Fic: Spooky Stuff (4/7, complete, all parts linked)
Art by sanadafaye
Back to Master Post
Back to Part 3
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Lex suffered to allow Clark his mother-henning behavior. Frankly, he actually liked it; being taken care of and worried over, though it made him want to blush and feel a bit guilty. He was used to having to take care of himself -- badly, poorly, or otherwise, if at all -- and he was fairly sure that as the adult male here, it really should have been the other way around in this regard.
However, Clark's concern was a welcome return to what he considered normal Clark-like behavior. Besides, after today's scare -- well, to be honest, multiple scares: Club Zero, the 'ghost', the friendship fight, and the loft having thought Clark was dead in his initial panic, he had a lot to choose from -- he really didn't have it in him to discourage Clark now. In fact, he could really use some comforting just then. More hugging would be nice.
But Clark seemed fine now. Apparently, he was over his earlier, somewhat mild breakdown, and he was obviously ready to get back inside the house proper. So, no more hugging for tonight, Lex predicted, and he tried not to feel too sad about it as he stood up. After all, a Clark that did not need a hug was generally a happy Clark, and he wanted Clark to be happy. Or at least happier.
He was beginning to wonder about Clark's actual general happiness level now, given everything that they'd hashed out today. And the way his friend had been clinging to him earlier. ...Not that he hadn't been clinging a little back, Lex realized belatedly. Was comfort supposed to be a two-way thing? Lex wasn't sure. It didn't really sound right to him, though it had felt right somehow, at least at the time...
Following Clark down the loft stairs by the soft candlelight supplied by the lantern, Lex found himself stopped at the bottom, rubbed down all over with a horse blanket, well, a little like a horse -- briskly, efficiently, and with great care -- and then wrapped in another dry horse blanket while the now-wet one was tossed over a stall door, spread out and left to dry. He wasn't really given a chance to respond to the treatment or protest that Clark should dry himself off too, either, before being steered to the door, handed the umbrella -- scooped off of the floor -- and shoved out the barn door, all at a very brisk walk.
Lex clutched the umbrella with one hand and the makeshift warming wool blanket-shawl with the other, and turned back to Clark, only to find that the stop in motion was merely a momentary lapse as Clark had shut the barn door behind them. He instead found himself stumbling to catch up to Clark, who was confidently holding the lantern light ahead of them like a porter out in a storm, making great strides forward.
However, between the rain battering against the umbrella -- which had apparently decided to pick up yet again in the evening's gloom -- and the wind gusts' interference, as well as the ground having become one long stretch of sucking mud under his feet that was trying its best to thoroughly eat his shoes, Lex found himself unable to catch up or otherwise manage to push the umbrella's reach over his young friend's head. Not that Clark seemed to mind, or need it -- the rain might as well have given up on his account, because it could have been a warm and beautiful starry night, for all that Clark was being bothered by it.
An eternity later they finally reached the front porch, and Lex was flagging and almost fit to collapse. He really couldn't understand it -- the walk over from the Talon hadn't been nearly as bad as this, and this had been a much shorter distance and with far more protection against the elements. Clark stopped to shuck off his workboots, and Lex himself collapsed on the front porch swing to do the same. --Or at least he tried to, and missed, sitting down hard on the wood floor of the porch and banging his left shoulder and arm against said swing. It twisted wildly on an axis and out of the corner of his eye Lex saw the side of the seat swing around...
Clark grabbed the back of the swing before it managed to complete the motion and bash into the side of Lex's head. He lifted it up with one hand, securing it while unlooping the chain overhead, set that end down carefully, then did the same to the other end. The swing seemed to be resisting him somehow, jerking around before he finally got it flat.
"Sorry, I should've done that earlier when I first got home -- you ok?" Clark asked, squatting down next to him in his bare feet and running his fingers over Lex’s blanket-covered arm lightly, staring at it intently as though he could see straight through to the skin and bone.
Lex realized belatedly that the reason he'd missed the seat of the porch swing was because it had moved on him -- the wind had been strong enough to set anything dangling from a rope or chain to haphazardly swinging about: it wasn't just gusting now, the storm really had picked up quite a bit. And Clark had handled that basically one-handed. He looked up at Clark uncertainly. His friend finished his perusal, then looked Lex straight in the eye and cocked his head at him, before glancing down at his feet.
