Disclaimer: Well... obviously not mine. Otherwise, I wouldn't need to write fan fiction now, would I?
Warnings: Slash. Clark's still in high school. And interesting opinions on Winne the Pooh.
Feedback:Voiceless009 -- Tell me what you thought! ^_^
Summary: An innocent conversation with Lex Luthor.
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Dedicated to bipolypesca, for being the toughest English teacher I've ever had. I'd go on to mention how she converted me into a CLexer in the first place, but she's already far too smug about that.
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"--and so you have the Emerald City as Washington, the wicked witch representing oppressive Eastern power and, of course, our very own Kansas heroine as Ameri--"
"You're insane, Lex. The Wizard of Oz is just a musical about a girl who goes on an adventure in a fantasy world. Everyone knows that."
"No, see, Clark, you're looking at it through a child's eyes. It--"
"What are the ruby slippers supposed to be then?"
"...Well, nothing really."
"Ha! See? Your crazy theory--"
"Of course, in the book they were silver slippers. Now that represents--"
"Never mind. I don't want to know. Forget I asked."
Not for the first time in the past hour, Clark sighed and tried to pinpoint the exact moment when he should've realised the kind of conversation he was in for when he came to see Lex today.
'How many times do we have to go through this, Kent?' he chastised himself. 'When he gets that glint in his eye, you run.'
He had just dropped by the castle after school hoping Lex, with his extensive knowledge on...well...just about everything, would have read Oliver Twist before and would be able to help make more sense of Dickens than Clark was making by himself.
Lex, as could be predicted, was at his desk typing at his laptop. Also as predicted, as soon as Clark walked into view he looked up and smiled that "And how can I help you today?" smile and closed the computer without hesitation.
They had been five minutes into Lex explaining the subtext of the book, and how Oliver Twist was almost a Victorian portrayal of the Bible story of The Good Samaritan when Clark's eyebrows had knitted together in thought and he'd opened his mouth, completely unaware what it would lead to:
"That's what Mrs Simon was saying. We've got to write a report on a chapter of the book and highlight all the deeper meanings and subtext and...stuff."
Which, in itself, was a harmless enough thing to say. But then - stupid, stupid, stupid! If Clark had known that commenting on how he thought it was pointless to dig through all the text to look for meanings and messages that the author didn't make blatantly obvious would launch Lex into a lecture on how every book has hidden meanings you have to look for and that there would be no point in just saying it because then the reader wouldn't be actively thinking about it, he would've kept his big mouth firmly shut!
And then Clark just had to go on to say that this was why movies were better than books - because what you see is what you get. For a second he thought Lex was going to hit him, he tensed up so bad, looking at Clark as if he couldn't believe he'd just said such a thing. But instead of striking him, he just started ranting passionately on how every movie, book and anything else always has deeper meanings you have to look for.
In hindsight, the stupidest thing of all that Clark had said was "What? Even The Wizard of Oz?"
It had been a joke! If he'd known that there were so many...crazy layers - all relating to late 19th century U.S. politics - that Lex saw in that film, he would've stayed clear of any references that might get him started on such a tirade. Not that Lex wasn't amusing to watch when he got passionate over silly things like this, but Clark did need to be home for dinner and the time was already drawing dangerously near...
"No way!" Clark interjected as soon as Lex finally paused to draw a breath, "The Wizard of Oz? It's a kid's story, for crying out loud!"
"Little Red Riding Hood is a 'kid's story', Clark, but that doesn't mean it's not a metaphor for the loss of virginity--"
"Stop it, Lex!"
Clark looked horrified, as if every childhood memory of his mom reading him a bedtime story had just been soiled. It was rather telling that this was the only thing able to make Lex put his raging on hiatus, just to let out a short burst of laughter. Clark shook his head in disbelief.
"You are just...so twisted."
"I never said I wasn't."
"What other innocent children's story do you want to pervert next? Winnie The Pooh?"
