Clark heard the sound of tires screeching, and he turned in time to see a silver-blue sports car breaking hard and veering to avoid a roll of barbed wire lying across the road.  It was in vain--he barely had time to gasp in fear as it hit the bale--as all four tires popped, causing the driver to lose complete control of the car that was spinning directly towards him.

It all happened in a matter of seconds, and as he looked through the windshield into the face of his inadvertent killer, magnetic stormy-blue eyes captured his gaze, regret and horror reflecting back at him as clear as the spoken word.  The pale face of the guy behind the wheel was the last thing he saw, the image burned in his mind along with a pang of something like sorrow--as if he’d brushed against something that might have meant everything, and now he’d never know just what he’d lost --before the heavy mass crashed into him.  His neck snapped back as his body was flung into the side of the bridge, everything going black before he even had a chance to feel any pain.

Metal shrieked as the railing tore apart, cement chunks flying and spinning down into the river, following an unconscious Clark.  The car pursued, both boy and vehicle falling in a graceful arc into the rushing water below.

“Damn it!”

Lex hit the heel of his hand against the frame of the car, frustration marring the smooth roll of his voice.  He stalked in front of the open hood a few times, muttering beneath his breath about shoddy maintenance work and German mechanics with attitude problems.  When he felt a sudden breeze hit his cheek, he began cursing in earnest.

“Problem, Luthor?”

Lex looked up, towards the direction of the deep, solid voice mocking him.  Glaring sourly at the crest of El--which they both damn well knew was really Alexander’s crest--he held up his left hand, one finger thrust out in the universal gesture to fuck off, stating rather eloquently his thoughts on alien humor.

Rich, booming laughter surrounded him.

Clark eyed the truck resignedly, letting out a long sigh of desolation.  Another weekend gone, all because of the stupid truck.  If they’d let him keep HIS truck, then he wouldn’t have to waste his precious days off being stuck in the front yard, working on the ancient piece of crap that had probably been around since the time of the dino--

“Clark.”

“Lex!”  A smile decimating the frown on his face, he turned around, eyes lighting up at the sight of his older, more sophisticated friend.  Who currently was wearing a tighter-than-normal pair of black pants that seemed to be hugging lean, muscular thighs, not to mention how it seemed molded to the most perfect butt--

“Clark?”

The brunette sixteen-year-old blinked, and then blinked some more.  A very distant part of his mind noted, rather smugly, that Lex sounded puzzled.  As if he was wondering what was wrong.  As if he’d been calling Clark’s name for several minutes.

Crap.

Drawing his eyes reluctantly away from certain anatomical visual pleasures, he looked up in dread to see curious, too-observant blue eyes viewing him in much the same way Chloe had viewed the poor frog last week in biology class.  He’d never felt more sympathy than that moment, holding the scalpel and feeling like the world’s biggest hypocrite ever.

“Are you okay?  You seem a little out of it today.”

God.  Lex sounded just like sex.

“Clark?”

Jerking, feeling a mixture of guilt and shame--what kind of sleaze was he, lusting after his best friend--his fingers collided with the toolbox on the frame of the truck.  Watching in horror, feeling as if everything was happening in slow motion, he watched as the green metal box was pushed off.  Tools fell down in a jumble, akin to pick up sticks, only when they hit the ground they made a horrible jangling noise of metal on metal that made his ears hurt.  The moment he remembered he had an audience to see yet another spectacular act of infamous Clark Kent clumsiness, he felt his cheeks burn with the heat of a thousand suns.

It shouldn’t have been possible, but Clark was fairly sure he got even redder as he saw Lex appear in his field of vision, bending over to pick up the fallen tools. 

“Guh.”

Lex turned slightly, butt still high in the air, face peeking out from the line his body made.  “You say something?”

Clark shook his head frantically, face still on fire, but silently praying Lex would take his time.  A long time.  Like, maybe, forever.

Was he actually getting lightheaded?

He let out a soft, mournful whine as his older, very hot, and completely out of his league best friend straightened up, closed toolbox held loosely in one fist.

Again.  Guh.  Lex…pants…tools.  He was pretty sure his brain was fried.

To think he’d actually woken up thinking the truck problems would be a headache all weekend.  That was nothing on his Lex problems.  He just knew he’d be seeing this scene replayed in his dreams for the next week, and while that might not exactly be a bad thing, he sometimes really, really hated having the hormones of a sex-starved, perpetually horny, teenage virgin with no hopes of getting laid, like, ever.

It was getting to the point that he felt like a pervert every time he saw Lex.

Swallowing hard, telling himself to get a hold of himself, he managed to get out, “You didn’t have to do that.”

Lex shrugged, a casual roll of his shoulder that made Clark’s mouth go dry.  He watched, bewitched, as the gesture made the dark gray shirt stretch in interesting ways along Lex’s shoulders and chest.

Clark was almost positive he was going to Hell for noticing how the charcoal gray color contrasted beautifully with Lex’s pale skin.  Skin he was quickly becoming addicted to, the sight enough to make his heart pound and his blood burn.  Skin he very much wanted to touch.  Which was bad.  Very bad.

Bad Clark.

It didn’t help.  He watched, helpless, as Lex moved closer.  His pulse quickened, and he felt excitement beginning to hum beneath his own skin.

“Your mom told me you were going to be working on the truck,” Lex said, blue eyes smiling.  A rueful grin flashed, and he continued, “I thought I’d come by and offer my own meager talents.”

Clark’s brain went offline.

“Not that I know much about cars,” he added self-deprecatingly.  “I have a mechanic for a reason.  But I did pick up a few things during college.”

No way.  This wasn’t happening.  Things like this didn’t happen to him.  Ever.

“I cleared my schedule.  I’m yours all day.  Just tell me what you want to do first.”

Yes!  There was a God, and he clearly loved teenage alien boys.  Suddenly the casual-for-Lex garb made sense.  And spending the day with Lex?  Maybe the entire weekend?  Clark clearly didn’t appreciate the hunk of junk in front of him enough.

Thank God for crappy, old trucks and their undependability.  Even more, thank God his dad asked him to work on the truck this weekend.  Alone.  With no parental units in sight. 

I’m yours all day. 

His brain was melting, and it was the best feeling ever.

“Lex, wake up.”

“Meh.”  Scrunching up his face, the vaunted CEO of LexCorp burrowed into the cocoon of blankets surrounding him.

“Lex.” Hands grabbed onto Lex’s shoulder, shaking him.  “Wake up.  Now.”

“Go ‘way,” he mumbled.  Rolling over, he tried to bury his head underneath his pillow. 

“Lex!”  The pillow was lifted away from him, and hands began touching him, and not in a good way.  “Get up.  I need you.”

Heaving out a huge sigh, Lex opened his eyes blearily.  Feeling too awake, he muttered, “For some reason, I’m assuming you don’t mean in the usual way.”

“The usual-” Clark’s face came into focus, the scowl not marring the pretty features in the slightest.  It was unnatural how attractive Clark was, especially this early in the morning.  There were times Lex really hated him, and being woken up so abruptly wasn’t helping.  “Jeez.  What’s wrong with you?  Not everything’s about sex.”

“It should be,” he replied under his breath.  He bit back another sigh as alien hearing went where it wasn’t wanted.

“Watch that smart mouth.”  He smacked Lex’s shoulder with the back of his hand.  “I’m serious.  Now up, mister.”

“Have I told you recently just how disturbing it is that you’ve turned into your mother.”

Clark merely rolled his eyes, picking up the nearest shirt from the floor and throwing it at Lex’s chest. 

