Crashing

Notes and possible SPOILERS:

The post 'Prototype' previews for the Season Six finale inspired this story.

I'm in the middle of writing something else, but I just had to stop and spend my weekend writing this brief story after seeing those shots of Lana and the exploding car.

It struck me as riotously funny, rather than tragic, that after Clark's mental flagellation, brooding, and self-denial (not to mention getting his boxers in a twist when his dream girl plays house with Lex), that it looks like Lana will still bite the dust in a car wreck after all.

But that's just the kind of Klingon that I am. So consider yourself forewarned about the contents of this story. I'm also a happy ending type so it all ends happily ever after.

Parings: Clark/Lex

Spoilers: Seasons One through Six.

Disclaimer: DC Comics owns 'em.

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Clark floats among the pleasant chill of white clouds as he broods over the wreck that his life has become. When, where, and why had things gone so wrong? His dad's dead. Alicia's dead. Kayla's dead. Raya's dead. He never hears from Pete any more. Even Jor-El isn't talking to him, and it isn't like he meant to zap Jor-El in sensitive electronic areas when he stabbed Dr. Fine with that dagger instead of Lex. Jor-El coulda been a little more forthcoming; getting his cryptic ass fried served him right.

He burrows into the foggy damp. It suits his mood perfectly. This is even better than the barn. Chloe's spending more and more time dating Jimmy, and less time side-kicking. Lois is still banging in and out of his home like she owns it. Heck, he can't even mope peacefully in his own barn without her barreling in to rant about Oliver. He didn't really mind hearing about Oliver's latest failure as a date. It kinda made him feel better about his own dating disasters, but the detailed analysis of their arguments – blech!

And Lana's dating Lex even though he's told her, as her friend and ex-boyfriend, that she really, really, really shouldn't. He's only mentioned it a few bazillion times to her, but somehow she still doesn't seem to get that Lex is a bad guy. She's even moved into the castle after he distinctly told her that she shouldn't. Why doesn't she ever listen to him? Actually she does listen, and then promptly goes and does exactly what he said she shouldn't. Surely she isn't still holding their break-up against him?

And his mom's dating Lionel, and doesn't that make him want to puke. What is it with girls and bad guys? Can't his mom and Lana see that Lionel and Lex are wrong for them? In fact, he can't think of anyone who'd be right, but Lionel is the most not right of all for his mom. Clark scowls. If his mom marries Lionel, that'll make Lex his new brother, and the thought of that disturbs him in ways that he can't even find words for. It's just feels wrong.

Maybe if he dated someone totally wrong, they would see, and realize they needed to stop dating Lex and Lionel. But who could he date? It'd bother Lana if he dated Chloe, but his mom would be fine with it, and besides Chloe's all wrapped up in Jimmy. What about Lois? Lana wouldn't like it, but his mom would be more amused than upset. On the other hand, Lois is almost Phantom Zone scary, and Olivier would make a pin cushion out of his ass.

A flare of rising dust catches his gaze. Someone is driving awfully fast to raise a cloud like that. He flies toward the dusty haze, and spots Lana's new red SUV roaring dramatically down the back road that circles Crater Lake. Clark shakes his head. If the Sheriff catches her, it's gonna mean another stint in a remedial driver's ed class.

He frowns as he notes a sleek black Porsche cruising along behind, moving at an almost lazy pace. The whole scene reminds him of the nature program that he watched last night; crocodiles doing a deceptive drift closer and closer to zebras drinking from the water hole. But that's crazy, isn't it? He knows that Lex is bad, and that Lana can be awfully aggravating, but –

"Noooooo!" Clark screams as the SUV explodes all over the road in a shower of blazing fragments. He hovers in stunned disbelief as the Porsche coasts to a leisurely stop. Lex gets out and surveys the burning SUV with obvious satisfaction. A silver cigarette case glitters as Lex pulls out a joint, and lights it on a bit of flaming wreckage, before leaning back against his car, puffing contentedly as he watches the fire.

Clark gasps in outrage. Why? Why? Why? How could this happen? Not only did he not propose to Lana, but he did everything he could to drive her away. And still, she dies in a crash? It's not fair, and he's not having it. There's gotta be a way. He launches himself in the direction of the Fortress.

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4,365 car crashes later, Clark slumps in defeat against a crystal console. He sinks down on a handy chunk of ice and sighs loudly. He can't endure watching hologram Lana die one more time. There has to be a way to keep her safe. He's run every scenario he can think of.