Lex openly gaped at Clark for a moment, making him shuffle his feet nervously, wondering what exactly was running through this strange, strange man's head now.
"Winnie The Pooh? Are you serious, Clark? Do you honestly mean to tell me that you don't see the connotations of drug use in those books?"
"What?!"
"Oh, come on!" Lex looked exasperated, as if trying to explain something to a grown person that should already be common sense, "Each character represents a different illegal substance - Tigger is obviously speed, and you cannot honestly think that dear old Pooh-Bear himself could be that laid back and not be smoking pot! I mean, Jesus, as if more proof were needed, he's got the constant munchies!" Clark silently stored the memory of Lex saying the word 'munchies' into the safest part of his brain, because, wow, he never wanted to forget that, "And Eeyore...well...I'm not sure, but he really should be on antidepressants because, shit, that is one suicidal stuffed donkey--"
Clark was silent for a long moment, mulling this over.
"...You are insane, Lex!"
Lex allowed a moment for his stern 'I'm teaching you something important here, Clark' veneer to slip, finding his obtuse stubbornness so oddly charming that he just had to send him one of those patented Lex-smirks before continuing.
"Clark, we're getting sidetracked here. I was merely trying to demonstrate to you how everything can be seen in different ways, depending on what eyes you're looking through."
"Yeah, but this is exactly what I mean," Clark said, giving up on trying to get back to the door to make his escape, and instead moving slightly closer, "Sure, you can see all these things if you look hard enough - or have a warped enough view of the world - but why would you read that deeply into something, to see something that probably isn't even there?" He waited a beat. "Especially Winnie The Pooh, Lex, my God."
"So, what you're saying is," Lex said slowly, "Why search things so deeply for meanings--"
"--that are probably made up by your own mind, yeah."
"Well," Lex frowned thoughtfully, and failed to notice Clark's sour expression lift and his eyes light up the way they always did when he managed to engage Lex in conversation at high enough level to make him take on that expression, "That's kind of the point, Clark."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, it's easy enough to just stay on the surface, taking everything at face value. But how many books or movies or TV shows have you truly looked at that way and remembered?"
Lex let Clark's silence prove his point.
"If you dig deeper at something," he continued after a significant enough pause, "if you take mere words on a page and find a way to personalise them so they mean something to you...that's the sort of thing you remember."
"...Lex, all this hidden meaning stuff," Clark said after a while, his voice a little softer and more hesitant than before, "Is it possible to find them in...a person's words and actions, too?"
Argument supposedly won, Lex was too busy gloating internally to notice the warning signs telling him to tread carefully as Clark shifted the conversation.
"Sure, Clark." He said, reaching across the desk for his water.
If the sudden change in tone of voice didn't clue Lex in, he should at least have realised a tough conversation was going to follow when Clark was suddenly unable to look him in the face, and opted instead to inspect his own feet.
"So...when you say things like 'We have a destiny, Clark' and when you put your mouth around a bottle of water and look right at me as you drink...could something be read into that?"
Lex, who happened to have his lips wrapped around a Ty Nant bottle even as Clark spoke, came as close to blushing as Clark imagined a Luthor ever could and put the water back down on the desk.
"I suppose," he managed to say, as soon as he regained the ability to speak, "Certain people may read a little too deeply into things like that."
Clark's eyes snapped up to meet Lex's at this, his expression incredulous.
"A little too deeply? Jeez, Lex! You pick me up from school in your Mercedes, you always put your hand on the small of my back when we're in a crowd, you...stare at me from across the room like you wa-- Lex, people are talking about us, you know! I mean, when you do things like that, it's not really too hard to get a deeper meaning out of--"
Lex held up his right hand, a gesture that always commanded respectful silence. It didn't fail this time. Clark stopped talking. It made Lex feel a little more in control in a situation where control was pretty much non-existent for him now.
