Cover by kyanoswolf

Title:  Not Of This Earth

Author: danceswithgary (danceswithgary@yahoo.com)

Pairing: Clark/Lex

Rating: PG-13 to R

Warnings: None

Spoilers:  None

Word Count: 12580

Archive: Fine, just let me know

Summary: An actor has to have standards. Lex is putting his foot down and absolutely refusing to wear the g-string. That's final!

Running down the debris-covered street, Lex suddenly ducked into a doorway to hide from the spotlight raking across burnt-out storefronts. His back flattened against a charred brick wall, he checked the remaining charge on his firearm and grimaced. Sweat was pouring down his face and when he wiped it away, he left behind smears of blood and dirt. His clothing was torn, displaying glimpses of pale skin and lean muscle.

Hearing the sounds of pursuit getting closer, he checked both directions to try to determine his best course of action, and then shrugged in resignation. Taking a deep breath, he darted out into the center and began shooting, roaring, "Panthers, forever!" Explosions covered him with dust and bits of flaming paper and wood, but he never stopped firing...

...until his gun fell apart in two pieces.

"Fuck!" Straightening up from his crouch, Lex held the useless weapon up and yelled, "Who the hell put this fucking thing together?" Turning around, he glared, and threw the pieces down in disgust. "It's the third time today! Can't you fucking weld it or something?"

A timid voice answered him from behind one of the overturned cars on the street. "It's plastic, Lex. You can't weld plastic."

Rolling his eyes, Lex propped his hands on his hips and yelled back, "I know that, I'm just saying..."

"Cut!"

. . .

The screen went dark and the director turned to the executive producer and shrugged. "We got some really good shots in today, in spite of the prop malfunctions. Clark was great."

Frowning, the producer waved at the empty screen. "Show me."

. . .

The stunningly handsome face of Kal-El the Merciless appeared, his cruel smile belying any hope of benevolence he attempted to convey in his speech. "Humans, you must cease your futile attempts at resistance. Each day you fight only causes you more pain. We are here to save you from your petty, useless lives and all that we require is that you lay down your weapons and embrace your new status in my empire."

As the camera panned back, the sculpted body of  Kal-El became visible, clad in a chain-mail vest, skin-tight black leather pants, and polished thigh-high boots. A red velvet cloak had been thrown back over his broad shoulders and exposed enormous tattooed biceps. At his feet sprawled a panting, long-haired brunette clad in chains, sequins, and little else. The camera followed her every move as she slithered up Kal-El's leg, pleading for his attention. "Please, my emperor, take me!"

Sneering at her begging, Kal-El planted his palm in her face and shoved, sending her back to the floor, weeping in despair. Raising a disdainful brow, he waved to a waiting minion. "Take this one away. I'm weary of her constant demands for attention. Find me someone new, someone not so...weak."

"Cut!"

. . .

The executive producer nodded, his previous discontent mollified by the success of the second scene. "Do we have more of him with her, preferably with no clothes, maybe even some rough stuff?"

Looking away, the director mumbled, "We're working on some of those scenes right now. We should have the pages ready...."

Waving in dismissal, the producer walked away, calling back, "Just let me know when I can see those. Good job, keep going."

Eyes wide, the director looked at his assistant and hissed, "Well, you heard him. Fewer clothes, more sex."

"But...."

"I know, it wasn't supposed to be one of those movies, but it is. Call Toby and tell him we'll need the new pages by tomorrow morning. Should be pretty damn easy for him to get done. After all, it's not as if they're going to need a whole lot of lines. A few moans here and there, a couple of orders to get undressed and lay down on the bed, and we're good to go."

"Yes, sir. On my way."

. . .

Stepping up into the trailer, Lex was complaining before Clark could even say hello. "The fucking gun broke again."

Handing him a cold beer, Clark winced. "I heard. Actually, I think people three sets away, heard."

"You think I like having to run down the same freaking street sixteen times in a row, run out to yell my one line, which is incredibly stupid and a rip-off of Red Dawn, and then stand there looking like a total fool because the props keep falling apart?"

Shrugging, Clark walked over to the couch and plopped down on one side, kicking off his thongs and tucking one leg under the other. "It happens, Lex. We just have to deal with it and move on. It's part of the job."

"Yeah, you're right. I just get so frustrated sometimes." Lex tipped his head back and drank half the beer without stopping for a breath. "It's not exactly what I saw myself doing when I started." Pacing around the trailer, he came to a halt at the sight of a gaudy red poster propped up in front of the tiny kitchen sink. "What's that?"

Clark shifted uncomfortably and looked everywhere but at his friend. "That's the proof of the theatre poster."

Lex looked closer at the red and black themed artwork and his jaw dropped. "You've got to be kidding!"

"Uh, Lex...."

"Co-starring? I'm fucking co-starring? I'm below the title!" The rest of the beer was downed quickly and the bottle tossed into the sink.

"Lex...."

"Of the people currently present in this trailer, who's performed in Hamlet? I'm a serious actor, dammit!"

"The gravedigger isn't exactly a....

"We get equal billing on the damn show. Why do you think we're both here? Four seasons running around playing cops and robbers with you and this is the thanks I get?"

Clark sighed and rubbed his temples. "Lex, I didn't have anything to do with...."

"That is such a fucking insult! I should just walk off the set." Lex ran his fingers through his black hair, cut short to make him look tougher.  Suddenly, his fist clenched and he ended up with a handful of wig that he tossed onto the couch. He ran both hands across his smooth scalp, rubbing away any remaining adhesive and sighing in relief. "Man, I really don't miss having hair when I'm under those lights. You must be drenched." As he turned back around, he caught another glimpse of the offending poster. "I'm the fucking hero!"

Clark grimaced as he tried to figure out how to soothe his savage co-star. "Actually, I have almost twice the screen time and more lines."

"That's because they're filming you fucking anything that moves in that ridiculous palace. I'm surprised that they haven't brought in cows." Lex glared at Clark and sneered. "You're getting top billing for showing your ass."

"Hey, they offered to let you..."

Lex flung his arms in the air in exasperation. "I'm an actor, not a porn star!  And I get to kill you! Earth wins! You lose." A puzzled look crossed his face. "Hey, how do I kill you?"

Clark shrugged. "Last script change I was supposed to be sucked under and drowned by some intelligent liquid that controls my ship. Before that you flew one of the ships into my palace, and totally destroyed the place...guess they thought killing all the slaves and you wasn't such a hot idea. Now, they're talking about some foundry with molten metal and we fight and I end up in the metal and the last thing you see is my hand reaching up before it sinks underneath, sizzling."

"I've got an idea. Why don't I just hand you the gun from hell and you can die from apoplexy when the damn thing falls apart again while you're trying to execute me personally in your throne room?"