He's saved Lex, and well, he tried to not save Lex, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He's been Lana's friend, enemy, and the indifferent boy next door. He's run away to Metropolis, and not run away. He's told Lana his secret, and not told her. He's done everything Jor-El ordered, and nothing that Jor-El ordered. He's been Lex's enemy, friend, and stayed completely off Lex's radar. He's kept his powers, and given them up.

He's urged his dad to run for office, and to stay on the farm. He's dated Lana, and not dated Lana. He's slept with Lana, and not. He's been Chloe's guy, and not. He's married Lana, Chloe, Alicia, Kayla, and Lois, and not. He's stood aside as Lana married Whitney, Jason, Jimmy, Oliver, and Pete, and not. He's tried everything, but always she dies in a crash.

Clark takes a deep bracing breath of frigid air. He won't give up. There's gotta be way to have his Dad back, and for Lana to have the happy, prosperous life that he wants for her. Gotta be. There's got to be something that he hasn't thought of. Something different that he hasn't tried. But what?

His stomach rumbles loudly, reminding him that he's been at this for hours. Clark straightens up. "Jor-El?"

There's no reply. He rolls his eyes. Fine, if that's the way that Jor-El wants to play it. "I'm going to grab some lunch, and think about this some more."

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Clark roams the grounds of the really neat street fair that he'd wandered into. People here were so friendly. He'd lost his shirt when he paused to deal with a stray Phantom Zoner in his flight path, but the guys manning the admission gates had said that he could enter the fair grounds anyway. They even let him in for free to speed up the line that had formed behind him.

People had been giving him free stuff all morning. A guy selling tee shirts had just given him one. Kinda small and awfully tight, but it did cover his skin, so he can live with the glittery interlocking pink triangles sprinkled across the black fabric. And all he has to do is tell anyone who asks where he got it. Not a bad deal for a free shirt. Maybe Chloe would like to have it when he got home.

Clark absently licks the giant vanilla-cherry sucker that the vender he'd bought lunch from had given him. It's got a weird shape to it. Who'd want a sucker that looks like a hotdog? But that's probably why the guy had given it to him; the things probably weren't selling very well. Still it tastes great, and it's big enough to last all day. Plus it's a great way to meet new people. Guys had been stopping him all afternoon to ask where he'd gotten it. He wraps his mouth around the top and sucks enthusiastically. Yum. Vanilla. Ummm. Ummm.

What other scenarios could he suggest to the A.I.? He'd even tried running a series of him high on Nicodemus, in hopes that he'd get some hint of an unconsidered option, but he kept showing up at the castle, and hunting for Lex. Like killing Lex is gonna resolve anything. It was kinda like Lana and her crashes, no matter how many scenarios he ran with Nicodemus, always he ended up at the castle. And with a really weird look on his face too. All flushed up like he's majorly pissed off, and that wild brightness in his eyes. He'd always stopped the scenario right there, because no matter how pissed he is at Lex, he really doesn't want to watch himself killing Lex.

Clark slides his sucker in and out of his mouth. He looks up at dull whomp to see a dazed looking guy sitting on the ground. He bestows a sympathetic smile on the blond. He's certainly no stranger to tripping over stuff or walking into things when he's preoccupied with his thoughts. His gaze moves from the guy to the plywood booth that the blond had walked into. A kissing booth! Cool.

It makes him feel immediately at home. They always had a kissing booth at the ag fairs, and it was traditional for the cheerleaders to do one at school to help raise money for the proms. He watches as the redhead at the front of the line slaps his money down on the counter and leans into kiss – Clark stops in his tracks, nostalgia vanishing under an unexpected surge of heat as he watches the redhead lay a vigorous lip-lock on the bald guy behind the counter. He heats up even more as the bald guy crawls over the counter and wraps around redheaded guy while the other guys in line cheer and jeer.

Kissing a bald guy is definitely an option that he hadn't considered. Jor-El hadn't brought it up either, which makes the idea doubly appealing. Clark sinks down on one of the benches arranged in a circle beneath pink-striped awning. He slowly licks the sides of his sucker. The more he thinks about it, the more sense it makes. Lana wants a fast ticket out Smallville, but he likes the place, and Lex must secretly like it too. Why else would a guy with Lex's options spend so much time there?

