Title: Piano Man

Author: Anonymus

Prompt: CLFF Wave 23 "A song melts a Luthor's heart"; chosen song: Meat Loaf "I would do anything for love (but I won't do that)"

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Lex is surprised to fnd out that his farmboy loves to play piano ...

"If you just once would trust me enough to tell me the truth, Clark."

Clark looked into the cold eyes of his friend, and could see the hurt. He swallowed. He wanted to ... he SO wanted to tell Lex everything. Everything about his powers, about his abilities, about his heritage.

But he couldn't.

It was not only because his dad would most probably have a psychotic breakdown if Clark even considered it seriously. No, mostly it was because he didn't know how Lex would react. He still had to work on rebuilding his friendship with Pete after he'd accidentally found out about him.

He just didn't want to risk losing Lex, too. He just couldn't STAND the mere thought of losing him because of his alien freakishness. He loved him too much....

"I'm sorry, Lex," he murmured, his eyes glued to the floor.

A loud, crashing sound startled him, his head flew up, and he stared wide-eyed at Lex who had thrown his whisky tumbler into the fireplace.

"DON'T TELL ME YOU'RE SORRY, CLARK!" the bald man yelled. And then, a little quieter, "I can't listen to it anymore. You're always sorry. And I'm fed up to here with your apologies."

He made a gesture to his throat before he turned around, turning his back on Clark. "Just for once, Clark...just for once I want to hear the truth from you."

"I can't."

"Yeah. I figured that much. I have to go back to work now. I don't think that we have anything to talk about anymore. You can find your way out."

With those words, Lex sat down behind his desk, pointedly ignoring Clark who was still standing on the same spot looking like a little boy lost. After a few seconds, he slowly turned around and left.

He didn't know that Lex's eyes followed him until he couldn't see him anymore.

~*~

"I won't go to college."

His mother's knife dropped with a loud clatter on her plate, his father looked at him as if he'd finally gone crazy. Luckily for him, his mother was the first who found her voice again.

"Clark? Why not?"

His eyes stayed on his plate, pushing the Sunday roast from one side to the other. "I don't want to go to college. At least not yet. Not right now. I ... I think I want to go to ... I don't know ... maybe New York. Or New Orleans? Or I could make a trip through Europe before I make a final decision."

Now, his father found his voice again, much to Clark's dismay. "Son. I don't understand you. You were so excited when you got the scholarship for the college. And now you want to throw it all away?"

"I have to." The head went down a little deeper. Martha's thoughts were racing while she watched her son. Something had happened since he came back last night. Something MUST have happened while he'd been at Lex's place.

"Honey, I know that this is your decision," she began, "but can't you understand that we want to understand your sudden change of mind?"

"I just think that I should take some time off ... maybe go to another country ... meet other people ..."

She started slightly when her husband suddenly jumped up, and beat his hands on the table.

"I'M SURE THAT LUTHOR'S BEHIND ALL OF THIS!" he shouted angrily. And then he added, a bit quieter, "Never before did you mention that you needed some 'time off.'" He put the last two words in quotes. "And now all of a sudden you want to go to Europe?"

"Or to New Orleans," Clark mumbled.

"Yeah. That too." Jonathan sighed, and put his hands on his hips. "Why, son? Just give me one good reason."

Martha could see the blush on her son's face, and put a hand on her husband's arm. "Jonathan, I think we should let Clark go."

Clark's head shot up, and he stared at his mother with wide eyes. Jonathan turned with equally wide eyes to her. "Martha, I ...

"Mom, are you ..."

She held up her hands, silencing her two men. "Of course there are a few restrictions ... some limitations. But I think it might be good for you to be on your own for a few weeks. Maybe even months. And Europe is a country full of history."

"Martha!"

"Jonathan, no! We'll talk later about it."

A smile lit up Clark's face, and he hugged his mother tightly for a moment, whispering a quiet "Thanks, Mom" into her ear. She gasped slightly, and then her son was out in the barn again. She could understand him. Could understand his wish to be alone at least for a while. That was the main reason she had allowed him this trip to Europe. She turned to her husband.

And sighed.

Explaining it to him would take a lot more.

~*~

Two weeks later, Clark left the plane at Paris' Charles-de-Gaulle-airport. He'd been a little uncertain as to where to begin his travel in Europe, and to be honest...France hadn't even made it in the top ten. It had been Chloe and her constant talk about the French people, the French art, the French landscape, and – of course – the French cuisine that had helped him to make his decision.

He shouldered his backpack, the only thing he had with him, and made his way to the shuttle bus that would bring him to the city centre. There he would look for a place to stay.

He was sure that Lex would have at least a little appartement in Paris. If they were still friends, he was convinced that now he'd have the keys to said appartement in his hand.

