Chain
Pairing: Clex
Genre: Friendship, Romance
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,480
Summary: Whatever you do, don't break it.
A/N: There's a bit of a joke behind this one. I finished it last week but before posting it, I felt compelled first to send it - through the actual mail - to sue_dreams. (Sometimes I am so cute, it's criminal.)
Lex climbed the stairs to the loft slowly, savoring the shift of his weight from one foot to the other and one step to the next. It was a process of controlled movement and delicious anticipation: only twelve steps more to the top ... now eight ... now just three until that entrancing moment of arrival when Clark would sense his presence and turn towards him with a wide smile of welcome.
Lex would walk much further than fifteen steps for that smile. But the fact that it was so few just made it easier to make the trip more often.
These drop-in visits to the loft were a near-daily ritual, though they never felt routine. There was a freshness between the two of them that never seemed to fade, and in time even the cold cynic in Lex found he could believe in the reason that welcoming smile came so easily: Clark was genuinely glad to see him.
But today, he seemed oblivious to the fact that he had company. Lex made it all the way to his elbow before Clark looked up from his desk with a start.
"A typewriter?" Lex observed. "Charming, if old-fashioned."
"Lex! I, uh ... wasn't expecting you today." Clark yanked a sheet of paper out of the typewriter and stuffed it hastily into an envelope. Lex noticed a stack of five other similar envelopes huddled on the desk beside the ancient appliance.
"I'm sorry if I'm interrupting anything." There was mystery in the air; Lex spoke smoothly, but all the while kept his eyes fixed on that stack. "What are you working on?"
"Nothing," Clark answered automatically in his default tone of illogical denial. That bizarre, knee-jerk dishonesty was the sole, stubborn impediment to the intimacy Lex knew he and Clark could share. It tried his patience. As if he couldn't see the envelopes with his own eyes. What next? Would Clark try to convince him that rogue radiation generated by solar flares and bouncing off the tin roof of the grain silo were making him imagine ...
"Oh, never mind." Maybe Lex's expression had given him away; or maybe such an obvious lie was too absurd even for Clark. But regardless of the reason, for once, Clark seemed to acknowledge the futility of prevarication. "I was going to mail it, but I guess it doesn't really matter ... here."
He held out the envelope; Lex tried not to seize it too greedily. Clark hadn't had a chance to seal it, and Lex mourned momentarily the missed chance to touch an object whose last contact had been with Clark's mouth ... but then his fingers found the sheet of paper. He pulled it out, and with almost triumphant flourish at being confided in at last, unfurled it and began to read.
His eyes grew wide.
"I'm sorry," Clark ventured, furrowing his brow in concern. "I just ... couldn't take the chance."
"Clark." Lex held the letter up as if to a courtroom gallery: Exhibit A in People v. Clark Kent, Idiocy In The First Degree. "A chain letter?"
"I know!" Clark protested. "It's completely ... but I ... look, the bad luck part, ok?"
"Oh, it's one of those?" Lex mused, glancing idly over Clark's typewritten paragraphs. "Murder and mayhem and dire consequences if you dare to break the chain?"
"Well." Clark pursed his lips in grudging confession. "They do sound pretty dire."
Lex just arched one eyebrow and began to recite dramatically, with great inflection and many facial expressions:
"CASE 1: Kelly had one wish, for her boyfriend of three years, David, to propose to her. Then one day, over lunch, he did! But just two days later she received this letter - and broke the chain. Within one week David was killed by a hit-and-run drunk driver!"
"When you read it like that," Clark grumbled, "it makes me feel pretty stupid."
Lex laughed outright, though not unkindly. "I'm sorry, Clark. I guess there's nothing wrong with wanting to avoid random catastrophe. The difference between us is, I suppose, that I believe in making my own luck."
"I'm glad you feel that way," Clark said, something almost sepulchral in his tone. "Because now it's your turn to keep the chain going."