Okay, so Lex is bad guy with mad scientist tendencies, but he can save Lex from that. Channel all that hyperactive badness into more constructive outlets. Wow, it's hot out here. The awnings aren't doing a thing to cool him. It's really for Lana's own good if he steals Lex. He can survive the odd blasts of Lex's bad-temper; she can't. Besides with Lex out of the equation, she'll have to go back to Met U and find something else to do. No reason really why she can't find something on the other side of the globe to keep her happy and busy.

Clark sucks thoughtfully at the vanilla-cherry goodness of his treat as he wonders if Lex has any contacts in Australia or New Zeeland. Lana would probably have a lot more fun studying at a university there than at Met U.

"Hello."

He looks around to see the redheaded guy and the bald guy sitting down on the bench next to his. He smiles brightly at them over the white gleam of his sucker. "Hi."

The bald guy pats his friend's thigh. He smiles back at Clark. "Are you here for the Hot, Sweaty Man Sex Book Club?"

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Clark peers from the shadows at the people wandering in and out of the castle. Wow. It looks like Lex's Dark Thursday Costume Benefit party is gonna raise a whole lotta donations if the number of people on the grounds is anything to go by. Now to see if he can raise something himself. Fortunately, the HSMS Book Club group had been very educational, and full of helpful suggestions for his supposed novel about a poor farm boy who seduces an evil businessman.

He doesn't remember there being this many people or bands at Lex's party, but the A.I. had warned him that after all the mucking about with time that he'd done, a few details might be different. It's just as well that Jor-El still isn't talking to him; the A.I. is much more helpful when Jor-El is sulking. Makes him wonder if maybe after all that time of being locked up with Jor-El, the A.I. doesn't like him that much. But that's not important right now; beating Lana to Lex's bed is.

But first he needs a costume. Clark watches as a woman in a tux walks up to a flamenco dancer and they kiss. He takes advantage of their distraction to speed past. Maybe there's an extra costume in one of the hall closets. He stumbles and almost trips – are those three people doing what he thinks they're doing? In a closet? Wow. His new book club buddies hadn't mentioned that move.

He speeds up to Lex's bedroom. Clark inspects the closet, finding row upon row of beautifully tailored suits, expensive casual wear, and an amazing variety of shoes and ties. None of it will fit him, much less pass as a costume. He moves out into the bedroom and stares around, hoping for inspiration. Where's a fairy godmother when you need one? His gaze falls on a biography of Julius Caesar sitting on the bedside table, and skims over the perfectly made bed. He grins. Hadn't he seen a huge floral arrangement out in the hall?

A few seconds later, Clark stands in front of the long mirror in the closet, adjusting the folds of the purple toga that he'd hastily fashioned out Lex's sheets. He turns to look over his shoulder, making sure that the border with its embroidered LL is hanging directly over his ass. A wreath of dark green leaves and lavender roses perches crookedly on his head. Will anyone be able to tell that he got nothing on beneath? How long will it take Lex to notice and recognize the sheets?

Clark adds a purple domino mask that he'd discovered in Lex's sock drawer. Now for one final touch. He unwraps a vanilla-cherry sucker and gives it a lick as he studies his image. He feels certain that his book club buddies would approve.

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Oh, god. Oh, god. Oh, god. He'd forgotten that his mom was here. What if she recognizes him? Clark peeks around the shoulders of the massive football player in front of him. He's been lurking behind the guy most of the evening since the player had been one of the few guys in the room large enough to conceal him. He hasn't seen Lana yet so he's still got time. Clark stumbles on the hem of his toga as the guy in front of him suddenly turns around and gives him an exasperated glare.

"Would you just stop it!"

Clark stares blankly at the football player. He takes his sucker out of his mouth and asks, "Stop what?"

"Like you don't know. You've been following me around all evening, and I've been ignoring you. Get a clue. I like girls, okay, so just stop it."

The football player stomps off and Clark finds himself face to face with Oliver Queen. He smiles weakly, and looks around for Lois. Oh, god, she's over at the buffet table, talking to his mom. Clark promptly puts his back to them.

"Well, hello there," Oliver purrs.

"Umm. Hi."

"You can follow me around any time." Oliver takes a step closer and runs his finger over Clark's bare shoulder. He glances down at the sucker in Clark's hand. "I didn't know you could get Big Juicy Man Pops in Smallville. Where did you find it?"

"It's from my private stash. Want one?" Clark fishes a chocolate-mint sucker out of a fold of his makeshift toga and offers it to Oliver.