Rolling his eyes, Clark pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and brought up his speed dial. "Pizza?"

"Thai. We had pizza the night before last."

 . .

"The recon force is back, Dirk. It's bad news, I'm afraid." The plucky blonde who had burst into Lex's underground bunker, grimaced as she tossed a map on the battle-scarred metal table. "The Draconians have every entrance covered. They couldn't find any way in that wasn't suicide."

Picking up the tattered piece of paper, Lex frowned. "They didn't look hard enough, Mercy." He pointed to a spot in the center. "What about here?"

She shook her head. "Getting in through there is going to be tricky, Dick."

Lex groaned, leaned over and banged his head on the table, which proceeded to list dangerously to one side. "Chloe...."

Rolling her eyes, the blonde tried to keep a straight face and then lost it, laughing so hard she lost her balance and fell against the table. One leg broke loose and it tipped over, almost taking Lex with it. Sitting down hard on the cement floor, Chloe looked and howled at Lex's expression. "I...said...Dick...again."

Glaring at his co-star, Lex started out with a mutter that soon escalated into a full-fledged rant. "I'm going to steal every illegal substance Toby has stashed in his trailer and burn it all. No...no, I'm going to have to sell it because it's the only way I'll be able to make a living after this movie is released. That's if it even makes it into the theatres, which isn't going to happen because they've most likely already booked a spot for it on the two AM mock-a-thon on SciFi. That's if I'm lucky."

Chloe tried unsuccessfully to stop giggling. "C'mon, Lex, you have to admit it's funny."

Jumping up from the chair, Lex began to pace around the snickering blonde. "My character's name is Dirk, not Dick, and it stopped being funny six takes ago. Why the fuck couldn't I be Troy or Rock or Bruce? I'd even take John, and live with the toilet and prostitute jokes as long as we could get through the fucking scenes. You think I'm not used to being made fun of all the time?" Walking over to the door, Lex yanked it open, hard enough to make the wall wobble and tilt. He posed in the door frame with a dramatic pause. "Try growing up bald with a name that rhymes with sex!""

Suddenly, Clark was there with a makeup towel around his neck and only half of his Kal-El the Merciless moustache on. He leaned against the unsteady wall with one arm and looked down at Lex from his additional six inches, courtesy of the thigh-high boots. "Lex, you okay?"

Lex looked up sheepishly. "Three sets away again?"

"Yeah."

"I can't kill Toby?"

"Nope."

"Maim? Break a fingernail?"

"C'mon, Lex. You've got to take it easy, calm down." Clark looked over at the props manager who was grumbling about the broken table and jerked his head towards the wall he was propping up. He nodded when the props manager waved one of his assistants over to check the other side.

Oblivious to Clark's subtle signals, Lex crossed his arms and huffed, "This is all your fault, you know. If you hadn't talked me into joining the Smallville Community Theatre Guild, I'd be a successful businessman, probably on the Fortune 500."

"Yeah, I know, but I still think you were the best Pirate King I've ever seen, on or off Broadway."

Lex shrugged away the compliment with a smile. "And everyone fell in love with your Frederick. The girls were all over you. They still are."

Ducking his head shyly, Clark blushed. "I've never really understood that. You were always the one who ended up taking them out. Guess they wanted brains as well as looks."

Lex mock-punched Clark in the shoulder with a laugh. "Right, and all those women who just happen to be coming out of your trailer every fifteen minutes or so are a figment of my imagination. Want to send a few over to mine sometime? I only get the cleaning people...and Toby, unfortunately."

Clark straightened up, carefully making sure the wall was going to stay vertical before he moved away. "I don't know what you mean, Lex. Anyone who stops by my trailer is there on legitimate business, nothing else. Well, except for you." His face looked completely innocent under his makeup and half a moustache.

"So what you're saying is that you need your water bottles delivered one at a time, and the women are just hanging around waiting to open them for you, too?"

"You're being weird again, Lex."

"And you're pretending...hell, never mind. You need to get back to makeup."

"You okay, now?"

"I'm fine. Go."

Clark left slowly, looking back several times before he went out of sight around a corner. Chloe, who'd been observing the conversation with unfeigned interest, took Lex's offered hand and stood up, brushing off the seat of her artfully torn fatigues. "That almost sounded like you were jealous, Lex."

"Of Clark? Listen, I know who's the better actor, and so does he."

Chloe arched a brow and smirked. "It wasn't his acting I was referring to." She walked out of the room and closed the door behind herself so that she could run the scene again.

Lex frowned after her and then shook his head. He walked back to sit back down behind the repaired table while muttering, "Jealous...of Clark? She doesn't know what she's talking about."

. . .

"Toby, can I have a lid of what you're smoking today?" Lex looked up from the pages that the scriptwriter had handed to him a few minutes before. "You want me to wear an eyepatch?"

The older man with the gray-blond straggly hair nodded enthusiastically. "I think it's a great touch, gives you more charisma. And did you catch the new scenes? You're going to go rescue the President, who crashed in one of the Draconian restricted zones, because you're the only one that's ever made back out alive from one of them."

Lex frowned at Toby and shook his head. "You do realize my character's name is Dirk, not Snake, right?"

"Hunh?"

Lex sighed. "Never mind. So when would I fight Kal-El? Is he is the Draconian zone, too?"

"I'm still working on that piece. I've got this idea that after you get the President out, you get caught by some collaborators and they freeze you and deliver you to Kal-El in his palace."

"With or without the eyepatch? After all, I'm assuming I'll be blind after I'm thawed out."

Getting up from Lex's couch, Toby narrowed his eyes and considered for a second. "I'll have to think about that one. It'll be that, or you'll possibly lose a hand."

Holding the door open for Toby, Lex rolled his eyes. "Just don't tell me Kal-El's my long-lost father. Give me a break on that one, please."

Toby paused on the steps. "No problem. I was going with brother."

Calmly closing the door behind Toby, Lex leaned his forehead against it for a minute before he pulled out his cell phone.

"Clark. Beer. I'll be there in five minutes. Make that many, many bottles of beer."

. . .

Clark watched his co-star finish his third beer, drinking them steadily without a single outburst, and worried that Lex was well on his way to sinking into one of his depressions. He'd always found it easier to deal with Lex in manic mode, the high drama just a way for Lex to blow off steam safely. Quiet meant Lex was thinking too hard and that was dangerous, for both of them. If he allowed Lex too much time to brood, they would end up three states away on a road trip from hell while Lex tried to regain his lost youth, and the production company invoked penalty clauses.

"Lex, what happened?"

"Toby stopped by. He's going with Star Wars fucks Escape from New York and I'm...Dirk's their bastard child. There are times when being disinherited truly sucks, Clark."

"Tell me that all of this is worse than having every word and every action scripted by Lionel Luthor. At least you know that with the right incentive, Toby can be convinced to make a few changes."

