Title: A Half Dozen Photographs

Author: Drake of Dross

Email: drake@dhrelva.endjunk.com

Rating: R

Challenge: #18 - Con artist to Lionel

Notes: Written for Clexfest #18: Gossip. Also, Seasons 2-5? What Seasons 2-5? Takes place near the beginning of Season 1, mostly during Hothead, and goes AU from there.

Summary: After three weeks of stalking the kid, Rudy had a pretty good idea of what type of trouble he was going to get Lex into.

He did it for the money, to begin with. Lionel Luthor had a lot of it to spare, and Rudy knew how to pry it from him. He’d lived in Metropolis his whole life and everything about the Luthors was publicized - well, almost everything. It was all there in the public record, if you knew how to look for it; what they paid off, what they didn’t, and what methods worked best.

Luthors did not give in to threats, so even if Rudy had the guts to try strong-arming the money from him, that wouldn’t work. Ransom was a bad idea. Luthor wouldn’t pay it, and anybody who tried nabbing the kid usually wound up dead, in an institution, or without an identity a week later. As for blackmail, that was tricky. The Luthor policy was not to give in to it, but if done properly, it could be made to look like a bribe, and that was certainly something Luthors did. You just had to be smart about it and let them think it was their idea to pay you off.

You also needed the right subject. Try to cash in on something too large, you’d find yourself in a body bag. Try something too small, he just wouldn’t care enough to meet with you. But the confidence game was all about knowing the target and Rudy knew exactly what Lionel would pay off for, without fail.

He’d heard about the other times. It was easier back then. The kid was so high all of the time, it was like feeding candy to a baby to get him in a compromising position. Hell, he posed for the cameras.

It would be far more difficult now. He was grown and no longer frequented those shady clubs. Now he cared about his image and kept his affairs limited to having eye candy on his arm at charity events and museum openings, when he made it to them at all. With him living out in the middle of nowhere these last few weeks, even those appearances were rare.

It didn’t matter. What mattered was what Luthor believed his kid capable of, and between what Rudy knew Junior had been like as a teen, and his recent exile, Luthor probably believed him capable of just about anything. And while the kid had probably been sent out here to get him away from possible scandals, this was rural Kansas where there was nothing to do but find trouble. After three weeks of stalking the kid, Rudy had a pretty good idea of what type of trouble he was going to get Lex into.

Luthor’s kid, Rudy was certain, wasn’t actually doing anything sordid with the farm boy, but that was immaterial. It was appearances and context that were important, and he was certain Luthor would obligingly believe everything Rudy fed him. There was no reason he wouldn’t. The photographs were genuine, the evidence was real. As much as the kid was on his best behavior, he was making this absurdly easy. The shiny red truck with registration documents made out for Clark Kent that sat among the flashy sports cars in the garage was only the least of it.

The kid had a man-sized crush on the boy, and the funniest thing about it was that Rudy was almost certain neither of them recognized it for what it was. The trickiest thing he was going to face when presenting the facts to Luthor was making him think the relationship was consummated, not that it existed at all. There was plenty of documentation to support flirting, but precious little about steamy passion.

That was where his talent would have to come in. He was a con artist, emphasis on artist, and he had more than enough to work with. It was the day Lex Luthor made the business pages instead of the society pages that Rudy made contact. He might have liked to wait longer, to find more material that begged misinterpretation, but you don’t scorn opportunities like this.

He gave Luthor the morning and early afternoon to get over to Smallville, talk to Lex, come home, and bask in the knowledge that his son was making waves in the business world, even if his methods weren’t exactly what Luthor was looking for. The fact remained that the kid was now respectable and a force of his own. Luthor had to recognize that. With luck, it scared him and threatened him. It would make him more receptive to putting the kid back in the old and comfortable role of troublemaker.

At three-thirty, Rudy approached Luthor’s secretary at the LuthorCorp towers in Metropolis. He wasn’t sure whether he should be relieved for the chance to get out of the small town, or begrudge leaving his subject alone to make mistakes without Rudy there to capture them on film. It was too late anyway. This was his one chance to convince Luthor something was going on, and if he failed, that was it. He’d need to find a new mark.

He shuffled nervously into Luthor’s office when his introduction ‘Rudy McPherson, a photojournalist, about permission to print a candid shot, it’ll be quick’ was sufficient to get him inside. It was a good idea to act nervous. It put the mark off-guard, made them feel superior.

“Mr. McPherson,” Luthor greeted, standing behind his desk, and holding out a hand. Rudy took it, not squeezing too hard, but no limp fish either. Handshakes were important, and nobody would take you seriously if you had one that was too weak. “Let’s see your picture.” He sat back down behind his desk and did not offer a chair.

There were a few photos he’d thought about using as the initial display. There was the one right after the accident. From his angle, it had looked like the car had hit the boy and they’d both plunged into the river, but by the time Rudy had parked his car off to the side, called 9-1-1, and gotten near the riverbank, they were both on the shore. Lex was unconscious, and the boy was performing CPR, dripping wet but unharmed. At a guess, the boy had probably seen the Porsche heading for him and jumped over the side to avoid getting hit. Anyway, Rudy had gotten a picture of the Kiss of Life.

The problem with that one was that it was obvious that Lex was dead to the world and Kent was trying to save his life. Sweet and all, but Luthor had probably read the article about the accident and knew all about it. If he read the one from the Smallville Ledger, he might even recognize Rudy’s name as the photographer who submitted the picture of the two of them standing beside the ambulance wearing those bright red emergency towels.

The other options were less explicit; examples of Lex not enforcing his personal space, a longing look, or Lex smiling, even laughing. The one he went with was a rare treat. A hug. The angle caught Lex’s face, his eyes closed. He obviously didn’t think anybody was watching and he’d let his guards down. As for the boy, his back was to the camera and all you could tell for sure was that he was male, very tall, dark-haired, and had terrible fashion sense.

Rudy hesitantly pulled the photograph out of his portfolio and laid it down on Luthor’s desk. “It’s a good picture,” he insisted, as if he expected to have his artistic talent questioned. “It gives him a human depth not normally associated with your family. I didn’t take any of the ones that might reveal their relationship, but this one is fairly platonic and it gives-”

“Their relationship?” Luthor repeated, taking the bait.

“I assure you, Mr. Luthor, I won’t say a thing. I’m a photographic journalist, not a sleazy tabloid camera whore. That’s why I came to you first. I wanted a second opinion that this didn’t make it obvious that they are sleeping together. If it’s too obvious, I have others.” Rudy opened the portfolio and began displaying each of his other shots one at a time. Any single one by itself would have been reasonably innocent, but the volume was damning.

“You’ve been following him,” Luthor observed.

There was no point in denying it. The volume damned more than just Lex. “Of course. Metropolis hasn’t seen any pictures of him in his new environment. I thought I’d correct the lapse. I was actually trying to get a picture of him beside a cow, but the nearest he’s been to one was a field away.”

“Small mercies,” Luthor muttered under his breath.

“So, lacking that, I thought a picture of him with the farmer’s son was the next best thing.”

“The boy’s name,” Luthor asked, tracing a finger along the edge of one of the pictures where the camera had a good angle of both their faces. They were completely obvious to the picture being taken as they smiled at each other.

“Kent,” Rudy answered promptly, “Clark Kent. The boy who pulled him out of the river.” He took out the CPR photograph, but didn’t show it yet. “I did get their first kiss on film, but thought it was too personal to sell to the Ledger,” he laid it down beside the others. He wanted to mention the truck, he had a nice coda about Kent wanting Lex more than the material prize, but thought that was something that would be more incriminating if Luthor found out about it himself. Assuming he thought to look for something like that.