"Thanks." Oliver takes the sucker and unwraps it. "I love these things. Margarita-lime is my favorite."

"I like the vanilla-cherry best." Clark turns at the sound of a soft gasp, and sees Lois standing there, staring from him to Oliver with shock. Has she recognized him or is it – she scowls and stomps off to flirt aggressively with the football player. Clark looks back at Oliver. "Sorry about that."

"S'okay," Oliver mumbles around his sucker. He reluctantly removes it from his mouth. "I mean, she had to figure out that I'm bi sometime."

Clark glances over his shoulder and catches Lois' Glare of Death. He turns back to Oliver. "Ummm, maybe you should go talk to her."

Oliver looks warily over Clark's shoulder. "Maybe later. Besides, right now, I'm talking to you."

Clark's eyes widen as he sees Lana pausing in the doorway, all Cleopatraed-upped, and Ceaser Lex watching her with a smile. "I'm sorry, but I really have to talk to Lex about something. It's urgent."

He zips through the crowd and plants himself between Lex and the approaching Lana. "Hi, Lex!" He circles his tongue over the top of his sucker, and then slides it slowly in and out of his mouth. "Want a Big Juicy Man Pop, Lex? It's really good."

"Clark?" Lex swallows hard. His eyes glaze over as he stares at his friend's ripe pink mouth and the slick white length gliding in and out.

"Hmmm?" Clark hums around his sucker. He finally pulls it out with a soft smack. "I've got caramel-coffee, vanilla-cherry, chocolate-mint, and amaretto-cream."

"Where – where did you –"

Clark sucks the whole vanilla-cherry pop into his mouth and slowly slides it back out, watching as Lex's eyes darken even more. Who knew all it took to blow-up a Lexian train of thought was a Big Juicy Man Pop? Good thing, the guy at the fair chased him down at the book club, and made a deal with him, 'cause he's apparently going to be going through Man Pops by the boxfuls for the rest of his life.

"You're – Clark, you're – those are my sheets."

"Ummmhmm. Fresh off your bed."

Lex pants quietly. "Clark, what are you trying to—"

"Wanna 'em back?" Clark trails his fingers suggestively over the folds looped around his waist. "We'd need to go somewhere private 'cause I'm not wearing anything else."

"Oh, god, yes." Lex groans softly. "The library?"

Clark mouths his sucker as he pretends to consider. "Is there a fire?"

"Yes."

Yay, Hot Sweaty Man Sex Book Club. He's got Lex down to one word response by following their advice. "Good. I want to see what you look like spread out in front of it."

Lex makes a low, desperate noise.

"Hi, Lex. Clark." Lana adjusts her slipping crown and looks from Lex to Clark with puzzled eyes. "I didn't think you were coming to the party."

"I had second thoughts about cumming." Clark reaches out and snags Lex's arm as his friend inhales sharply. "Excuse us, Lana. Lex, and I need to talk." Mindful of his new job as the Big Juicy Man Pop spokesman, he hands her one. "Have a caramel-coffee sucker. I'm trying to talk Lex into selling them in the Talon."

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"Clark, are you – okay?"

Clark sighs. At least he'd gotten Lex safely herded in the library before his friend's suspicious nature had resurfaced. Clark allows his toga to slip lower, and looks at Lex through the dark sweep of his lashes. "Don't I look okay?"

Lex heads for the mini-bar and pours himself a drink. "So which one of my cars do you want this time?"

"I don't want your cars, Lex." Clark walks over to the fireplace, drawn by the cheerful blaze. He scrunches his toes into the soft warmth of the thick rug. It feels so good to have softness under his feet after that walk down the hard stones of the hallway. He glances over his shoulder to find Lex's stare glued to the LL dangling at a jaunty angle over his ass. "I want you."

"I supposed to believe," Lex strolls over to Clark, clutching the glass of scotch like it's a life preserver, "that you just woke up this morning and decided that you want me?"

Clark stares at Lex, distracted by the play of shadow and light over the pale skin. He'd been watching the flow of plum tunic around those thighs all the way into the library, and wondering exactly how bare Lex is beneath. Imaging all that skin, sleek and white and creamy delicious as his vanilla-cherry pop. He mouths his sucker, but it suddenly seems like a completely unsatisfactory substitute for what he really wants to taste.

"Why are you here, Clark?"

"I want to be here," Clark murmurs. He takes a step closer, lost in lure of that smooth creamy skin. "I want to be with you."