Pulling on the sweatshirt automatically, gaze passing over the Met U Intramural Beach Volleyball written in red block letters, Lex barely caught the jeans in time before they smacked him in the face.  He knew better than to gripe at Clark for leaving his clothes on the floor.  Again.  Not when the younger man was in a snit.  He slipped the oversized jeans on silently, mind still a little blurry with the last vestiges of a dream he was already forgetting.  Fisting one hand in the rough blue material to keep them from slipping down, he allowed himself to be herded along in bare feet as he struggled to rub the sleep away from his eyes.

However, he drew the line at stepping out in the cold.  Balking at the door, he dug his toes in the carpet and gripped onto the doorframe for all he was worth.  For Christ’s sake, it was February and he was not moving one inch further.

“Lex!  I--”

“No.  Not another step until you tell me why you got me up at…”  Looking around, neck craning, he searched for a clock in vain.  Since one wasn’t appearing in the hallway at his convenience, he finished weakly, “…whatever ungodly hour this is.  Which is too early.  I’m going back to bed.”

“No,” Clark refuted, shaking his head.  “We already went over this.  You never pay attention to me!”

“I was asleep!”

Clark just pouted.

Sighing again, Lex felt his pique crumpling at the sight.  Jesus.  There was a time people actually feared the Luthor name, and he found himself feeling nostalgic for the good old days.  “Fine.  What do you want?”

Clark clearly didn’t care about the curt tone being directed at him.  Grinning triumphantly, he grabbed the hand that was death-clutching the doorway.  Ignoring the curses being uttered as bare skin met cold cement, he held Lex’s hand tightly as he led the way towards his car.

“Why didn’t we get a heated garage again?”

Ignoring his cranky husband, he stopped in front of his car, hand firmly keeping the sluggish Luthor right at his side.

“Well?”  Lex shot him a suspicious look.  “Please tell me you didn’t wake me up just to stare at your heap of junk.”

Clark pursed his lips for a few seconds, but decided to let the insult pass.  Lex never did well before his second cup, and he hadn’t even started on his first.  “I need a jump.”

Lex blinked a few times, looked around the garage slowly, and turned back to stare at Clark.  Lifting one eyebrow, he asked haughtily, “And you need me…”

“To help.”

Incredulous, abruptly alert blue eyes bored holes into him.

Clark just looked at Lex expectantly.

Lex turned, yanking his hand out of Clark’s, muttering about helpless husbands, fear of Luthors, and terrorizing Hans into doing his damn job.  Raising his voice as he made his way to the far corner, “…and you better damn well appreciate this, Clark Kent Luthor.  Fuck!  Like you couldn’t jump your own damn car, not to mention that I offer to buy you your own damn Ferrari every year at Christmas.  Italian engineering, Clark, and you insist on keeping that American piece of shit, and damn it!  Why the hell you couldn’t just take one of my cars to work--”

“You know Lois--” Clark tried to cut in.

“--and I don’t care about that immoral vulture you call a partner and how she can’t seem to understand that you’re happily married to--”

This could go on all morning, coffee or no coffee.  Clark redirected Lex, prompting, “You need to get the keys for the blue ‘ghini.  I couldn’t find them, and you’ll need to get it closer.”

“--and that’s another thing!  Why the hell couldn’t you wake up Hans--”

Clark just pressed a kiss to the soft skin of Lex’s temple, ignoring the tetchiness, as he accepted the jumper cables being thrust at him from his grumpy grouch of a soulmate.  The sight of pillow marks still pressed into cheeks still pink from sleep made something happy bloom inside his heart, and he was still smiling as a muttering Lex stalked his way back into the house for the keys.

“Lex!  Oh God, Lex…please, wake up.  Please.”  Clark sniffed, wiping at the tears on his cheeks futilely, unknowingly leaving streaks of red behind.  His chest heaved as he sobbed out, “Please wake up.  You have to wake up.”

Lex was….Lex was…no!  Lex wasn’t.  He wasn’t dea-  No.  He just wasn’t.  Lex wouldn’t do that to him.  He just wouldn’t. 

He hadn’t even ever told him.  Hadn’t ever said the words, despite the moments he’d felt the words wanting to tear out of him, like bird wings beating at a cage.  He heard them now, his heart whispering them too late.

I love you.

“Leeeex,” he moaned, rocking back and forth, the slim body held tightly to his chest.  He lowered his head into that perfect niche between Lex’s neck and shoulder, that place he’d always known would fit him, and snuffled loudly.  Rubbing his cheeks into soft skin that was cool--too cool--he cried harder.  He knew he shouldn’t have moved Lex.  Shouldn’t be holding him so tight.  Shouldn’t sit here on the ground and just cry like some big baby.  But Lex was…Lex was…he cried harder.

“Please,” he whispered, voice hoarse.  “Please wake up.”

Green eyes stared blankly at the twisted remains of the bright red Lamborghini, the front crumpled up against the tree like an accordion.  Shattered glass glittered in the sunlight, a sparkling show of beauty gleaming from a carpet of green that he couldn’t process.  Rocking slowly again, he pleaded, “Wake up.  Just wake up.”

This was his fault.  All his fault. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered pathetically.  “I didn’t mean it.  I wanted it.  I really wanted it.  I’m sorry.  Just please wake up.  Please.  Don’t…don’t die.  Please don’t die.”

Guilt and terror tore at his soul.  This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.  They were supposed to be friends forever.  A friendship of legend.  Of love.  Of…something, but not this.  Not this.  He started to cry harder, croaking out over and over between sobs, “Wake up.  Please wake up.”

“Fuck.”  Lex slowed the car down, holding the wheel steady with a tight grip.  After pulling over to the side of the road, he turned off the engine and stepped out to verify what he knew had happened.

Fuck.

He wasn’t even sure what you did with a flat tire.  Sure, he knew in theory you changed it, and yes, he wasn’t an idiot, so he knew there should be a spare in the trunk.  But this was an Aston Martin, one of the finest pieces of vehicular engineering money could buy, and Hans re-trained at special schools periodically just to remain certified to open the hood of this car.

Feeling completely emasculated, he turned around to grab his cell.  He wasn’t that far out of Smallville, and he paid Hans to take care of problems like this.  There wasn’t any reason to be ashamed of not ever having changed a flat tire or not being entirely sure how one went about doing so.  Hell, he ran a crap plant and employed thousands of workers, which in turn helped to support countless of other businesses in the state, not to mention this damn hick town, and he wasn’t a useless rich brat no matter what certain blond farmers might think.

He was a fucking responsible member of society and he was fucking calling Hans.  Snarling, he bent over, leaning into the car to grab his cell from the dash.

“Hey, Lex.  Need any help?”

He froze.  No way.  No way was he hearing the bright, chirpy dulcet tones of his resident guardian angel cum jailbait tempter.  The slam of a car door signaled either an insanely detailed hallucination or the appearance of his own personal flannel-and-denim clad savior.  Who just happened to have the prettiest mouth he’d ever seen.

Fuck.  He was going to Hell.  Or he would be, if he wasn’t already slotted his own special spot as Satan’s son. 

“Lex?  Did you hear me?”

Squeezing his eyes shut tightly, he had a brief, terse inner exchange with any listening deity about temptation, breaks, and the thrice-damned bad luck he’d experienced since being exiled to this homicidal little hamlet.  Feeling a warm hand land on his lower back, he used every ounce of his formidable Luthor will not to shudder with…something.  Something that definitely was NOT desire.

He used this same iron will to slowly back out, stamping out any wayward feelings he might have for his very innocent, very off limits, young friend.  His brother, if not in blood, then surely in spirit.  His little brother, and he would cut off his own dick before having any lustful thoughts about his little brother.