"Right," Clark said quietly, and he quickly pulled Lex's muddy and pretty much ruined shoes off of his feet and also stripped him of his dripping wet socks while he was at it, and somehow the loss of his socks seemed more of a broach of his personal space than the small precise slips and tugs used in the removal of his shoes, perhaps because the socks had seemed a mere afterthought. "Can you stand?" Clark tried again, standing himself and... Lex had expected Clark to give him a chance to raise his hands, pull him upright like earlier. Instead, Clark wrapped his hands around Lex's waist, lifted him, and literally set him on his feet. Like he had no weight to him at all.
...Maybe Clark hadn't waited because he'd had his own hands full with the blanket, and would've lost hold of it if he'd tried to get himself upright even with help. Clark was just being helpful, right? Helpful Clark.
Metal fatigue. Concrete-filled, smashed-open doors, magically found while-you-wait. Bruised ribs. Here-and-gone-again abilities. Scarecrows. Meteor rock. Helpful, helpful Clark. Strong, dependable, always-there-when-you-need-him Clark. But when you want him...? --Trustworthy, lying, deceitful Clark, who cared about others so much it hurt... who?
Lex shivered. Things were getting more and more surreal the more he tried to think, and he was so tired just then. He wasn't sure he wanted to think about it, even if he could string his thoughts together properly. Did he really have to?
"...Lex?" Clark queried, and Lex realized that it hadn't been the first time his name had been said.
"Right... yes... sorry, I-- uh..." Lex said slowly, blinking and trying to get his balance back. He managed the physical side of it at least, after disengaging one hand from clutching the blanket to steady himself against Clark's shoulder.
"Need a minute?" Clark smiled worriedly down at him.
"...Would you believe that I am not used to walking around barefoot?" Lex tried, a little weakly.
Clark laughed once and hugged him a little close, and Lex could almost feel the ghost of a smile, faintest brush of lips, or maybe it was just warm breath against the side of his head. Lex leaned into the hug and tried not to hate himself for needing it.
It really wasn't long enough before a bit of rain blew in, worse than the nearly continuous gusting, and caught them both upside the head. He shivered as Clark pulled away and sighed.
"Come on, you'll feel much better after a warm bath, ok? I promise," Clark said, scooping up the now-flickering lantern, unlocking the door, and stepping inside.
Lex nodded reluctantly and followed him indoors to a warm, safe refuge.
...At least, that's what he'd thought it would be.
Warmer certainly -- much warmer, with gas heat, and certainly a refuge from the wind and rain. But safe?
Clark's usual chatter was certainly disarming enough as backed in after Lex and pulled the door closed behind them, grabbed a flashlight for Lex from a table drawer on the right by the closet door, absently shoved it into Lex's hands, then turned towards the stairs and started going straight up without a backwards glance. However, Clark's candlelight had glinted off the inside gloom almost menacingly as the boy himself disappeared upstairs. Lex, ever aware of possible danger, turned his head and froze.
Lex stayed where he was by the door.
He slowly moved his hand upwards. And clicked on the flashlight.
And sent into stark illumination the Thing in the living room.
And all he could think for a little while was that it was a little too big to be a mantlepiece item, and it in no way matched the room's decór.
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Clark was sitting on the stairs with the lantern by his side. The extra illumination really wasn't helping matters.
"That--" Lex started.
"Um," said Clark softly.
"That--" Lex tried again, not taking his eyes off of it.
"Er," said Clark.
"That--" Lex took a breath. He was almost afraid to look away. What if it attacked, or got more menacing, or... did something? Or even worse, disappeared?
"Well..." Clark said softly.
"That is--" He raised a finger to point at it. And could it do something besides sit there like a great big lump? He'd seen livelier paperweights.
...And clearly there was something wrong with him, because he was being disappointed by
"a spaceship," he finally managed to get out. "That is a ship from outer space."
"...Yes." Clark sounded a little pained at the admission.
"In your living room."
"Yes." Clark didn't sound much better the second time. It barely registered with Lex; he was on a roll.