"Great, you made me think about my father. Some friend you are. I need another beer."

"You need to eat something, Lex. Why don't we go out and get some Italian? You're better off eating the carbs instead of drinking them."

Slouching lower on the sofa, Lex rolled his head toward Clark and squinted blearily. "You're still dressed. Crap. Did I interrupt something? A date?"

"Oh, yeah, get real. Lex, when was the last time I went on a date? I just...had someone I needed to...look up after the last scene and didn't get a chance to change before you came over."

"Someone? Is she pretty? It was the new script girl, wasn't it?"

"Lex, come on, you know...."

"We had this discussion earlier. I'm not stupid, Clark. Almost every time I come over, there's some chick just leaving, or you're just coming back from somewhere." Lex shook his head at Clark's continued denials. "The funny thing is...they're never pissed off at you. Man, I have to duck around corners and hide from some of mine when I see them coming."

Clark got up from the couch and offered his hand to Lex. "They're just friends, Lex. We...talk, that's all."

"I don't want to go out. In your trailer, no one can hear me scream."

"Okay, Ripley. You've had enough beer for tonight. Food. Maybe we can come up with a different movie for Toby to steal from and save Dirk from a fate worse than Darth."

Rolling his eyes, Lex allowed Clark to pull him to his feet. "I take it back. They're going to be able hear me scream all the way downtown if you're going to torture me like that all night long."

Guiding Lex out of the trailer with a hand in the small of his back, Clark muttered under his breath, too low for Lex to hear, "That isn't how I want to make you scream, Lex. Someday you'll figure that out."

. . .

"Did you ever think back then that we were going to end up here?"

"Here? What do you mean? In Vancouver? Making a feature film? Eating Italian?"

Shoving his half-eaten linguine away, Lex shook his head. "I guess...just you and me, still friends after all these years, working together."

Picking up the last piece of garlic bread, Clark shrugged. "I'm not sure I ever thought we'd be anything other than friends. I mean, you were the one who told me we had a destiny together less than a week after we met. I just never disagreed with you."

"Met each other. That's one way to put it. It'd make a great opening scene in some action-adventure script." Lex reached over and wiped some stray sauce from the side of Clark's mouth, licking his thumb clean afterwards. "Car goes off bridge narrowly missing young teen who then dives into the river, drags a spoiled brat out, and then brings him back from a metaphorical flight over the corn fields of Kansas with the kiss of life. Problem is...the critics would pan it as being too unbelievable."

Touching the place that Lex had just casually cleaned, Clark swallowed hard and nodded. "Then there's the implausible return of the world's finest red pickup to the spoiled brat because the teen's dad had an irrational hatred for the brat's family name."

Waving to the waiter, Lex pulled out his wallet. "Mine tonight. Then there's the side-plot where the town's overrun with freaks due to a meteor shower twelve years earlier, and the teen and spoiled brat get to play the mutant versions of Scully and Mulder...."

Standing up, Clark grinned. "Who're you calling a mutant, spoiled brat?"

"If the way-too-strong and runs-too-fast shoe fits...."

Following Lex outside, Clark shook his head. "Don't know what you're talking about. You're obviously delusional as evidenced by your ill-advised choice to perform off-off-Broadway instead of making billions of dollars as Lionel Luthor's bald puppet clone son."

Getting into the passenger side of Clark's red pickup, Lex laughed. "Straight to DVD, no doubt about it, farm boy."

"I'd buy it. It would go in with my Bruce Campbell collection." Clark started the truck and grinned again at Lex. "Then my best friend and I could watch it and throw popcorn at the screen during the cheesiest parts."

"That's always been my favorite way to spend a Friday night. Let's go back to your trailer and make some popcorn."

"As you wish."

"Hey, just don't say that around Toby, or Dirk will end up searching for a man with six fingers."

. . .

"He's really something, isn't he?"

Lex looked up from his script to find Chloe standing at the edge of the set watching Clark walk through one of the obligatory alien overlord gets it on with as many women as possible scenes. He turned around in his chair to check on what he'd been missing. When he saw Clark rolling around on the bed with the latest brunette, sans costume, he shrugged. "What do you mean?"

"Cool as a cucumber. She's grabbing for the sheet every two seconds and he just lets it all hang out and doesn't even twitch. You'd think she was his grandmother." She sighed. "Too bad, I was kind of hoping for a little action since they let me stay on set." She shrugged and took a seat next to Lex. "Well, he's still pretty impressive with the whole muscles on top of muscles thing. I was just expecting something more revealing than the fact that he's uncut. I'd already picked up that tidbit online. Of course, it's probably nothing new for you."

Lex, who had just taken a drink from his water bottle, choked and coughed out, "Chloe!  He's a professional! Of course he's got it under control." He straightened up in his chair to see for himself what Chloe had been looking at, just so he'd have a point of reference in the future. Although he and Clark were close, they'd never made a habit of undressing in front of each other, at all. It was an opportunity not to be wasted, just as scientific observation, of course.

She'd been right on the money, Clark was definitely uninterested in the lush body that was rubbing against him, begging in a sultry voice for attention from her lord and master. Lex found himself wondering just what Clark would look like.... "Besides, it's not as if this is the first time for him. They've been working on these scenes for weeks, now." Granted, Lex hadn't been on set for those, and he was beginning to wonder how much he'd missed. He surreptitiously adjusted himself, wondering why wardrobe had issued him jeans at least one size too tight.

A giggle informed him that perhaps he hadn't been as discreet as he'd hoped. Chloe looked between Lex and the occupants of the bed, and then grinned. "I don't know. I've been watching you two and maybe the slashers have got it right, after all."

"What are you talking about?" Lex kept glancing back at the bed, freezing when Clark rolled onto his side facing in Lex's direction, head propped up with an elbow as he listened intently to the director. A jab to his ribs brought his attention back to Chloe, but only for a moment as his eyes drifted back to the expanse of golden skin and the dark, wiry hair that did nothing to conceal Clark's generous, albeit limp, proportions.

"Fan fiction. There are a lot of women out there that are convinced that Denny and Roy share more than an office, and they're quite happy writing about it in exceedingly purple, NC-17, explicit prose." Chloe chuckled at Lex's ever-widening eyes. "Of course, then there's the RPS contingent that think the same about you and Clark."

Lex never noticed his water bottle falling to the floor, pouring out with a gurgle and spreading beneath his chair. "They think that our characters...what the hell is RPS?"

"Real person slash. You've never heard anything about it?" Chloe's shook her head in disbelief. "Clark knows...hey, where have you been all these years, living in the Stone Age?"