But they weren't. So he hadn't. But that didn't lessen the pain he felt whenever he thought about Lex.

He sighed softly, put on his sunglasses, and walked over to the shuttle bus.

~*~

"In Paris?"

Lex felt as if someone had slapped him. His best friend had run off to Paris, and no one had told him a single word? That was SO un-Clark-like that for a moment Lex wasn't sure if Chloe hadn't pulled a prank on him.

But her face was serious when she kept on talking. "He had a pretty rough time explaining it to his parents that he didn't want to go to college but instead wanted to make a trip throughout Europe first. Lucky for him, his grandpa Clark had put aside some money for him. So he doesn't have to worry about that."

"Why didn't he tell me? He could have stayed at my place in Paris." Lex was murmuring more to himself than to Chloe, and she seemed to sense that he didn't expect an answer. For a few minutes, none of them said anything, until Lex finally emptied his coffee, and got up.

"Thank you, Chloe, for letting me know. I was really worried about Clark. Usually he shows up on my doorstep at least once a week. After almost four weeks without a word from him, I was starting to get worried. Now I know that he's alright."

She smiled slightly, and Lex put a hand over hers before he left.

Paris. The city of lovers. Was he alone there? Maybe walking in Lana Lang's footprints? Once Lex had been very fond of the fragile-looking brunette but lately he found her just annoying. With her big eyes and the tears ready to flow every minute...almost as if on command. He had found himself yearning for the smart wit and the blinding smile of one special farm boy. Only to find that said farm boy was on the other side of the earth.

On the way to his car that in the parking lot directly in front of the Talon, he cursed his own stupidity. He had thrown Clark more or less out of his office that night. He'd been angry, slightly drunk and – after his latest run-in with one of Smallville's very own meteor mutants – hurt, and under the influence of pain killers. Hearing Clark stutter in a vain attempt to explain yet another unexplainable scenario had snapped something inside him. The glass had shattered just as his trust had shattered. The alcohol, the pain, the medication ... it all had worn off the next day, and he had woken up with the feeling of regret and sorrow.

He hadn't want to shout at Clark like that, shouldn't have taken out his foul mood on him. But he would make it up to him that afternoon when he came over after school. After a hot shower, a strong coffee, and some business – including firing someone just because it felt good and he could do it – he'd waited for Clark to show up on his doorstep.

He hadn't. Not that day, or the next. Or the one following after that. It took him four weeks to finally find the courage to go to the Talon not only for a coffee – served with the usual sickly sweet smile of Lana Lang – but to actually talk to someone about the whereabouts of a certain member of the community. Luckily for him it happened to be Chloe.

Chloe who told him in glorious detail that Clark had needed some time for himself. Lex snorted in his coffee. Yeah. Sure. Because his farm boy was such a lone wolf.

But he was surprised how much it hurt him that Clark hadn't told him about his plans. And it made sense now that he hadn't shown up at the manor for such a long time. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to go back to said manor and lick his wounds for a while. But then a thought crossed his mind. He reached for his cell phone. He'd heard that Paris in autumn was a charming place to be.

Two days later, he was cursing colorfully. He had missed Clark by about a week. The young man had stayed at a little B&B, run by a lovely elderly lady who was singing his praises. He'd smiled at her words. Helping to take out the garbage, run some errands, make a few repairs at the house...yes that sounded like something his Clark would do.

Mdm. Janessier told him that the 'sweet young man' was now on his way to Italy. Florence first, maybe Venice. He hadn't been quite sure about that. Definitely Rome later. She was absolutely sure about that. And then Greece.

Although Lex had his own appartement in Paris, he stayed with Mdm. Janessier for one night before he'd leave for Italy in the morning. She cooked for him though this was unusual. But because he was a friend of Clark's, she made an exception for him. She had cooked for Clark almost every night, too.

Lex smiled. This was SO Clark. Even in a foreign country where he barely spoke the language, he managed to make friends. At night they sat together, drank some Beaujolais, eat some petit fours (Clark had loved the red ones he was told), and talked. That is ... Mdm. Janessier was talking, and Lex was listening. She wasn't only talking about Clark. Lex found out after a few minutes of listening that this woman had had an amazing life. And that this little B&B in the middle of Paris was the fulfillment of a dream. But it wasn't only that. She somehow managed to turn the talk around and made him talk about his life, too. About how he knew that 'charming young man', about their relationship, and oh please, he really shouldn't blush. She was 76 years old and there was nothing in this world that could shock her anymore, and sure as hell not two nice young men in love with each other.

But the next question threw him a bit.

"Did you have a lover's quarrel?" Mdm. Janessier asked friendly, her eyes riveted to the knitting needles on her hands ("Scarves for my grandchildren. They love hand-knitted scarves.").