"That is a ship that has flown through space and... --aliens. An alien spaceship. There are aliens, with spaceships, and... This ship--! An alien--" He had to take a breath before he passed out. He tore his gaze away from the ship to look at Clark, who was really, really pale. "You--! This is--"
"Lex, I--" Clark looked a little scared.
Lex looked back at the ship. "--incredible," he breathed. An alien had flown this ship through space to Earth, and Clark had found it! "So this is what you've been all secretive about?" he stated more than asked, gesturing at the ship, not taking his eyes off of it.
Clark made a strangled noise.
Lex assumed that was a yes. "Why is it in your living room? That seems like a really bad place to keep it." He felt so wired right now. Adrenaline was so much better than coffee and sleep.
"I don't know; that's not where it goes." And Clark sounded stuck somewhere in the realm between frustrated, angry, and unbelievably tired.
That caught Lex's attention. "...That's not where it goes?" he echoed, glancing between Clark and the alien spaceship.
"It's... not supposed to be there."
"Where is it supposed to be?" Lex asked before the thought had really coalesced properly.
"Not. There." Clark ground out.
And now Clark was being purposefully vague. Lex probably shouldn't be surprised. Clark obviously wasn't very happy with him right now, but it wasn't his fault, really, he'd just been in the right place at the wrong time -- or something along those lines -- and he wasn't sure he was even capable of feeling too down about it, anyway, because... wow. Just wow. He was geeking out so much right now, and he could just stand forever and stare, and he was feeling a little faint...
Suddenly Clark was at his side, holding him up by his arm, and when had he moved? "You need to go upstairs now," he said, flatly. Forcefully.
Lex blinked up at him. "But..."
He didn't have a chance to compose himself, because Clark immediately pressed the initiative, looming over him and stating commandingly like he never had before, "You are freezing cold and almost ready to fall over. You are taking that bath. Now."
Lex gave the spaceship one last glance and let himself be hauled upstairs sadly. He told himself that he was too tired to argue.
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Lex was feeling much better.
Well, warmer anyway. He wasn't sure the "better" feeling would last.
He let out a deep breath, tilted his head back, and slid a little lower in the water, focusing on nothing in particular but the tactile sensations he was feeling while his thoughts floated about in a vague foggy daze. The sound of rainfall falling upon the roof and windows was muffled to an almost soothing sound, and he slowly relaxed in the encompassing warmth of the steaming-hot bathwater as it slowly cooled to merely lukewarm.
When even the lemon-scent -- from actual lemons, no less, that combined with the steam apparently was supposed to help with the sinuses and chest -- had nearly dissipated, he finally admitted that it was time to get out of the tub. Which was too bad, because he almost felt halfway to alive and well again. He sighed, pulled the plug, and then reached for one of many fluffy towels Clark had pulled out for him as he stood and stepped out of the tub.
He finished drying off by flickering candlelight and donned the clothes that Clark had found for him -- jeans that actually almost fit, a flannel shirt that was obviously Clark's. Warm wool socks, and a sweater just as comfortable. He didn't want to think about whose boxers these might belong to, though. He really hoped that they were an old pair of Clark's.
He picked up the small candle-lit lantern, took his time in carefully blowing out the rest of the candles that had been illuminating the room one-by-one, before finally opening the door. He stepped out into the hallway and let out a startled breath at the marked change in the humidity and warmth of the surrounding air hit his outer extremities. He nearly turned back around to reenter the far more comfortable bathroom, so he could close the door and slide down to sit on the floor with his back to a wall and just never move again -- it really had been easier to breathe in there, and he'd felt almost calm, despite...
But then Lex heard a faint whistling noise that rose then stopped and remembered that Clark had said something about hot chocolate when he'd brought in the clothing earlier. He weighed comfort and relative peace upstairs versus time with Clark downstairs, regardless of whether it might devolve into a fight, and, really, there was no choice to be made there at all. So Lex steeled himself, then step by tortured step he slowly made his way to the top of the staircase and down the stairs, one-by-one, keeping his eyes down and getting a sinking feeling as he went, a bone-tired numbness slowly sinking in, and paused at the landing, finally looking up, prepared for disappointment and...
The spaceship was still there.
Lex blinked.
He closed his eyes, breathed out and in, and opened them again. Looked.
