Fanfic -- Smallville
Ah. This will do to help me regain my equilibrium.
Summary: If you know the song, you know the plot.
Author's Notes: Songfic to Bonnie Raitt's Something to Talk About. It was stuck in my head my spare period, the last Friday before the last March Break of my highschool career. Go songfic! As always, lyrics are mixed up and some repetitions cut to keep to the story.
Disclaimer: Smallville doesn't belong to me, the characters don't belong to me (Bruce and Dick belong to the Batman franchise), and I don't even have a copy of the song. No suing, please.
Pairing: Clark Kent / Lex Luthor
Rating: PG-13
Something to Talk About
People are talkin, talking 'bout people
I hear them whisper, you won't believe it
They think we're lovers kept under covers
I just ignore it, but they keep saying
We laugh just a little too loud
We stand just a little too close
We stare just a little too long
Maybe they're seeing, something we don't, Darlin'
“Oh, come on, Pete, what else could it be?”
He shrugged, looking about as uncomfortable with the topic as Whitney in stilletos. And she had the blackmail to prove it.
“Is Clark even, you know...” He wiggled his eyebrows. She stared.
“Is he what?”
“You know,” he hissed, lowering his voice.
“Gay?”
“Shh!” He glanced around fearfully, but the walls hadn't grown ears. Yet, since this was Smallville and it was probably coming.
“Well, you could've said so in the first place,” she huffed.
“I signed it!”
“You signed it? Pete, you did this.” She wiggled her eyebrows in an uncannay imitation of his Aunt Flora. Chloe had two eyebrows instead of one, though. “How was I supposed to get gay from that? You looked like you were trying not to sneeze.”
He glared.
“Yeah, well, you got it.”
“Whatever. And anyway, I think the only answer to 'is he gay?' is : Duh.”
“What?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Isn't it obvious? His numerous flake outs with Lana? Watching the football players at practice? Going after Lex how many times now?”
“He's a geek. His Dad won't let him play, and he's got a hero complex,” he ground out.
“Besides, it's like, Loretta's Laws of dating or something,” she continued airily. “Any guy as cute as Clark is, who isn't a total jerk, is gay.”
“First off, whoever this Loretta is, she's just plain wrong. And even if he were gay, which he is not, and trust me because I, as his bestest of the best friends, would know, if he was, which he isn't... Look, he wouldn't go out with a Luthor. End. Of. Story.”
“Geez, Pete, homophobic much?”
“I'm not homophobic! I just happen to think that Clark is straight.”
“Riiiight. And underneath that little-virgin-kitten demeanor, Lana's really into drugs and bondage. Get real, Pete. Clark is gay, and he so has a crush on Lex Luthor.”
She sat back, arms crossed with an air of smug triumph. Or else cramps again.
“Wanna bet on it?”
“I would love to take your money,” she purred. “Shall we make it ten?”
“Twenty says Clark is straight.”
“Twenty says he's gay, and gunning for Lex.”
They reached out to shake.
“You think I'm what?” Clark squeaked from the doorway.
Let's give them something to talk about
Let's give them something to talk about
Let's give them something to talk about
How about love?
They glanced up as the door opened and a grinning head popped in.
“Yo! Can I interrupt you old geezers now?”
“Come in, Dick, we're about done.”
“Cool.” Slipping through a crack just a touch narrower than should've let him through, Dick, aka Richard, aka Robin, bounced in. “So, Lex, any hot dates lately?”
“Aside from my disastrous marriage to a woman who tried to kill me?” the Luthor pointed out dryly.
“Some things never change,” Bruce mused, grinning at his former schoolmate.
“Come off it, Wayne. Rough me up, maybe, but kill me? None of those guys ever got that far.”
“Not even David Smar?”
“Not really,” he said, considering the memory. “Though he did sort-of want to tattoo his name across my back.”
“So what I didn't need to hear,” Dick interrupted. Lex turned, his eyes quickly widening as he saw his wallet in the flexible crime-fighter's hands.
“Actually, I heard something from your father about a farmboy?”
He refused to admit he was blushing.
“Clark Kent. Lionel doesn't approve of our friendship, but really, that's...”
The little thief held up said farmboy's picture.
“...all it is.”
“Right,” Bruce muttered.
“He's barely of age,” he protested.
“Since when does that stop you?”
“We're just friends, Wayne,” he growled.
“With you, it's never 'just friends,' Lex.”
He glowered at his old friend.
“So,” Dick broke in cheerfully. “How's the sex?”
I feel so foolish, I never noticed
You'd act so nervous, could you be falling for me?