Straightening up, he looked calmly into Clark Kent’s very pretty face and smiled pleasantly.  “Clark.  Your sense of timing is impeccable.  I was just about to call in the cavalry.”

“You have a flat.”

Lex thought that rather obvious.  Instead of saying aloud all the various uncharitable thoughts currently racing through his mind, he nodded his head and said smoothly, “It shouldn’t take Hans long to drive out here and take care of it.”

Eternally helpful, Clark offered, “I can do it.”

Of course he could.  Clark Kent, in another life, would’ve founded the Boy Scouts if given the chance.  “That isn’t necess--”

“I want to,” Clark cut in, and then suddenly blushed for no apparent reason.  Eyes darting down to the ground, he kicked at a stray pebble and mumbled, “If you don’t mind.”

Fuck.  Little brother.  His innocent, guileless little brother.  And fuck it all if Clark wasn’t peeking up at him through his eyelashes shyly; the boy really shouldn’t be able to do when he was so tall.  Damn, damn, damn!  Little brother, Clark was like his little brother, and he could do this.  He was Lex Luthor, and Clark was the little brother he’d never had, and he was going to do this.

Allowing a gentle smile to grace his face briefly, he looked at Clark encouragingly.  “That’d be great, Clark.  I appreciate the help.”

The blush made another appearance, but it was accompanied by a smile as bright as a sunrise.  Looking very pleased and happy, Clark started for the trunk.

It surprised Lex how fast the next twenty minutes went.  Helping the teenager as much as he could, he didn’t even notice how dirty he became as a comfortable camaraderie flowed between the two of them.  Clark chatted about everything and nothing, and Lex had the sneaking suspicion this time by the side of the road would be the highlight of his week.  He felt the usual happiness--which was unusual in itself, so he knew enough to bask in the feeling--when around Clark, but it was also shaded with gratitude.

Not just for the help with the tire, though that was undeniably part of it.  His earlier frustration was a thing of the past, and his anger at the situation gone.  But even more, Clark’s presence had made an unpleasant situation morph into something enjoyable.  It was an occurrence that happened around the boy often, and it just cemented Lex’s decision to do everything in his power to make sure their friendship thrived. 

Friendship.  He could do friendship.  He could be the best damn friend anyone could ask for.

“Wow.”  Eyes as wide as saucers, Clark looked up at Lex in amazement.  “Just…wow.”

Lex smirked.

“But…”  The light in Clark’s eyes dimmed, and he turned away.  “I…I can’t.  You know I can’t.  I’m sorry.”

Rage surged through him, followed quickly by hurt, which just made the rage burn hotter.  But Lex was a Luthor, and Luthors didn’t feel anything as weak as emotions.  So nothing showed on his face other than polite interest. 

“I’m sorry,” Clark repeated, still not looking at Lex.  “You know I can’t accept.  My dad…”  He trailed off. He really didn’t need to say anything more. 

“You’re nineteen,” Lex said through lips that felt too stiff.  He forced himself to soften, to relax.  “You’re graduating.  It is tradition to accept gifts at graduation.”

“I’m sorry.”

It was the agony in that last whispered apology that made Lex do it.  Later, he wouldn’t be able to say why it pushed him.  Why he did it.  But something about the pain in Clark’s voice, or maybe the very fact that it was yet another apology from the boy who refused to trust him, made something inside him just shatter.  Oh, sure, Clark talked a good game.  He liked to toss out that phrase, best friend, like it meant something.  But all he gave to Lex was lies and apologies.

Lex may have had only a handful of friends in his life, and most of them may have betrayed him in some manner during yet another Luthor life lesson via his beloved father, yet he knew enough about how friendship was supposed to work to know you trusted.  You believed.  You didn’t think your fucking friend would sell you out if you didn’t lie at every god-damn opportunity.

Fuck friendship.  Or fuck Clark Kent’s brand of friendship.

“Fine.”  Grabbing the keys from Clark’s slack grip, he slid into the driver’s seat.  The tires squealed, leaving a trail of black, as he spun out of the drive.

“No way!”  Clark circled around Lex, grinning madly.  “No way.  This isn’t happening.”

Lex barely managed not to roll his eyes. 

“Let me get this straight.  You, Lex Luthor, are asking to borrow my car.  My little red Ford Escort--”

“More like orange, the paint’s so faded.”

“--that you commonly call, ‘the piece of shit’--”

“Because it is.”

“--that you’re continuously offering to replace.  Usually on a bi-weekly basis.”  For a moment, something dark passed over Clark’s face, a wild look of horror and grief, before it vanished so quickly Lex wasn’t even sure he’d seen it.  “That Ford Escort?”

“Yes,” Lex said, pursing his lips together primly.  “That Ford Escort.”

Clark chortled gleefully.

“Mature, Clark.  Real mature.”

He continued chortling.  Prick.  Lex shook his head, making his way past Clark’s cluttered desk and stepping over all the piles of clothes, books, and papers on the floor.  Somehow, Lex didn’t remember dorm rooms being this small when he’d been in school.  Or this dirty.

“I explained this to you.”  Lex gingerly sat on the unmade bed, not really wanting to know the last time Clark had changed the sheets.  There was a reason he usually picked Clark up.  “I need to meet someone incognito, and we both know my father’s lackeys won’t suspect I would ever drive--”

“Domestic?” Clark broke in, snickering.

“--something so…mundane,” Lex finished delicately, giving the brunette a Look.  “And this meeting is important.  They won’t expect me to escape their notice if we make the switch now.”

Clark sobered, a hint of concern tugging his lips down.  “Secret meetings, Lex?  I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

Like Lex was going to allow Clark Kent to dictate his life.  However, knowing better than to voice that sentiment aloud, he smiled reassuringly to his significant other.

It didn’t work.

“I’m serious, Lex.  I should go with you.”

Hell.  Clark’s earnest look was doing things to his libido he really didn’t have time for.  But then, just being around Clark made him feel sixteen all over again: completely out of control and a walking hard on that wouldn’t quit.  No, he definitely didn’t have time for this, either for sex or for his control issues.

“You know that won’t work.  I explained the plan to you.”  He slipped off his shoes, his socks quickly following.  Standing up, he started stripping.  “I’ll wear your clothes.  Slip out of the dorm, and all they’ll see is another college student entering the parking lot.  Driving your…older vehicle will just cement the deception.”

“And what about this?”  Slipping behind Lex, voice husky and low, Clark slipped an arm around Lex’s chest and pressed his lips to the back of a bare head.  “A slight giveaway.”

Wiggling out of Clark’s embrace, Lex reached down to grab a hoodie.  Pulling on the sweatshirt, he flipped the hood over his head and shot the younger man a triumphant grin.

Clark didn’t look very pleased.

Shrugging off Clark’s moodiness, Lex continued getting ready. 

“I mean it, Lex.  This isn’t a good idea.”

He looked around, wondering what to do about shoes.  He didn’t really relish flopping around in Clark’s gigantic tennis shoes, but he couldn’t exactly go in his loafers.  Details often made or broke a deal, and disguises worked on the same premise.

“I’m serious.  This isn’t a good idea.  You know how these things always get out of hand.”

Digging in Clark’s closet, he searched for the newest pair of sneakers he could find.  He didn’t even want to know what kind of fungal cohabitants he might find in the ones he was seeing.

“Oh no, you don’t.  You’re going to listen me.”

