Title: The Unexpected

Author: SC182

Pairing: Clark/Lex

Country: The Bahamas

Rating: PG

Summary: There’s ocean as far as the eye can see. It almost soaks up the memory of far reaching burning seas of corn

Challenge: Wave 19—Jet-setting. Lex needs to get away from the castle. Why? Does it have to do with the holidays? Where is he going? Will he invite Clark?

Disclaimer: Property of the DC Comics and the CW Network.

Special thanks to Lexsbabymama for the beta!

What began as an unexpected victory had led to this. Like the close of some romantic movie, Lex sat with the hazy brilliance of a mix of oranges, yellows and reds tinting the sky, the ocean’s tide sliding in and out across the sands below his feet, with Clark’s dark head of hair pooled in his lap.

To think, he was sitting in the heart of paradise, with Clark by his side and the only person to thank for it was Lionel Luthor

It was a Wednesday when the annual Metropolis Magazine released its list of the city’s sexiest men. The list was as good as gold in predicting who would also be featured on the cover of a nationally syndicated magazine’s the Sexiest Man Alive.

After of a year of constant upheaval in Lionel Luthor’s life, the publishing of the ‘M.M,’ the Men of Metropolis edition of Metropolis Magazine was of special importance. He was clean and sober—free from nefarious acts, underhanded business practices, and he was presently on Day 126 of days gone by without him manipulating his son for the hell of it.

His good behavior had to be noticed by someone other than himself and Lex, who was of the belief that Lionel still hadn’t changed despite asking him and the Kent boy, who did attend, tthe Metropolis Home for Children’s afternoon with Santa event. Lionel had been good, nothing but good: giving toys to orphans, money to the homeless, and most of all, no verbal spats with Jonathan Kent. He was sure to be Metropolis Magazine’s Sexiest Man.

So, he sat his desk, high above the city in the LuthorCorp Tower, waiting for his assistant to bring him the magazine. It was the most important matter of the day—that he read over the five categories and find that the universe to have finally given him what he deserved for his impeccable behavior of late.

Innovation, Style, Personality, Press, Charity; Lionel smiled coyly. All were qualities he possessed-no, embodied.

Mysterious eager minions poured into the room from all entrances. Balloons, ribbons, confetti, in hand to throw an impromptu celebration.

Lionel’s eyes landed on the name Luthor. As it appeared in the text quite frequently, sometimes in bold, sometimes italicized.

A second look. He hadn’t won one category, nor placed in any. The clouds darkened and silenced descended over the balloon and ribbon infested space.

Suddenly his thoughts weren’t so nice anymore.

The day had been quiet enough. Full of spreadsheets, meetings, the occasional phone call; a rather dull work day until Clark passed through Lex’s doors, waving a magazine.

Any occasion with Clark passing through Lex’s office was always a happy one from Lex’s perspective. He sat at his desk, with a phone against his ear, a second away from hearing the dial tone from a finished conversation, only to be distracted by the way excitement colored Clark’s features.

“Chloe’s going crazy over this.” He passed the magazine over glass top of the desk. The cover happened to be an eye-catching black spread with a large white question mark arranged in the center, with the curious words ‘Who will It be in ’07?’ drawing attention.

Clark stopped, eyeing Lex more deeply. “You’ve seen this, right?” He questioned. The question of how Lex hadn’t seen it was the more puzzling matter.

Lex took the magazine, sure that whatever inside couldn’t be too unflattering. He couldn’t remember doing anything news worthy in weeks. “I’m sure if it was unflattering, my lawyers would have flagged it and contacted me already.” There was also Lionel to think about.

On a streak of good deeds, a scary streak when Lex thought about it too hard.

Black hair bounced as Clark shook his head. “Oh, it’s nothing bad.” He stopped and thought. “Something really good, I think.”

Well, if it had Clark’s approval, it couldn’t be too bad, or bad at all for any reason. Especially since he possessed the Jonathan and Martha Kent sense of good propriety and morals detector, version 2.0.—patented by LexCorp, if he could just get the plans together. “I’ll take your word for it.”

He flipped through the pages and stopped. Stopped cold, stopped dead, because there were words, lots of them. Most formed sentences except for the bolded title: Lex Luthor: Metropolis’s Sexiest Man.

He was shocked.

He was suspicious.

He was amazed.

So amazed with the situation, Lex tuned into Clark’s animated chattering mid sentence, “—Sexiest Man Alive. Chloe thinks you’re a sure win for the title…Me too.” He ducked his head and blushed as his eyes caught Lex’s.