It took a rumor to make me wonder
Now I'm convinced I'm going under
Thinking 'bout you every day
Dreaming 'bout you every night
Hoping that you feel the same way
Now that we know it, let's really show it, Darlin'
In unison, they blinked at each other. Lex recovered first.
“Clark, come in. What brings you here today?” he asked smoothly.
“Uh...”
Blushing, the dark-haired teen edged in. Hands in pockets, slump to his posture, and brilliant red in his oh-so-beautiful cheeks; a picture of embarrassment. He waited, leaning back in his chair and hoping he was hiding his own nervousness. Bruce and Dick hadn't laid off on him until they'd dragged out an admission that yes, the farmboy was sex on a stick, preferably his, thank you, and yes, he might be amenable to taking their friendship to another level, preferably horizontal, but he was flexible, and no, they. Were. Not. Dating.
“Um, Lex, I was kinda wondering if you'd, um...”
Fuck you senseless? Love to. Shall we race for the bedroom, or would the couch do?
“Heardtherumoursboutus.”
He smirked a little.
“Come again, Clark?”
If anything, the blush intensified. This was passing way over beautiful into gorgeous. He shifted almost unnoticeably, wondering for the millionth time why he tortured himself with a sweet, wonderful guy he didn't stand a chance with.
Probably that whole, sweet, wonderful guy part.
“I was wondering if you'd heard the rumours. About us,” his friend clarified. He stood, trying to make it look like it wasn't to add a little more comfort to his pants.
“Ah. I think I've heard most of the rumours, but it's possible I missed one. Which one is bothering you, Clark?”
There. That was good. Very best-friend-like. He hoped.
“The, um...” Suddenly green eyes turned on him and he froze. If that gaze went downwards, he was so busted. There was kinda a tortured look there, which made him want to reach over, hug the idiot and tell him it'd be all right. At least he'd kept that from Bruce; the bat would've had a field day with it.
“Yes?” he encouraged.
“Chloe thinks we're gay. Um, together.”
He blinked. And he'd thought he was beyond being surprised; he'd have to keep an eye on that Intrepid Reporter.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
“Okay. Um, so, this is bothering you?”
Don't say yes don't say yes don't say yes.
“Lex, they were betting on it!”
He frowned. That sounded more serious.
“Who were?”
“Chloe and Pete.”
His farmboy - ooh, freudian slip there, Lex. Considering that, he guided Clark over the couch and made him sit down.
“In that case, I think you've got a couple of choices.”
“I do? Um, you're involved too, Lex. I'm not making any decisions without you,” the teenager corrected, looking at him. He grinned.
“And I'll stand behind you all the way. Unless your Dad hears about this, and I have to run away from the shotgun.” Good, an answering smirk. “Now, the way I see it is this: you basically have three options. One, ignore it. Eventually, they'll give up on it. Two, keep them guessing. Hey, if they're going to make bets about your love life, they deserve a little torture, right?”
“Just a little, though, right?”
“Keeping the idea in their minds should be torture enough,” he assured him. “And the third option, is to decide who you want to win the bet, and confirm their opinion.”
“I don't think telling them the truth will convince them,” Clark muttered. He winced in anticipation of his next words.
“Being seen dating certainly might.”
“I suck at dating.”
“Everybody sucks at dating, Clark. That's why we have high divorce rates and singles bars.”
“That doesn't really help.”
He sighed.
“I wasn't expecting it to.”
“Just, um, just out of curiosity, what if, uh, what if it were true?”
What?
“That we were dating?”
“Or something,” the farmboy confirmed.
Meep.
“I think all three options would still be open to you,” he said carefully. “But we'd have to take into consideration our fathers' responses and the likelihood of being outed anyway. Doing so on our own terms would be best, I think.”
“Yeah.”
He waited. His friend seemed to be struggling with something, hands clenching and unclenching on his knees.
“It'd be kinda cool, wouldn't it?”
His lungs stopped working. Huh, and he hadn't had an asthma attack since the meteors.
“I guess so,” he replied lightly. Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease.
“I'd have to tell you the truth. About a lot of stuff,” Clark hedged.
“I could save you the time,” he offered. A curious look. “I did hit you, you weren't hurt, you're faster, stronger and a lot more indestructible than most humans, and it all started back with the meteor shower.”
Great. He'd freaked the teen out.
“Uh, and I'm an alien.”
Or not. He blinked.
“Explains the spaceship in your storm cellar. Cool.”
“Cool?”
“Cool,” he confirmed. Clark grinned, accepting that he'd snuck around without apparent surprise.