He raised his gaze from his wineglass, and looked at her in amazement. Yet before he could answer, she continued, "He was playing the piano once or twice. And it was always such a sad song. I'm not sure if I remember it correctly because he sang it in his own language, and my English isn't quite that good. But it was something like 'I would do anything for love.'"

Lex tried to smile. Anything? Oh yeah ... he had seen this anything ... lies, lies, lies. And yet he had to find him. Had to talk to him. He had to apologize for his rude behavior that had driven the young man across the ocean and into a foreign country. And maybe they could work it out. And maybe Lex would even be able to explain to himself why he had left Smallville in such a hurry just to follow his wayward farm boy. And maybe ... just maybe ... he would find out why he was so determined to find Clark.

He didn't answer Mdm. Jenassier's question, remained silent, and simply looked at her. And surprisingly enough, she didn't seem to expect an answer. She reciprocated his gaze, smiled, and concentrated on her needlework again.

Lex left the next morning. On his backseat, a basket filled with homemade delicacies. With best regards to the lovely Clark. He phoned his office on the way to Italy, trying to find out whether Clark had turned to Florence or to Venice first.

It was Venice.

The city of canals, of masks, of Carnival. The city with a thousand places to hide. The city where the gondoliers were singing romantic songs full of love.

And where Lex found that Clark had left that morning. He had missed him by about twelve hours.

With a curse, he slammed his fist down at the reception, making the man behind the counter jump.

"I am sorry, Signor Luthor", said the receptionist whose nametag said 'Giacomo.' "Clark, I mean Signor Kent moved out this morning. He said he wanted to go to Firenze. San Gimignano perhaps before. But sure Roma in a few days."

Lex sighed, and rubbed his neck with his right hand. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't take my temper out on you. Do you have a room for me? I don't want to drive all through the night."

Giacomo nodded eagerly, and a few minutes later, he showed him personally up to his room. And all the while he was chattering in Italian about Clark this and Clark that and Lex was amazed how the young man managed to have such an impact on people in such a short time. But it wasn't until Giacomo mentioned the hotel's piano bar that Lex listened closely.

"What?"

Giacomo turned around, his hand outstretched to open the door before him.

"Signor Clark. He loved to play in the piano bar. He stayed here for about twelve days, and every night he played. People loved him. He was so ... what do you call it ... melancholy. His way to interpret 'I would do anything for love' could make the hardest man want to cry."

Lex felt like he had fallen into a twilight zone. He, Lex, had Clark taught to play. He remembered long nights with only the fire burning, the warm body of Clark next to him on the piano bench. His long fingers dancing over the keys. He had loved those quiet evenings when no one interrupted them. It had felt like a little world of their own with the outer world shut out.

But he had always thought that his farm boy would be too shy to play for an audience. "It's a shame that I can't hear him play," he heard himself say, and Giacomo nodded thoughtful.

"It is, Signor Luthor. It most definitely is."

With these words he opened the door to the room in which less than twenty-four hours earlier, Clark Kent had slept.

~*~

The medieval Manhatten, that's what this city was called because of its many towers. From the over forty towers once in San Gimignano, though, only 12 were left.

Clark stood on one of them, gazing out across the soft Tuscany landscape that spread out before him. The sun was shining from a cloudless blue sky, and for the first time in weeks, he was feeling at peace with himself. He thought back to the little place in Paris, the hotel in Venice with the view of one of the canals, the way that playing the piano had given him peace and some confidence.

But none of that could dampen the pain he felt whenever he thought about Lex Luthor and the way they had parted. He hadn't even told Lex that he was leaving.

He had talked to Chloe on the phone the other night, and she had told him that Lex had been almost a little shocked when she had told him. And that she hadn't seen him since.

He shook his head slightly.

The day was far too beautiful to be destroyed by dark thoughts about what if. What if he had found the courage to tell Lex the truth? What if he'd had the backbone to stand up against his father and his high moral standards? Well, the answer to the last question was easy. His father probably would have looked at him with that special look in his eyes that was reserved for the 'how can you do that to me, son?' moments. Combined with the 'did it have to be a Luthor of all people?' sigh. No...no way he could have done that to his Dad.

And Lex.

How would he have reacted? Disgusted because he was an alien? Or would he have had him transferred to Level 3 faster than Clark could've said 'No thanks, Lex, I don't want to be your guinea pig.'

No. He wouldn't. Right? He trusted Lex. Up to a certain degree that is. He didn't trust him completely. How could he? All his life, for as long as he could remember, his father had told him over and over again to trust no one. Not his closest friends (like Pete or Chloe). Not his girlfriend (should he ever have one). And of course, sure as hell not that Luthor guy.