Lex's eyes were inexorably drawn back to the bed as he repeated, "Clark knows about...people who write stories...." Suddenly, almost as if he could feel the weight of Lex's intense stare, Clark looked up. His green eyes widened as he realized that Lex had been watching him and, for the first time in years, Lex witnessed the blush that had been the bane of Clark's existence in Smallville.

Chloe cleared her throat beside Lex and murmured, "Now that's what I've been waiting for."

Sparing a quick glance at Chloe's rapt expression, Lex followed her line of sight back to the bed. He only had a moment to stare before Clark pulled the sheet over his hips, but he'd definitely seen a substantial adjustment in the amount of interest on Clark's part. Mouth suddenly dry, Lex groped for his water bottle, never taking his eyes off Clark. Frustrated at his lack of success in locating the bottle, Lex stood up, intending to snag a new one from the cooler, when he slipped in the puddle, and began to fall.

Arms flailing, Lex was prepared to meet the cement floor with a thump, but it never happened. Instead, he was carefully placed back on his feet by the gentle, giant hands of his co-star, who'd jumped out of the bed, running to Lex's rescue. Holding on to Clark's biceps, Lex grinned up at him. "Still saving me, Clark, just like you did all those times back in Smallville."

"Gee, I'm kind of sorry that I grew up in Metropolis and missed all the fun to be found in the corn fields of Kansas." Chloe's amused voice intruded, and dumped Lex back into the present. "Aren't you feeling a tad chilly, Clark?"

Lex froze, unwilling to look down and verify what he suspected. Instead, he peered over Clark's shoulder and grimaced when he confirmed that the sheet was now halfway off the bed, not wrapped around his best friend...the same best friend that had seemed to be very happy to see Lex just a few minutes earlier. Reaching behind himself, Lex groped haphazardly for the jacket that he'd thrown over the back of his chair, silently thanking Chloe when she thrust it into his hand. He gingerly slid it between himself and Clark, waiting for Clark to hold on to it before he stepped back.

Scarlet from his waist to the crown of his head, Clark backed up until he was able to sit down on the bed and let the sheet replace Lex's jacket. His head drooped and his large hands nervously pleated the cotton covering his lap as the director returned to barking out terse instructions. Lex waited, but all he could see were the dark waves of hair that shielded Clark's face, never catching a glimpse of chagrined, green eyes.

"Hey, let's go to the underground bunker and run some lines." Chloe's voice was soft as she tugged at Lex's sleeve. "I'm not quite sure where Toby was heading when he came up with that whole Loysent Blue is people twist."

Lex nodded and followed her out, only stopping once to look back at his discomfited friend, wondering how long he should wait before visiting Clark's trailer. He shrugged and decided to give Clark an hour or two to recover. In all the years they'd been friends, he'd never walked in on Clark in a compromising position, not even with all of the women that pursued him. They were long overdue. They'd laugh about it, tell a few locker room jokes, and get over it.

If only he could convince himself of that, a little bit faster, so that walking after Chloe wouldn't be quite so painful. He was definitely going to need to talk to wardrobe about sizes. "Hey, Chloe, wait up. I want to hear more about this slash." He tried not to get too pissed off at Chloe's snickering as they walked into the bunker and closed the door behind them.

Leaning up against the reinforced table, Chloe crossed her arms and grinned at Lex. "I'm assuming you understand we're talking about man-on-man action, right." When Lex nodded, she smirked and continued, "So these writers take pieces of shows and movies and have the characters behave the way the writers think it should have gone down, usually resulting in hot monkey sex between the guys."

"So they write a story about Denny and Roy and...."

Chloe nodded. "...making out in the back seat of the Caddy, or about Clark and Lex rolling around on the floor of the trailer on the set. Just type Denny Roy Caddy sex into any search engine. You'll get thousands of hits."

The damn jeans weren't getting any looser.

"Chloe, I think I need to go talk to Toby about the Loysent lines and that whip he wants me to start carrying. Personally, given a choice between a bull whip and that damn gun, I'd rather glue the pieces to my hands. I'll catch you later, okay?"

Her knowing smirk let him know that he wasn't fooling anybody, not even himself. "Oh, and just so you know, Clark Lex virgin fuck is in the quarter-million range."

Props was going to have to start buying a better brand of door handles. They shouldn't come right off in your hand like that. It could be dangerous.

. . .

"It's a red shirt."

Chloe glanced down at the crimson silk shirt that she'd picked up earlier from wardrobe and then looked back up at Lex, nodding slowly with the same expression that he'd seen being used to calm over-excited patients at Belle Reve. "Yeah, it's definitely red, Lex. Are you feeling all right?"

"Toby made changes again, didn't he?"

"And the sun rose in the east this morning. So?"

"Were you supposed to die this early in the movie? I thought you were my plucky sidekick that secretly loves me and follows me everywhere, even when I save other women and pay more attention to them than to you." Waving his arms about wildly, Lex paced back and forth inside the underground bunker set. "You weren't scheduled to die until the very end so that I could hold your lifeless body in my arms and rage at an unfair universe that took you away just as I figured out that I loved you."

"Uh hunh, that hasn't changed as far as I know. Still always the bridesmaid, never the bride. What is going on, Lex?"

"Didn't you ever watch Star Trek?"

"Well, sure. I had kind of a crush on Picard."

"Not that travesty! Kirk, Spock, McCoy. Beam me up, Scotty. The real Star Trek!"

"Calm down, I saw some of those episodes, after reading some hot Kirk/Spock ponn farr fics."

Lex stopped in front of Chloe and pointed to the object of clothing under discussion. "Red shirt! They're going to kill you off!"

Placing the back of her hand against Lex's flushed forehead, Chloe frowned. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

Narrowing his eyes, Lex scowled back at her. "You're an evil woman, Chloe. You knew what was going to happen, didn't you? Were you trying to pay me back for laughing when Toby had you running around wearing four-inch heels and you couldn't keep up with me?"

"That wasn't funny. I could have broken my neck. Who the hell wears high-heel boots with army fatigues and carries an assault rifle, anyway?"

Lex faked a cough. "Ch...erry 2000. I caught Toby screening it the night before the wardrobe change."

"I knew it! It had to be from the eighties!"

"You were lucky. You stayed blonde. I personally would have kissed him if he'd decided that Dirk was bald. I hate wearing that wig." Disconcerted by the shift in subject, Lex looked around the room in puzzlement. "What were we talking about?"

"You. Staying up all night reading slash."

He stared at her and shook his head. "Red shirt - dying early - Star Trek - high-heeled boots -eighties movies - slash. What are we playing...six degrees of Corbin Fisher?"

Chloe looked at him and burst out laughing. "Just admit it. You're hooked." She leaned in to whisper. "So, have you talked to Clark today?"

Lex winced and rubbed the back of his neck. "I...uh...haven't...um...no."