“I can say this is unexpected. Truly unexpected, not unwelcome though.” Lex said. He read through the five sections quickly. Noting with pride that he’d not only beaten Ollie Queen, Metropolis’s newest resident. Apparently the editors of Metropolis Magazine, who’d been less than kind to him in the past felt he possessed all the qualities to make him the city’s sexiest man.

Very nice. If not a tad bittersweet. As the only person he wanted a reaction from seemed to oblivious to those qualities. The undeniable mark of Smallville continued to rear its ugly head.

Clark circled the desk. He parked his body within inches of Lex’s, close enough to feel the heat through the layers of t-shirts and jackets. “Isn’t it great?” Clark pointed to Lex’s picture. One from gala event a few months prior. “Everything they said was really positive.” He laughed softly, his voice deeper and rougher than he anticipated. “I guess they see through the big bad Luthor veneer too.”

The moment epitomized his relationship with Clark. No one was able to come as close to Lex as Clark had done, all but penetrating Lex’s inner sanctum of secrets. Even Clark wasn’t immune. “They’ll always see the big bad Lex Luthor. Only now, I’ll have Metropolis’s Sexiest Man in front of the big bad part.”

Clark snorted. “I forget. You’re conquering the world through your sexiness. LexCorp is just a front.” Lex could have regretted teaching Clark how to use effective sarcasm, if it hadn’t looked so good on him.

“Right again.” Before their conversation could go any further, the shrill buzz of his desktop intercom killed the flow of conversation.

Lex pressed the button. “Yes Mercy?” A mild shading of annoyance colored his voice.

“A package has arrived for you, Sir.” She said.

Clark began to move around the desk. His new distance was clearly annoying Lex and it showed in his response to the sudden appearance of a package. “Fine. Send it in.”

The intercom shut off. Seconds later, she walked through the door. She was tall, beautiful—devastatingly so, and seemed to be everything that should be Lex’s type. Except being brunette. Chloe called it a hint. Clark took it as wishful thinking. In her arms, a full basket with a conspicuous red bow left them speechless and curious.

She placed it on Lex’s desk without a sound and turned on her heel to walk out the door. Clark moved closer to the desk, while Lex seemed to hover at a distance. “What is it?” He questioned.

Always one to point out the obvious, Clark answered. “A fruitbasket, Lex. A really nice fruitbasket.”

Lex sighed and resisted rubbing the worry spot between his eyes. “I can see that, Clark. The question is why?” The natural color of the wood was enhanced by a coat of varnish to bring it to a glossy shine. Its inside was full of apples, oranges, bananas, a small assortment of berries and cheese, tastefully decorated with ribbons and stuffing paper. Almost too tasteful.

A small white card hid beneath the knot of the bow. Clark looked to Lex for approval to read. Permission was granted with the small nod. He opened the card and read the few lines and paused. Lex crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

“Something interesting Clark?” Lex asked before sitting at the edge of his desk.

Clark’s bottom jaw yo-yoed repeatedly, before stopping as his brows rose, as if some great argument had been settled. “It’s...It’s from your father.”

A moment of silence. “My father.” Now, he had a reason to eye the basket with suspicion. The fruit could be poisoned, probably was poisoned as Lex’s track record with his father proved.

Lex gazed closer at the basket, precautious as though it had an ominous hissing coming from it. No snakes this time, but some considered any gift from Lionel Luthor to be equal to a basket full of snakes.

He wasn’t fooled by the sudden forecast of good behavior on Lionel’s behalf.

The fruit looked so perfect, ripe and rich. The shiny red skin of the apples seemed to shine. The apples in Metropolis didn’t hold a candle to those on the farm. But these…called to Clark, assuring sweetness with every juicy bite. His ears caught the faint click inside the basket.

The snake had revealed itself. Green mist crept out of the basket, dropping Clark into the nearest chair like a overheated maiden and Lex was suddenly gifted with the most carefree and uninhibited feeling imaginable. Better than any drug, it coursed through his veins, giving him a feeling of drunken courage.

Somewhere in the haze of the green mist, Lex asked one of the questions he’d been saving since Clark had moved to Metropolis and away from his parents’ supervision. Though the mist was still pretty thick, Clark’s answer of yes was more than clear.

Clark had agreed to go out with him.

That’s when it all became hazy.

A bump and the ear piercing screech of burning rubber against cement awakened Lex. The edge of his vision was clouded in a sickly green, leaving him feeling more disoriented than alert as he tried to shake off the lassitude. His surroundings were familiar, too familiar by the sudden drop of his stomach. The only thing holding back the low level Luthor freak out was the ticklish sweep of Clark’s hair against his neck as the plane jostled them from side to side. Yet, Clark he slept on.