Lex found himself hauled out, arms of steel firmly around his waist, lifting him out of the closet like he was an errant three-year-old.  He would have voiced a complaint, but the seriously pissed off glower on Clark’s face made him think twice.  Settled firmly on the bed, he tried to jockey for a position of power, or as an authoritative position as one could have on an unmade bed in this disaster of an excuse for a domicile.  Clark was having none of it, and he found himself pulled into a very hard, if nice, lap.

Fuck.

“Now we are going to talk about our plan.”

Double fuck.

Fuck it!  Fuck it all. 

He pressed his foot down on the gas pedal, shifting the car as the speedometer climbed higher and higher.  The purr of the engine and the wind whipping through the open window did nothing to make him feel better.

Why?  Why didn’t Clark trust him?  Why didn’t Clark know he wouldn’t ever harm him?  Why didn’t he know Lex would die before ever allowing anyone to hurt him?

Why did Clark lie?  Lie after lie passed through those impossibly lush lips.  Apology after apology given again and again, passed out like Martha’s oatmeal raisin cookies, but tasting like the sweetest poison. 

You’re not good enough.  You’re just like your father.  You’re a Luthor.

 Did he really need an explanation?  He knew this.  It was the same story over and over again.  Everyone knew it, and Lex was just weak enough to want it to be different.  To be something else.  But it never was.  He was a fool to think he could have something different with Clark.  To have anything with Clark.

Little brother his ass.  Clark was a siren, twisting his heart, breaking him inside, making him rush with open eyes to his own doom.  Eagerly. 

He experienced a moment of insanity, wondering why.  Why had he been saved?  For this?  To be shown over and over again, time after time, over the last four years.  That he wasn’t good enough.  That he wasn’t good for anything but to be used.  Manipulated.  A tool for power, connections, money, favors.  Buy Lana a coffee shop.  Buy Whitney’s father a dying wish.  Buy a court’s forgiveness for kidnapping a sick child from a monstrous doctor.  It never stopped.  It was never appreciated.  Just favor after favor, accusation after accusation, and that continuous slap in the face, the implication he wasn’t worthy of trust.  Friendship.  Love.

He’d been oscillating for years, feeling as if that day on the riverbank was either a munificent gift of fate or a horrendous joke of a mistake.  Was he living on borrowed time, stolen from the Grim Reaper’s cold embrace?  Or given a second chance?

Cassandra’s last moments in this life passed through his mind.  He remembered her hand in his, the skin as powdery and thin as fine parchment.  The horror that flashed on her face just before she fell.

Ah, yes.  And wasn’t that his answer?  He was a Luthor.  It was his destiny to destroy.  To be something reviled, even by himself. 

Looking through the windshield of Clark’s Lamborghini, of another gift in a series of gifts that was rejected, he thought of destiny and fate and dancing with death.  Of making things right. 

Perhaps Cassandra Carver would be grateful to know she didn’t die in vain.  She had averted catastrophe with her very last breath.  Literally.

A moment of insanity.  A moment of being so damn tired.  A moment he’d replayed in a thousand clubs and in a thousand backrooms.  This time would be different.  This time he would make it right.  This time he would finally get to rest.  He wrenched the wheel, the tree growing larger and larger.

He pressed his foot down harder.

Hitting the brakes, he swerved hard to the right.

“Huh?  What happened?”

Lex spared a quick look to his passenger and couldn’t stop the sappy, ridiculous smile spreading across his face.  Clark looked disgruntled and sleepy, dark curls smashed flat on the right side of his head where he’d been dozing against the window.

Utterly and fucking adorable.

“Stay here.”  Getting out of the parked car, he frowned as he made his way to the front fender.  Damn.  He hadn’t missed.

“Lex, what-  Oh.”

A world of hurt in the last word.  Lex turned back, reaching up to brush his fingers against Clark’s cheek.  “Hey.  Go back to the car.  I’ll take care of it.”

“But--”

“Go on.”

Clark looked at him uncertainly, but a peek over his shoulder had the boy paling at an alarming rate.  Pasting a tremulous smile on his face, he tried to give Lex an encouraging look before slipping back into the car.

Damn.  Looking at the dog lying prone on the ground, he felt an uncomfortable mixture of guilt and dismay.  Over a dog.  Clark had clearly been making an impact on him, though whether it was good or bad would depend on whom you asked.  Lionel Luthor would surely have plenty to say on the ‘Kent boy’ and his influence, but that was a battle for another day.

Today, Lex had to deal with doing the right thing.  Or rather, doing what he knew would make his boyfriend feel better.

Ignoring the damage to his car, he kept his focus on the dog that had run out in front of him.  Hopefully, it hadn’t been some child’s pet.  This far out in the country, anything was possible, though it was more likely a stray.  Slipping his cell out of his pants, he called Enrique. 

Someone would come out with a shovel.  A burial would be best.  It felt…distasteful to leave the animal in the ditch.  Left to be picked over by scavengers or to be viewed by every passing motorist. 

Glancing back at the car, he was grateful Clark looked ill.  After everything the college student had been exposed to, all the worst aspects of humanity he’d heard and seen, it made something in him ease to know Clark could still be affected by something like a dog’s untimely death.

Lex tugged experimentally on the plug and felt a moment of triumph when it pulled out easily, a light bulb on the other side.

Ha.  He knew it wouldn’t be that hard.  Changing Clark’s headlight was turning out to be much easier than he’d first thought.

Fuck you, Jonathan Kent.

He could be as mechanically inclined as the next guy.

“Unbelievable!”

“I said I was sorry!” 

“Sorry isn’t good enough!”

“Well, it’s all I have!”

“How the fuck you do you run out of gas?  Don’t you ever look at the gas gauge?  Didn’t the needle in the fucking red block near the big E mean something to you?”

“It was an honest mistake!”

“Which is why we’re hauling ass to the nearest gas station, huh?  An honest mistake?  A gas station over five fucking miles away!”

“You don’t have to yell.  I said I was sorry.  God, do you have to be so impossible all the time?”

“Impossible!  IMPOSSIBLE!  Fuck you, Kent.  It’s always about you.  Your problems.  Your life.  Your impossible fucking boyfriend.  You know what?  You can do this yourself.  I’m going back to the car.”

“You’re the one who insisted we walk!  I told you I’d run and get…Lex?  Lex?  Where are you going?  Lex!  Wait!”

“Fuck. Off.”

“Lex!  No, stop it.”

“Let go!  How many times do I have to tell you I don’t like to be manhandled?”

“What’s this really about?”

“What do you think, Einstein?”

“I know this isn’t about me using my powers or not.  And I know it’s not about me forgetting to get gas last night.  And I know it’s not--”

“We could be here all day at this rate.”

“Lex.  Talk to me.”

“Lex.  Talk to me.  Please talk to me.  Whatever you want.  Alexander the Great and the Gordian Knot.  Or Julius Caesar, or Napoleon, or Genghis Khan, or, or, or some Egyptian prince whose name I can’t pronounce.  Just talk to me.  Please.”  Clark rubbed his cheek slowly over the still chest.  Curled up around Lex’s broken body, he clutched at him like a child holding onto a prized teddy bear or a beloved blankie.  “Just wake up and talk to me.”

Clark didn’t know what to do.  Lex refused to wake up.  And there was so much blood.  Blood everywhere.  He’d looked into Lex once, only once, before throwing up on the side of the road.  He hadn’t used his x-ray vision again.

People weren’t supposed to be that broken and smushed inside.

Huddling closer to Lex, he pressed in as much as possible, knowing this couldn’t be happening.  It couldn’t end like this.

It just couldn’t.

Wasn’t true love supposed to conquer all?