Lex tilts his head, his gaze dark and dubious. "With me? Or with Zod?"

"Zod?" Clark blinks. "What does Zod have to do with this?"

"That's why Lana's with me." Lex smiles coldly. "She had other choices after Dark Thursday. It's not like Met U didn't arrange for emergency student housing or find alternative classroom space for the students who wanted to continue their studies. LuthorCorp got a hell of a tax right off and racked up the public kudos for allowing the university the use of certain of its corporate assets."

"You think she's spying on you? Waiting to see if you go Zod again?"

Lex tosses back the rest of his drink. He sets the empty glass on the mantel. "I think she's got a dagger with Zod's name on it, and she staying close enough to use it."

Clark drops his sucker in the glass and sets his hands on Lex's shoulders. "Maybe she's just scared after everything that happened and you make her feel safe."

"Safe? Please, Clark. No one with half a brain feels safe around me."

"I do." Clark unfastens the long plum cloak and tosses it over a sofa. He runs his fingers over the leather of Lex's faux armor.

Lex frowns. "I make you feel safe?"

"Yeah." Clark nods, sensing how badly his friend needs to believe that someone trusts him; that he's worthy of giving and receiving trust. Is this why the A.I. had chosen this night, this point in time? Had this been the night when Lex had decided that if no one trusted him, and he could trust no one, that he might as well go all Richard the Third and prove a villain? "You do."

Lex searches his eyes for a long moment, and then whispers, "Prove it."

Clark stares back, wide-eyed. Is Lex asking for his secrets? He licks his lips nervously. "How?"

Lex rubs his thumb along the curve of Clark's lower lip. "You've never done this before, have you?"

Clark swallows hard. All the boldness that he'd managed to channel at the party, dropping away like fall leaves. "Just with Lana."

"I'm not Lana."

"I know."

"This won't be anything like being with Lana." Lex promises hoarsely as he pushes his thumb into the hot wet of Clark's mouth. He smiles with dark satisfaction at Clark's needy whimper. "Lose the toga, Clark."

Clark shrugs and his toga slithers into a pool of lavender at his feet. He ducks his head, shyly watching through his bangs as the doubt on Lex's face evaporates under a haze of wonder and lustful delight. He trembles as Lex walks slowly around him, staring, and staring until he's absolutely certain that Lex has every hair, every shift in skin tone, every sinew on his body memorized. No one has ever looked at him that intensely or intimately. He can only shiver and wait as Lex reaches for his wreath and sets it on the mantel next to the scotch glass.

"Take off my cuirass."

Clark runs his fingers over the leather stage armor before finding the hidden catches. He unfastens it and now it's his turn to stare and stare at the solid but sparse lines of Lex's torso. At the sinewy whiteness and the mouthwatering perk of small peach nipples, and the alluring sprinkle of golden freckles. Only the small plum kilt hides any part of Lex from him now. He reaches for it, unfastening it, and dropping the scrap of purple to the floor.

His knees fail him, and he too, is on the floor, staring at the tall thick cock quivering temptingly before him. He stares and stares and stares. Smooth white thighs. Smooth white stomach. Star field dots of golden freckles hiding coyly amid a scattering of burnished copper curls that frame the swollen thickness of Lex's beautiful cock. Clark makes a low needy sound as Lex's hands settle in his hair and guide him forward.

"Let's see if you can handle the real thing as well as you did that candy."

Then the hot, damp crown is pressing against his lips, and then sliding inside his mouth. Clark chokes awkwardly for a moment, overwhelmed by the strangeness, the salty taste and the thickness filling his mouth. He grabs Lex's hips as he feels the other man easing back. No, this even better than the candy. He leans in, remembering how he practiced on the pop, and sucks it all down with greedy swallows as Lex swears breathlessly over his head.

His HSMS book club buddies hadn't even come close to doing justice to this. It's hotter and more intimate than any of their accounts. Clark presses closer, stroking his pleading hands over the flex of Lex's ass. He needs – he needs – oh, god, that's it! He moans with pleasure as Lex's fingers tighten in his hair and Lex ruthlessly plunders his mouth. Oh, god, yes. This. The thickness slamming into his mouth. The slick saltiness left behind by every pass over his tongue. The brush of soft balls and hair against his mouth and chin. The intimate scents and tastes of Lex sinking into his soul.