"Are you telling me that you haven't seen Clark since you saw him yesterday? Why not? You guys are like...joined at the hip." Chloe watched Lex's eyes lose focus and his breathing quicken, and she punched him in the arm. "Not like that! Well, at least not until I can watch. I deserve something for all my hard work."

"What are you talking about? What hard work?"

"How about flagging down the clue bus so you could hop aboard? I don't understand how you could be such good friends all these years and not know."

"Know what?"

"Your best friend is gay and he's carrying a torch for you. I'm talking six foot three inches of flaming, Lex."

Lex shook his head in disbelief. "Clark's always had his secrets and I gave up on asking for explanations years ago. I just never thought...all those women and.... Hey, he has women going in and out of his trailer all the time. You've got to be wrong about this, Chloe."

"What can I say? The guy's got great hands." She flexed her fingers to demonstrate. "He gives good rub." When Lex just looked baffled, she explained further. "All the women know that when you need a little me time, you visit Clark. A foot massage, a friendly ear, and you're ready to take on the bastards again."

"He's never rubbed my feet." Lex's voice was plaintive. "He just hands me a beer and orders pizza and watches old movies with me and..." Eyes wide in dismay, Lex choked out, "...he disappears for hours at a time, and I was sure that he was seeing someone, but do you think that maybe...he was really out...you know...instead?"

Chloe nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, he probably was. After all, he wasn't getting it at home." She patted Lex on the shoulder in commiseration. "You have to talk to him, Lex. Right now, he's most likely convinced that he's lost his best friend because that costume didn't have any pockets and it was pretty obvious that it was you that he was happy to see. Somehow, I get the feeling he thinks you're straight, too."

"That would be because I am."

"Sure you are. So, tell me. What did you think about Midnight Cries?"

"That was totally unfair. She hasn't updated in over a year, left it hanging with Clark driving away while Lex just stood there watching like an idiot."

Chloe rolled her eyes and headed for the door. "You keep telling yourself that you're straight. I'm going to go talk to wardrobe about switching to a nice royal-blue camisole." She paused for a parting shot. "Hey, Lex. How many other straight guys do you know that have any idea who Corbin Fisher is?"

Standing in the center of the deserted room, he could still hear her in the hallway as the door slowly swung shut behind her. "Never give up, never surrender. Try complaining about a guy treating you like a slut and that you'll never find someone to love the real you. Your feet will be in his lap in no time."

. . .

"God, this is never going to come off!" Lex held up his soapy hands and whined at the special effects assistant. "A fucking alien flower jerked off on me, and now I'm permanently blue!"

"It's supposed to come off if you soak in this for a while." Holding out an unlabelled bottle, the assistant made sure he didn't come in contact with any of the sticky, fluorescent fluid coating Lex's hands, arms and chest.

"I see you've managed to get your shirt off." A deep chuckle brought Lex's head around to see Clark lounging in the doorway of the small dressing room. With a muttered apology, the assistant squeezed by him and escaped.

"It wasn't my fault. Toby decided that Loysent Blue is from these giant flowers instead of people, and I think one of them just came all over me. Twice." Lex wasn't positive that he'd heard Clark's murmured response clearly, but it sounded an awful lot like 'lucky flower.'

"Nice try. It'll still count in the drinking game."

Lex rolled his eyes as he dabbed gingerly at the blue still mottling his torso. "I forget. Is that one drink for shirtless Roy, or is it two because I'm wet and shirtless?" Lex was positive that there were subsonic vibrations coming into play whenever Clark laughed like that, how else could he explain his rapidly shrinking fatigues and the need to make sure that his hips weren't aiming in Clark's direction. "I heard it's four if Denny's running around in boxers."

"No, it's four if I'm naked, three for boxers."

Thoughts of naked Clark were doing absolutely no good when it came to Lex regaining his composure. "That was the undercover Chippendale episode, right?" he choked out.

"Yeah. I always thought they picked the wrong one of us to go out there and perform. You would have looked a whole lot better in that costume."

"I don't do g-strings, remember? Besides, you looked great in that episode. I'm the pale, skinny one with no hair."

Clark stood up and crossed his arms, frowning at Lex's self-derision. "You're the one with gorgeous skin and lean muscles, like a...greyhound, all sleek and smooth. I'm the giant dork who can't dance."

A snicker escaped Lex before he could prevent it. "It was pretty funny, farm boy. If you did that back in Smallville, you'd have scared the eggs right out of the chickens."

"Hey, that's a family secret!" Lex was glad that Clark never had any problem making fun of himself. The laughter was finally helping to relieve the pressure on the zipper of his army surplus pants. Of course, that only lasted until Clark offered, "Why don't you bring that stuff to my trailer. I'm the one with a bathtub, and you can soak that off like you're supposed to. I'll even scrub your back for you if you ask me nicely."

Lex winced. They still hadn't talked about the day before, and it was going to be a long walk to the trailer, chafing all the way.

. . .

"You know, I blame you for all this." After deciding that discretion had a lot to say for itself, Lex was reclining alone in Clark's bathtub, slightly knobby knees sticking up out of the water due to his height, and yelling at Clark through the securely locked bathroom door. "There I was in New York City, a respected thespian...." Lex stopped complaining for a moment when he thought he detected the sound of snickering through the thin plywood. "...a respected thespian and then I get a phone call from you telling me to come out to the coast, we'll get together, have a few laughs...."

Frowning down at his stubbornly blue hands, he wondered if Mel Gibson would consider a sequel to Braveheart. "I wanted you to come back to New York to model, just like you'd been doing since you graduated from high school. Instead, the next thing I know, you're dragging me along to auditions, and then we're the newest and hottest best-friends-forever show on television. I guess I should just be glad I didn't have to crawl through any duct work until the second season. Yippee-ki-yi-yay, mother...."

"Try using the loofah with the emulsifier!"

Lex frowned at the door, wondering if there was some way that Clark could actually see that he was still exceedingly blue. He shook his head at the paranoid thought and reached out to grab the recommended scrubber. "I don't think this is working, I may be wearing gloves for the next few days."

"At least the color matches your eyes."

"That didn't really do much to make me feel better about this, Pollyanna."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, it's all my fault because I wanted to actually get paid for doing something I enjoyed doing. I'm sorry that I'm not an independently wealthy snob whose inheritance from his mother will keep him in Porsches and mansions for the rest of his life, so that I can pick and choose what jobs to take."

An edge he'd never heard before in Clark's voice caught Lex off-guard, and he knocked the bottle of emulsifier on the floor as he sat up in surprise. "Clark? Are you okay? Listen, I...."

"Never mind, Lex. I have your beer right here waiting for you whenever you're ready, and I ordered the pizza, just like always. Nothing's changed."