Clark glared at the windshield wipers, cursing roundly.  Dang it!  Every time it rained, he was tempted to take Lex up on his offer for a new car. 

Sure, his Escort had been with him since high school.  And yeah, the main reason he kept the stupid car was because his dad had bought it with money the family couldn’t afford to spend on such an extravagant extra.  Even if that extra was an ancient car.

Sometimes he thought Lex had a point about his dad not being the best money manager.

Of course, it wasn’t so much sentimentality as balancing the delicate truce that defined his family.  Technically, he didn’t need a car.  He never had.  But Lex’s first act after the bridge had been to offer Clark a truck.  A shiny, brand-new-with-racing-stripes truck.  So it shouldn’t have been so shocking when his dad had managed to scrape enough money together to buy him a used car so he could drive to school like all the other kids in his class.

He didn’t like to think about the second car Lex had given to him as a gift.  It was something they didn’t talk about.  Ever.  But everyone knew the story in his family.  Like the day of the meteor shower and a small hand reaching out to an injured boy’s cheek.  Or a fateful meeting on a bridge.  The third story was about death and dying and love.  It was the start of a new life, a life his father hated.

They didn’t talk about that, either.

Lex didn’t understand, and Clark couldn’t explain.  It would hurt Lex, and he’d sworn on that horrible day to never hurt Lex again.

Accepting a car from Lex, getting rid of the Escort, would twist the knife in Jonathan Kent’s gut.  Bad enough his son was a faggot, even worse his son was Lex Luthor’s whore, but Lex Luthor’s kept boy toy?

It was a delicate balance.  Accepting enough from Lex to keep his lover happy.  To allow the keeper of his heart and soul to feel loved.  Because Lex equated love with sharing everything, including money.  Gifts turned down were declarations of rejection, and Clark had learned the hard way every rejection caused a permanent scar to be carved into Lex’s soul.

Yet, he had to discourage certain gifts from being offered to keep his father happy.  Or at least content, since happy might be asking for too much.  He knew his dad wasn’t perfect.  Was flawed.  It had hurt, discovering love between family wasn’t as unconditional as it was supposed to be, that there were all sorts of conditions and expectations tied up in those bonds.  But then, hadn’t he always known that deep down?

He hadn’t told Lex for four years the very truth that had kept them apart.  He’d hurt Lex over and over again, all to keep his parents happy.  He’d let himself doubt, his parents continuous warnings warping his mind, when his heart had told him otherwise.  It was never said, but it was implied.  If you love us, you’ll believe us.  You won’t tell.  You won’t trust.  You won’t.

A delicate balance, and while his car was usually a source of amusement--who wouldn’t laugh at all the problems it caused, plus, it was either that or cry--but rainy days were the worst.

Crap.  What was the point of even having windshield wipers if they didn’t even clean off the glass enough so you could see?

He was all cried out.  There were no more tears.  Just numbness.  And cold.  He felt so cold.  It was a cold that went soul deep, and he knew down to the smallest, darkest parts of himself he’d never feel warm again.

It was his fault.

Yet it went beyond blame.  Beyond guilt.  Because Lex was the one.  The one he was supposed to be with, the one he’d loved silently for years, the one he’d waited for because he couldn’t bear to be with anyone who wasn’t Lex.  Lex, who was everything.

Lex, who was now nothing.

He was going to hear the sound of metal screaming and glass shattering for the rest of his life.  Of bones snapping and that beloved voice screaming.  In pain.  So much pain.  And then silence.  A silence more terrible than all the screaming and shattering that came before.

Weren’t his parents going to be surprised to hear about his new power?

Hear?  Ha, ha.  He made a pun, didn’t even mean to, and…he didn’t feel anything. 

Without Lex, he was nothing.  Like Lex.

A heartbeat fluttered weakly beneath his ear.

Freezing, Clark was positive he was going crazy.  Which, okay, might have happened the moment he’d found the car.  Found Lex.  Like that.

The moment he’d pulled Lex out of the car.  He was pretty sure he’d left chunks of cherry red car all over the place in his efforts to do so.  But who cared because Lex…Lex had been broken.

But he wasn’t.  Crazy.  He wasn’t crazy.  Because the heartbeat got steadier.  Stronger.  Blood began circulating slowly, and then faster and faster.  It was like listening to life being created one molecule at time.  A life unfurling, a flower blooming, a tree growing, a Lex living.

A living Lex.  Who was growing warmer and warmer.  Clark got up slowly, hearing focused on the sounds stirring to life beneath him, until he was kneeling at Lex’s side.  Hands shaking, he opened the shirt he’d frantically tried to pull together earlier.  Lex didn’t like looking messy.  He’d tried to make him look neat.  Tidy.

Oh God.

The cuts were gone. The wounds…where the metal and glass…had gone…in…were gone.  It was all gone.  Bruises were blooming to life under his eyes, like exotic flowers, blue and purple.  Paling to green and yellow.  Dying and smoothing out to pale moonlight.

Shuddering, Clark felt something he thought might be hope fluttering in his chest.  Gathering every bit of courage he could muster, he flipped his vision to x-ray…and jerked back.

It wasn’t possible.  He looked again.  But it was.

Healed.  Bones mended, perfect, as if they’d never been…like before.  Insides not…like before.  Everything…everything the way it was supposed to be.  Lex.  Lex the way he was supposed to be.

Oh God.

Clark fell to his knees, weeping once more, but the difference this time was everything.  Not despair.  But hope.  Gratitude.  Relief.

Lex…was alive.

Lex was alive.

Clark moaned, confusion and terror and hope swirling inside him like a tsunami.  Tears fell, raining down on Lex’s perfectly smooth, perfectly pale, perfectly healed chest.

Lex had been dead.

Clark had held Lex’s dead body, begging a corpse to wake up.

Lex had been dead.

Lex had died.

Dead.

He’d never felt more alive.  The top down, wind blowing through his hair, he grinned wildly.  Sure, he felt a little guilty doing it, but traffic laws were so minor in the big picture.  He dealt with murderers, rapists, and drug dealers every day, so what was a little joy ride in comparison?  Which was why he pressed down on the gas pedal even more, telling his conscience to take a siesta.

He whooped, letting joy suffuse him.  Sure he could run faster than the wind.  He even suspected he might one day fly.  After all, all that floating had to mean more than the potential for some amazingly kinky sex.  Well, if he ever figured out how to control it.  But there was a special joy in driving an incredible sports car at even more incredible speeds.

There were perks in dating the sexiest man alive, and they didn’t all have to be sex related.  Though the sex…he had to pull his mind back to the road.  He couldn’t help the small, smug sense of satisfaction that everyone at school was wrong.  No way was he dying a virgin.

Take that, Brent, and every other jerk in school.  Lex could do things…well, suffice it to say he was confident his sex life was a hundred thousand times better than all his classmates put together. 

His mind blitzed for a second, remembering all the things Lex could do.

He reached over to turn up the radio even high, laughter rolling out of him in pure happiness.  Life was beautiful, as beautiful as Lex, and he was driving his boyfriend’s Ferrari for the afternoon. 

Life was beautiful.

He was beautiful.  In his anger, in his rage, Lex couldn’t remember ever seeing anything more beautiful.  And deadly.  But then, danger and beauty often co-existed in nature.

“Are you listening to me?” Clark roared.  “What the hell did you think you were doing?  How stupid could you be?  Do you know what happened to you?”

Lex glanced back over his shoulder, pieces of car littering the grass like a pinata after the party.  “I think I have a good idea.  I was there, after all.”