Luthor picked up the picture of his unconscious son, his life being returned to him by his supposed lover, and frowned at it. “Sell it to me,” he said, putting it back down and glancing over the others. “Sell them all to me.” He looked up at Rudy. “You won’t print any pictures of my son and his lover. Find some other pastoral scene to place him in.”

An opening. He took out the photograph of the inside of the mansion’s garage. “What about this one?” Expensive as it was, the red truck stood out amid the elegant sports cars like a sore thumb. “Granted, he doesn’t drive it, and it technically belongs to Kent, but the implication is-”

“Why does Lex have Kent’s,” he made a repulsed face, “vehicle?”

Excellent, he would get to say it after all. “Lex bought it for him to thank him for saving his life, but Kent wanted Lex more. He returned it to Lex, but Lex has kept it, apparently as a memento. I admit I peeked. The registration papers are still in Kent’s name.”

Luthor would be sure to check it out now, and he would find it exactly as Rudy described. “I’ll buy this one, too,” he said with a distasteful frown as he touched the corner of the photo. “How much for the set?”

It was almost too easy. Rudy named his price, a reasonable starting bid for their photographic quality plus some inflation for what they purportedly hid. It was far more than he could make selling to newspapers and there was no risk of getting sued for libel. Luthor agreed to it immediately, thinking he was getting a bargain from the idiot who didn’t realize his photographs could have been used as blackmail.

“Great then,” Rudy said with a genuinely cheerful smile. He’d just successfully blackmailed Lionel Luthor and made the man happy about it. “Should I check with you again when I have another photograph of your son in Smallville, Mr. Luthor?”

“Please do, Mr. McPherson.”

Rudy shook his head, still smiling, “Rudy, please, Mr. Luthor.”

“Rudy, then,” Luthor repeated. Rudy wasn’t at all surprised when the invitation to use his first name was not returned. “Thank you for checking in with me first.”

“Not a problem, sir. I’ve nothing but respect for you and wouldn’t want to cause you trouble.” He was putting it on a little thick, but people like Luthor took exaggerated respect for granted. They became suspicious when they didn’t get it.

He was about three quarters of the way back to the door when Luthor called after him. “Oh, Rudy.”

Rudy turned back, raising his eyebrows in question. He didn’t acknowledge his alarm to himself never mind show it to the mark. “What?” He was nothing but obligingly curious.

“While you’re out there following my son anyway. . .” Luthor trailed off momentarily, doing a decent job of a confidence game of his own. He wanted to imprint on Rudy that whatever he was about to ask wouldn’t be any additional trouble. “Keep me apprised of the situation between him and Kent. You’ll be amply rewarded for your help.”

Ample reward in Luthor speak was a hell of a lot of money, and all he had to do for it was follow the kid around and make up more believable lies about him and the boy? It sounded too good to be true and such things usually were. “I don’t know,” he hedged.

Never hit the same mark twice. It was a rule he lived by. There was less chance of them catching on that way. It would be so easy though. He was already familiar with all the subjects. He’d perfected his shadowing techniques to stay in Lex’s blind spots. He’d found all the holes (and there were many) in the mansion’s security systems so he pretty much had free reign of the kid’s home. He knew all the secluded parking places near the Kent farm. It would be so much more efficient to continue this con for nearly guaranteed return than start on a new mark.

“You’re concerned about compromising your integrity,” Luthor commented, completely wrong, but Rudy did not correct him. Photojournalism was his real job, the one he’d gone to college for, and it was as reasonable an explanation for his reticence as anything else he could come up with. “Don’t be. I’m just concerned about my son.”

Bull shit. But, again, Rudy did not correct him. There was, after all, no politic way to call a man a cold-blooded snake without coming across as unfriendly. “It’s just not something I normally do. Confidentiality, you know?”

“I respect that, I do,” Luthor assured. “But it’s not that different from what you’ve done today, really. If anything, you’re protecting Lex’s private life.” That is, from everybody but Luthor. Not that Lex had a private life to protect, but that wasn’t Rudy’s concern. “I’m his father, and I have his best interests at heart.”

That was doubtful, given some of the fleeting looks on the man’s face as he looked over the photographs, but again, not Rudy’s problem. “So . . . what? I call you up and give a weekly digest of what the boys did together? How long do you expect me to follow him?” A few more weeks, he could get away with. Any more than that and the con might start falling apart. There were only so many longing looks a disapproving father could look at before he started needing evidence to counter the natural urge to believe what he wanted to believe – that the relationship went no further than looks.

“I’d like you to keep watching them until they break up.” Well, that would be a little difficult considering they hadn’t gotten together, but Rudy was sure he could work something out. Surely they’d have a fight over something sooner or later. It was just a matter of telling Luthor that the fight was their falling out. “I doubt it will last long,” Luthor added in a tone that left little doubt in Rudy’s mind that it would have help ending.

Oh, God. He did not want to be around when Luthor confronted the kid about an affair that had never happened. “I don’t know,” he said again, his nervousness now unfeigned. “It doesn’t seem right. It’s like spying.” And okay, that was probably not the smartest thing to say.

Luthor broke out into a laugh that was absolutely real. Rudy was half tempted to pull out his camera to mark the occasion, but feared Luthor would put a hit out on him (or at least his film) if he did. “McPherson, you’ve been following my son like a shadow for weeks and taking pictures of his most private moments. How is that not like spying already?”

“I only took pictures of his clothed private moments,” Rudy corrected stiffly.

Luthor shifted through the photographs on his desk and held up a picture of a smiling Lex that took place a few moments after the hug. “This one clearly took place only shortly after an unclothed one. Just look at the color in his face and how askew his clothing is. The distinction is a fine one.”

Oh, yes, his story had been fully bought and digested. Maybe he could get away with it. Any kid would deny something like this to his father. Lex was supposed to be a slick character now. Any bafflement at the accusation of an affair would probably be taken as a front.

“All I’m asking, Rudy,” Luthor tried again, voice calm and encouraging, “is that you just keep me apprised of how often they see each other and whether their relationship seems strong or rocky. I’m not asking for any details you think should be kept between the boys.” A light clicked on in Rudy’s brain and he suddenly understood what Luthor was looking for. He needed progress reports on how well his attempts to break up the pair were succeeding. “If you do that,” Luthor continued, “I won’t need to bring you in to the police for stalking, breaking and entering, and invasion of privacy.”

Rudy’s eyes widened. Shit. Trapped. “Okay, yeah, sure. What kind of ample reward are we looking at?”

Luthor smiled a shark’s smile. Rudy might have felt like prey, but the price the man named made him stop worrying about it. Rudy wasn’t about to start employing such heavy-handed tactics, but they worked really well with the bankroll to back them up. “So do I call you or do you call me for your status updates?” Even with the monetary compensation, though, it still felt like defeat.

The one thing that really recommended Rudy’s techniques over Luthor’s was that Rudy didn’t leave his marks feeling like slimy pieces of shit for agreeing to go along with him. Rudy liked to leave his marks feeling pleased with their choices. It meant they wouldn’t go revisiting them and wondering if it had been the right thing to do. That was particularly important for Rudy since he used his real name. It was the ultimate confidence game. He withstood background checks because his background was genuine.