The spaceship was still there.
Lex slowly straightened, eyes widening, and paused for a long, long moment breathing in, then turned and marched into the kitchen, where a dry Clark with slightly damp hair resided at the kitchen table -- he must've changed clothes at some point.
"The spaceship is still there," Lex announced, sitting down across the table from Clark with his back to the spaceship, bastion of self control that he was.
Clark looked at him, then handed him some hot chocolate.
Lex tried again, a little desperately. "Clark, the--"
"Yes, I know," Clark cut him off, sounding irritated. And he should know, he was glaring at the thing.
"But--"
"Did you want me to move it?" Clark asked, taking a sip of his own cocoa, still glaring over the rim into the living room at it.
"Well, no, but--"
"--and where would I move it to?"
"The basement?" Except there wasn't enough space down there, Lex knew. "Ok, maybe the attic?" At Clark's stare. "Well, yes, I probably would've heard you banging around if you had brought it up the stairs, but..." He searched around, trying to think of how to put into words what he wanted to say, and god, he must be tired for the effort that was taking him.
"But what?"
"Why didn't you move it?"
Clark looked exasperated. "Lex, you just said--"
"I know! I know, but," Lex sighed. "You aren't even trying."
Clark stared at him again.
"You could've... moved it out to the barn or something," Lex waved a hand vaguely, "cleaned up after, then said I was imagining things and denied it was ever in here."
"...What?" Clark said weakly.
"--I mean, sure, I would've been angry, and maybe wanted to strangle you or hit you over the head repeatedly or something, but I probably would've half-believed you if you'd done it, especially since I've already seen one other highly dubious unconfirmed thing earlier tonight, or maybe not, and that was before getting myself all chilled and dead-tired. It might've worked if you'd been really convincing, and --oh god, it didn't even occur to you, did it," he ended as Clark suddenly looked guilty as all hell.
Lex sighed. "...I mean, you could've at least thrown a blanket over it or something," he ended, finally sipping at his hot cocoa.
Clark murmured something unintelligible under his breath.
"What?" Lex asked.
"Nothing."
Lex raised his eyebrows and waited, taking another sip. The hot chocolate really was very good.
Clark grimaced down at his own cocoa, glanced up at the spaceship in the room, then away again. "If you..." he started slowly.
Lex waited.
Clark took a deep breath. "If you had seen a big blanket covering something in our living room, and hadn't known what was under it, would you have left it alone or... immediately looked under it?"
Lex thought about that a moment as he nursed his own cocoa. "...I'd probably would've looked under it," he admitted.
"Even if it looked like it belonged there? Like it was... a normal piece of furniture? Supposed to be there?"
"Maybe just a peek, but," he sighed ruefully. "Yes, most likely, if I had the chance to do so without it seeming rude."
"What if it was yours?"
"Clark, I think I'd know if I owned a space--" he stopped as Clark closed his eyes and looked ready to scream. Right. He dropped the sarcasm and tried to take the question for what he thought it was. "When I moved into the mansion, I knew what I had, what everything was, within a week. But if I'd had free run of the place instead of worrying about logistics, I probably would've gone room-by-room, tearing off all the sheets and looking at everything. It's just what you do." Isn't it?
Clark looked confused and frustrated for a moment before he regrouped and asked, "Even the attic?" and Lex realized he must've misinterpreted something. Lex wondered for a moment what Clark had really been trying to ask before he had seemed to mentally toss up his hands and go with it, but Lex was too tired to get into it just then. Maybe they'd get back to it later.
Right, so, yes. Where all had he checked that could be considered nonstandard locations? "Attic, all the basement rooms and sublevels -- yes, there are a few -- as well as the gardener’s shed, back garden, maze. Toured the whole grounds, actually. Looked over the staff house, too."
"Staff house?"
"The house where the mansion’s main caretakers, ah... where the Palmers used to live. They’d moved from Metropolis and gotten settled in before I’d arrived in Smallville and had a chance to survey the place myself, so I didn't exactly go through all their drawers," because even he knew that was beyond rude, "but I did check the general state of the house in case something needed updating, renovating, or fixing," he ruefully added, "...including the storm cellar."
Clark suddenly looked up at him, very intently. "Did you--?"