“Cool. Hey, Lex, wanna go to the movies sometime?”
He grinned, trying to hide how much it hurt to hear that joked about.
“Hey, Clark, wanna skip the movies and make out on my couch?” he teased back.
And the teen shrugged.
“Okay.”
He had time to realize his jaw was dropping, then there was a warm, inexperienced mouth on his and strong arms wrapped around his back. It took him a minute to switch gears, then he put off the triumphant jubilation for when he was alone and kissed Clark back with all he was worth.
Let's give them something to talk about
A little mystery to figure out
Let's give them something to talk about
How about love, love, love, love?
“Hey, Pete, you owe me twenty bucks.”
“Huh?”
Clark grinned down at his friends, watching as Pete slowly realized he was standing with Lex Luthor's hand in his back pocket and his arm around the young billionaire's waist.
“I definitely won that bet,” Chloe continued.
“Actually, Chlo, neither of you did. I didn't have the hots for Lex when you made that bet.”
“You didn't? Then... But... How?”
“Oh, I think we'll leave you that little mystery, Miss Sullivan,” the businessman interrupted smoothly. She whimpered.
“But... You're not straight.”
“That's right, Pete. And the sky is blue,” he replied, smirking.
“Then who won the bet?”
“Thanks, Whitney.”
They all turned around to see the jock sheepishly digging a ten out of his wallet. Lana smiled beatifically around.
“You were betting too?” Chloe gasped.
“Just that Clark and Lex would get together eventually,” she admitted. Whitney shook his head
“Congratulations, man. At least now you'll stay away from my girlfriend.”
“Thanks, Fordman,” he said, grinning. “Just so long as you stay away from my boyfriend.”
The blond's eyes widened comically.
“Whoa! No way! You're welcome to him, trust me.”
Lex snorted.
“Clark, he's nowhere near being competition.”
“Good,” he muttered, just low enough that only Lex heard the possessive tone. Grey eyes laughed at him, which was okay, because they also invited him to lower his head and take a kiss. Dimly, he was aware that Chloe and Lana were cheering, but he ignored them.
It didn't matter who'd bet on them. The important thing was that he'd finally got his head screwed on straight. Or, er, gay.
Whatever.
Let's give them something to talk about
Let's give them something to talk about
Let's give them something to talk about
How about love, love, love, love?
The End.
I feel much better now.
Summary: If you know the song, you know the plot.
Author's Notes: Songfic to Bonnie Raitt's Something to Talk About. It was stuck in my head my spare period, the last Friday before the last March Break of my highschool career. Go songfic! As always, lyrics are mixed up and some repetitions cut to keep to the story.
Disclaimer: Smallville doesn't belong to me, the characters don't belong to me (Bruce and Dick belong to the Batman franchise), and I don't even have a copy of the song. No suing, please.
Pairing: Clark Kent / Lex Luthor
Rating: PG-13
Something to Talk About
People are talkin, talking 'bout people
I hear them whisper, you won't believe it
They think we're lovers kept under covers
I just ignore it, but they keep saying
We laugh just a little too loud
We stand just a little too close
We stare just a little too long
Maybe they're seeing, something we don't, Darlin'
“Oh, come on, Pete, what else could it be?”
He shrugged, looking about as uncomfortable with the topic as Whitney in stilletos. And she had the blackmail to prove it.
“Is Clark even, you know...” He wiggled his eyebrows. She stared.
“Is he what?”
“You know,” he hissed, lowering his voice.
“Gay?”
“Shh!” He glanced around fearfully, but the walls hadn't grown ears. Yet, since this was Smallville and it was probably coming.
“Well, you could've said so in the first place,” she huffed.
“I signed it!”
“You signed it? Pete, you did this.” She wiggled her eyebrows in an uncannay imitation of his Aunt Flora. Chloe had two eyebrows instead of one, though. “How was I supposed to get gay from that? You looked like you were trying not to sneeze.”
He glared.
“Yeah, well, you got it.”
“Whatever. And anyway, I think the only answer to 'is he gay?' is : Duh.”
“What?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Isn't it obvious? His numerous flake outs with Lana? Watching the football players at practice? Going after Lex how many times now?”
“He's a geek. His Dad won't let him play, and he's got a hero complex,” he ground out.
“Besides, it's like, Loretta's Laws of dating or something,” she continued airily. “Any guy as cute as Clark is, who isn't a total jerk, is gay.”
“First off, whoever this Loretta is, she's just plain wrong. And even if he were gay, which he is not, and trust me because I, as his bestest of the best friends, would know, if he was, which he isn't... Look, he wouldn't go out with a Luthor. End. Of. Story.”