A cool sensation, like an unexpected breeze, ran over Lex's scalp; he almost turned to see where it had come from. He cleared his throat. "Who inflicted this nonsense on you, anyway?"
"I don't know." Clark produced another envelope, its torn edges worried from much unfolding and refolding, from his back pocket. "It came in today's mail, with no return address."
Lex examined the postmark: Smallville, of course. "Typewritten - the original letter, too?"
"Yeah." Clark ruffled his hair with one large hand. "Probably to keep people from recognizing their handwriting ..."
"A clever trick," Lex observed. "You're doing the same thing, aren't you?"
"I ... just ... needed to copy it over six times," Clark stammered. He looked flustered again; it made Lex grin.
"So who are your other victims? Pete ... Chloe ... Lana?"
"No." Lex wasn't sure if he'd imagined the extra emphasis in Clark's voice; he figured the mention of Lana might responsible, though. "I was thinking of just picking names out of the phone book ... I couldn't do that to my friends."
Lex's manner immediately grew still. "But you could do it to me."
Clark turned contrite eyes on him. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. I just ... they'd suspect it was me, if they all got one." He smiled hopefully. "And besides, you said yourself that you make your own luck. I figured of everyone I know, you'd be the one who could just laugh it off."
"I see."
"Lex." Clark sounded worried now. "Don't be mad. Look, I never even addressed it to you - give it back, I can just as easily pick a sixth name out of the white pages."
"Oh, and tempt fate?" Lex remained noncommittal and returned his attention to the letter. "I've already seen it, I'm sure that's enough to bring me under its curse." Graceful fingers slid over the typewritten lines. "And look, it says that 'if you keep the chain unbroken, the person you are most attracted to will soon return your feelings.'" Oh, but he couldn't hold it any longer; his voice sparked with mischief and his mouth curled at one corner as his eyes met Clark's again. "How can I resist such a tempting possibility?"
But there was something unexpected in Clark's face now, an intense sort of understanding. Lex felt locked there in his gaze - and all too content with his imprisonment.
"Exactly," Clark breathed.
The letter drifted to the floor; it took its time about falling. Lex did not take his time about getting his mouth on Clark's, or sliding his fingers into his hair. Clark kissed him back with the rapture of one who's just gotten exactly what they've always wished for - until Lex tilted his jaw to deepen the kiss. Then he pulled away, laughing.
"Hold on a minute," he teased. "You're breaking the rules."
"Am I?" Lex countered, matching his pursuit to Clark's retreat. He knotted his hands in Clark's flannel shirt and refused to allow the space between them to expand past the reach of his arms. "Well, the hell with rules."
"I'm sorry," Clark insisted, though he did plant one more - chaste - kiss on the rim of Lex's brow. "You have to send the letter to six other people first. Or else."
"Or else."
"Yup. Doom and destruction."
"Hmm." Lex eyed him speculatively. "Well, even Smallville probably has eleven names in the phone book."
"That's the spirit," Clark grinned.
"There's just one problem." Lex reached down to take Clark's hand in his; he lifted it to his lips, kissing fingertips and knuckles and breathing deeply of straw and soil and typewriter ribbon. Finally he nudged the hand open and applied it to his own jaw. Clark watched in breathless awe as Lex melted into his palm. Then those grey eyes shot open again to reveal a familiar wicked gleam. "I'm a terrible typist."
"I'll type them for you," Clark played along. "Since we're both cursed otherwise. But it will cost you."
"Extortion," Lex hissed, though the word sounded strangely like an invitation. "Name your price."
Clark let his hand fall from Lex's face to his collar, then trailed one finger down the front of his shirt with commingled delicacy and daring. "One button for each letter."
Lex's fine jacket was suddenly on the dusty loft floor; Clark blinked at the near-superhuman speed of his movement. They'd have to have a long talk after this.
Lex didn't seem very interested in talking right now, though. His one word - "Deal" - was nearly swallowed as their mouths met again.