They were settled in a pair of comfortable leather seats, plush—very plush, and alone; this telltale observation made Lex the most unsettled. He’d remembered a situation like this once before. The difference between then and now, this plane actually landed and Clark was by his side.

A voice floated to his ears from behind his seat. “It’s great to see you’ve finally awakened, sir.” Her accent reminded him of the pleasant tinkering of a steel drum. He turned to face her. The sight was very pleasant. She wasn’t his typical dark eyed long legged brunette beauty, but she had luscious Caribbean caramel skin with startling green grey eyes which accentuated her tropical African heritage. “You’ve slept most of the flight. I was under strict orders to not disturb you and your friend.”

Lex nodded silently. Still too out of it to respond.

She continued, her accent fluttering between an island drawl to the crisp edges of a British tone. “Ms. Mercy has made all the arrangements. Once the plane has been taxied to its hangar, you shall have transportation waiting.”

He still wasn’t clear on how or why they’d arrived on the plane. Yet, if Mercy had made arrangements for the trip, he could relax…a bit, as hard as that was. “Where are we exactly?” His voice was dry and rough like the morning after he woke up on the island. She walked away with a knowing look and returned with chilled bottle of Ty Nant.

“Nassau, Bahamas sir.” Unexpected yes, unwelcome no. When he returned to Metropolis, Mercy was getting a raise, a very big one.

The stewardess walked to the front of the cabin and out of sight. He turned to Clark and found himself even more hesitant to speak. The planes of Clark’s face were smooth, cheeks rosy with the flush of a blissful sleep, lips parted just barely to accommodate the flow of air. His mind full of thoughts, reasons why he should be suspicious, concerned even, looking at Clark so freely

“Clark?”

“Hmmm.” Clark buried his face deeper into hollow of Lex’s neck. It was difficult to resist the shiver, but Lex managed by shaking Clark again under the watchful gaze of their stewardess.

“Wake up, Clark.”

“Five more minutes mom.” Clark muttered as he turned away from the sound of Lex’s voice.

Too bad he didn’t have any pie on hand to jump start Clark’s motor. Jump starting Clark’s motor made him think of other things he wanted to excite that belonged to Clark. He pushed these thoughts aside and gave Clark a hard shove. Its effectiveness was proven by the open eyed kicked puppy expression Clark was currently giving him.

Clark sat up and stretched lazily. “Where are we?” The question had a distinct whine to it. Lex noted for later that Clark was a post-naptime grump.

“A surprise.”

“You hate surprises.”

“True. You like surprises and this is one surprise I think you’ll enjoy.”

The plane came to a final stop. The stewardess moved to open the door; Clark took in their surroundings and turned back to Lex. “Why is it that you win Metropolis’s Sexiest Man and I’m the one getting the surprise?”

Lex shrugged nonchalantly. “I presume that Lionel is still spreading good will. You, Clark, are just along for the ride.”

The stewardess ushered them to the lowered metal staircase, leading to the tarmac, a final wave bid them welcome to the island. A driver waited beside a black limo in a cool crisp white suit. He smiled brightly and opened the door. “Welcome, Mr. Luthor and Mr. Kent to Nassau.” The Luthor sounded more like ‘lu-tor’, because many of the islanders dropped the ‘h’ in the ‘th’.

Before they pulled away from the airstrip, the driver gave them a warm smile. “The Bahamas is made of 700 islands. Lucky for you, you choose this one, the best one.” He said warmly.

The drive seemed to pass quickly. As Clark watched the surroundings change with each winding turn. “What’s that?” The limo slowed to a crawl. People milled in and out, dressed colorfully, talking with large hand gestures and loaded arms.

“Dat--” The driver pointed to the open building and the surrounding clusters of tents. “—Is our famous Straw Market.”

Lex could see Clark thinking about it. Luckily not thinking about the selling of straw literally, farm boy or no. “Can we check it out?” Then, there were the puppy eyes, imploring and deep, glistening pools of emerald green. His resistance was nil.

“Sure.” Lex said.

They made their way through the bustling crowds. Lex found it hard to tear his eyes away from Clark, who was all but captivated by the busy exchanges occurring around them. They were in a foreign country, yet the similarity between the market’s environment wasn’t lost on either of them. Unlike in Smallville were goods were harvested from the land, this place mostly depended on the sea.