“Geez, Pete, homophobic much?”
“I'm not homophobic! I just happen to think that Clark is straight.”
“Riiiight. And underneath that little-virgin-kitten demeanor, Lana's really into drugs and bondage. Get real, Pete. Clark is gay, and he so has a crush on Lex Luthor.”
She sat back, arms crossed with an air of smug triumph. Or else cramps again.
“Wanna bet on it?”
“I would love to take your money,” she purred. “Shall we make it ten?”
“Twenty says Clark is straight.”
“Twenty says he's gay, and gunning for Lex.”
They reached out to shake.
“You think I'm what?” Clark squeaked from the doorway.
Let's give them something to talk about
Let's give them something to talk about
Let's give them something to talk about
How about love?
They glanced up as the door opened and a grinning head popped in.
“Yo! Can I interrupt you old geezers now?”
“Come in, Dick, we're about done.”
“Cool.” Slipping through a crack just a touch narrower than should've let him through, Dick, aka Richard, aka Robin, bounced in. “So, Lex, any hot dates lately?”
“Aside from my disastrous marriage to a woman who tried to kill me?” the Luthor pointed out dryly.
“Some things never change,” Bruce mused, grinning at his former schoolmate.
“Come off it, Wayne. Rough me up, maybe, but kill me? None of those guys ever got that far.”
“Not even David Smar?”
“Not really,” he said, considering the memory. “Though he did sort-of want to tattoo his name across my back.”
“So what I didn't need to hear,” Dick interrupted. Lex turned, his eyes quickly widening as he saw his wallet in the flexible crime-fighter's hands.
“Actually, I heard something from your father about a farmboy?”
He refused to admit he was blushing.
“Clark Kent. Lionel doesn't approve of our friendship, but really, that's...”
The little thief held up said farmboy's picture.
“...all it is.”
“Right,” Bruce muttered.
“He's barely of age,” he protested.
“Since when does that stop you?”
“We're just friends, Wayne,” he growled.
“With you, it's never 'just friends,' Lex.”
He glowered at his old friend.
“So,” Dick broke in cheerfully. “How's the sex?”
I feel so foolish, I never noticed
You'd act so nervous, could you be falling for me?
It took a rumor to make me wonder
Now I'm convinced I'm going under
Thinking 'bout you every day
Dreaming 'bout you every night
Hoping that you feel the same way
Now that we know it, let's really show it, Darlin'
In unison, they blinked at each other. Lex recovered first.
“Clark, come in. What brings you here today?” he asked smoothly.
“Uh...”
Blushing, the dark-haired teen edged in. Hands in pockets, slump to his posture, and brilliant red in his oh-so-beautiful cheeks; a picture of embarrassment. He waited, leaning back in his chair and hoping he was hiding his own nervousness. Bruce and Dick hadn't laid off on him until they'd dragged out an admission that yes, the farmboy was sex on a stick, preferably his, thank you, and yes, he might be amenable to taking their friendship to another level, preferably horizontal, but he was flexible, and no, they. Were. Not. Dating.
“Um, Lex, I was kinda wondering if you'd, um...”
Fuck you senseless? Love to. Shall we race for the bedroom, or would the couch do?
“Heardtherumoursboutus.”
He smirked a little.
“Come again, Clark?”
If anything, the blush intensified. This was passing way over beautiful into gorgeous. He shifted almost unnoticeably, wondering for the millionth time why he tortured himself with a sweet, wonderful guy he didn't stand a chance with.
Probably that whole, sweet, wonderful guy part.
“I was wondering if you'd heard the rumours. About us,” his friend clarified. He stood, trying to make it look like it wasn't to add a little more comfort to his pants.
“Ah. I think I've heard most of the rumours, but it's possible I missed one. Which one is bothering you, Clark?”
There. That was good. Very best-friend-like. He hoped.
“The, um...” Suddenly green eyes turned on him and he froze. If that gaze went downwards, he was so busted. There was kinda a tortured look there, which made him want to reach over, hug the idiot and tell him it'd be all right. At least he'd kept that from Bruce; the bat would've had a field day with it.
“Yes?” he encouraged.
“Chloe thinks we're gay. Um, together.”
He blinked. And he'd thought he was beyond being surprised; he'd have to keep an eye on that Intrepid Reporter.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
“Okay. Um, so, this is bothering you?”
Don't say yes don't say yes don't say yes.
“Lex, they were betting on it!”
He frowned. That sounded more serious.
“Who were?”
“Chloe and Pete.”