Remembering his earlier conversation with Chloe, Lex slid down into the cooling water and let it close over his head. He was going to pretend that any minute now a gorgeous, green-eyed angel would pull him out, revive him with the kiss of life, and smile at him, grateful that Lex was alive...and too damn young for Lex to even dream about fucking him.

Closed sets had a lot to answer for, screwing up his nice, predictable, straight life. Chloe hadn't helped, either. Surfacing reluctantly, he decided that when he got back to his trailer, he was going back online and writing to that author. She had to finish that damn story, and he needed it to end the right way.

. . .

"Listen, you can stay and finish watching this, Lex. I have...some things I need to do. Just lock up when you leave, okay."

Lex jerked when he felt Clark's hand shaking his shoulder lightly. He'd been lost in his thoughts, and hadn't even noticed that Clark had gotten up from the couch. Fumbling to set the DVD to pause, he looked up at his friend, puzzled at the change in Clark's behavior. He was taken aback to see that Clark had changed out of his usual baggy sweats and oversize tee shirt. His new outfit, black, skintight, leather pants and black silk shirt, was something that Lex hadn't even known Clark owned, let alone wore off the set. The long, supple, black leather trench and tank boots completed the look, and Lex found himself wishing that Clark had invited him along. Realizing that Clark was waiting for him to say something, he swallowed hard and grated out, "I can do that, but wouldn't you like some company instead? I could get changed."

Clark's abrupt dismissal was another surprise. "No, I...have it covered. I'll probably see you sometime tomorrow."

Jumping up from the couch, Lex caught Clark's wrist as he turned to leave, the black leather swirling to drape along his muscular legs. "Wait, I thought maybe we could...talk."

Tugging his wrist free, Clark frowned and shook his head. "Listen, Lex. We had plenty of time to talk in the last twenty-nine hours. I tried. You didn't. I have to go now." Lex caught a flash of pain in the dark green eyes, quickly masked. "Damn it, this was a lot easier to do in LA, I could handle it better. Here we're...." His full lips compressed, shutting down before any other secrets slipped out. A few steps and he was gone, a black shadow flitting across the dark lot for just a second or two, as Lex stood at the door and watched him leave, cursing himself for another missed opportunity.

"Fuck, I just needed a little more time. I was going to ask for a foot rub, as soon as I could come up with the right words. Idiot. How hard is it to say that I want someone to love the real me and, oh, by the way, I might just be a little bit gay?" He shuffled back to the couch and threw himself down on it, his forearm thrown up to conceal his eyes. "Obviously, too damn hard. Maybe I need to have Toby write me a script."

He groaned at the thought. "I am so fucking pitiful, thinking about asking a man, who spends every day wasted out of what little mind he has left, to come up with something for me to say that hasn't been stolen from The Birdcage or Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. I might as well just give up. I'm doomed to spend the rest of my life as a bitter, bald, bachelor...," He sighed dramatically and kicked the arm of the couch. "...who's too fucking fond of alliteration. Please, just shoot me now...with a gun that won't break in two if you look at it sideways."

. . .

"No, I haven't talked to him, yet. I haven't even seen him for the past week. He's never at his trailer, we've had no scenes together, and I've been barred from the closed set. At his request!" Slamming his hand against the wall of Chloe's trailer, Lex grimaced when she took a step back. He lowered his voice in apology. "He won't answer my calls or emails. I don't know what else I can do. I waited all night for him to come back from wherever he's disappearing to and...." He shrugged, disheartened by his failures. "I have to face the facts, Chloe. I fucked up big time and he's moved on to someone better." His voice cracked a little. "I don't even have my best friend anymore."

Chloe opened her arms and rubbed Lex's back when he stepped into her hug. "I'm sure he'll come around, Lex. Clark just isn't the type of guy to hold a grudge; he's always so kind and thoughtful to everyone."

His words muffled against the top of Chloe's head, Lex muttered, "That's just it. He's never stayed mad at me before. Not like this. Even when...I pushed him too hard about...stuff, he always came back. It's been a week. I can't remember the last time we went longer than a day without talking to each other, even when we were in different cities."

"Then he's probably hurting, too." Giving Lex a final pat on the back, Chloe pulled away and smiled at him. "Don't worry. I have a devious plan."

Lex studied her warily. "Why do I have a feeling that I'm probably not going to like this? Just tell me one thing. Am I going to end up blue again?"

Chloe shook her finger at him, grinning. "Unh-unh, you don't get to hear it yet, and you don't get any veto privileges. Now run along. I have a date with Mel Gibson, Tina Turner, and Toby."

Lex found himself standing outside Chloe's trailer feeling as though he'd been run over by an eighteen-wheeler. Twice. He walked away shaking his head and muttering fatalistically, "I'm fucking doomed...and I'm probably never going to get laid again."

. . .

Crouching in the shadows next to Clark's trailer, Lex listened intently to the conversation that floated out through the open window.

Chloe's sigh was audible, even ten feet away. "You haven't even given him a chance to talk to you, or to try to explain. Listen, it's not for me to say, but maybe he's trying to tell you something that you might want to hear."

"I just can't, Chloe. It's not a matter of forgiving him. I did, even before I left that night. I...it hurts to be around him knowing that he finally knows and is ignoring it. I can't pretend that I'm just his friend anymore. I'm...just not that talented an actor. I already keep too many other secrets locked away from him. That day on the set...it was like...yes, finally, I can tell him everything...and then he never showed up, never even answered his phone. I couldn't face walking over to his trailer and getting the brush-off, so I just waited here for him, all night."

Chloe groaned. "Great. I mean...so the next day, he was going to talk to you...at least that's what he told me."

"Oh, he talked...at me." Clark's laugh was bitter. "He pissed and moaned about that blue thing, and then went through the I blame you song and dance that I've listened to a million times before and...and then...nothing. He sat there pretending to watch a movie we've seen a thousand times, and closed his eyes to the fact that I'd gotten hard in front of everyone...because of him. Like it didn't matter, wasn't even important enough to mention. Damn it, Chloe, I'd have been happy with a bad joke about me being happy to see him, and then laughing it off. Something that said it's okay, it happened and we'll work it out."

Lex shifted uncomfortably as he began to realize how badly he'd hurt his friend, that it wasn't always about what he wanted or needed.

"You know, it's funny. It's as if we were always meant to be together, somehow, someway. He's six years older than I am, but he never treated me like a dumb kid. We actually flirted with each other in Smallville, in the beginning, in between saving each other's lives. I guess that maybe I got a little too obvious about it, because he backed off and started bringing women home with him, even managed to get married once. Of course, she immediately tried to kill him, so it didn't last. The women never do."

Lex heard Chloe snicker, and rolled his eyes in disgust.