“Is this funny to you?  Are you making a joke out of this?”  Green eyes glittered sharply, like cut pieces of glass.  “You died!  You were dead.  And you’re…you’re…”  Breath hitching, tears began to fall.  “You were dead.  And now you’re…you’re…funny…how could you…”

Lex watched in horrified fascination as Clark Kent, the strongest, most beautiful, most mysterious person he’d ever known, began to cry.

Over him.

“Clark?”

Confused.  He was confused.  Clark has saved him.  Again.  Somehow.  He wasn’t exactly sure how.  He’d woken up, feeling as if he’d been run over by a bus, to find moss green eyes staring at him like he was the messiah.  Like he was the answer to life.  Like…well, he didn’t know.  Lex had never had anyone look at him like that before, not even his mother.

He still felt like shit.  He had a feeling he would for a while.  But he also felt awed.  Clark was crying.  Over him. 

Had anyone other than his mother cried over him?

Lex was startled to find six foot four of nineteen-year-old boy suddenly in his arms.  He hadn’t even seen Clark move.  One moment he’d been standing ten feet away, the next he was in his arms, clutching at his chest and sobbing his heart out.

Clark.  Feeling the confusion and awe melt away like the last snow in spring, he only felt concern.  Clark was crying.  Hurt.  “It’s okay.”  Surprised that he knew what to do, it felt as if he were watching himself do the right things.  He wrapped his arms around the younger boy, holding him close and stroking his back slowly.  “It’s okay, Clark.  It’ll be okay.”

“You were dead,” Clark sobbed, between gasps for breath.  “You were dead, and I thought I’d never…I’d never…and you were dead.”  The boy moaned piteously, burrowing his head into Lex’s neck.  “You were dead.”

“Hey,” Lex said gently, one hand stroking the long line of back rhythmically, the other reaching up into soft, dark curls.  Caressing softly.  Carefully.  Because this was Clark.  “It’s okay, Clark.  I’m here.  I’m not dead.  You must have just thought--”

“No!  You were.  You were.  You were.”  His voice seemed to be fragmented, caught on the phrase like a broken record.  He was speaking in gasps, chest heaving, practically hyperventilating, as tears still feel from his eyes, soaking Lex’s neck and shirt.

“It’s okay.”  Clark was getting hysterical.  What did you do when someone was getting hysterical?  Mind working frantically to remember something he had to have read at some point, he could only continue to soothe the boy the only way he knew how.  Petting him, stroking him, like he might gentle a spooked horse, while keeping his voice low.  Exuding calm.  “Clark, I’m okay.  I wasn’t.  I really wasn’t.  I’m alive and here.  With you.”

“Lex.”  Sniffling into Lex’s neck, he kept repeating the name over and over.  Like a mantra.  “Lex.”

“I’m here, Clark.  It’s all right.  Just breath.  Slowly.  Come on, it’s okay.”

Clark laughed wildly, the sound jagged and bright.  “Breath?  You weren’t breathing.  You weren’t…anything.  Not there.  You weren’t there.  You were dead.  And then you weren’t.  And now…and now…oh, God.  Don’t die.  Don’t die.  Don’t die.”

Lex could only hold onto Clark tightly.  He didn’t know what to say.  What Clark was saying was impossible.  What Clark was implying with his actions even more so.

No cared if he lived or died.

No one.

Except…Clark?

“Can’t you make an exception?”

“I’m sorry, sir.  But you have to be twenty-five.”

“But I’m a safe driver.  You can check my record.  I’ve never been in any accide--”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the woman at the counter cut in, voice growing impatient.  “If you aren’t twenty-five, we can’t rent you a vehicle.  It has nothing to do with driving records.  It’s policy.”

“But--”

“Come on, Clark.”

“But--”

“Clark.  Come on.”  Chloe grabbed his elbow and tugged him out of the reception area of the car rental.

“What am I going to do?”  Clark looked at Chloe helplessly, frustration twisted on his face.  This couldn’t be happening.  Renting a car should be simple.  All you needed was a credit card and a valid driver’s license.  Anyone could rent a car as long as you had those two things.  Anyone!  Unless you were twenty-four or younger.  “This can’t be happening.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Chloe said, bright blue eyes filled with sympathy.  “It sucks, but if that’s the rule…”

“It’s a dumb rule,” he shot back indignantly.  “You’ve seen my driving.  Just because I’m only twenty-one, I’m supposed be a crappy driver?  That’s stupid!  I’m the safest driver I know.”

“Hey, I’m not arguing with you,” she said, shaking her head.  “It is dumb.  It’s age discrimination, and while it might make a great topic for our next journalism assignment, it doesn’t make any of the five rental places we’ve been to today change their rules.  Stupid or not.”

“But…Chloe.  I need to rent a car.  I need to.  My car won’t be fixed for three weeks.”  Three long weeks.  How was he supposed to get around?  Sure, he could run, but in the city?  With all the people around?  What if he knocked into someone?  Or into some building?  Leaving a Clark-shape hole wasn’t exactly low key.  Or what if something got caught on camera?

He needed a car.  That’s all there was to it.  Metropolis wasn’t Smallville, and everything wasn’t conveniently located in one area of town.  People didn’t turn a blind eye to anything unusual or strange.  Plus, college didn’t pay for itself.

“Three weeks?  More like four.  At least,” she added, cynically.  Seeing Clark’s look of distress, she switched tracks, trying to smile comfortingly.  “Or maybe less.  And, well, you can still get around the city.  It’ll take longer riding the bus, but your job will be okay.  It’ll suck having to time your visits to Lex around the bus schedule, but you’ll still be able to see him.  And he picks you up a lot, anyway.  It’s your visits home that will be a problem.”

Oh no.  He hadn’t even thought of that.  Clark stared at Chloe, dumbfounded.  He’d only been thinking about the usual trips to the store or out with friends, and especially his job.  But what about the farm?

“You might have to tell your parents after all,” the blond added practically.  Getting into her car, she waited until Clark was inside and buckled up before pulling out of the parking lot.  “I know you wanted to handle this on your own, but they need to know you can’t help out on the farm anymore.  I’m sure they’ll understand.”

Crap!  How could he have forgotten?  Too many people knew he went home on the weekends to help out on the farm.  It saved his folks a lot of money to not have to pay Jim and Ted to work those two extra days, and there was no way he could show up in Smallville when all his friends knew he was carless. 

There was also no way Dad would ever accept money from him or Lex to cover the extra wages.  Not after Lex had bought the farm from the bank after the foreclosure.  The only reason he’d even accepted the deed was because of Mom.  After giving up her family, Jonathan Kent wasn’t going to ask her to give up her home of over thirty years, too, not when it was being conveniently handed back to them.  He couldn’t do that, not for Kent pride, no matter how badly he’d wanted to throw the deed back into Lex Luthor’s face.

“What about Lex?” Chloe asked again, for the twelfth time.  “I know you don’t want to, but if you ask, you know he’ll let you borrow--”  

“No,” he cut her off, emphatic.  He’d gone to Lex for help in the past too much.  He was twenty-one now.  An adult.  He needed to try to solve his own problems.  “I can handle this on my own.”

“Uh, huh.”

Clark frowned at her, not appreciating the skepticism.  “Let’s go to the next place on the list.  Someone has to rent to college students.  This is ridiculous!  How many sixteen to twenty-five year olds drive?  We get our cars worked on, too!  We have jobs.  Responsibilities.  Someone will see reason.”

Chloe just cast Clark a pitying look, like he was a child about to discover for himself that Santa Clause wasn’t real.

“Lex?  Can you pick me up?”