He was a freelance photojournalist, moderately bribable, but ultimately honest, or such was the word on the street. Anybody could find him if they doubted his claims later. That very accessibility meant they were unlikely to doubt him. So far, he hadn’t had any legal trouble and he’d been doing this for years. It helped that he had a nice round, pleasant-looking face with an open smile when he won, not a smarmy shark-toothed evil parody of a smile like what Luthor had just turned on him.

Rudy consoled himself with the irony that Luthor was blackmailing him into conning a freaking fortune out of him. The mark had no one to blame but himself. Rudy just hoped it didn’t blow up in his honest looking face.

Lex didn’t understand. He’d written his counter proposal last night, and he expected to face his father’s wrath over that, but it shouldn’t have gotten to him yet. He’d just couriered it over to Metropolis only an hour ago, and yet his father was already landing the helicopter in the backyard. They’d probably passed each other in transit, and Lex could think of no other reason for his father to return.

“Dad,” he greeted a few minutes later when the man walked through the terrace door into the library where Lex had gone to wait for him. “Two visits in one week. I’m flattered.”

But Lionel wasn’t paying him any heed. He was looking around the room, then stalking by Lex and moving into the hall and toward the stairs. Lex followed, his bafflement only compounding. “Did you forget something yesterday?” he asked, making the most logical guess.

“I’m looking for him.” Lionel said cryptically, as he stormed up the staircase.

That did not make anything clearer. “Who?” He had a few guesses, but none of them made sense and none of them should be upstairs. “Dominick? Your other drones? That Smallville Ledger photographer who’s been following me everywhere?”

Lionel stopped and turned around, his upper foot on the top landing, eyes narrowed. “You noticed the photographer? Never mind. It’s not important.” He kept going, and Lex trailed after him, wondering what the photographer had to do with the plant’s productivity. That train of thought derailed when Dad threw open the door to his bedroom like he expected to catch a team of embezzlers in the act. Lex stood behind him in the hall, looking past his father at his neatly made bed and the other hallmarks of a room owned by a fastidiously neat person who also employed a full staff of housecleaners.

Whatever Lionel was expecting to find, he was sorely disappointed.

Angry at being thwarted, Lionel turned on Lex. “Where is Kent?”

Lex stared at him in surprise. “Clark?”

Lionel gave him that irritated look that he normally gave when Lex was being intentionally infuriating. “Yes, Clark. Where is he?”

Lex still didn’t understand what Lionel wanted with his friend, but he figured, in this case, the truth wouldn’t hurt. “He’s been at school for over an hour.” He’d learned the time of the high school’s morning and dismissal bells within an hour of Clark’s returning the truck. He doubted his father would find it any more difficult.

“Oh, yes. I forgot. Your friend,” Lionel laced the word with such dirty repulsion that Lex was taken aback, “is still in high school.”

The pieces were slowly beginning to fall into place. “You’re here because you’re angry that I’ve become friendly with the locals?” Incredulity gave way to anger. “God, Dad! I’m twenty-one! You have no say over who I do or do not see!”

Lionel stepped closer and jabbed a finger against his chest. “It becomes my business when you start doing things with underage boys in full view of a photographer!”

Shock coursed through him. Dad could not be implying what he seemed to be implying. “I’m not fucking Clark!”

“Then he’s fucking you!”

Lex opened his mouth to deny it, but then he closed it and shook his head. It wasn’t worth it. Shouting never worked. He forced himself to be calm and asked logically, “I assume you have some reason to believe this insane idea?”

Lionel dropped his briefcase on Lex’s bed and snapped open the clasps. Opening it, he pulled out a photograph and handed it to Lex. He felt his face begin to burn with anger. Apparently ‘everywhere’ wasn’t an exaggeration. The photographer had been at the Kents’. “It’s a hug,” he said stiffly. “Clark’s very demonstrative.”

His father snorted. “I’m sure.” Lex normally didn’t blush, but Lionel’s tone was such that Lex’s face burned warmer from something other than anger this time.

Dad pulled out another photograph and held it out for Lex. It was the mansion’s garage. “Explain the truck to me, Lex.”

“I bought it for Clark, he refused to accept it.” There was nothing untoward in that.

“Why is it still in your garage?” Lionel snapped out. He waited a beat, then sneered, “Sentimental reasons, I suppose?”

Lex didn’t have an answer, so he just wordlessly turned and put the picture of the hug on his dresser. He was not going to give it back to his father. “Were there more pictures, or were a hug and a truck enough to convince you that I’m a child molester?”

Lionel took out a manila envelope and tossed it to him. Lex opened it and pulled out the photographs. He went through them slowly. By the time he reached the last one, he felt cold with shock. None of them were forgeries. All of them were coyly suggestive. Each of them showed in vibrant Technicolor that Lex was giving Clark signals. Until this moment, he hadn’t even known he swung that way unless he was under the influence. Looking down at a picture of a beaming Clark, Lex became vividly aware that he did. “Shit,” he cursed, more upset that he hadn’t realized what he was doing sooner than he was over the fact that his actions were already being photographed and exploited. “And that photographer is blackmailing you over this ‘relationship’?”

Lionel chuckled. “He’s too simpleminded to think of blackmailing me. I simply bought the set of photographs off him. Rudolph McPherson, goes by Rudy. I checked him out and paid him off. He’ll keep your secret.”

Lex scowled. Something felt wrong. He flipped through the pictures again. Flirting. One hug. One truck. “I assume he said we closed the door when the clothes came off?”

Lionel snorted. “You weren’t even that discreet. You were just lucky that you got a stalker with ethics.”

“Ethics,” Lex repeated doubtfully. “So it’s ethical now to report lies and get paid exorbitantly for harmless pictures?”

“I’d hardly call his fee exorbitant; though I will grant voyeurism and reporting what he saw to me does push the line of ethical.”

Lex closed his eyes and gave up. “So he saw us having sex.” Clark was better than good looking; big, muscular, and very masculine. Hell, he was the football quarterback now. Lex didn’t mind his father thinking he was getting fucked by him. He preferred not to bottom on those rare drug or alcohol induced occasions when he found men attractive, but this was an imaginary relationship originally designed to swindle Dad. Lex might as well get the full satisfaction out of it, and Dad was a far more hardcore believer in the axiom that Luthors never bottomed than Lex ever had been.

Lionel frowned. “I would have expected more discretion from you.”

Lex sneered back, “I thought I left the paparazzi in Metropolis. I’ll be more careful where in Bumfuck, Kansas, I get my ass reamed from now on.”

As expected, that drew a look of disgust from Lionel. “I’d recommend you end this thing altogether, Lex.”

That tone never failed to invoke an automatic knee-jerk reaction in Lex. “Fuck you, Dad. It’s my life.”

“Don’t cross me on this one, Lex. You will regret it.”

Lex laughed, genuinely amused by the situation. “What are you going to do? Tell the tabloids? You already paid one person off to stop them from knowing. This’ll hurt you as much as it does me.”

“You’re right,” Lionel said, but there was nothing like defeat in his attitude. “The press is staying out of this. But I will tell his parents.”

The humor was abruptly gone, and Lex went pale. Oh no. It was all fun and games when it was between him, Dad, and the sleazy photographer, but bringing the Kents into it? “No, don’t.”

“You have twenty four hours to end this, or I will.” He snapped his briefcase closed, and left the room. Lex dropped the pictures still in his hand onto the dresser then sank down onto his bed. A few minutes later, he could hear the helicopter taking off.

He waited a little while longer until he could no longer hear the rotors, and then reached for the phone on his bedside table. He punched in a number that he’d memorized almost three weeks ago. It was answered on the fourth ring. “Kent farms, Martha speaking.”