That Luthor guy that was occupying his mind lately as if he belonged there. He woke up almost every night, having dreamed about Lex. His heart beat faster whenever he saw a man with a bald head.

Clark took a deep breath, and turned around when he found himself suddenly under the intense gaze of a couple of beautiful Italian girls. They admired him openly, pushed each other with their elbows, and giggled. He smiled. Not one of his biggest smiles, just a little one, and one of the girls walked up to him, and said something in Italian. Fast, quick, the words falling from her red lips like water from a fountain.

And he understood nothing. He shrugged a little helplessly, and said, "Io non parlo italiano."

Her face fell, and with a sigh, she turned back to her friends who looked equally as disappointed. Then they waved one last time at him, and left. He could hear her voices, could hear the soft flowing of the Italian language until they were out of earshot.

He took one last breath before he began to go downstairs too. There were still a lot of other towers to climb.

~*~

The 'Tower's Inn', a few miles outside of San Gimignano was a little, family-run hotel, and Clark felt immediately at home there. He'd had dinner in a little restaurant called 'La Stella' in the middle of San Gimignano, and now he was sitting in the hotel bar, staring full of yearning at the closed piano that stood on a wall.

Suddenly, a little boy of about eight years came running in, stormed over to the piano, opened it, and began to bang on the keys. It hurt Clark almost physically. He looked around to see if there was any parent around who would tear him off but they were the only ones around right now. The barkeeper had gone to stock up the whiskey.

Clark slid from the stool, and walked over to the piano. Before the kid could torture the piano some more, he gently caught the little fists midair, and looked down at the boy.

"Please, don't," he said quietly, and the boy looked at him. Then he pointed at the piano and said something in Italian. Clark just gazed at him, and shrugged in a universal 'I don't understand' gesture.

"He asked if you could play." A voice from behind him made him whirl around, and he saw a woman leaning in the door. She was in her mid-thirties, with long black hair, tied back in a pony tail. She was dressed in casual jeans and a black shirt. Her dark eyes sparkled. She reached out her hand. "Maria Torelli." Clark took the proffered hand, and shook it. "Clark Kent."

"Nice to meet you, Signor Kent. So ... can you? Play, I mean." Her voice had a dark timbre and a beguiling accent.

Clark smiled, and nodded. "A little," he answered. When he didn't do anything, she cocked her head slightly. Then she gestured to the piano. "Please."

With a slight blush, Clark sat down, and put his fingers on the ivory keys. Then he began to play. After a few notes, he closed his eyes, could feel the music take over as always, and without realizing it he began to sing softly.

When he ended the song, he opened his eyes again. The little boy stared openmouthed at him, and Maria had suspiciously shimmering eyes. Without saying a word, she walked behind the bar, took out a bottle of wine and two glasses, filled them, and came back to him, setting one glass down in front of him. Then she sat down again, and still silently, they clinked glasses. They drank together, and then Maria put the glass down again, and said, "So who was it that broke your heart, Signor?"

It was good that Clark had swallowed the wine; otherwise, he probably would have spilled it across the table. So he simply stared at her, while she smiled at him with a knowing look in her eyes.

"Come on, Signor Kent. Italians know all about love, requited and unrequited. And the way you made this song weep ... it practically screams unrequited."

Clark took another sip of his wine, trying to stall for time. But she looked at him, and he could see a determined gleam in her eyes, telling him she wouldn't let it go. So he sighed, and said quietly, "Lex."

She nodded, took a little sip, and asked, "Lex as in Alexandra oder Lex as in Alexander?"

Clark's head shot up, and Maria laughed. It was a dark, rich sound. "So I take it he is Alexander."

"Would you...would you mind?"

Maria rested her arms on the table in front of her. "Signore, there are two things you have to know about Italianos. One," she raised her right thumb, "every Italian bambini loves its Mama. Two," the right index finger followed, "we accept love wherever we see it."

A big stone seemed to fall from Clark's chest. "Alexander."

And then he began to talk, his tongue loosened through the wine.

It was three in the morning when Clark stumbled into his room, deadly tired, emotionally drained, but strangely happy. For once in his life, he had been able to talk about Lex without the fear of being laughed at, stared at, or the need to justify his feelings.

While talking about him, Clark had suddenly discovered that his feelings for Lex went far deeper than he might have thought. That it wasn't just the admiration for an older man with money and influence. That it was more than just a fleeting crush. Somewhere along the way, he had fallen for his best friend. Had fallen head over heels in love. He opened the window and gazed outside into the darkness. It seemed as if every living thing had gone to rest. The silence was undisturbed. There was not even a cicada making a sound.

