Bow Tie

“Stop fidgeting.” 

“I hate ties,” Clark grumbled. 

Lex sighed.  “It’s a black tie event Clark.  Generally, one has to be wearing one to attend.” 

“I should have opted to do the story on the lady with 22 indoor cats instead of interviewing the architect for a chi-chi, poo-poo opera house.” He sniffed, absently noting that Lex smelled really good. 

“Never question your editor.  Besides, the opera has merit.  Plus there’s excellent food.  That should hold your interest after you’re done interviewing the architect.  And don’t poke fun at the chi-chi, poo-poo.  Chi-chi, poo-poo currently is providing you with a place to live.” 

“You’re not chi-chi poo-poo, just really, really rich—except when it comes to cars; and clothes; and furniture.” 

Lex’s eyebrow rose and he paused in his tying.  Clark decided to quit while he was ahead. 

“Well, if my roommates hadn’t thrown that Mardi Gras style party complete with babes, beads, breasts and booze—hey, Chloe would like that line—I’d still have a place to live.” 

“You’re all poet, Clark.  Tighten that up just a little.  And put these on.” He handed Clark a pair of cuff links 

“How come I can’t wear a normal shirt with cuffs that button?  

Lex just looked at him. 

“And bow ties with elastic?  Those are all the rage at high school proms.” 

Lex shuddered.  “Clark I swear to God I’ll kill you where you stand if you don’t stop making my tailor roll over in his grave.” 

“All right,” Clark moaned and took the cuff links from Lex. “Your tailor’s not dead yet.”  He examined the cuff links, finding the green color very suitable.  “Thanks, these actually look good.” 

“Your welcome,” Lex added dryly.  

“Does my hair look okay?  It just sticks out.” 

Lex sighed.  He disappeared into the bathroom and came back with a styling product. Lex!  Styling product! 

“Why do you have hair stuff?” -- Because saying “styling product” is just a little too metro-sexual” --Clark asked. 

“Sit.” Lex massaged the gel into Clark’s hair. He pulled the flyaway mop into straight wisps giving it a messy sexy look.  Lex stepped back to admire his work.  For a moment, he had a heated look in his eye; it made Clark feel hot and cold all at the same time.  “All done.” 

Clark got up and stared at himself in the mirror for a moment.  He turned and preened a little.  He actually looked … good.  Sexy.  He caught Lex looking at him wearing a tiny smirk. 

“Are you ready Princess?” 

Gordian Knot

Clark was bored.  He had dutifully completed his interview, learning more about crafting buildings for sound than he really wanted to know.  He had already perused and eaten all of the worthwhile hors d’oeuvres. Now he decided to pass the time Lex-watching.  Lex glided sinuously among the be-glittered people both at once in his element and existing apart from the people he moved among.  Clark tuned in to Lex’s conversation with an important-looking man that Clark almost recognized. 

“I expect LutherCorp may need to bail LexCorp out of this one,” a dark haired, fifty-ish man sneered.  “It’s good to have Daddy to run back to in tough times, isn’t it?” The man reached out and squeezed Lex’s bicep. 

One thing you don’t do is touch Lex uninvited.  Another thing is you don’t do is crease Lex’s immaculately tailored tuxedo. 

Lex smiled.  Clark snickered to himself.  If the man knew what was good for him, he’d start running now.  That smile was all fangs and nothing near nice.  Clark had even seen that smile directed at him once.  

Across the ballroom, Lex leaned in towards the man and said, “LexCorp might surprise you, Senator.  We have occasionally use Mr. Deah as a resource.  You remember Mr. Deah, don’t you, Senator? 

Clark did not know what was bad about Mr. Deah, but the way the blood leached from the senator’s face told him all he needed to know about Lex’s information. 

“Good evening, Senator.  Tell Mr. Deah I said, ‘Hello’.”  Lex turned and stalked away towards the bar. 

Clark moved on an intercept course.  Although Clark had needed to interview the architect, Lex made him wear the tux and stay for the duration since LexCorp was sponsoring the event.  Lex was going to have to entertain him if he was going to stay any longer.  He sidled up to Lex. 

“Clark.  Finish your interview?” A considerable amount of something rich and smoky disappeared down Lex’s fine throat. 

Clark swallowed himself, mesmerized for a brief moment.  “Um, wha-, Oh. All done.” He looked Lex in the eyes from beneath sooty lashes.  “Now you’re going to have to entertain me.” 