Lex closed his eyes and laid flat on his back, phone held awkwardly against his ear and near his mouth. “Sorry to bother you, Mrs. Kent, but this is Lex Luthor. I’m afraid I might have said some things to my father that could affect your family. May I come over to talk to you and your husband about it?”

She hesitated, then agreed. They set a time for fifteen minutes later, and Lex immediately set out for the farm, going the speed limit so as not to be early.

Mrs. Kent met him at the door and ushered him inside. Mr. Kent was already in the living room, seated on the couch. Mrs. Kent sat beside him, and Lex chose an armchair. He’d barely settled when Mrs. Kent asked anxiously, “Is this about Clark?”

Lex bit his lower lip and looked guiltily at his hands. “I may have implied certain things about him, yes.”

There was the sound of explosive movement, but Lex dared not look up. Mrs. Kent’s voice told him clearly enough what was going on though, “Jonathan, sit down. Let him explain.” Slower, calmer, but still not hiding obvious fear and nervousness, “Lex, tell us what you told your father. We need to know how much he knows.”

Lex swallowed and forced himself to look at her. The fear in her eyes was much more distinct than the fear in her voice, and Lex realized that whatever she was thinking he’d told Lionel, it wasn’t anything about non-existent sex. “He doesn’t know anything, Mrs. Kent. That’s the whole problem. He was fed a whole bunch of lies about me that he bought wholesale and I didn’t bother to correct him. He thinks Clark and I are having sex.”

“Oh.” It was such a tiny little word for so much shock. Her eyes were wide and stunned. Mr. Kent’s mouth opened and closed, but he made no more sound than the fish he resembled.

“He told me to break it off with him, but there’s nothing to break off. He threatened that if I didn’t, he was going to talk to the both of you. I can’t trust that his source will confirm that I did, so I’m telling you now so you’re not shocked later.” Lex took a deep breath, and pulled the envelope of pictures from inside his jacket. With slight reluctance, he gave them over to Mrs. Kent. “That’s what the source gave Dad to support his claims.”

Lex shifted uncomfortably on his chair as the two Kents went torturously slowly through the stack of pictures. Mrs. Kent occasionally smiled fondly at one of them, and they both kept giving him looks he couldn’t interpret. “Obviously,” he started, didn’t like the sound of the word, cleared his throat, and started over, “Obviously, Dad had no reason to suspect they might have been tampered with. Nothing worse than what you see right there ever happened, but his source told Dad otherwise, and Dad believes him. We got in a fight over it. I got frustrated and confirmed it was happening just to piss him off. Then he threatened to tell you two. I swear, Mr. and Mrs. Kent, nothing’s going on.”

“We believe you, son,” Mr. Kent said and Lex stared at him in disbelief.

“You do?”

Mrs. Kent laughed. “Don’t look so surprised, Lex, or we might start doubting you after all.” Then she turned more serious and held out the pictures for him to take back. He replaced them in their envelope and tucked them safely back inside his jacket. “We do believe you,” she repeated when they were out of sight, “at least in so far as nothing has happened.”

Lex nodded shortly, “Thank you. If you don’t mind my asking though, what convinced you? My own father wasn’t buying a word I said until I confessed to it.”

Mrs. Kent smiled sympathetically at him as she answered, “We know Clark.”

Lex tried not to feel disappointed, but by the sad knowing look of apology Mrs. Kent was sending his way, he doubted he had successfully kept it from his face. He kept his head up as he concluded, “So, unlike my father, you know your son is straight.” That did not surprise him. All Clark talked about was Lana and football. He was not surprised. Why did it hurt this much?

“I’m sorry, Lex.”

Lex shook his head, “No, don’t be. It’s better that way.” He forced a smile, “I don’t want to be a child molester.”

At that reminder of the age difference, they did frown. Mr. Kent voiced their concern, “But you are infatuated with him.”

Lex gave a pained look. “I wouldn’t call it infatuation. An overdeveloped case of hero-worship, maybe.” He tried to scowl at Mr. Kent but couldn’t work up the ire to make it believable. “If you hadn’t made him give the truck back I never would have given him a second thought. I would have considered the debt paid.”

Mrs. Kent looked at him seriously. “Your life is worth a lot more than shiny new truck, even with all the bells and whistles.”

Lex ducked his head and tried to deflect the strange feeling in his chest. “You’re right. I apologize. I sold you short. Next time I’ll make sure the gift is up to my net worth.”

“Lex.” He looked up in alarm at the sharp tone that he only ever got from his father. Mrs. Kent was looking at him in serious disapproval. “You do not put a price tag on human worth, Lex,” she said with enough conviction to make him flinch.

“Sorry.”

She searched his face to make sure he meant it, but the frightening intensity on her own was more than enough to make him never want to disobey the command ever again for as long as he might live. She nodded with satisfaction when she found the value newly branded into his soul. “Good.”

“Oh, one other thing,” Lex changed the subject, “There’s a photographer. Dad said his name is Rudy McPherson. That’s the guy who’s been following me and taking the pictures. I don’t know for sure, but he may still be around. I’m almost certain Dad’s got somebody watching me, and if I had to make a guess, I’d say he hired his original source to keep at it. He’s about five-eight; vaguely Irish looking with a round face, light brown-red hair that’s going gray, and blue eyes.” He hesitated a moment, then forged on, “You might want to suggest to Clark to keep an eye out for him. As you saw, he takes very high quality photographs, and I never knew he was around for most of them. The only times I actually saw him were the day of the accident and occasionally in town.”

When Clark got home from school and football practice, he was expecting more of the cold shoulder from his father and more awkward peacekeeping attempts from his mother. What he was surprised to find was them both waiting for him in the living room and his mother inviting him to take a seat. Stubbornly, he crossed his arms in front of him and insisted, “I’m not giving up football. Why won’t you trust me?”

His mother just looked seriously at him and repeated, “Take a seat, Clark. This is about Lex.”

Suddenly worried, Clark was in the armchair in a flash. Concerned by his parents’ solemn expressions and the formal seating, he asked in a small scared voice, “What happened to Lex? Did he have another accident?” If Lex had died while he was playing stupid football . . .

“No, no, nothing like that,” his mother hurried to assure him. Clark let out a breath of relief. He had to suppress the desire to run over to the mansion right then just to make sure he was still alive. Only the fact that he still didn’t know what had prompted this conference kept him in his chair. “Clark, did you know Lex is bisexual?”

Clark gaped at her. Shock filtered through him first, then the same fear that had gripped him a moment ago. “Oh, God. He’s been hazed. Is he badly hurt?”

“We’ll take that as a ‘no’,” his dad remarked dryly.

Mom gave Dad a sour look, and then turned back to Clark, “No, honey, Lex is fine. He’s perfectly healthy. Nothing physically bad happened to him. He’s just been followed and photographed. He still is, so be especially careful not to use your powers around him. This has been going on for weeks and yesterday that person blackmailed Mr. Luthor using what he collected here in Smallville.”

Clark was mystified. “But Lex hasn’t done anything.”

Dad looked ready to blow a gasket from suppressed laughter. “Clark, son, you’re going to need to break up with him.”

“I – huh?”

“Don’t be too angry with him, sweetie,” Mom said, not making any more sense than Dad. “When the would-be blackmailer didn’t find anything on Lex, he made things up. Mr. Luthor believes you and Lex are having an affair, and he wants it to end.”

This was insane. “Didn’t Lex tell him it was a scam?”

“He tried, honey, but Mr. Luthor wouldn’t believe him. Then he confessed to it.”