He undressed slowly, enjoying the soft brush of the night air on his skin. He took a deep breath, and climbed into bed under the cool linen sheets. After one last look at the million stars outside, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

~*~

Three days later Lex parked his car outside the Grand Plaza in Rome. This time he wasn't running after him...this time he wanted to be there when Clark arrived. Everyone he had talked to had told him that Clark's plan definitely included going to Rome. Including the woman in the last hotel, a little place called the 'Tower's Inn.' She had looked at him funny, and there had been nothing from the usual Italian warmth and hospitality. But she had told him, that he would be here today. Tomorrow at the latest.

He was sure that the young man wouldn't choose the GP, but now he'd be at least in the same city. And he had some ears and eyes out there in the 'Eternal City' that would inform him when the young man arrived.

He checked in to the Presidential Suite, made certain that his luggage had arrived safe and sound with him, and then he decided to take a little walk through Rome.

He had been here before. Of course he'd been here before, but never on holiday. Most of the times all he had seen had been his hotel, his limousine that drove him to his business associate and back, and the airport.

Now that he was here just for leisure and pleasure, he seemed to see the city for the first time. He took in the blue sky, the imposing buildings, and the smiling faces around him. And without even realizing it, he began to smile, too. With his hands in his pockets, his sunglasses in place, he strolled through the streets, making mental notes whenever he saw something special that he had to come back later together with Clark to share it with him. At lunchtime, he sat down in a little trattoria, and ordered some wine, water, and the most amazing fettuccini he had ever eaten. He was walking past the Fontana di Trevi, adding it to his list, when his cell phone rang. He took the call with a short "Yes?"

He listened to the speaker on the other end, and frowned. "Then go on searching. If he's not here yet, he will arrive within the next 48 hours." Without saying another word, he shut the phone down again, and put it back in his pocket. Then he went back to the hotel. Suddenly he had lost his good mood.

~*~

Clark entered the Grand Plaza, taking in his surroundings with big eyes. Maria had recommended this place to him, and looking around he felt SO out of place. There were pictures decorating the walls, some with landscapes, some surrealistic but all of them without any doubt very expensive. The floor was highly polished marble, and on his way through the lobby, he cast a quick glance into a room that was dominated by a big piano. He reached the reception, and asked for Susanna Millori. The woman behind the counter broke out in a big smile, and greeted him in perfect English.

"Signore Kent. Welcome to the Grand Plaza. My cousin Maria called me, and told me you'd come."

Clark smiled at her friendly words, and immediately felt better.

"Mille grazie, Signora. Maria's been very nice to me. I'm glad you have a room for me on such a short notice. Although I'm not sure I can afford to stay for long at a place like this."

She cocked her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as she took in his appearance. And for a moment, Clark was afraid she would kick him out.

"No problemo, Signore. Un amico di Maria est un amico di me." She leaned a little closer, and whispered almost conspiratorially, "Maria told me about your talent. I have a little ... business plan I'd like to discuss with you. How about we meet for a café at the piano bar in about half an hour? You can go to your room, refresh yourself a little, and then we can talk."

This piqued Clark's curiosity.

She handed over the key to his room, and with a smile, hit a little bell on the counter. Almost out of thin air a young man appeared. He seemed to be about Clark's age, wore a uniform with the Grand Plaza's emblem embroidered on the chest, and a big smile. Susanna told him something in Italian, and without hesitating, he reached for Clark's backpack, and took off in the direction of the elevator.

Clark followed with the feeling that the big question mark hanging above his head had to be visible.

~*~

"You want me to do what?"

Clark almost spilled his coffee, and only his good education forbid him to add an "Are you crazy?"

Susanna didn't seem to mind. She simply patted his hand a bit, and repeated her offer. "See, our piano player is on honeymoon. He married his girlfriend about one week ago. And we still haven't found a replacement for him. He'll be back in about two weeks, and I thought that we ... you and me ... could make a little arrangement. You play the piano at night at the bar, and as a payment, you can stay for free. That way we both profit from the situation."

"But ... but ..." Clark could feel the blush creep up, and God, did he hate it. He swallowed, wiped his hands on his jeans, and gazed at the woman sitting in front of him. She really meant it. She was offering him a free bed for some piano playing. "But you don't know if I'm good enough," he finally managed.

"Then show me."

The blush deepened. "Now?"

Susanna laughed, and now Clark could see the resemblance between the two cousins for she had the same deep, rich laughter like Maria. "Yes, now." She gestured to the piano standing in the middle of the bar which was now still empty due to the early hour of the day. Hesitantly, he got up, and walked over.

He sat down and opened the lid. It was a beautiful piano, and it reminded him of the one in Lex's office. The one on which he had been taught to play. Carefully, he caressed the keys, before he gently began to play. He played a little piece of Chopin, something easy, one of the first pieces that Lex had taught him. Then he continued with something from Gershwin, and after a few minutes, he got lost in the music again. When he stopped after almost half an hour, he startled when he heard the sound of clapping.