Lex’s eyebrows lifted.  “Why Clark that invitation sounds quite…indecent.” 

Clark laughed, blushed and lifted a shoulder. “If you want to take it that way…” 

Lex stared at Clark for a long moment, turned, appropriated the whole bottle and a key and herded Clark down a hall. 

“Uh, Lex, where are we going.” 

“Entertainment, Clark.  Just following orders.” 

Clark followed Lex away from the bar to a very nicely appointed private room.  “No wonder they lock the general public out of here.” 

“It’s like private boxes at basketball stadiums.  The corporate sponsor pays to have their name plastered all over advertisements for events, just more low key than a jumbotron.” 

Lex slid into one of the plush chairs and hung his legs over the side. 

“Are you meeting someone else?” Clark asked, propping himself on the chair next to Lex. 

“No.”  Lex looked up at Clark, giving Clark an unrestricted view of an expanse of white neck disappearing beneath perfectly starched white collar.  Clark sighed, wishing he could taste—just a litte.  “Just need a surrogate cloakroom of sorts.  I’ve had more than enough to drink to not so subtly threaten a senator.  I’m giving myself a time out.” 

Clark laughed.  Lex melted deeper into the chair and Clark leaned in, deeply inhaling of Lex and his familiar cologne. Lex’s eyes were at a sleepy half-mast as they met his and his lips parted just a little.  Clark leaned in a little more.  “Lex,” he whispered huskily. 

“Clark. I’ve been meaning to tell you…” Lex reached up a hand to run it through Clark’s hair. 

Gunfire rang out.  Both whipped their heads around toward the commotion.  Screaming and shouting came from the outer hall followed by barked commands. 

They crept towards the door and peered down the hall.  What had appeared to be service personnel were armed robbers.  The gun-toting men efficiently herded the guests together and were relieving them of their purses, wallets and jewelry.  Lex ducked back in the room and dialed 911 on his cell phone.   

“Are the police coming?” Clark asked looking away from the spectacle. 

“I can’t get a line out.  They must be blocking transmissions.  Let’s try to find a land line.”  

They searched the room they were in.  Although it had been fully furnished, the electronics including phones, televisions, etc. had not yet been installed.  They crept out of the room and away from the main hall. 

“Maybe we can get out and call from another location.” Lex suggested 

They followed the emergency exit signs toward the nearest exit. 

“It’s an emergency exit.  The alarm is going to go off.” Clark warned. 

“It will force them to leave perhaps sooner than they were planning and probably alert the authorities even if security here has been compromised.” 

“Okay.” 

They bolted out the door, ignoring the deafening claxon that sounded.  The exit let them out into the parking garage.  They ran through the empty upper layers suddenly coming upon two armed men guarding a van painted and marked like an ambulance--quite obviously, the getaway vehicle.  The men raised their guns to fire.  Lex pulled Clark behind him. 

“Clark, get down!” 

Clark clutched helplessly at Lex as the first of two bullets penetrated Lex’s chest. Clark grabbed Lex and reversed their positions taking more gunfire to his back.  The force propelled the two over the low guardrail.  Clark twisted them, making certain he would hit first.  Lex gasped as they hit. The noise from above indicated that the gang was making their run for it.  He wanted Lex out of any further harm’s way.  Clark gathered Lex to him and pulled him behind some vehicles.   

“Clark, Clark” Lex gasped. 

“Shh, Lex.  They’re leaving.” 

“But, Clark.  They shot you.” 

Clark wrestled out of his jacket and pressed it against Lex’s bleeding chest.   

“Lex, I’m okay.  Hold this here.  Tight.”  

Tires screeched down the ramp as the van flew by.  Clark peaked from behind the car to try to glimpse the van’s license plate number to give to the police. 

Clark turned back around to find Lex holding the jacket up revealing the bullet holes.  Lex wasn’t looking at the jacket, however.  He was looking at Clark.  “You really were shot.” 

“But not hurt Lex.  I’m fine.” 

Lex dug for his phone and tossed it to Clark.  “Try the police again.  Maybe reception is better out here.  Or maybe they’ve quit jamming.”  He swayed; dropping Clark’s jacket and Clark grabbed hold of an arm and pressed Lex between his body and a car. 