Clark shook his head in disbelief. “Why would he do that?”

“He said to piss off his old man,” Dad answered. If dating Clark would piss off Lionel, then, yes, Clark could see why Lex would say that he was.

Clark stood up. “I need to talk to him.”

“Clark,” Mom said, warningly. Clark looked at her in question. “Be careful. He is bisexual, and he does have a crush on you.”

Clark stared at her, that making even less sense than anything else he’d been told this afternoon. “He does? Like the one I have for Lisa in my English class?” Lisa had pretty eyes, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever mentioned Lisa to his parents before, so he wasn’t sure they’d be able to say if it was the same.

Mom gave a crookedly sad smile, “Like the one you have for Lana.”

No. Way. “That’s insane. He does not.”

“Just try to be sensitive, Clark.” Mom made it sound like she didn’t think he could do that. He scowled at her briefly before running over to the mansion.

He found Lex in his study doing something on his laptop. Lex’s whole face lit up the way Clark liked it to when he walked through the door. He beamed back, before it faded slightly and he brought up the topic of the day. “Hey, Lex, Mom and Dad said your Dad found out about Us?”

Lex’s eyes widened in surprise, then bright red spot showed up on his cheeks. It was cute. Sort of. In a totally non-gay way. Lex swallowed hard. It brought Clark’s attention to his throat. Then his mouth. Especially the mouth because Lex’s little pink tongue slipped out between his lips to wet them. “Uh, yeah. He did,” Lex said, and it took Clark a moment to remember what he’d asked.

“And he wants us to break up,” Clark added, pretending to be angry. “We’re not going to let him dictate our lives, are we, Lex?”

Lex blinked at him. “Um, no?” Wow. It was really cool to see Lex so off balance.

“Good,” Clark said, “Because I think it totally sucks to break up because Lionel Luthor said so.”

“You do?”

Oh, right. Sensitive. Giving Lex false hope was probably not sensitive. Because Clark was totally not gay. He gave an apologetic smile, “That is a sucky reason,” he repeated, but added, “But being straight is a good one.” He supposed that after Mom’s warning, he shouldn’t have been surprised by the flash of pain and disappointment that crossed Lex’s eyes, but he was.

“Yeah,” Lex agreed dully, “that’s a very good reason.”

Clark had no idea what to say, how to fix this rent in their easy friendship. “So, your dad thinks me and you,” he laughed nervously as he trailed off.

Lex quirked a grin at him. “Don’t worry. I told him you were topping.”

“Topping?” Clark repeated, not sure if being compared to frosting and sprinkles was such a positive thing. Sure, they tasted great and everything on cakes, but it seemed kind of like Lex was saying he didn’t have any real substance.

“Yeah, that’s the guy whose dick goes in the other one.”

Clark stared at Lex wide eyed. “So your dad thinks,” he said, talking very slowly because he was sure he had this wrong and he wanted Lex to correct him, “that I am taking my dick and putting it.” He stopped. He had to. Otherwise his dick might have done more than twitch.

“In my ass. Yes.” See? That was why he had stopped. Now he was hard. And it was totally Lex’s fault. Except that would make him gay, so it totally wasn’t Lex’s fault.

“Are we using condoms?” And what kind of freak question was that? He’d clearly watched way too many afternoon specials if he was worried about safe sex during an imaginary relationship.

Lex raised his eyebrows eloquently. “Well, I’m clean, and I imagine you are as well. Do you want to be using condoms?”

They way he asked it made it seem like condoms were necessary evils and if you could get away with not using them, you should. “Um, no?” He had to shut up or change the subject or something.

Lex grinned. “All right. I’ll be sure to tell Dad that you’re barebacking me.”

“That sounds . . . really dirty.”

Lex laughed. “In a hygienic sense, it is messier than using a condom, but all it means is that we’re having sex without a rubber. It’s generally frowned on by safe-sex promoters, but if there’s no chance of impregnation and neither of us has any diseases, there’s no real reason to use one. The lubricated ones do help penetration, but a properly prepared anus and generous use of KY works just as well and doesn’t leave a shell of foreign material between your bodies. Besides, the primitive brain likes to know that you left your seed inside your mate.”

Clark’s primitive brain was liking a lot of what Lex was saying. So much for being an advanced alien species. He didn’t even realize he’d moved closer until he felt the soft fabric of Lex’s pants under his hands as he held his best friend’s hips. Lex was looking up into his face, searching his eyes for something. “Clark?”

“Yeah?” his voice was a little breathless.

“I apologize. I shouldn’t have spoken so explicitly.” He made no attempt to escape Clark’s hold.

Clark looked down into his face, his eyes drawn to the mouth with the scarred upper lip. “Lex.”

“Yeah?” This close, Clark could just barely hear Lex’s rapid heartbeat.

“Do you want to pose for your dad’s cameraman?” There was something wrong in that idea, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what it was.

Lex’s eyes closed and he looked to be in pain. “Clark, you need to be perfectly clear and completely honest right now. Are you straight?”

Oh, that was the problem with his suggestion. He was straight. “Yes. I thought so. Maybe?”

Lex laughed and dropped his forehead against Clark’s shoulder. “Fuck it, I’m going to hell anyway. I’ll pose with you, Clark. As much as you want to take I’ll give and I’ll take what I can get.”

Clark carefully wrapped his arms around Lex and knew Mom was wrong. This wasn’t a crush, not even a Lana sized one. He’d made a colossal mistake and Lex had just handed him his heart, fully expecting it to get mashed. Clark had no idea what to do with it.

The sane thing would be to give it back, but he wasn’t sure he could manage that without damaging it. Or Lex might not take it back at all and it would get crushed in the fight over who didn’t want it more. Or he might take it back and put it in the garage with the truck where it would never again see the light of day, and that was maybe the worst possibility.

So Clark metaphorically tucked it safely away and looked around trying to see into the dark corners of the study. His vision . . . flickered . . . and, for a brief moment, he saw a skeleton with a camera. He let go of Lex and stalked toward the stalker. He reached into the coat closet and yanked the man out by the scruff of his neck.

“How did,” Lex began, but then shook his head and approached the stalker. “Rudy McPherson, I presume?”

Rudy, as that seemed to be the guy’s name, flinched. “Look, if I’d know the old man was going to tell you I was following you, I never would have signed on for the second job.”

Clark looked dubiously at Lex, wondering if that passed as an excuse to be caught loitering on private property in the Luthor handbook.

Lex half-smirked and shrugged back. “Well, that sounds suspiciously honest, coming from a liar.” He looked down at Rudy. “Is there any reason I shouldn’t have you arrested?”

“No, none,” Clark answered for him. “Lex, this is the guy who told your dad we’re sleeping together, right?”

“Yes, he is,” Lex said, not looking away from the man. “I’m curious, what pictures have you taken of me today?”

Rudy nervously wrung his hands together. “A handful of you with the in-laws. And quite a few just now. Luthor’s going to flip when he sees the one of him,” he nodded in Clark’s direction, “holding you like that. I had a good angle.”

Clark watched in stunned bafflement as Lex nodded. “I’d hoped you got that one. How was Clark’s expression?”

The little man chuckled. “He loves you, too, kid.”

“I’ll reserve judgment on that,” Lex said dryly, but Clark was worried because he still seemed inordinately pleased with what the guy had said. “What are you going to tell Dad?”

“What do you want me to tell him? I can go either way with what I’ve got. After what I just heard in here, I’m leaning towards having you fight him, but I’ll follow your lead. No difference to me, I’m getting paid either way.”

