From his understanding, few parents wanted to let go of their children, and he could understand in an academic way why she would still cling to the idea of Clark as a child. Even if it contradicted the way she and her husband treated him, allowing him to police the meteor-mutated violent and insane, which was something few would allow a child to shoulder. Another problem he had with the Kents, but one he kept to himself.

“With that said, I truly believe that the vast majority of his decision is based on his desire to make up for the dog that was killed.”

Lex was pleased when Martha immediately picked up where he was going and why he’d brought up his previous line of thinking. Yes, it was clear his father had found a gem when he’d hired her as his assistant. She really was too intelligent to spend her days cleaning house and cooking. Or whatever else she did around the farm.

“But there’s a part of him that wants to leave.”

“Not leave, exactly. But Clark’s informed me that he’s never even slept over at a friend’s house. He’s never left the farm overnight for any reason, such as camping or a weekend trip to the city with friends. Is it really so shocking that he might find the idea of wandering the country with a circus appealing?”

Martha sighed, leaving the kitchen counter, and moving to sit at the table across from Lex. “No, I suppose it isn’t. But that doesn’t tell me why you’re here.”

“I’m looking into several alternatives for Clark, so that he could in good conscience decline from working for the circus out of some misplaced sense of guilt. This Tonya Williams, who’d previously been the caretaker for the dog and a few other animals with genetic anomalies, seems to be exactly as she presented herself. However, I don’t think she had the right to denigrate Clark, or pressure him into paying any sort of penalty when she was at fault for misplacing the animal. I doubt Clark would be happy with my offering to pay her monetary restitution for the dog’s death, so I hope to have within a few weeks a few alternative animals who could take the dog’s place as an attraction.”

A thoughtful look appeared on Martha’s face, and she sat quietly for a few minutes. She seemed to come to a decision, and asked, “So far, that sounds acceptable to me. As you pointed out, Clark’s practically an adult, so whatever it would cost you to replace this attraction would be between you and Clark. Though I’m not sure what Jonathan will have to say about it.”

Martha shook her head, pursing her lips and continuing her line of thought. “Still, I hear a ‘but’ just hovering on the edges of all this.”

Lex nodded once. “Yes. Should I find an acceptable replacement, and Clark feels comfortable with this alternative, it still leaves Clark feeling unhappy and, if I may be so bold, confined to his current condition. I’d suggest a few sleepovers at the castle, maybe have a few movie marathons or a weekend video game challenge, but I’m not sure it would alleviate his desire to…see the world. So I’ve come up with a proposition.”

Martha remained silent, signaling that he should continue.

“I’d like to take Clark on a trip to Europe.” He held up his hand, cutting off the refus