“There’s a robbery in progress at the Metropolis Opera House.” Clark concentrated on giving information to the police and avoided Lex’s very direct gaze.  “No, I escaped; I’m in the parking garage.  No, the guests aren’t coming out.  I don’t know if they are somehow restrained or locked in or what.  There were 7 or 8 armed men and women and they all left in a large van that was painted like an ambulance.  I got the license plate.  3X98779. Okay.  I will.” Clark shut the phone and, no longer able to avoid looking at Lex, glanced at his wound.  It was pouring blood.  Clark blanched. “We have to get you to the hospital, Lex.” 

“Clark, did you leave any evidence that might incriminate you in any way up there?” 

“No, Lex.  We have to go.” 

Lex grabbed Clark’s arms.  “Clark, I’m serious.  It’s absolutely imperative that you remain off their radar.” 

“There’s nothing Lex.”  Leave it to Lex to be dying in his arms and be worried about Clark. 

“Okay.”  Lex relaxed his hold on Clark, sagging, giving way to fatigue and blood loss. 

“Lex, I’m going to take you to the hospital.” 

Lex was about to argue, but Clark dissuaded him. “I’m fast, Lex.  Too fast to see; too fast for cameras to register.  You need to get to a doctor now.” 

Lex stared at him, his expression very closed.  After a moment, he nodded.  “Okay.  But you need to make your shirt look a little less like you just took four bullets to the back with no damage whatsoever.” 

Clark tore the shirt so the bullet holes weren’t recognizable as such. 

“What do I need to do,” Lex asked, through gritted teeth, pressing the jacket to his leaking wounds as he watched Clark alter his shirt. 

“Just keep your head tucked in, otherwise you’ll get wind burned.”  He gathered Lex to him.  

Before Lex could exhale, he was being set down in an alley by the emergency room entrance. 

“God…” he murmured.  “Clark, at some point, we need to talk,” Lex said just before he toppled over.  Clark caught the injured man and carried him into the ER.  “I need help!” he called.   

Clark waited most of the night until Lex was safely out of surgery.  The doctors told him that Lex would be fine; that the bullets didn’t hit the heart or major arteries although one did penetrate the lung and was cause for worry.  

When Lex was in ICU, Clark finally left the hospital.  He went back to the penthouse for a change of clothes.   The scrubs that the hospital staff lent to him served their purpose.  Then he headed off to Smallville for the remainder of the weekend.  He had a feeling that Lex might want some space for a few days afterwards.  That Lex would probably be really angry about Clark’s betrayal; about Clark’s freakiness.  

He shrugged into his backpack and headed for home.

Slip Knot

Lex drove toward Smallville in silence.  He had awakened to the news that the criminals were caught, the glitterati were all a fluster and the police needed a statement.  He needed the break after the deluge of the police followed by his father followed by the media all asking almost the same questions, although with different emphases.  Lex was able to keep attention off of Clark; Lex claimed that he made the call.  Who would question the word of the scion of Lionel Luthor?  To his face, anyway.  

He had escaped the hospital the day following his surgery and had wondered about Clark.  He figured Clark had holed himself up at home in Smallville.  What was the protocol when outing yourself as a meteor mutant?  He spent Saturday night and Sunday morning in a drugged slumber thanking any and all deities for opiates and his quick healing abilities.  Sunday afternoon he dressed and climbed into his gentlest riding vehicle, a Mercedes sedan, and headed out to Smallville to track down the wayward Clark.  

He had to assure Clark that his knowledge of Clark’s secret would remain a secret.  But more importantly, he wanted to finish the conversation he started with Clark at the opera.  They both had waited long enough.  

When he arrived, he steeled himself to meet the Kents.  Their over protectiveness and Jonathan’s outright hostility made sense in light of Clark’s specialness.  The Kents were desperate to protect their chick from the abusive attentions of a Luthor.  He figured Jonathan probably already had a bead on him from the back door.  He may as well get it over with.  His promises of keeping Clark’s secret would probably be met with suspicion anyway.  Jonathan really hadn’t warmed up to him as Martha had.  

Lex eased up the back steps and tapped on the door.  “Mrs. Kent, Hi.  Is Clark in?”  

“Lex, come in!  Long time no see.  We weren’t expecting you.”  

Huh, Clark didn’t tell them yet.  