"Then all of a sudden, he took off for New York City after this huge fight with his father, and left me alone in Smallville, at least until I could graduate from high school and go after him. He was totally convinced that I was destined to hook up with the town's princess, settle down behind a white picket fence, and raise a batch of boys to work on the farm with me. All I wanted was to be with the man who could share fascinating tidbits about constellations or war campaigns, quote Walt Whitman, and then turn around and watch Spaceballs. He owned me, Chloe, body and soul. He still does."

Clark chuckled, a deep rumble Lex could feel in the pit of his stomach. "I can still remember his face the day I showed up at his apartment, carrying my suitcase and the modeling contract I'd just signed. He was half-dressed...and he looked so damn good. The woman he was with never knew what hit her. He just picked her dress up off the floor and politely asked her to leave so that he could get shit-faced with his best friend. And then he proceeded to do just that."

The snicker graduated to obvious giggles, while Lex desperately tried to recall that day from the mists of an alcoholic blackout.

"New York...was okay. I was always busy with some shoot, while he jumped from production to production trying to decide whether he preferred comedy or drama, Shakespeare, or Rodgers and Hart. I didn't want to come across as needy, so I limited myself to phone calls and the occasional night out. The rest of the time, I just stayed home and watched television, or walked around the neighborhood."

"Didn't you have any other friends?"

"I...it's always been hard to stay friends with me. Lex has been the only one who's been able to do that, probably because he...never mind. You have to learn to ignore...certain things about me...and after a while, I just stopped making the effort. You...you're the closest I've come to having someone to talk to about me for years. Except for Lex, of course, although...to be honest...we mostly talk about him. He's always been his favorite subject, him, and his latest obsession. It made it easy for him to ignore the more blatant hints that I wasn't as straight as he kept insisting that I was. It became pretty obvious that if I wanted to stay his friend, then I wasn't gay."

A soft murmur and rustle suggested Chloe had reached out and hugged Clark.

"Coming out to LA was a gamble, but it paid off. I could work with him, be his best bud during the day, and then go home alone...and it was better. It wasn't everything I wanted, but I could manage it because it kept him happy. Dinner, the occasional movie...they were the extras that I treated myself to, every now and then, time with my best friend."

"Coming up here was tough, wasn't it, sweetie?" Chloe's voice was soft and sympathetic.

"You have no idea. He'd come over almost every night and hang out, because he was bored and couldn't find anything better to do." Clark snorted sarcastically. "Except, of course, whenever he'd found a new woman to hit on, and then I had to listen to him tell me what a great time he'd had, in excruciating detail. Lucky me."

"Oh, Clark...."

He sighed heavily. "I just want to finish this movie, and go home to LA. Maybe then I can pull it together and go back to just hanging out with my best friend, since I can't simply enjoy being close to the man I've loved for years." Lex stood up too quickly, knocking against the side of the trailer as his legs protested. A rustle from inside made him back away cautiously, still keeping to the shadows. "Did you hear that, Chloe?"

Suddenly throwing a coughing fit, Chloe gasped, "What? It's probably...just...an old tom cat prowling around out there."

"Yeah, you're probably right. Here, give me back your feet...and thanks for listening to my sob story. That poor Clark Kent, he's such a sad, neglected man, and Lex Luthor is evil incarnate. Camille can't compare with Clark's tragic life. Boo-hoo for me. Hey, do you want me to do your toenails? I've got this great color I picked up the other day...."

. . .

"Mercy! Where are you!" When Lex heard a moan from beneath a pile of rubble, he began digging frantically, lifting rocks and heavy beams out of the way.  Dusty blonde hair and a ragged red shirt came into sight, as did a slowly spreading pool of blood. "Hang on, kiddo. I've got you."

"Dirk, need...tell...."

Worried by his friend's steadily weakening voice, Lex glanced down and hissed, "Quiet, save your strength. I'm almost there." The muffled groan he heard after he finally shifted the largest beam away brought him to his knees beside Mercy's head. "Stay with me, sweetheart. I'll...." He stared in horror at his hand, which he had just lifted out of the ever-widening puddle of red. "I'm going to try to pull you out the rest of the way."

"No. Listen." The whisper brought Lex to a halt, staring down at the face that had always held a smile for him, even at the worst of times. "No time...chal...challenge. Can't refuse. Arena. Two men...enter...one leaves. You...win...new...emp...emperor." That smile shone through the dirt and trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth. "Kick him...in balls...for...me." Her eyes glazed over, and then her head lolled a little to the side.

Lex touched the side of her face tenderly. "Mercy? Don't do this to me. Don't leave me this way." His face crumpled and he sat back on his heels, his fists clenched on his thighs. Throwing his head back, he keened, "Noooooo. You can't take her from me, you bastard! She's mine!" A single tear made its way down his grimy face, as he looked back down and brushed Mercy's hair back from her forehead with his bloody hand. "We were supposed to do this together. You promised. Now, I'll have to make it happen...for you." He lifted his head, his eyes seeing the future, not the devastation surrounding him. "I swear this to you, my love. I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next."

"And...cut! Okay, Lex, Chloe, you nailed it this time."

"Hey, give a girl some help. I'm stuck under one of these rocks." Chloe grinned up at Lex, holding out her hand. "I'm going to be spitting out that dust for a week."

Lex got to his feet and pulled Chloe up with him. "Told you. Red shirt. Hey, I've got to ask, since you won't let me see the new lines...yet. Thunderdome and Gladiator, okay, although Mercy missed her big chance at Do you want to live forever? before she shuffled off her mortal coil. So, tell me do I get Spartacus, too?"

"It would be a natural choice with all the subtext built in." One dusty brow lifted teasingly. "I told you, no veto privileges, Tom Cat." She turned and sauntered off the set, throwing back a warning. "You're due at the gym. Five more days, and then you're going to walk out there in a g-string...on an open set, remember?"

Lex dropped his head and groaned. "How could I forget? The things I'm willing to go through for that man, and he's still not talking to me."

"Never give up, never surrender!"

He stood there as props worked around him and muttered. "I'm beginning to hate that movie. Tim Allen is such a tool. He should have stuck with the Santa suit."

. . .

Lex still couldn't figure out where Clark had managed to disappear to...again. He'd been following him, trying to find out where Clark was going every night dressed in black leather and silk. He usually lost him when they hit downtown Vancouver. One minute he'd be stalking along the sidewalk, as sleek and dangerous as a black panther, the next...nothing.

"Fuck!" Lex hissed between his teeth. He'd tracked down several gay clubs, not heavily advertised, and had checked them out, asking about a big man in black leather. The third time he'd had to refuse an invitation, coming from bikers roughly the size of grizzlies, he'd gone back to trying to follow Clark discretely, and at a distance.