Genre: Friendship, Romance
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,480
Summary: Whatever you do, don't break it.
A/N: There's a bit of a joke behind this one. I finished it last week but before posting it, I felt compelled first to send it - through the actual mail - to sue_dreams. (Sometimes I am so cute, it's criminal.)
Lex climbed the stairs to the loft slowly, savoring the shift of his weight from one foot to the other and one step to the next. It was a process of controlled movement and delicious anticipation: only twelve steps more to the top ... now eight ... now just three until that entrancing moment of arrival when Clark would sense his presence and turn towards him with a wide smile of welcome.
Lex would walk much further than fifteen steps for that smile. But the fact that it was so few just made it easier to make the trip more often.
These drop-in visits to the loft were a near-daily ritual, though they never felt routine. There was a freshness between the two of them that never seemed to fade, and in time even the cold cynic in Lex found he could believe in the reason that welcoming smile came so easily: Clark was genuinely glad to see him.
But today, he seemed oblivious to the fact that he had company. Lex made it all the way to his elbow before Clark looked up from his desk with a start.
"A typewriter?" Lex observed. "Charming, if old-fashioned."
"Lex! I, uh ... wasn't expecting you today." Clark yanked a sheet of paper out of the typewriter and stuffed it hastily into an envelope. Lex noticed a stack of five other similar envelopes huddled on the desk beside the ancient appliance.
"I'm sorry if I'm interrupting anything." There was mystery in the air; Lex spoke smoothly, but all the while kept his eyes fixed on that stack. "What are you working on?"
"Nothing," Clark answered automatically in his default tone of illogical denial. That bizarre, knee-jerk dishonesty was the sole, stubborn impediment to the intimacy Lex knew he and Clark could share. It tried his patience. As if he couldn't see the envelopes with his own eyes. What next? Would Clark try to convince him that rogue radiation generated by solar flares and bouncing off the tin roof of the grain silo were making him imagine ...
"Oh, never mind." Maybe Lex's expression had given him away; or maybe such an obvious lie was too absurd even for Clark. But regardless of the reason, for once, Clark seemed to acknowledge the futility of prevarication. "I was going to mail it, but I guess it doesn't really matter ... here."
He held out the envelope; Lex tried not to seize it too greedily. Clark hadn't had a chance to seal it, and Lex mourned momentarily the missed chance to touch an object whose last contact had been with Clark's mouth ... but then his fingers found the sheet of paper. He pulled it out, and with almost triumphant flourish at being confided in at last, unfurled it and began to read.
His eyes grew wide.
"I'm sorry," Clark ventured, furrowing his brow in concern. "I just ... couldn't take the chance."
"Clark." Lex held the letter up as if to a courtroom gallery: Exhibit A in People v. Clark Kent, Idiocy In The First Degree. "A chain letter?"
"I know!" Clark protested. "It's completely ... but I ... look, the bad luck part, ok?"
"Oh, it's one of those?" Lex mused, glancing idly over Clark's typewritten paragraphs. "Murder and mayhem and dire consequences if you dare to break the chain?"
"Well." Clark pursed his lips in grudging confession. "They do sound pretty dire."
Lex just arched one eyebrow and began to recite dramatically, with great inflection and many facial expressions:
"CASE 1: Kelly had one wish, for her boyfriend of three years, David, to propose to her. Then one day, over lunch, he did! But just two days later she received this letter - and broke the chain. Within one week David was killed by a hit-and-run drunk driver!"
"When you read it like that," Clark grumbled, "it makes me feel pretty stupid."
Lex laughed outright, though not unkindly. "I'm sorry, Clark. I guess there's nothing wrong with wanting to avoid random catastrophe. The difference between us is, I suppose, that I believe in making my own luck."
"I'm glad you feel that way," Clark said, something almost sepulchral in his tone. "Because now it's your turn to keep the chain going."