He opened his eyes, wondering when he had closed them in the first place, and looked at Susanna.

"That was amazing, Signor. So can we call it a deal? Oh, and the tips you get ... it's all yours."

He smiled, and nodded. "Deal. But I have nothing to wear. I guess I can't play in jeans."

Susanna laughed again. "No, you can't. But I'll guess we can fix that." She pulled out her cell phone, hit a number on speed dial, and spoke quickly in Italian. Then she listened, and talked again. With a smile, she ended the call, and said, "Marco will be here in a few moments. He's the one responsible for the clothing of our employees. He will show you some suits, and you can decide which one you want to wear."

Susanna walked over to him and gave him a firm handshake. "I'm glad Maria could convince you to come. You really are a gift from God right now. You start tonight at nine."

In that moment, a man in his early forties came into the bar. He was tall, with short, dark hair and equally dark eyes. He came to Susanna, and exchanged a few words with her before he turned to Clark.

"If you would like to follow me, Signore Kent?" He motioned to the door, and with a last look at Susanna, he followed Marco.

~*~

Lex stayed in his room for the rest of the day, sulking. Of course, he would never admit he was sulking. If asked he'd say he was working on some important project. But the fact was...he was sulking. Still there was no sign of Clark, and all his sources had come up with nothing. They had checked on all the small B&B places, all the little hotels and motels in suburban Rome...nothing. Maybe Clark had made another stop on his way to the Eternal City.

It was almost eleven when he decided to take one last drink in the hotel's piano bar before he would call it a night. He changed into a charcoal suit and a dark burgundy shirt, and left his room.

He sighed when he reached the piano bar and saw that it was almost filled to capacity. It would be difficult to find a nice quiet corner to drown in his dark mood.

The soft sound of the piano filled the air when he entered the bar, and it calmed him down immediately. He found a place at the bar – the last one – and sat down, ordering his favorite brand. He briefly closed his eyes, and felt the music like a caress. He sighed softly. The atmosphere reminded him a little of the quiet evenings at the manor with Clark as his only company. He took a sip of his drink, and felt the familiar burn as it flowed through his throat and down into his stomach.

The song ended, and some of the people applauded. Lex didn't join in though he had to admit that the piano player was extremely good. The next song began, and Lex took another sip of his drink. Then he almost spilled it.

"I would do anything for love,

I would run right into hell and back."

Very slowly, Lex turned around on his chair, searching and finding the piano player. Staring at him. Dark hair in soft waves, dark suit, beautiful face.

"I would do anything for love,

I'd never lie to you and that's a fact."

Clark.

There on the piano bank, with his eyes closed, his fingers dancing over the keys of the piano as if he was dreaming, singing to the almost sad-sounding tune of the Meat Loaf classic, was his Clark.

"But I never forget the way you feel right now,

oh no ... no way.

And I would do anything for love,

but I won't do that. No I won't do that."

In the original song, the music got more forceful then but not here. Not when Clark was making the piano almost cry silently.

"Some days it don't come easy,

Some days it don't come hard.

Some days it don't come at all and these are the days that never end."

Lex swallowed hard. Clark's voice was sliding over him like precious silk; the music enveloped him like an expensive coat. He sighed barely audibly, and closed his eyes, too, reveling in the velvety voice.

"Some nights you're breathing fire

Some nights you're breathing ice

Some nights you're like nothing I've ever seen before or will again."

Lex opened his eyes again. A shiver was running down his spine as he felt the emotions in those words. Suddenly he felt as if the song was meant only for him. And strange thoughts were running through his mind. Did it really matter that Clark had some secrets? Did it really matter there were some things he couldn't share with him?

No.

Right now it didn't. There were other things. More important things. And suddenly he knew why he had been following Clark halfway across the Earth. Knew why he was running after him like a teenager in love.

The answer to that was quite simple.

It was because he WAS in love. In love with Clark Kent, farm boy with secrets from Kansas. This revelation hit him. But then everything seemed to click into place. And he could understand himself much better. And now he knew exactly what he had to do.

He just had to know how long his Clark was playing tonight. He waved at one of the waitresses, and silently began to talk to her.

~*~

The small envelope was lying between the money. Clark found it when he emptied the bowl with his tip. He frowned a little and opened it. A golden keycard fell out. Reading the attached note, his frown deepened.

Come to me when you're ready.

Nothing more. Just these six words. No name, no room number...nothing. He turned the shimmering card around, trying to find out to which room it belonged. A hand on his shoulder startled him slightly. He looked up into the smiling eyes of Susanna.