Lex told himself that he was a grown adult and had no reason to shift uncomfortably in front of his friend. "I... looked around. ...And may have glanced under some sheets --I've never seen one before, ok? I needed to stock the mansion basement with tornado supplies, and--" he really shouldn't feel a need to be justifying himself to a 14-year-old boy.
"You did it because it was there and you were curious." Clark said darkly, glancing down and setting his cocoa to the side.
"Yes," Lex said more tentatively than he meant to.
Clark folded his arms on the table and buried his head face-down in them. Lex was left wondering if he'd committed some horrible faux-pas.
"...Should I be apologizing to them for peeking?" Lex asked. Was it really that bad?
"No." Clark muffled voice replied from within his arms. "It's not..." He turned his head up to face him, and Lex realized from his expression that whatever this was, was something else. "It's just you, you're you. It's fine. You're fine."
Lex sighed a little and took another sip of cocoa, then frowned into his mug when he realized he couldn't because he didn't have any left. Clark noticed, straightened a little, and gestured for the mug. Lex handed it over, and in short order got back a full mug for his trouble.
They sat in silence for a while, then Lex finally asked, because he had to, "Where are your parents?" The spaceship hadn't eaten them, had it? It was a bit menacing and hypnotic and all, but not that menacing and hypnotic. Unless it was calmer because it had eaten... um... maybe he shouldn't have turned his back on it...?
"They're spending the night in Metropolis. They needed to go there to work out some of the C.E.P. stuff, paperwork, sign things. They heard about the storm, and decided they'd rather wait it out there than risk get caught in it coming back."
"You called them?"
Clark waved a hand at the fridge door, the note clipped to it with a small faded house-shaped magnet. "They left a note. I guess they checked the weather before they left earlier and made the decision then."
Lex felt slightly impressed. Clark must be out of the doghouse over the impromptu party-at-the-farm that hadn't even really been his fault. That was rather quick ...unless they had figured, rightly so, that the horrible inclement weather would simply make the possibility moot.
"...They moved it in here before they left. Didn't want to risk the C.E.P. guys poking around while they were away and finding it." Not much difficulty in determining what it referred to, there.
Lex's ears perked up at that. "They know about the spaceship?" He was having more than a little trouble wrapping his brain around the idea that Clark's fairly down-to-earth parents might have anything to do with spaceships and aliens. It had seemed unlikely that they were podpeople for the same reason.
...Ok, and maybe he'd read too much Warrior Angel and seen far too many bad 'aliens attack!' movies -- er, when he was younger, and hadn't known the difference between good sci-fi and bad sci-fi yet, ahem -- and he really needed to stop thinking about things like this. It was silly.
I mean, they'd probably had the spaceship since the meteor shower -- for years -- so if they were podpeople, it was probably far too late for the original Kents by now, and it wasn't like he could do anything about it.
He glanced down at his hot chocolate, eyeing it. Because this was maybe a little too much straight-up sugar for him on a mostly-empty stomach, after all. Just a tad.
He took another sip.
Clark rolled his eyes. "Yes, they know about the spaceship. Of course they know about the spaceship. They knew about it before I did," he ended in a dark mutter, hands curled around his own cocoa mug.
Oh. Lex blinked. "They knew about it before you did... and didn't tell you?" he said slowly, starting to put it together.
Clark nodded moodily.
And Clark obviously felt that he'd been entitled to know, or otherwise should've known...? --Ohhh. "They kept it under a blanket in the storm cellar, didn't they." A bath, a change into warm clothes, and sugary-chocolate calories apparently did beat out adrenaline for clear thought, after all.
Clark started slightly, glancing up at him and meeting his eyes full-on. He took a breath, then turned his head a little as he glanced away and grimaced a little as he let out a sigh and half-shrugged. "Tarp," he amended quietly. "Not blanket."
"When did you find out?" Lex breathed out. And how? he wanted to know, because Clark had not been startled enough coming back down the stairs to have been seeing it for the first time, of that much he was certain.
Clark shifted his shoulders and barely glanced up at Lex before looking away again. "You remember the bridge? The crash?" he asked quietly.
Yes, he... mostly... remembered that crash, but he could hardly believe Clark was bringing it up. This was not a breachable topic.