Smiling older ladies weaved dried palm leaves with deft fingers. Hats, mats, fans, so many crafts covered tables beside seashell jewelry. They moved through narrow aisles, listening to haggling, to the price wagering. These seasoned island women could teach Lionel a thing or two about bargaining.

Clark stopped and pointed. “Wow, look at these.” They headed over to a table laden with seashell figurines and a distinct collection pale pink spiral topped shells. Clark was captivated by one in particular, a figure made of sea shells and palm weavings. A little sea shell man played the guitar while holding a frosted glass with a slice of lime hanging off the side. It was quirky and peeked Clark’s sense of humor.

An older woman dressed in aqua floral print from skirt to head-wrap intercepted them. Quickly gauging their expressions, apparent by the sunny smile on Clark’s face, she decided to give them a deal. “Two for da price of one. One for you, pa and one for your friend.”

“How much?” Lex asked after perusing the figures for his selection.

Market woman smiled with a knowing look on her face. “Three dollars and I’ll you give you a polished conch shell too.”

It was a deal. Lex collected their trinkets and assumed Clark had continued to explore. He turned around and found himself blocked by the wall of Clark’s wide chest. His lips were turned downward, frowning a bit, more confused than hurt.

Instinctively, Lex sought to make the matter right. Especially if it was the catch that came along with this sudden voyage. “What’s wrong now?”

Clark sighed heavily. “I’m hungry--” Lex wanted to point out that was a persistent state for Clark. “—And all the stands have signs for something called conch fritters and conch salad.” Now, the old market lady laughed softly.

“Conch, Pa.” Pronounced like ‘kunk’. She pointed at the end of the row tables. “You can’t leave da market without stopping by Doddridge’s. Best conch salad and conch fritters on da island.”

Upon taking her advice, they continued past the tables. The farther they walked, the closer to port they came. Cruise ships lined every available space. Mammoth and sleek like a floating city.

Doddridge’s was more than a little stand as Lex previously thought. Locals and tourists mingled amongst the tables and at the bar beneath the surprisingly good shade of the palm leaves thatched roof. The setting was comfortable, even in the afternoon heat; there was a certain undeniable feeling of general comfort.

No surprise, Clark fell head over heels in lust with the conch fritters. Balls of greasy dough full of spices and assorted vegetables and sweet chewy meat weren’t Lex’s particular cup of tea. Clark bought several bags and wasn’t satisfied until Lex had tried one. The taste was pleasant. Not as satisfying as the cold beer and chilled conch salad combination he’d ordered.

Finished with their exploration of the market, Lex and Clark walked back cobbled street where they last saw the driver. Clark shrugged out of his jacket and one of his t-shirts, stripping down to one layer of form fitting slightly damp material.

Lex’s gaze lingered longer than necessary as it had a habit of doing these days. Clark turned his face up to the sun. The effect instant—beautiful, like flower in the spring and so many other natural metaphors that sprung into Lex’s mind. Pure poetry was the look on Clark’s face. “After my exam in journalism, I figured the rest of the day would be pretty boring. I was only hoping for a normal Friday night.” He looked around. Cruise ships and British colonial architecture weren’t usual components of their weekend opener.

Hands in his pockets, Lex was more than sure Mercy would be the recipient of a hefty bonus fairly soon. Though, it was by some result of some twisted machination on his father’s part, Lex found himself enjoying the day. “Today was supposed to mundane. Flying out of country wasn’t in the picture, though I think I’m having the best Friday in a while.”

Clark piped up just then. “That’s right, because you’re Metropolis’s Sexiest Man.”

“Lex ‘Sexiest Man in Metropolis’ Luthor, at your service.” Lex deadpanned.

The limo driver armed with his instruction from a higher power, namely Mercy, drove them through the narrow streets and roundabouts that were so common to the islands. Clark sat on the edge of his seat captivated by the stories of Junkanoo parades and the Junkanoo groups that were crucial to the important holidays in the Bahamas. Lex, too, was enthralled by the stories of the conquistadores and pirates. Mainly, Juan Ponce de Leon’s search for the fountain of youth.

The limo stopped before a stately house. Large columns supported the covered front deck. Multiple stories, full of windows, coral and white, gave it a comforting air and added to its mighty frame to make it all the more magnificent. Inside, the furnishings were impressive. Large bay windows welcomed the sun into the living room full of wicker and white chairs and sofa.

Stocked and loaded, the kitchen contained baskets and trays of freshly made island favorites. “Coconut candy, coconut milk, coconut chips…” Clark read off.