His farmboy - ooh, freudian slip there, Lex. Considering that, he guided Clark over the couch and made him sit down.
“In that case, I think you've got a couple of choices.”
“I do? Um, you're involved too, Lex. I'm not making any decisions without you,” the teenager corrected, looking at him. He grinned.
“And I'll stand behind you all the way. Unless your Dad hears about this, and I have to run away from the shotgun.” Good, an answering smirk. “Now, the way I see it is this: you basically have three options. One, ignore it. Eventually, they'll give up on it. Two, keep them guessing. Hey, if they're going to make bets about your love life, they deserve a little torture, right?”
“Just a little, though, right?”
“Keeping the idea in their minds should be torture enough,” he assured him. “And the third option, is to decide who you want to win the bet, and confirm their opinion.”
“I don't think telling them the truth will convince them,” Clark muttered. He winced in anticipation of his next words.
“Being seen dating certainly might.”
“I suck at dating.”
“Everybody sucks at dating, Clark. That's why we have high divorce rates and singles bars.”
“That doesn't really help.”
He sighed.
“I wasn't expecting it to.”
“Just, um, just out of curiosity, what if, uh, what if it were true?”
What?
“That we were dating?”
“Or something,” the farmboy confirmed.
Meep.
“I think all three options would still be open to you,” he said carefully. “But we'd have to take into consideration our fathers' responses and the likelihood of being outed anyway. Doing so on our own terms would be best, I think.”
“Yeah.”
He waited. His friend seemed to be struggling with something, hands clenching and unclenching on his knees.
“It'd be kinda cool, wouldn't it?”
His lungs stopped working. Huh, and he hadn't had an asthma attack since the meteors.
“I guess so,” he replied lightly. Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease.
“I'd have to tell you the truth. About a lot of stuff,” Clark hedged.
“I could save you the time,” he offered. A curious look. “I did hit you, you weren't hurt, you're faster, stronger and a lot more indestructible than most humans, and it all started back with the meteor shower.”
Great. He'd freaked the teen out.
“Uh, and I'm an alien.”
Or not. He blinked.
“Explains the spaceship in your storm cellar. Cool.”
“Cool?”
“Cool,” he confirmed. Clark grinned, accepting that he'd snuck around without apparent surprise.
“Cool. Hey, Lex, wanna go to the movies sometime?”
He grinned, trying to hide how much it hurt to hear that joked about.
“Hey, Clark, wanna skip the movies and make out on my couch?” he teased back.
And the teen shrugged.
“Okay.”
He had time to realize his jaw was dropping, then there was a warm, inexperienced mouth on his and strong arms wrapped around his back. It took him a minute to switch gears, then he put off the triumphant jubilation for when he was alone and kissed Clark back with all he was worth.
Let's give them something to talk about
A little mystery to figure out
Let's give them something to talk about
How about love, love, love, love?
“Hey, Pete, you owe me twenty bucks.”
“Huh?”
Clark grinned down at his friends, watching as Pete slowly realized he was standing with Lex Luthor's hand in his back pocket and his arm around the young billionaire's waist.
“I definitely won that bet,” Chloe continued.
“Actually, Chlo, neither of you did. I didn't have the hots for Lex when you made that bet.”
“You didn't? Then... But... How?”
“Oh, I think we'll leave you that little mystery, Miss Sullivan,” the businessman interrupted smoothly. She whimpered.
“But... You're not straight.”
“That's right, Pete. And the sky is blue,” he replied, smirking.
“Then who won the bet?”
“Thanks, Whitney.”
They all turned around to see the jock sheepishly digging a ten out of his wallet. Lana smiled beatifically around.
“You were betting too?” Chloe gasped.
“Just that Clark and Lex would get together eventually,” she admitted. Whitney shook his head
“Congratulations, man. At least now you'll stay away from my girlfriend.”
“Thanks, Fordman,” he said, grinning. “Just so long as you stay away from my boyfriend.”
The blond's eyes widened comically.
“Whoa! No way! You're welcome to him, trust me.”
Lex snorted.
“Clark, he's nowhere near being competition.”
“Good,” he muttered, just low enough that only Lex heard the possessive tone. Grey eyes laughed at him, which was okay, because they also invited him to lower his head and take a kiss. Dimly, he was aware that Chloe and Lana were cheering, but he ignored them.
It didn't matter who'd bet on them. The important thing was that he'd finally got his head screwed on straight. Or, er, gay.
Whatever.
Let's give them something to talk about
Let's give them something to talk about
Let's give them something to talk about
How about love, love, love, love?
The End.
I feel much better now.