At least, not before today, and everything that had happened. But the boundaries were starting to blur...
Lex slowly nodded to indicate yes, and waited for Clark to continue.
"My dad told me that day."
Lex blinked. That... could explain why Clark had been on the bridge in the first place, staring down morosely at the water, not really paying attention to anything. That could explain why he'd been so shocky after pulling Lex out of his car... but... it didn't quite fit. What he remembered. What he took great pains not to think about most days, and only really mused on so dangerously in the midnight hours when he was too tired to stop himself, because entertaining such thoughts seriously in the full light of day was exactly the sort of thing that usually tended to lead to madness, of that much he was certain.
Right. Because believing his senses when they screamed "ALIEN SPACESHIP!!! RIGHT OVER THERE!!!" was so much more sane-making.
"Before?" Lex asked.
"After."
Lex started to take another sip of cocoa before that truly registered, then nearly choked on it. After?
"I got home and... we argued and... he brought me down to the storm cellar and pulled the tarp off and showed me."
After?? He set his mug down lightly and slowly with absolute and perfect control.
"I kind of freaked out," he grimaced. "Ran off. Went to Chloe, was thinking about telling her, but, I didn't get to it before she... introduced me to the Wall of Weird and..."
After?!? Who in their right mind would show someone a hidden spaceship after being traumatized like that? Lex had been dead, a dead body, and Clark had had to perform CPR on him to bring him back -- throwing a bloody car crash, dead bodies, and the frailty and mortality of men in a teenager's face did not occur without leaving the kid in question in a great deal of fear and panic, at best.
Jonathan should have been reassuring him, not compounding the shock. --Hell, even Lionel was more comforting after paralyzing emotional trauma that that! --when Lex had been younger. ...Or had it been some bizarre Kent coming-of-age thing -- save a questionable life, get told exactly why it was a bad idea to continue to associate with that highly inquisitive person? Still, what Jonathan had done was far worse, leaving Clark forcibly confronting the cruel nature of the real world at the ripe old age of 14: with nothing more debilitating a shock for Clark to weather than the especially-unremarkable fact that even Kent parents can, would, and did lie to their (adopted) kid.
"Yeah, I kind of freaked out and ran away from Chloe, too, before getting a word in edgewise with her." Clark grimaced and trailed off, closed his eyes.
And he had wondered why Clark had issues about lying and lies. Lex wanted to strangle Jonathan Kent. Never more than at this moment had he felt so purely homicidal on someone else's behalf. Who the hell had thought Jonathan was fit to raise a child, anyway?
He made a mental note to track down that adoption agency and have them put out of business. And get Clark's caseworker blacklisted, too.
...Maybe they had only met with Martha. But that would still mean they had been remiss in their duty, though, and was hardly an excuse!
...Of course, if the Kents hadn't adopted Clark, Lex probably never would have met him, so maybe he should actually be grateful for Clark's horrific, traumatic, and quite possibly mentally-scarring placement instead... not to mention that Lex probably would've stayed drowned inside the broken mess from the crash that was formerly his car...
That line of reasoning was beginning to make his head ache, so he tabled the determination of that proper, righteous, and meet vengeance for another time. Next on his list would be burning down Chloe's Wall of Weird and then calling Gabe, explaining the situation, and having her confined to her house until she was 18 because, despite being a rather good source of information all things meteor-related, it wasn't worth letting her run loose and flush things out if Clark was getting it all shoved in his face every day.
Knowing Clark, he was probably feeling a major amount of guilt over even being remotely associated with something that he probably believed had brought the meteor shower to earth in tow which had killed and injured so many people, and destroyed so many lives and livelihoods both directly and indirectly. Even if it had, then at worst maybe one could blame the pilot of the craft, but that was assuming that he, she, or it had had any control over the thing -- it looked more like an escape pod than anything highly maneuverable, at a twenty-seventh glance. It might not have even been properly functional prior to crash landing -- because from the fairly-deep gashes along the sides, he had no doubt that it had plowed a very deep furrow into the ground when it had come down.
"...Lex?"
Lex raised his head slightly and refocused on Clark. "Sorry, I just..." The rest of the discussion finished catching up with him, but then started to slowly slide away before he could quite grasp all the implications.