No fruit baskets much to Lex’s happiness. “I’m sensing a pattern.” He left Clark on the first floor and began exploring the second. Full of soft colors and sunlight. The bay windows are open like a mother’s arms, gauzy and flowing. The roll of the ocean was the only sound in the room. A closet full of linen suits greeted him with the promise of being cool and comfortable for the duration of the trip. An extra black suit in the collection, he assumed was for the return trip to Metropolis.

A floor below, Clark was settled on the back deck, mesmerized by the sight before him. The sight was incomparable to anything he’d ever seen back home. Crater Lake, in comparison, was only a pond. White sands rolled into sparkling clear crystal blue waters. Small waves broke into sudden caps of white. At the horizon, the sky and ocean blended into one road of endless blue. Only disrupted every now and then by movement of dolphins breaching the surface.

Clark gazed out as the late afternoon sun as Lex quietly eased next to him. “I think I could have been a pirate.” Lex said as a breeze ruffled his collar.

Clark laughed slowly. “Aarggh, Peg leg Luthor. You would have been the scourge of the sea.”

“Captain Peg Leg to you…and you’d be my cabin boy. ” A fantastic fantasy Lex thought of frequently.

Clark faced Lex, stopping short and inspecting Lex’s new apparel. “It’s…” He stopped. The suit was not a traditional Lex Luthor original.

“White.” Lex finished for him, looking wholly comfortable on beach with the same austere sense that he used in the boardroom.

“I’m amazed, Lex. I was starting to think you’d banned every color outside of black and purple from your wardrobe.”

“It’s too hot for anything else.” He did a half spin before slinking over to Clark. “It actually looks good on me, surprisingly. White has never been my color.”

Clark continued to stare. Eyes roving over the crisp lines of the linen pant leg up to the smooth intersection of Lex’s waist, so smooth and tone, absolutely clear though covered. He was hungry again. This new suit made Clark think of the coconut milk and chips he found in the kitchen. Sweet and fluid, that was Lex’s walk. Lex himself was like the coconut chips, hard and sharp, a taste that one never forgot though long after the first bite.

He felt feverish as if he was bitten by a bug. Energized beyond reason. “Come on.” Clark’s off the deck, running through the sand, barely leashing the desire to speed. He’s showing too much. He has shown too much.

Fully clothed, Clark sunk beneath the waves. It was warmer because of the sun, exciting due to the constant movements of sea life, fish swimming, corals bursting over with life—so vivid in the real time color. He could see why A.C. protected it so fiercely.

Clark turned to the direction of the shore and swam until his feet returned to the shifting firmament of muddy sand. He didn’t know Lex was watching—had followed him as he’d asked, as he’d always do for Clark.

Standing at the water’s edge, the tide barely lapped over the cuff of his linen pants. A frothy tipped wave broke a few feet ahead. As the water receded, it seemed to move exceptionally slow, crawling back over a shock of black hair, sliding down a red t-shirt until it finally dripped from Clark’s pants as he rolled to his feet. Like the Birth of Venus—a magnificent and awe inspiring sight, Lex found himself speechless by the near nude vision, the wet hug of clothes erasing almost every secret of Clark’s form, and Clark, himself, stood against a wall of endless crystal blue sky and sea.

Their eyes locked. Clark’s slightly parted mouth up turned into a soft smile, one that reached his eyes. Lex could imagine how they looked. Separated by a few shallow steps, Clark’s chest still heaving from the swim, like the moment before the climax in a romance novel or some classic movie. He could have this if he just took one step, possessed courage.

Why not?

He was Metropolis’s Sexiest Man after all. This was the caliber of thing a man in his position was expected to do. Clark’s eyes seemed to be calling him, reaching him like the song of a siren, with the hopes of the same expectation.

He’s in the ocean with arms full of Clark, hands in wet curling black strands before he knew it. Was it the tropical sun that had given Clark’s mouth this taste? Like a hot flow of passion fruit juice and a slight bite of lime, nothing like the sweet juicy taste of red Kansas apples.

“Really?” Clark asked, pulling away.

He hadn’t meant to say that aloud. “It wasn’t the expected flavor, but it will do all the same.”

They’re locked around each other. Lex’s hands firmly ensconced in Clark’s hair while Clark gripped his waist with a fierce yet gentle grip.

For a second time in the day, he’s breathless, vision coated in some color other than clear and he was at the mercy of waves of sensation and memories: an introduction coconut candy, a name of a shell fish that vexed Clark with a confusing pronunciation. There’s ocean as far as the eye can see. It almost soaks up the memory of far reaching burning seas of corn.

So right.

The sun set beyond them. This thing between them was far from set, far from finished. For once, the unexpected yielded something wanted. Something like love.

The End