Lex shook his head, trying to shake his brain awake.  Tongue feeling clumsy, he mumbled, “Cl’rk?”

“Please, Lex?”

The sleep-haze was quickly lifting as he realized Clark was upset.  Very upset.

“Is something wrong?” he asked immediately.  It sounded as if Clark was…crying?  Fuck.  If Pete got Clark mixed up in something bad…

“I…I don’t feel good.  And I can’t find my car.”  Clark sniffled over the phone, words slurred and said too loud.  “I want to go home, Lex.  Can I go home?”

“All right, Clark.  I’ll bring you home.”  Lex rolled out of bed, grabbing clothes out of the closet and pulling them on in a hurry.  “Where are you?”

“At…at…Pete?  Where are we?” he asked in a whiny voice.  Music could be heard in the background, along with a lot of yelling and screaming.  Clark sniffled again.  “I want to go home.  My stomach hurts, and my head is all spin-y, and everything’s all blurry.  I don’t like this.  I don’t like hurting.  Lex?  Why aren’t you here?”

Fuck.  He was crying.  “Clark, it’ll be okay.  Where are you?  Why don’t you put Pete--”

“Albatross.  We went to Andrea’s and we met some really nice people and they gave us candy, and jello, and it all tasted really good.  And then we had more stuff here, and I had a lot of fun, Lex.  But I think I ate too much, ‘cause my tummy hurts, and I don’t like feeling this way.  Is this how humans feels all the time, Lex, ‘cause I don’t like--”

“Clark!” Lex cut in.  Fuck.  What the hell did the kid take?  And who gave it to him, because when Lex found out, heads were going to roll.  “Clark, are you on your cell?”

Lex grabbed the nearest keys, darting for the elevator.  He had to keep Clark on the phone, keep him from saying things that damn well shouldn’t be said in public, even if everyone around him was probably wasted enough to not give a shit what came out of Clark’s mouth.  But still.  Better to err on the side of caution.  “I want you to stay on and talk to me, okay?  Can you do that?”

“Yeah,” came the slow reply.  “’Cause I’m on my cell.  The one you gave me.  You’re so nice to me.  All the time, Lex.  Why are you nice to me?  I don’t deserve it.”

“You do,” Lex said firmly, knowing Clark probably wasn’t listening to him, but saying the words anyway.  “You deserve the world, Clark.”

“I’m a horrible person,” Clark sniffled.  “And I feel horrible and I deserve to feel horrible.  Maybe I’m being punished.  Am I being punished?  I don’t feel good.  Not at all.  I hurt, hurt bad, and I want to go home.  Please, Lex.  Come get me.  I want to go home, and I can’t find my car, and I feel--”

“Okay, Clark,” Lex soothed, sliding behind the wheel.  He started the car immediately and pulled out.  “I’m on the way.  I’m coming.  I’ll bring you home.”

“You’re so good to me, even when I’m horrible.  I’m a horrible person, Lex, but you’re still so good to me.  I love you, Lex.  I love you so much, and I want to go home with you.  Are you coming?”

“I’m coming.  I’ll always come.”

“Clark!  Move your ass right now!  We’re going to be late!”

“Okay, okay!”  Clark hopped up and down, trying to tug on his shoe with one hand while trying to work his tie around his neck with the other.  Finally getting his shoe on, he left the tie alone as he hurried to the dresser and grabbed his wallet.  Just as he was leaving the room, ready to go round two with the tie, he pivoted around as he remembered last night’s reading.  “Damn!”

Going back, he grabbed the files on his nightstand, which naturally fell from his hands.  Papers flew everywhere.  He was groaning, on his hands and knees trying to gather the scattered files, when he heard the clapping.  He didn’t even bother to turn around, snarling at the mess, “You could help you know.”

Just about to go into superspeed, hands fell on his shoulders, stopping him as they began rubbing slowly.  Huh.  Okay, so maybe he was a little tense, and his husband was an asshole, and damn it!  It was going to take him half the morning to sort all these files, and he just knew he’d hear about it from Lois.  Repeatedly.

A kiss was pressed against the crown of his head and arms wrapped around his waist.  Clark knelt there, on the floor, his husband pressed against his back, and tried to memorize the moment.

“So we’re late,” Lex voice whispered in his ear, threaded with amusement.  “Perry doesn’t have the balls to fire you.  You’re the only one who can control their resident vulture, not to mention you’re the best damn reporter in Kansas.”

“Lex…”

Lex continued, despite Clark’s warning tone.  “And I own the fucking company.  If I want to be late every morning, no one’s going to say a word.”

“Your dad will.”

Lex snorted.  “Dad thinks if his spies report I’m drinking too much coffee, it’s his filial duty to call and tell me how I’m an utter disgrace to the Luthor name.”

Leaning back, he pressed closer into the familiar embrace.  Home.  This was home.  A smile tugged at his lips, even as he griped, “I can’t believe it’s in the shop again.”

“If you’d let Hans service the piece of shit…”

It was Clark’s turn to snort.  “Yeah, right.  Didn’t you say something about how he expected double his salary to touch…what was it you said he called it?  ‘That monstrosity of sham engineering that didn’t deserve to be called a vehicle.’  That Hans?”

Lex laughed warmly, causing Clark to shiver.  “Something along those lines.  I might have paraphrased.  You do remember we sign his paycheck?”

He just shook his head, dark strands rubbing against Lex’s chin.  “I think I finally found a good garage.  It might take a little longer to fix, but they aren’t telling me I need to completely re-haul everything.”

“Use Hans,” Lex said firmly.  “You wouldn’t have to worry about being ripped off during your monthly car crisis.”

A laugh escaped Clark, even though it wasn’t really funny.  Lord knows he felt like he’d tried every mechanic in the tri-state area to find someone who was actually honest.  “Maybe I just like car pooling with the hot stud who owns LexCorp.”

Another laugh rippled out of Clark as a raspberry was blown against his neck.

“Well, this hot stud is going to be late for his meeting with Gabe if a certain someone keeps distracting him.”  Lex took the bite out of his words by groping Clark as he said it.  “Unless we should call in sick today?  You feel a little warm, and I’d hate to be an inconsiderate boor of a spouse.  Maybe you need to lie down, take it easy, stay in bed all day…”

“You’re evil,” Clark gasped, twisting away from Lex.  He was still laughing, though, and he quickly grabbed the last of the spilled papers.  “Come on, stud.  We’re going to be late.”

Clark stared at the phone, not sure he heard right.

“Can you repeat that?”

Crap.

“Okay.  Um…can I get back to you?  I’ll call you back within an hour.”

Hanging up the phone, he stared at his desk.

“Smallville?  You okay?  You look like your puppy just died.”

Snapping out of it, he shook his head.  Not his puppy.  His car.  Apparently.  Maybe.  “No, I’m fine.”

“Whatever.  Just make sure you get the research on Donaldson done.”

Clark waved off Lois, picking up the phone again. 

“Lex?  Hey.  I just heard from the mechanic.  He said it’ll cost $862!”  He paused, not really sure why he was calling Lex.  It wasn’t like Lex knew a lot about cars, but…$862?  That would eat up most of his next check, and sure, that was pennies compared to his and Lex’s joint income, but…$862!  He’d just started this job, and he couldn’t believe this was happening to him!  What else could go wrong?  Except…  “You think so?  Really?  I don’t know…”

He trailed off.  It was his fault for insisting on keeping the Escort, so all the expenses for the car were his responsibility.  Didn’t that mean he had to pay for the repairs?