Oh, Jesus. He'd been having so much...fun, flirting with Clark when the boy was completely oblivious to the fact that, more often than not, he was flirting back. Lex had always known that if Clark were to grasp the context of what transpired between himself and Mr Bald Billionaire on a regular basis, it would completely shock him. Probably disgust him. Definitely make him stop.
Damn it! He knew he'd gotten too intense over the past few months! It had all started out as an amusing activity for Lex - trying to see just how much innuendo he could send sailing straight over the naïve farm boy's head - but it soon became apparent that he didn't need to fake the come ons. He was so head-over-heels in lust after the first two weeks, he couldn't have stopped himself if he'd tried. But...losing Clark's friendship over this...that was... Shit! He was so stupid!
"I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable with this, Clark." Lex spoke in his most polite voice - the one that Clark had affectionately nicknamed his 'bullshit voice' - but even Clark felt that his regret was genuine.
"What did you expect?" Clark asked in a softer tone, "Of course it makes me uncomfortable."
"...I understand. But, you have to believe me, I never intended..."
...Never intended for you to find out what I was doing...
"I mean, the other morning," Clark continued, as if Lex hadn't spoken, "When you came over and Mom invited you to stay and made me split my breakfast with you--"
Clark's obvious grudge against Lex for taking away his food would've been funny at any other time but now.
Lex remembered that. Of course he did. After "accidentally" brushing his foot over Clark's calf half a dozen times, he had gotten to his feet to help Martha with the dishes - another rather pointless round in the 'Make the Kents like me' game. He had picked up Clark's plate by standing behind his chair and leaning across his shoulder, their arms - and almost cheeks - brushing together, and paused just a fraction too long in that position before straightening up and taking Clark's plate to the sink.
If Jonathan Kent had been paying more attention - or been more capable of recognising the homoerotic undertones of such an action - Lex had a feeling that the shotgun would've been making an appearance.
Yes, Lex had been feeling particularly full of himself that morning, and had been wondering whether it was a step too far ever since. He should've known it would make Clark--
"I was so hard, Lex."
--Wait. What?
"You were...so close, breathing in my ear. God. And then Mom asked me to get off my lazy butt and help clear the table and-- Man! I thought everyone was going to see. See what you did to me... It doesn't get much more uncomfortable than that."
Yes, Lex remembered Clark mumbling a hurried excuse about needing the bathroom and making a quick exit. He'd thought it was just embarrassment, Clark's upstanding all-American Kansas manhood feeling threatened by such close contact with another male. This was...unexpected.
"Clark, I'm sorry, but I think you're going to have to clarify just exactly what it is you're saying here."
"God, Lex," Clark blushed and looked away again, "You're so mean...to make me say it."
"Please." Spoken so softly, Lex wasn't sure if Clark could even hear.
"I...don't know...how..."
"Clark, come on," Lex knew he was starting to sound a little desperate, his whole being clinging to the faint hope that maybe this friendship wasn't irretrievable, that maybe it was evolving, "You have to tell me or I ca--"
And, in an instant, Clark's lips were on his own, mouth opening immediately in invitation for Lex's tongue. Lex had never liked to turn down an invitation, so he obligingly pressed forward into the hot, wet cavern, his for the plundering. In an instant Clark was on Lex's lap, trembling...why was he trembling? Or was that Lex? Did it matter?
"Look, you did it again." Clark said breathlessly as he pulled back, blushing beet red and staring at the space just past Lex's right shoulder even as he ground his hardness down into Lex's lap.
Lex sucked in a sharp breath and bucked his hips up in response. He was so confused, but so not ready to compromise this wonderful moment - this possibility - with questions that just might make Clark change his mind. But he felt heartened by the fact that there suddenly seemed to be much more to Clark Kent than met the eye.
Another kiss. Lex's hands in Clark's hair. Clark thrusting down against the swift stirring of an answering hardness in Lex's pants. And then they could breathe again, Clark drawing back once more, only far enough to lean his forehead against Lex's, grinning with all his farm boy charm.