“Lex, you’re not seriously going to let him keep stalking you, are you?”

“Rudolph McPherson’s your real name, isn’t it, Rudy?” Lex asked the man. “You live in Metropolis. You sell photographs to newspapers and magazines all over the Midwest. You’ve never had any legal trouble, but I think you’ve swindled people before. If one person starts litigation against you for scamming, the whole house of cards is going to crumble, isn’t it, Rudy?”

Rudy looked back and forth between Lex and Clark, as it trying to decide if he’d rather stick around to die or try to escape and die sooner. Lex smiled at Clark as if something had been confirmed in his favor. “See, Rudy’s not going to double-cross me because I’m the one person who knows him for what he is and that’s a liar and a conman. You’ve got Dad completely fooled, you know.”

The man nodded. “Yeah. It helped when you went along with it. Thank you.”

Lex grimaced. “It wasn’t for you.”

“Oh, I know, but I’m grateful just the same. I was worried he’d eventually figure out I was lying to him about the whole thing. That’s why I would have preferred to bow out after the first payoff.”

“So why didn’t you?”

The man grimaced. “He threatened to put me in jail for stalking, B&E, and invasion of privacy if I didn’t.”

Lex laughed, and when he looked at Clark, his eyes were sparkling. It was breathtaking. “I like him, Clark.”

Clark felt a sharp inexplicable stab of jealousy. “Why? He’s committed stalking, B&E, and invasion of privacy against you. He should go to jail.”

“He’s a con artist, Clark,” Lex said, sounding like that was somehow a good thing. Clark would never understand the way Lex’s mind worked. As if Clark were a dunce for failing to understand this bit of cryptology, Lex spelled it out, “That means he knows how to make people like him and do what he wants.”

Clark still wasn’t seeing it. He still wanted the guy in jail. Clark certainly didn’t like him or want to do what he wanted. Though, whatever magic he was weaving, it was clearly working on Lex. Clark wasn’t going to let that happen. He straightened to his full impressive height and frowned down at the much shorter conman.

“So that means he knows that to get on my good side all he has to do is tell the truth. And he’s doing it.” Lex sounded so delighted, like he could hardly believe someone might do such an outlandish thing. It made Clark feel really guilty for the lies he’d been forced to give him.

“I’m sure your dad likes the truth, too, and he sure as heck didn’t tell the truth to him.”

Lex waved that off. “It’s entirely different. He doesn’t want my money. Dad’s already paying him. All he wants from us is to be allowed to keep on robbing Dad.”

“Ach, no,” Rudy spoke up. “Please. Robbing involves guns. I just lie. It’s scamming.”

“Scamming then. Personally, I’ve got no problem with it.”

Maybe Lex’s memory was malfunctioning. “Lex. He broke into your house and was taking pictures of you to sell to your father along with lies about your personal life.”

Lex looked at him like he was blowing the whole thing completely out of proportion. “And now he’s going to sell the story I want told. What’s the problem?”

Clark stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head, wondering if maybe Mom and Dad were wrong about Clark being an alien and it was really Lex who came out of that spaceship. “Lex,” he said slowly, “he told your dad that you were sleeping around with me.”

“Clark, Dad has had whole teams of people whose primary function was to tell him who I’m sleeping with. The only difference is that Rudy lied about what he found out.”

This was beyond Clark’s skills and patience. “Your family’s screwed up, Lex.” Though, Clark was beginning to understand why Lex didn’t seem able to grasp the concept that something might be none of his business. Apparently, Lex didn’t have much personal experience with privacy.

Lex snorted. “No kidding. What was the first clue?”

Clark just shook his head. He glared at Rudy, blaming the whole situation on him, because it was totally his fault. If he hadn’t told that stupid story to Lex’s dad, then he wouldn’t be worried about hurting Lex or wanting to kiss him or, most disturbing of all, thinking about his primitive brain and how much it liked to plant seeds. He doubted gardening would be an adequate substitute.

“Clark,” Lex interrupted his glaring just as Rudy was starting to squirm. A little. If you squinted just right. “It’s up to you. We can play this out or Rudy can tell Dad we broke up and it’s over.”

The smart thing to do was to break up now. Lex would take his heart back, no harm, no foul, only a little worse for wear. They’d go on like they always had, as friends.

The problem was, Clark didn’t know if he wanted to give it back. Lex had given it to him. It was his now, so much more valuable than a dumb truck. He sensed it was a one time offer. He’d given it freely and without reservation, but he’d expected it to be scorned. Clark wondered if he would have been so generous if he thought there’d been a chance Clark might keep it. Now that he had it, he wasn’t going to risk letting it get away. Lex obviously didn’t know how to care for his own heart, so it fell to Clark to keep it safe.

“Let’s play it out the way that Mr. Luthor will hate it the most,” Clark decided, because however Lionel hated it the most had to be the way that was best for Lex. He just needed Lex to tell him what that way was.

For a moment, Lex’s eyes held surprise, and a noticeable amount of fear, but then he nodded and made himself smile. “Okay. Rudy, you go back into the closet. Clark is about to come out of his.” He moved over to the couch and indicated that Clark should do the same. “Sit,” Lex invited but did not follow his own instruction. Clark figured out why when Lex straddled his lap and sat on Clark’s thighs instead of the cushions. “Rudy’s playing an ethical stalker so he’s not going to take any explicit photographs as yet. That gives us some wiggling room, so if anything is too much for you, we don’t have to do it.”

Clark nodded his understanding, but was unable to articulate a response because Lex was in his lap.

Lex waited a beat, presumably to see if Clark had an objection to their current positioning, but no power on Earth was going to make him let Lex up just yet. “All right, great. We should get a few shots of us cuddling. Dad really won’t like that. If you’re comfortable with kissing me, please do so. It doesn’t have to be on my mouth. Forehead, temple, ear, anything Rudy has line of sight to. Any questions?”

Just one, but Clark didn’t ask Lex to stop treating it like a movie production. If Lex thought that distance was necessary, Clark wasn’t going to begrudge it. Lex had a lot more at stake than Clark did. “None,” Clark said aloud, wrapping his arms around Lex and pulling him close. He sniffed in Lex’s scent, and then nuzzled his face into soft flesh where neck met shoulder. Lex went briefly tense, but then relaxed into Clark’s ministrations. Cuddling was good. Clark liked cuddling. He thought Lex needed more cuddling in his life.

Rudy had stopped taking pictures after the first ten minutes. He’d gotten a lot of really good shots during that time, but now it was just getting repetitive. There was only so much variation possible when the subject material kept doing the same things wearing the same expressions. It was clear the boys were enjoying themselves and equally clear that neither of them intended to pull away first, but as the voyeur in the situation, Rudy was getting bored.

Rudy would take bored though. Bored was better than terrified out of his wits, which is what he’d been when Kent stormed across the room and pulled him out of his hiding place. He hadn’t thought he was going to get out of that one. Who would have thought a Luthor would be more forgiving than a small town boy? But then, Rudy had never thought of the kid as a Luthor. The kid was a means to get at Luthor’s money. More than that, he was subject material. Both boys were. As such, Rudy had studied them both, got into their heads. You had to, if you wanted photographs with any life in them. Whatever else he was, he was a still photojournalist first and foremost.

Even among his subjects, these two were special. Not at first, of course. Not even when he’d gone to Luthor. At that point, they’d still been nothing more than subjects. What made them, particularly Lex, special was when he’d snuck into the kid’s room earlier that day and found what had become of the pictures he’d sold to Luthor. A half dozen of them had been framed. They were hanging on the walls, standing on the dresser, and sitting beside the alarm clock on the nightstand. As a photographer, it was flattering. As a con artist, it was humbling. After all, they had been designed as blackmail photographs and here they were, displayed proudly in the victim’s room.