“Lex,” Mr. Kent greeted him solemnly from where he was eating lunch.  “Clark’s out in far west pasture, down by Dry Creek.  He won’t be back in until supper.” Jonathan said.  

“You’re welcome to stay and wait, Lex” Martha offered.  “I could make you a turkey sandwich.”  

“As delicious as that sounds Mrs. Kent.--”  

“Martha”  

“Martha, I really need to talk with Clark.  Can I borrow one of your horses and ride out there?”  

“Uh, sure.  Do you think you’re up to it?  We heard about what happened at the opera Friday night.”  

“I’m fine.”  

“Well, you can ride Toffee, the buckskin in the last stall on the right,” Jonathan said.  

“Thanks.”   

“Jon,” Martha chided when Lex left.  “Why didn’t you give him a better behaved horse to ride?”  

“Well, the boy claims he was on a polo team.  He ought to know how to ride.”  

“He’s not well.  Didn’t see how pale he was?”  

“He’s always pale, Martha.  And if he was too injured to ride, he wouldn’t have asked.”  

Lex went to the barn and retrieved Toffee, putting on the bridle with the little brass nametag that said “Toffee” on it.  He gave the buckskin a cursory brushing and then slid quietly up on to the bare back.  He headed out toward the west pasture, careful to close each gate behind him as he went through.  Nearly an hour into his ride, it began to rain and then to pour.  He parked Toffee under large tree to wait out the downpour and continued on once it dwindled to a steady drizzle.  He paralleled the creek, following a much-used trail until it climbed atop a low levee.  He finally located Clark.  He looked out over the field and saw Clark working on the fence nearly a half-mile away.  

Clark stood up and looked at him, but made no move to approach.   

Testing a theory, he whispered, “Hey, Clark.”  Clark lifted a hand and waved a little warily.  

Lex whispered, “What I wanted to tell you Friday night at the opera is that I’m in love with you.”  

Suddenly Clark was right in front of him, hand on the bridle to steady the horse at his sudden appearance.  

“Say it again, Lex,” Clark breathed.  

Lex laughed.  “I love you Clark,” he said aloud.  “I’ve loved you forever.  That’s not going to change because I found out you’re a meteor mutant.”  

“Well, I’m not so much a mutant as the cause.”  

Lex looked quizzically at Clark.  

“I came down with the meteors.”  

“Oh.  Oh!  Wow! You’re an alien.”  

“Yeah. Lex?”  

“Yes, Clark?”  

“Next time I pick the event.”  

Full Windsor

“Clark, they’re almost ready for you!  Tie your tie,” Martha wailed, reaching for Clark’s untied tie.

“Mom, you can’t.” Clark twitched aside.  “Lex has to do it.”  

“I thought the bride isn’t supposed to… the groom isn’t supposed to see the, oh, whatever, before the ceremony,” said Jonathan, trailing in after Martha.  

“It’s a thing,” Clark said.  

“A – thing?” Jonathan asked fearfully.  

“Daad.  Not like that.  He just always ties my ties for special events.”  

“Well, honey, it’s going to start soon.  Is he coming?”  

“Mom, he’ll be here. And they’re not going to start without us.”  

There came a light tapping at the door. Lex poked his head in.  “I heard there was a beautiful brunette who needed his tie tied in here,” Lex said.  

Jonathan rolled his eyes.  

Clark bounced on his toes.  “That would be me, sir.”  

“Well, let’s see if we can remedy that.  You know ‘a well-tied tie is the first serious step in life’.  We’ll use a Full Windsor. The knot is named after the Duke of Windsor (Edward VIII before abdication), however the Duke himself did not actually use a Windsor knot. The Duke preferred a wide knot and had his ties specially made with thicker cloth in order to produce a wider knot when tied with the conventional four in hand knot. The Windsor knot, compared to other methods, produces a thick and wide knot and is especially perfect for spread collars on dress shirts such as this.  Perfect.”  Lex straightened the jacket collar behind the shirt and pulled the lapels straight.  “Moličre said that a sacred knot will unite us until tomorrow.”  

Clark pulled Lex to him pressing his mouth over Lex’s and stroking his tongue over Lex’s eager one.  

“Ahem.  We’ll…we’ll wait outside, guys.”  Jonathan bolted for the door and latched on to Martha who was looking at her son and her son-in-law-to-be and practically cooing.  

“Until forever.” 

END