“Well, I guess.  I didn’t ask that.  Yeah, I’ll call back and find out what’s absolutely necessary.  But the mechanic said…well, yeah, that’s a good point.  Okay…thanks, Lex.  All right…all right…I’ll call you back.”

Clark began dialing the number for the car shop.  The cold ball of ice in his stomach started to melt a little, and his panic began to dim.  He could handle this.  He could.  No problem.

“That’s crazy!  You need to see a doctor!”

“Clark, I’m not hurt.  Look at me.  I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not!  God, Lex, don’t you get it!  You were dead!  And…and…”

“Hey, stop that.  We already went through this.  I’m fine.  You’re fine.  Other than the mess that used to be your graduation present, there are no problems here.  No one’s dead and no one’s dying.”

“What happened?”

“What?”

“What happened here?  Did you lose control of the car?”

“That’s--”

“And…and afterward!  Lex, you’re not listening.  You. Were. Dead.  As in not breathing, no pulse, no nothing.  And now you’re not.”

“You must be mis--”

”That’s impossible!  How’s any of this possible?  What’s going on!”

“Calm down.  Christ.  Here, put your head down.  Like that.  Now breath…come on.  You need to calm down, breath slowly…in…out…in…out…in…out…just like that.”

“Lex…I…I…you were…you were…dead…you were dead…”

“Well, I’m not now.  Leave it alone, Clark.”

“I know what I saw!”

“Just like I know I saw you as I hit you with my car?  Like you said, Clark.  If I’d died, I wouldn’t be here talking to you.  Would I?”

Clark gasped, all the blood draining out of his face.

Oh, no.  Clark managed to pull the car over to the side of the road before it died completely.  He spent the next five minutes trying to start it again, but couldn’t get the engine to turn over. 

Not really sure what else to do, he popped the hood and got out to stare at the engine.  Sure, he fixed the truck with his dad, but his dad had been tinkering with that truck since Clark had been a child.  Even then, he only knew the basics.  Change the oil.  Replace a belt.  Change a plug. 

Somehow, he had the horrible feeling it wasn’t going to be that simple.  Plus, it wasn’t like he carried anything in his trunk to be digging around in the engine.  And even if he knew what was wrong, how was he supposed to be able to fix it in the middle of nowhere?  So why, exactly, was he staring at the engine again?

Crap.  He hated logic.

Shoulders slumped, he shut the hood.  Locking the doors--not like he really needed to, since the car clearly wasn’t going anywhere, but he wasn’t going to be bitter--he looked around before taking off at a run.  He was tempted to just carry the car back home, but he knew with his luck, Lex would be driving by just as he picked it up.

Mom and Dad were NOT going to be happy.  He could already see where his next few weekends were going, at least until Dad finally threw in the towel and admitted he couldn’t do anything.  Where were they going to get the money to fix the car again?  

Clark stared, eyes wide and unbelieving.

“I see you found your present.”

He turned around, staring at his spouse, who was holding a coffee cup and still wearing his pajamas, bare toes wiggling in pleasure on the warm tiles of the garage floor.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Lex?”

Lex chuckled.

Clark turned around to stare at the purple Ferrari, the license plates blatantly declaring the new owner as ‘CLARK’.

“You should have taken me up on my offer earlier if you wanted red.  You only had sixteen years.”

Huh? 

“You know what they say about the early bird and the worm.”

Making his way to his entirely too amused spouse, Clark stole his mug to take a sip of the sweetened coffee.  Lex half-heartedly made a swipe to take it back, but the blue eyes dancing with amusement gave him away.

“Purple?”

“Hmmmm.”

“And I bet you think you were so sneaky, just leaving it in the garage.”

“Hmmmm,” Lex hummed again, raising an eyebrow.  “I agree.  Someone around here is a sneak.”

Clark flushed, but shot a belligerent look right back at Lex’s smug one.  “I was going for a drive.”

“At four o’clock in the morning?  Christmas Eve?”

Stupid logic.  Clark fixed that.  Crowding Lex back into the wall, he lowered his head to steal a kiss.  “Merry Christmas, Lex.”

Warm arms encircled him, pulling him back into a solid embrace.

“I’m sorry, Clark.”

Numb.  He felt so numb.  He said woodenly, “You never liked him.”

“That’s not true.”  Thumbs began rubbing slow circles against his stomach.  “Not exactly.  I respected him.  He loved you.”

Clark slumped into Lex, glad someone else could be strong for him.

“It was fast,” Lex said quietly.  “That’s a good thing.  He didn’t feel much pain.”

A heart attack.  Which, considering Dad’s family medical history, shouldn’t have been as much of a surprise at it was.  But…it was Dad.  Who Clark had thought would live forever.

“The people in the other car are going to be fine,” he continued, still in the same soft, gentle tone he’d been using since they’d gotten the phone call.  “The little girl lost a lot of blood, but they were able to save her.  Her parents will make a full recovery as well.”

“Mom?”

Lex was silent for a long time.  Finally, he said, “She’ll be fine, given time.  She’s mourning.  It’ll take longer for that to heal than her injuries.  But she’ll get through this, Clark.  We all will.”

Clark just held on, hands clutching onto Lex’s arms, the numbness inside bigger than anything else.

“Thanks, Lex.  I appreciate the lift.”

The older man just smiled.  “You’re my friend, Clark.  It’s not a big deal.”

“Still.”  Clark climbed into the passenger’s seat and buckled up.  “I bet you weren’t planning on this tonight.”

“Clark.”  Lex kept the car parked, staring at the brunette until Clark met his gaze.  “It’s not a big deal.  It happens.  Chloe’s car died, so Gabe came and picked her up, and I’m here for you.  Pete’s brother will undoubtedly be here next.  I’m just glad you knew you could call me.”

“Yeah,” Clark said softly, eyes moving slowly over Lex’s features.  Soft, so soft, and smooth, and yet so very masculine.  There was no one like Lex, not in any way.  Clark felt that spot in his heart, the one that belonged only to Lex, bloom with warmth.  “There wasn’t anyone else I wanted to call.”

Lex’s answering smile was worth having to wait at the mall for twenty minutes listening to Chloe’s anger and Pete’s whining.

Lex woke up coughing, the taste of something rancid in his mouth.  Blinking water from his eyes, the features of what could only be an angel appeared in his line of sight.

He immediately began itemizing.  Moss green eyes flared with panic and fear.  Arching cheekbones and full bee-stung lips.  Dark curls framing a face that had to have been carved directly by a higher deity’s hand.  Chest heaving with exertion.  Possibly emotion.  Absolutely beautiful.  He was absolutely beautiful.

Don’t die.  The words came back to him.  An angel begging him not to die?

Or probably not an angel at all.  Lex saw his angel was apparently dressed like a local.  Another flash of memory, and he remembered those eyes.  Staring at him through the windshield.  The impact of the car against a body, of regret and shame for taking an innocent young man with him.  The Luthor heir finally getting his just desserts, but being cursed enough to kill someone simultaneously, damning himself and another.

Yet, all the same, through the confusion and awe and gratitude, he felt something inside him falling.

“I could have sworn I hit you.”

END

NOTES II: This story is not really a story so much as a montage of scenes over a lifetime.  The story, if anything, is really about a lifetime together and how mundane problems--the frustrations, the fears, the sorrows, and the joys--make up a life together.  We simply see this in the following story as it relates to car problems.  This story is dedicated to Henry Jones, Jr., who not only has a deft touch in writing such stories, but has also been managing the CLFF Challenges in recent Waves and has been doing an incredible job.  Thank you, Henry, for giving me the opportunity to write for such fantastic challenges and for managing it all so superbly.