Context was everything. Rudy knew that. Nothing quite brought it to life like those six pictures. In a manila envelope in Luthor’s office, they had been nails that built the foundation of ‘proof’ that a relationship existed between the boys. Here, out in the open, they just made Lex look like a happy young man who was best friends with a farmer’s son. Unlike the serious red-haired boy in the solemn family portrait that was the only other personal touch in the room, Lex was smiling or laughing in every one of Rudy’s framed pictures. He hadn’t realized how depressing and lifeless the room was before.

Rudy’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an approaching helicopter. On the couch, Lex and Clark turned their heads toward the window, and Rudy snapped a picture of the dismay and trepidation on both faces. “Show time,” Lex muttered, just loud enough to carry to Rudy. “Clark, you can go if you’d like. He probably wants to talk about my proposal for the plant.”

Lex tried to get up, but Clark held on to him and Lex didn’t try hard enough to escape. “Lex,” Clark said, waiting for Lex to meet his eyes before continuing, “I’m your boyfriend now. I’m not leaving you to face him alone.”

“Clark, he’s my father, not a mugger. I’ve been dealing with him for a long time.”

The boy still did not let Lex go. “He’s a bastard and I don’t like the way he treats you. I’m staying.”

Lex closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, but he nodded. “If you insist.” His eyes opened again and he looked seriously at Clark, “He will insult you.”

“I can handle that,” Clark promised. Lex just looked at him like the boy had no idea what he was putting himself up against. “Seriously, the man’s Satan and I don’t care what he thinks about me.”

“The only thing he thinks about you that matters is that he believes you’re fucking me up the ass. That makes you a disease and he will do everything in his power to cure me of you. He will vilify you. He will insinuate all manner of things. He will degrade me. To be perfectly honest, Clark, I’d rather you weren’t here. We’ll talk business and he’ll go away, but if you show your face it becomes an exercise in trying to break us up.”

Clark grimaced, “What if I stay in the closet with Rudy?”

Lex snorted, “I could comment, but I won’t. Go, he’ll be here any time now.”

The boy was strong, Rudy would give him that. He lifted Lex up off his lap like the kid weighed nothing. Even Lex looked a little surprised at how easily he was shifted over onto the other half of the couch.

Clark glanced toward the study’s door, his expression turning briefly alarmed. Then a wicked idea occurred to him and he pushed Lex over onto his back. Instinct alone got Rudy’s camera up and clicking (well, not so much clicking because he’d been very specific in finding one that took pictures silently) as Clark climbed over Lex’s sprawled body and kissed him once, soundly, on the lips, just as Luthor burst into the room.

Luthor froze, whatever opening words he’d been planning to say dying stillborn on his lips. Clark got up off the couch and walked past him, giving Luthor a look that said perfectly clearly that of the two of them, it was Luthor who was the insignificant bug. Then he was out of the room and gone.

Lex was sitting up slowly, looking stunned and a little dazed. He touched his mouth with his fingers as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. Rudy took a picture of that, too.

“I need not ask if that was your farmer,” Luthor sneered. “I will count myself fortunate that I did not walk in on him plowing his fields.”

Color flushed across Lex’s face but he said nothing in his own defense. “I assume you’re here because you received my counter proposal.”

Luthor’s expression grew darker. “I specifically told you to cut your workforce. Not,” he held up a folder he’d been carrying, “this.”

Lex stood, his face going hard. “I worked out how to cut the operation budget by twenty percent without losing a single job. That way we don’t get the bad PR.”

“That is not the point.”

Smiling superiorly, a confidence game of his own if Rudy ever saw one, Lex moved casually across the room and picked up a fencing sword. “Careful, Dad, you’re getting emotional.” He turned abruptly, aiming the sword point toward his father. “We could try a rematch. Winner gets their way about the plant and Clark.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Lex.”

Lex raised an eyebrow but lowered the weapon. “What? You afraid you can’t take your own son again?”

“You get one,” Luthor declared.

Baffled by that cryptic response, Lex asked, “One what?”

“One chance to defy me on a business decision. But you will lose Kent.”

Lex lifted his chin. “No.”

Luthor stepped closer, angry, “Then you will lose 20% of your workforce. One or the other, Lex. I will not grant you both.”

“Clark is not yours to grant. I’ll give up neither.” Lex stepped closer as well, pressing his point. “You granted me one business opportunity. I’m taking it now. The only reason you don’t like it is that I thought of it first.”

“Empires are not built on clever bookkeeping.”

“Neither are they built by unnecessarily turning your back on those who depend on you,” Lex shot back, “My plan is better. You’re being emotional and spiteful.”

Rudy made a note to himself to suggest that Lex try other avenues of contention beyond frontal assault. Luthor did not respond well to that sort of attack. “I am, Lex? I assure you, this dalliance you’re having goes well beyond where I am in the realms of emotional and spiteful. You don’t honestly believe anything good will come of this, do you? You’re doing it merely so that I will end your exile. It won’t work. I suggest you end the attempt before you cause serious harm to your future.”

“I’m not ending it, Dad. And I’m not doing it out of spite,” he paused a beat, “The spite is merely a side effect, albeit one that I find thoroughly pleasant.” Lex stepped into Luthor’s personal space and demonstrated his pleasure in wielding said spite, “Stick around tonight, Father. You don’t want to miss my farmer planting his seeds.”

The sound of a hand meeting skin echoed in the large study. Lex retreated a step and tested the mobility of his jaw. His eyes never left Luthor’s. “Get out of my home, Dad. You’re not welcome here.”

“This is my property.”

“Well I’m not. Get out.”

Luthor frowned but stepped back toward the door. “This discussion is not over.”

“Fine. We’re using my plan at the plant and the Clark issue remains unresolved. Now, leave.”

Turning on his heel, Luthor made it into the hallway before turning back and taking his parting shot. “I warn you one last time. You have four hours to break this off gracefully before I break it off for you by any means necessary.”

Lex didn’t waver except in patience. “Get. Out.”

Luthor slammed the door closed behind him and Lex sank down to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut. Rudy had no idea where he came from, but between one blink and the next, Clark was beside him, putting an arm around him and pulling him close. “I hate him,” Lex stated, voice muffled by Clark’s chest, “I hate him.” His knuckles were white where they gripped Clark’s shirt. “Oh, God, Clark, I need to talk to your parents again. He’s going to, shit, I don’t even know what he’s going to do.”

Clark stood, easily lifting Lex up with him. “You up for driving, or should I?”

“I’ll be fine. Just wait for the helicopter to leave first. Can’t look panicked. Rudy!” Clark looked startled, like he’d forgotten Rudy was there.

Rudy also jumped, having nearly forgotten himself that they’d known about him. He stuck his head out of the closet. “Yeah?”

The look in Lex’s eye was as fierce as anything his old man could generate. “If I find you at the Kents’ this evening, you will never see daylight again.”

Rudy considered sneaking after them regardless for exactly one second. Then he decided that (a) he liked Lex well enough to give him this one evening of privacy, and (b) he liked his body in a non-embalmed state. He’d follow just long enough to get a few distance photos for Luthor then get the heck out of Dodge. “I’ll be gone,” he promised. “A few shots, nothing close up, just so your old man knows I tried,” he added, just in case the boy noticed him while he skulked the perimeter. He still didn’t know what he did to give away his hiding spot in the closet.