"So...did it pay out for you tonight?"

"I'm not sure," he answered. She sat down next to him. "What do you mean?"

He held up the card. "Do you know to which room this card could belong to?"

Her eyes got wide. "This is the keycard to the Presidential Suite. Wow! You really impressed someone tonight. I know that it's booked at the moment. Do you want me to find out by whom?"

He shook his head. He was not going. After all...whomever it was that was waiting upstairs could be some kind of freak. Or some psycho. (Or someone who simply wants to meet you, a little voice whispered...he suppressed it ruthlessly).

"No, Susanna. Thank you very much. I won't go. I just call it a night, and go to bed."

She patted his hand gently. "As you like, Clark. Good night then."

He bid her a good night, too, and left for his room. It was two in the morning and that meant it was about seven pm in Kansas. He reached for the phone. A good time for his weekly call home.

~*~

Lex waited until four in the morning before he had to admit it to himself that Clark wouldn't be coming up to him. For a second he was severely tempted to throw a temper tantrum and destroy the whole suite but then rationality kicked in again. What did he expect from Clark? One key and he would be running to his doorstep? No. Not his shy farm boy. He had to be a little more insistent. So he would be down there tomorrow night, listening to him play, and in the end he would put the keycard in his tip bowl again. And then he would wait again.

He undressed, and got to bed. Somehow he slept better now, knowing that Clark was somewhere in the same house.

~*~

Clark emptied his tip bowl. And smiled. For the fourth night in a row, he found the golden key card to the Presidential Suite. Susanna glanced over his shoulder, and whistled silently.

"That someone up there really means it. So...you're going tonight?"

Clark shrugged. Susanna notice that he tried to act nonchalant but it didn't quite work out. His hands were shaking a little too much for that. And his eyes were shining a little too bright. "Maybe tomorrow. If the card shows up one more night...I'll go upstairs."

She smiled knowingly, and he seemed to get nervous. "What?"

This time it was she who shrugged. "Nothing."

He narrowed his eyes. "You know who is it, right? You looked who's in the Presidential Suite."

She didn't answer, but the smile remained. Of course she did. She considered Clark her friend, not only an employee, and so she cared for him. She had found out everything about the mysterious guest in the Presidential. Even had a nice long talk with him today. But she told Clark nothing of that. "Have a good night, Clark. I'll see you in the morning."

He nodded, and she left.

The next night, the card didn't show up.

Susanna watched Clark when he rummaged through the bowl, in search of the card that had ALWAYS been there the last five nights. But not tonight. His face fell. In his expressive eyes, she could read the disappointment as clearly as if he would've shouted and yelled. Unknowingly, her hand slid into her pocket where the golden keycard rested, waiting to be delivered to Clark. She had talked to the billionaire up in the loft. Had talked with him about his intentions towards Clark. And even though he had made it absolutely clear that it was none of her fucking business, he had also told her a little bit about their history together.

That was the reason she was now standing here, her hand resting on the card while she watched Clark who had the bowl now emptied and was looking so much like a kicked puppy that Susanna instantly felt miserable. She slowly walked over to him, watching him as he picked up the money with a lost look on his face.

"Clark? You okay?" she asked. He looked up, trying to act as if nothing was wrong. But he couldn't fool her, so after a little staring contest, his gaze fell again, and he slowly shook his head. "No. Not really. The ... the card wasn't there tonight. I guess that whoever it was decided that I'm not worth the trouble."

Without saying a word, she pulled the card out of her pocket, and slid it over the table to Clark. His head flew up, the question obvious in his eyes. For a moment, she was tempted to lie to him. Tell him that he had been late this night, so he had given her the key to give it to him later. But she couldn't.

"I talked to him yesterday. And today, too," she explained truthfully, "he asked me to watch your reaction when you wouldn't find the key. And then give it to you."

His hand was trembling slightly as he reached for the card. For one second she thought that he was angry. Or disappointed. But he wasn't. His reaction surprised her like nothing else. He got up, walked around the table, and...hugged her.

Without thinking, she hugged him back. "Thank you," he murmured into her shoulder, and with that he ran away. She could see the elevator's door close in front of his face, before she was able to answer. "You're welcome. And enjoy your midnight snack with Lex Luthor."

~*~

A soft bing announced the arrival of the elevator. Lex was standing on the balcony where a table for two was laid. Just like all the other nights. When he heard the elevator, he lit the candles, and laughed slightly at himself when he saw that his hands were shaking.

"Hello?"

Clark's voice sounded a little insecure as he exited the lift, taking a few steps into the Suite. Lex could see him from where he was standing. The young man looked stunning. With the remote control that was lying on the table next to him, Lex switched on the stereo and soft music began to fill the room.