"You're not all here..." Clark said slowly, watching him with a careful, penetrating stare.
"What?" Lex blinked, straightening a little further.
"You're usually very..." Clark paused a minute, groping for words. He bit his lip absently then continued. "You're usually here. Very here. Wherever you are, you're there. You pay attention to everything around you, even when you're thinking things through; you look people in the eyes and still notice everything. You don't usually... tune out the world, or fade out yourself, exactly."
Lex blinked at him.
"I mean, I usually have to think hard in here sometimes," Clark tapped the side of his head, "and I look away because I can't concentrate out here as much at the same time," and Clark whirled a finger in a small gesture that encompassed the room. "And... and, um, I think maybe you've noticed that?" Clark blushed and Lex nodded, frowning, about to respond, but then Lex stopped and thought for a moment, suddenly feeling bone-deep fatigue as he dropped his increasingly heavy head a bit and staring down at the cocoa in the mug.
He had noticed that with Clark, although he'd always thought that had had more to do with Clark's self-esteem than anything else -- looking someone in the eye while talking about personal information was generally considered hard, but then again Clark didn't usually talk about really personal things with Lex, he just shared what he thought and felt, and sometimes his opinions, and it had always puzzled Lex that Clark felt so unsure when he did so, like he was embarrassed and seemed to expect Lex might say something horrible, belittle him or blow him off somehow, when he should know better than to think that of Lex after having already shared so many of his private thoughts with... with...
Oh, wait.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh god, had he really been horribly wrong in equating 'personal' with 'secrets' this whole time?
"--It's not just me. When Chloe does it? She sort of stares at things and moves around a lot, but it's not exactly like she's seeing what's there, she's usually seeing what's inside her head instead." Clark paused. "...And you're doing it again," he ended quietly. Lex's head snapped up, but Clark's expression was almost... gentle?
"I'm sorry Clark, I really am paying attention, I..." he trailed off. "I'm just a bit tired at the moment," he added tentatively, curling his fingers around his mug a little tighter.
"I know, it's just... it's not bad, just different. I don't think I've seen you being so... not as intense all the time? Before." Clark tilted his head at him and looked vaguely worried despite his attempt to soothe, though.
Lex smiled weakly.
"I think between today's earlier events and, well," he waved his hand behind him, "being confronted with that, perhaps a bit of fatigue is justified?"
Clark blinked and glanced between him and the spaceship for a moment, then a truly horrified look flashed across his face for a moment that morphed almost immediately into panic and guilt, and his mouth opened slightly for a moment as he was about to say something, then stalled out. Then Clark seemed to clamp down on his emotions as he refocused, stopped, and really looked at Lex for a moment.
"Are you... going to be ok?" Clark asked, finally, biting his lip nervously, searching his face.
Lex's eyebrows rose at the spectacle, and he was a little surprised that that, of all things, was what Clark had thought to ask. Though, he really shouldn't be surprised, he supposed -- Clark was consistent in this regard, his regard of him, at least. He gave Clark a tired smile and he surprised himself a little when a small chuckle escaped his lips. He shook his head slightly and said with a rueful half-smirk, "I'll live." He took another sip of his cocoa, watching Clark with half-shuttered eyes.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"I--" Clark looked slightly confused, then sad before shaking his head once.
There was peaceable silence for a time.
"...Clark?"
Clark lifted his head.
"The hot water heater ought to have warmed its reserve up enough by now. You should go upstairs and take care of yourself, too, you know."
"Lex--" Clark protested uncomfortably.
"No, look, you need a warm shower -- no, bath," Lex revised, shaking his head slightly, "-- at least as much as I did."
"But--"
"Would it help if I promise not to do anything to the spaceship while you're upstairs?" Lex added quietly.
"It's not that--" Clark protested.
"Look, no touch -- I swear." He almost declared scout's honor, but that would have been a little too much, especially for him, and it wasn't as if he knew the correct handshake-signage.
Clark looked a little frustrated, then suddenly seemed to deflate. "...Ok."
"Ok?"
Clark nodded.
Lex wondered if he looked half as surprised as he felt.
~*~*~*~*~*~
On to Part 5