Clark glared at him, but Lex nodded, taking the proviso as a necessary evil. “I don’t care about pictures. I just don’t want you able to hear anything.”

He felt a stab of curiosity about what they’d be talking about that could possibly be more sensitive than the things he’d already overheard, but he quashed it. He only had to briefly put himself in Lex’s shoes to understand why a young man wouldn’t want an audience when he told a minor’s parents that he was dating their son for real, after just telling them it was an act. It was bound to get ugly, and that was before Lex brought up the threats Luthor had made.

Lex squared his shoulders, drew in a deep breath, walked toward the Kent’s farmhouse with the air of a man walking to his death. Clark rolled his eyes at him and shook his head. He was nervous about what Lex intended to say because this wasn’t really how he envisioned his evening going when he’d left home two hours ago and he wasn’t quite sure he was ready for himself to know he might be gay, nevermind his parents, but Lex was acting like he expected Dad to take down his shotgun and shoot him or something.

Mom and Dad must have heard the car because they came out of the front door before Clark and Lex had reached the front porch. Lex lifted his chin, determined and stoic in the face of death, and stated ominously, “We need to talk with you.” Clark’s parents opened a pathway to let Clark and Lex walk between them and into the house. Lex swallowed hard and hesitated. Clark placed a hand on the small of his back and gave him a light nudge forward.

When they were all seated in the living room and Mom had distributed ice water or lemonade to everyone who wanted some, Lex clasped his hands together and sat up straighter. All eyes went to him at this preparatory pose of being about to say something important. He cleared his throat, looked at Mom and Dad briefly, and then dropped his eyes to his glass of water. “I had another fight with Dad about Clark.”

Mom and Dad waited patiently, if somewhat apprehensively, while Lex took a moment to swirl his glass in a slow circle on his coaster. Nobody seemed to even breathe while they waited for Lex to go on.

He let go of the glass and looked up, meeting Mom’s eyes. “I refused to break up with him. Clark made it eminently clear to him that he had no intention of breaking up with me. Dad . . . wasn’t happy.”

Clark found himself suddenly the focus of both his parent’s attention and he wondered if maybe Lex was onto something with that shotgun idea, except it wasn’t Lex they were going to shoot with it. “What did you do?” Dad asked, obviously trying to stay calm with only partial success.

Clark flushed deeply, squirmed in his seat, and would have really appreciated it if his people would pick right now to beam him up to their mothership. He, of course, was not that lucky, and the couch didn’t mutate and swallow him whole either. He was going to need to answer the question. He ducked his head and mumbled, “Isortofkissedhimreallyhard.”

“You what?” Mom asked sharply.

Clark squeezed his eyes shut, tried to mold himself into the cushions, and answered slower this time, “When Mr. Luthor walked in, I pushed Lex down on the couch and kissed him. Then I left the room.”

“Why would you do something like that?” Dad asked.

Intentionally misunderstanding the question, Clark said, “Lex didn’t want me there for the confrontation.”

“Clark,” Mom warned.

Lex said nothing, letting him handle his own outing, the jerk. Clark threw up his hands and gave up all semblance of knowing what he was doing. “I don’t know! Okay? It seemed like a good idea at the time! I’m just really confused right now, all right?”

Mom immediately softened and changed seats to sit in the empty spot on the couch next to him. “Oh, sweetie, it’s okay, we’re just worried about you.” She pulled him into a hug, which was kind of embarrassing with Lex right there on his other side, but it was also really good and made the world feel like it wasn’t spinning quite so much out of control.

Squeezing his eyes closed again because, safely enclosed in a Mom-hug or not, there was no way he was going to let himself cry with Lex in the room, he admitted out loud, “I might be a little bit gay.”

Mom hugged him tighter, and a peek at Dad showed he was glaring at Lex, but there was still no shotgun in sight. Lex was too busy warily watching Dad to notice how much of a dork and a baby Clark was being, so at least the death expectations served some purpose. Besides, Clark thought vengefully, it was totally Lex’s fault Clark might be gay so he deserved to be scared.

Dad was still looking at Lex instead of Clark as he asked in a too-calm voice, “And how did you come by that realization, Clark?”

Lex did speak up then. “Clark is a healthy teenaged boy. I was a little too specific when I told him what my father believed we were doing together.” And after eavesdropping on the fight from the hallway, Clark had an even better idea of exactly what Lionel Luthor believed Clark was doing to his son. To be honest, he’d been shocked by the way both of them behaved around the other. It was entirely because of Lex, Clark was sure, that Mr. Luthor had the level of detail he did. “It’s not surprising he had a reaction,” Lex added.

Clark could have lived a happy life without that last part being told to his parents. Particularly since thinking about his ‘reaction’ made him think of the comments that spawned it which made him have the ‘reaction’ again. He pulled quickly away from his mother and rearranged the fall of his flannel while blushing horribly. Mom and Dad looked like they could have lived happily without being told, too.

His parents shifted in their seats uneasily and exchanged married people looks with each other, then Dad turned back to Lex while Mom looked at Clark. Dad spoke first, “Did you do anything to encourage him to kiss you?” Clark wasn’t sure whether he should be relieved or angry that he seemed to be laying most of the blame on Lex.

Lex lifted his chin, bravely accepting his fate. “I let him know I’d be receptive.”

“He’s fifteen. Stop being receptive,” Dad snapped.

“Dad, he’s not making me do anything I don’t want to do,” Clark interrupted, defending Lex like a good boyfriend should. “It was my idea. If anything, I’m the one taking advantage of him.”

“Lex is twenty-one, Clark,” Dad pointed out, which was totally irrelevant to the situation.

“Lex is more emotionally involved than me and I’m a whole lot stronger than he is. In just the two hours we were at the mansion tonight, he tried to escape my grip twice and I wouldn’t let him go.”

“One of those was only a token effort,” Lex tried to dismiss it, but both of Clark’s parents realized that left one time when Lex had made a serious effort to pull away and he hadn’t been able to. They exchanged nervous looks with one another.

“Lex is in a lot more danger of getting hurt than I am,” Clark reiterated, “especially since we’re not really dating.”

Mom frowned, narrowed her eyes and shook her head. “Wait. Clark, you said you kissed Lex when Lionel came in the room. Please tell me you two are not doing this just to spite him.”

Clark and Lex opened their mouths, closed them, looked at each other, looked at Mom, and Clark shrugged while Lex said, “Dad just brings that out in people. Even Rudy’s in with us on this.”

“The photographer?” Mom asked in disbelief.

Triumphant, Clark turned on Lex, “See? I told you that was weird.”

Lex waved it off, “He’s an ally now, Mrs. Kent.” Mom looked dubious but let it pass. “Anyway, the real danger in this situation is my father. He promised to break us up by any means necessary. He’ll keep the tabloids out of it, at least at first, but anything else is fair game. I can practically guarantee a call to you. What he’ll say is a little harder to predict.”

Lex stood and began pacing. His gestures became more distressed as he spoke as well, “If he stays true to form, he’ll trying to dig up some dirt on Clark or your family that he’ll hold over your heads until Clark agrees to dump me. Normally, I wouldn’t believe a family like yours has anything he could exploit, but,” he took a deep breath and turned to look at each of them square in the eye.

“I know I hit Clark head on with my car. I know there is no possible way hitting a guardrail and a boy would tear apart the Porsche like it was. I know Clark is really very strong and by all rights I should have died that day.” He gave them no opportunity to deny what knew, and carried on, “When I