He won't give this up now that he's found it. This is his. Lex is his. And he won't lose this for anything or anyone. Clark keeps his eyes closed and his mouth open as the door suddenly opens.

"Lex, the caterers want to know if they should open more – Oh. My. God!" Lana squeals.

There's no pause in the relentless of cock inexorably filling his mouth or the strong hands guiding his head, fisting in his hair as Lex growls. "The caterers can open as much fucking wine as they want."

"Ohmygod!" Lana disappears with the slam of the door.

He can hear her ohmygodding all the way down the corridor, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care if she tells his mom. He doesn't care if she tells Lois. He doesn't care if she tells Chloe. Or Jimmy. Or Oliver. Or takes out full page ads in the Inquisitor and the Daily Planet and The Torch and the Smallville Ledger. No one is taking this from him.

He sucks harder and holds Lex close, wrapping his arms around the narrow waist as Lex cries out and shudders against him, and all his lonely empty places inside are filled with the creamy taste of his lover. Clark pulls gently, reluctantly away, licking the slack dampness of the cock hanging heavy and sated between Lex's trembling thighs.

"God, Clark," Lex whispers brokenly above him.

He looks up as Lex stares down at him, and he knows that they are both thinking of the time the Zod had demanded that he kneel.

Lex leans down and presses a kiss of almost unbearable sweetness and softness on his mouth. "You do trust me. You'd have to, to let me ride your mouth like that."

The next thing he knows Lex is slithering downwards, landing in a warm, sweaty armful over his thighs. He moans and thrusts against the damp velvet of Lex's stomach. It feels so good. Even better when a scarred mouth expertly opens his, and an agile tongue plunders his mouth as Lex writhes against him slick, and soft, and hard, and wanton, urging him on with husky-voiced promises of debaucheries that he'd barely known existed, until he cums in a rush of wet heat against Lex's white skin.

"Sssh. Clark. It's okay."

Clark droops against the strength of his lover's wide shoulder, pretending that the dampness on his face is all sweat, and that he hasn't just been undone by the intensity of what he'd just shared with Lex. After the bawdy talk of the HSMS book club, he'd expected something good, and fun, and light. Nothing like this unraveling and reworking into something new and satisfying and wonderful. His voice breaks, betraying his tears as he whispers, "Lex, I do trust you. I do."

"I know." Lex tightens his arms. "I trust you too, Clark."

Clark presses his face deeper into the crook of Lex's shoulder as the door opens again. He sighs. What did Lana want now? But the footsteps are too heavy to be the light tap of little Lana feet. Who—

"Lex." There's a long disapproving silence. "Son, I suspect the Kents would prefer that you took to molesting their cows instead of their son."

Oh. God. Clark shivers and feels Lex's muscular arms tighten even more around him. One hand rises to stroke soothingly over his head as Lex asks. "What do you want, Dad?"

"Nothing. Nothing. I was going to help myself to the scotch, but I don't believe I want it after all."

Lex sighs against Clark's dark curls. "Your mistress is in your suite. The guests are in the ballroom. The wine is in the cellar. There's scotch in the decanter in your room. My secret files are on my x-drive. Go forth and entertain yourself."

"Now I know where not to look for your secret files." Lionel disappears with the slam of the door.

Clark lifts his head and looks curiously into his lover's soft silver eyes. "Are your secret files on your x-drive?"

Lex drops a tender kiss on Clark's mouth and grins. "No, but now, he'll waste endless amounts of time looking because he can't take the chance that I dropped the info precisely so he wouldn't look there."

Wait. Lionel had said 'the Kents'. Plural. And the A.I. had said that some details might be different. Hope rises wildly inside him as he hears a Lionel's voice and then a familiar pair of footsteps outside as the door is flung open.

"Clark Kent!"

He grins at the outraged roar, and peeks over the sofa to see his mom and dad standing in the door. He flashes them his happiest, brightest smile. God, it's good to be home. "Hi, Dad. Hi, Mom."

Lex mutters behind him. "At this rate, we won't need to bother sending out wedding invitations."

Martha smiles. "Oh, a wedding! Isn't that wonderful, Jonathan. Our boy's getting married."

Clark turns back to Lex, his eyes full of hope. "Are you sure, Lex?"

Lex raises an eyebrow at him. "Aren't you?"

"Yeah, I'm sure." Clark cups Lex's head and kisses him slowly, ignoring his dad's disgusted bellows and his mom's one-sided debate over wedding colors.

END