Clark whirled around. But then he stood very still. Lex wondered for a moment why. It seemed as if the dark-haired man was listening to something. Suddenly, he gasped slightly, and without hesitation, he turned around and looked into his direction. "Lex."

A little surprised, Lex stepped into the suite, acting casually. "Hello, Clark."

"What are you doing here?"

Lex was used to insults so he didn't even flinch at this pretty harsh question. A question Clark seemed to regret the moment it was out. He bowed his head slightly. "Sorry. That didn't sound right. I ... ahm ... I didn't expect to see you here."

Lex had thought about what to say to him once he finally saw him face to face. Had thought about many logical things that would explain his presence in Rome conveniently at the same time Clark was here. But suddenly he couldn't remember a single word. He simply looked at him. And without his intention, his feet decided to close the gap between them. They carried him closer. His hands joined in the action, touching Clark the moment they were within reaching distance, and all the while, his brain and his rationality were far behind. And wasn't that just great?

He pulled Clark into his arms, could feel him stiffen for a moment before he seemed to melt into his embrace and reciprocated it. Strong arms closed around Lex, and involuntarily he closed his eyes, breathed in the familiar scent of the tall man, and sighed happily.

They stood like that for a long time, until Lex's brain finally managed to catch up with the rest of his body, and he murmured, "I missed you, Clark."

Clark grumbled something unintelligible, and pulled him a little closer. Lex continued talking.

"That night I yelled at you ... I'm so sorry about that. I didn't mean to. I wanted to apologize the next day, hoping you would come by. But you didn't. The next day neither, nor the day after that. I thought I'd had lost you. Then I went to the Talon, and talked to Chloe, and she told me where you were."

Clark moved a little back. Not too much, just so he could look at Lex. "And you decided to come after me? To follow me?"

Lex nodded.

"Why?"

Why? This question had been running through his head ever since the moment he had called Brian, his assistant, and had told him to get the plane ready because they were heading to France. But the answer had come to him just a few days ago. While he had been sitting in that hotel's piano bar, listening to the song Clark had been playing. He smiled.

"Cause I would do anything for love. Clark, I followed you through half of Europe. First Paris, then Venice, Florence, and now Rome. And everywhere I arrived I was told that I had just missed you."

A might shiver went through Clark's strong body. Lex, who was still pressed tightly against him – and had absolutely NO intention of changing that in the next few hundred years – could feel it.

"Love?"

Lex was stunned for a moment. Clark's voice was so small. So insecure. And trust Clark to stick to that one point? Lex knew there was only one answer to that. He moved up a bit, and kissed him.

Kissed him like there was no tomorrow. It was everything he had ever dreamed of, yet like nothing he could have imagined. Clark's lips were soft, his mouth warm and inviting. And the moment Clark began to kiss him back, he could feel his knees grow weak. He tightened his hold on those broad shoulders, and could feel Clark's arms hold him upright.

Suddenly, Clark moved back. He took a few steps back, taking a deep breath as if he had to bring himself under control again. Lex knew that HE did.

Then he reached out one hand. "Come with me."

Lex cocked his head slightly, but instinctively he felt that now was not the time for questions. Now was the time for trust and without hesitating he took the hand, and let Clark pull him over to the elevator.

~*~

Susanna loved working the nightshift. As soon as the piano bar was empty and everyone was up in his room, she grabbed a book, made herself comfortable behind the reception desk and began to read.

Tonight was no difference. She was just on her way to dive into another time and space when unexpected music suddenly made her look up.

It came from the piano bar. Curious – and a little angry – she closed her book again, and got up. It was four in the morning and no one had the right to be there at this time.

She walked over to the bar when suddenly the music stopped. She halted, too, waiting, and then it began again. She moved closer to the door, and peaked around a corner.

And felt a big smile form on her face.

There on the piano bench was Clark. He'd put out his suit jacket, and loosened his tie. Next to him...no wait...half on top of him...was Lex Luthor, also sans jacket and bow tie. With his left hand, he petted Clark's dark hair lovingly, while his other danced over the keys of the piano, creating a perfect counterpart to Clark's music.

The only illumination in the room came from a four-armed chandelier Clark or Lex had lit. The flickering candles made the whole situation something magical.

Every now and then, they stopped, kissed each other gently, and then they continued to play. Soft murmured words, too quiet for her to her, were whispered. Then Lex closed his eyes, shifted a bit closer – was that even possible, she mused with a tender smile – and rested his head on Clark's shoulder, and the familiar tunes of Meat Loaf began.

Softly, only for his lover who was sitting next to him, Clark began to sing, "Will you raise me up? Will you help me down? Will you get me right out of this godforsaken town?"

And just like in the song, Lex ans