A cool sensation, like an unexpected breeze, ran over Lex's scalp; he almost turned to see where it had come from. He cleared his throat. "Who inflicted this nonsense on you, anyway?"
"I don't know." Clark produced another envelope, its torn edges worried from much unfolding and refolding, from his back pocket. "It came in today's mail, with no return address."
Lex examined the postmark: Smallville, of course. "Typewritten - the original letter, too?"
"Yeah." Clark ruffled his hair with one large hand. "Probably to keep people from recognizing their handwriting ..."
"A clever trick," Lex observed. "You're doing the same thing, aren't you?"
"I ... just ... needed to copy it over six times," Clark stammered. He looked flustered again; it made Lex grin.
"So who are your other victims? Pete ... Chloe ... Lana?"
"No." Lex wasn't sure if he'd imagined the extra emphasis in Clark's voice; he figured the mention of Lana might responsible, though. "I was thinking of just picking names out of the phone book ... I couldn't do that to my friends."
Lex's manner immediately grew still. "But you could do it to me."
Clark turned contrite eyes on him. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. I just ... they'd suspect it was me, if they all got one." He smiled hopefully. "And besides, you said yourself that you make your own luck. I figured of everyone I know, you'd be the one who could just laugh it off."
"I see."
"Lex." Clark sounded worried now. "Don't be mad. Look, I never even addressed it to you - give it back, I can just as easily pick a sixth name out of the white pages."
"Oh, and tempt fate?" Lex remained noncommittal and returned his attention to the letter. "I've already seen it, I'm sure that's enough to bring me under its curse." Graceful fingers slid over the typewritten lines. "And look, it says that 'if you keep the chain unbroken, the person you are most attracted to will soon return your feelings.'" Oh, but he couldn't hold it any longer; his voice sparked with mischief and his mouth curled at one corner as his eyes met Clark's again. "How can I resist such a tempting possibility?"
But there was something unexpected in Clark's face now, an intense sort of understanding. Lex felt locked there in his gaze - and all too content with his imprisonment.
"Exactly," Clark breathed.
The letter drifted to the floor; it took its time about falling. Lex did not take his time about getting his mouth on Clark's, or sliding his fingers into his hair. Clark kissed him back with the rapture of one who's just gotten exactly what they've always wished for - until Lex tilted his jaw to deepen the kiss. Then he pulled away, laughing.
"Hold on a minute," he teased. "You're breaking the rules."
"Am I?" Lex countered, matching his pursuit to Clark's retreat. He knotted his hands in Clark's flannel shirt and refused to allow the space between them to expand past the reach of his arms. "Well, the hell with rules."
"I'm sorry," Clark insisted, though he did plant one more - chaste - kiss on the rim of Lex's brow. "You have to send the letter to six other people first. Or else."
"Or else."
"Yup. Doom and destruction."
"Hmm." Lex eyed him speculatively. "Well, even Smallville probably has eleven names in the phone book."
"That's the spirit," Clark grinned.
"There's just one problem." Lex reached down to take Clark's hand in his; he lifted it to his lips, kissing fingertips and knuckles and breathing deeply of straw and soil and typewriter ribbon. Finally he nudged the hand open and applied it to his own jaw. Clark watched in breathless awe as Lex melted into his palm. Then those grey eyes shot open again to reveal a familiar wicked gleam. "I'm a terrible typist."
"I'll type them for you," Clark played along. "Since we're both cursed otherwise. But it will cost you."
"Extortion," Lex hissed, though the word sounded strangely like an invitation. "Name your price."
Clark let his hand fall from Lex's face to his collar, then trailed one finger down the front of his shirt with commingled delicacy and daring. "One button for each letter."
Lex's fine jacket was suddenly on the dusty loft floor; Clark blinked at the near-superhuman speed of his movement. They'd have to have a long talk after this.
Lex didn't seem very interested in talking right now, though. His one word - "Deal" - was nearly swallowed as their mouths met again.