The sound of angry shouts caught Lex's attention and he began to walk a little faster toward the alley where they seemed to be coming from. Just before he reached it, he happened to look up, stumbled to a halt, and then pressed himself back into the shadows of a nearby doorway. On the roof of the building across the street, a dark gargoyle crouched, watching. Its figure lengthened and a soft sheen glimmered along its limbs in the moonlight. A single step forward and it plummeted to the ground below, its long legs absorbing the impact with a mere bounce up into ground-eating strides aimed unerringly toward the shouts. Observed at street-level, the night creature transmuted into a leather-clad Clark, who single-mindedly advanced into the alley, looking neither left nor right.

Lex's head thudded back against the graffiti-splashed door and he groaned. "He's doing it again. I should have known that he wasn't going to stop just because we moved across the country." The shouting had escalated, and then cut off abruptly. Lex turned and walked back down the street to where he'd parked his car, muttering under his breath, "The leather's a new twist, but why the hell doesn't he wear a goddamned mask? How hard could that be? He's going to drive me crazy. I'm going to read about some vampire getting staked through the heart by an amateur Van Helsing, who doesn't realize Clark's the one helping people, and then I'll have to identify his body and...fuck...just...fuck...."

. . .

"Okay, two things I should probably tell you before you walk out there. One: he thinks he's going to be fighting with the stuntman today. Two: he has no idea what you're going to be wearing. Actually, only Toby and I know, so keep the cape on until the last minute." She looked up at Lex's gaping mouth and grinned wolfishly. "Surprise!" She spun him around and gave him a shove toward the entrance to the arena.

Standing there waiting for the announcement of his challenge, Lex raised his eyes to the extras lining the faux stone walls, all waiting for the director to yell, "Action!" They would be his witnesses, their shouts and stamping feet providing the background for his epic battle with his stubborn friend.

The director walked to the center of the arena and made an announcement. "All right people, listen up. This is going to be an end-to-end run-through. No stopping, no retakes, just keep going. We're going to using hand-helds for reaction shots, so play it up, make it real." He walked back to his chair and sat, nodding to the woman holding the clapper board.

"Challenge scene – Draconian Herald."

"And...action!"

"A challenge has been issued, the commander of the Earth forces against the Emperor of Draconia, no weapons save their own strength and valor. Draconian law states the challenge cannot be refused lest the throne be forfeit. The Emperor Kal-El must descend from the throne to wage battle unto death. The winner ascends the throne and is subject to Draconian laws and justice. Let the combat begin." 

With a flourish of trumpets, Clark descended to the arena floor, his mien severe and unflinching at the roar of the crowd. Dressed in Kal-El's trademark black leather, he paused at the base of the stairs to let his cloak fall from his shoulders, exposing a body that seemed to be chiseled from living stone, nothing concealing the rippling muscles above the waist. The leather of his pants and boots were molded to his magnificent form, each movement affirming him as the most dangerous predator in the known universe.  He advanced to the center of the arena and came to a halt, an imposing figure with his arms across his chest and boots planted firmly in the tanbark as he waited for his challenger to appear.

Lex watched every movement, concealed from Clark's line of sight. He jumped when Chloe poked him in the back. "Get out there!" she hissed.

The crowd fell silent as the doors at the far end of the arena crashed open and the commander of the Earth forces strode forward. He was covered head-to-toe by a hooded blue cape, his surprisingly bare feet ruffling the hem as he drew closer to his opponent. He stopped a few feet away from Clark and waited. The difference in height and breadth between the two was remarkable, despite the concealing folds of cloth.

Clark's voice questioned Lex in Kal-El's ringing tones. "You've chosen to chance your life in a futile attempt to defeat me. Why didn't you simply accept your fate and live as a slave?"

The voice that issued from the depths of the hood rang clear and Clark's eyes widened as he realized who was standing in front of him. "When a free man dies, he loses the pleasure of life. A slave loses his pain, and death is his only road to freedom. There's no reason for a slave not to fight, and that's why we'll win."

"So you welcome death?"

"No, I fight for life, a life where I make my own decisions about what I'll do with it, who I will fight with, who I will leave behind, and most importantly, I will be the one to choose who I will love!" With those words still ringing in the air, two pale hands rose to loosen the ties of the cape and let it fall to the ground to lie at Lex's feet, a deep pool of blue velvet.

A collective gasp rose from the crowd and Clark's eyes widened as he took in the sight of Lex. All of Lex. Every perfect inch of ivory skin, the lean, sculpted muscles constrained by nothing but the air, and a leather pouch that was looking smaller by the second. Lex smirked as he saw Clark's pupils dilate, his nostrils flaring as if seeking Lex's scent. The supple black leather did nothing to hide Clark's arousal, the bulge noticeable to even the most distant spectators.

Clark's lips twisted as he sneered. "Look at you. How can you hope to win against me? I'll give you a final chance to withdraw your challenge. I could use a man like you close to me, a strong man who isn't afraid to fight. You have only to give me your pledge."

Lex shook his head slowly, his hands lax at his side, only the tension in his neck and shoulders betraying his nervousness. "It was a pledge you could have had for the asking when you arrived on Earth, if you had not already deemed me and mine unworthy. Instead, you chose to flee from that chance and wage a war of silent attrition instead."

Clark's eyes flickered as the words he'd been practicing alone began to strike home. "A pre-emptive strike is classic warfare. As commander you should be well aware of this fact."

"And yet by failing to attempt negotiations, so much that was good was lost."

"Enough!" With a roar, Clark reached out, grabbed Lex's shoulders, and shoved him to the ground, standing over him with fists clenched in rage. "All the talk in the world will not resolve our differences. Fight for what you believe in!"

Lex's lip curled in a grimace as he began to rise, only to twist and bring his heel up and into Clark's groin. "This is for Mercy!" As Clark staggered back, bent over groaning, Lex surged to his feet and used his fists to pummel Clark's face, only just remembering to pull them as weeks of frustration broke free. "And this is for torturing me, leaving alone in that prison, without a single soul to call friend!"

Clark's head came up and his eyes flared, catching red gleams from the lights overhead. "A fate you brought upon yourself after years of selfish ignorance." He grabbed Lex's arm and yanked it behind his back, twisting him around so that he was pinioned against Clark's chest.

Lex raised his foot again and brought his heel down hard against Clark's instep, making him stagger despite the protection of his boots. His free hand reached over his shoulder and pulled as he ducked, flipping Clark over his head to crash down flat on his back and knocking the breath out of him. Lex stood over him, bending over to place his hands on his pale, flexing thighs as he sucked in sobbing breaths between his protests. "Ignorant because information was suppressed, never volunteered, leaving only innuendo and assumptions guiding my path."

The crowd had fallen silent, their puzzled eyes avidly following a fight that made no sense in the context of the movie they'd thought was being filmed.

Clark's head bowed under the biting accusation before he rolled over to regain his feet. "A man should not be condemned for actions taken to protect himself from pain, as long as those actions harm no others." He stood there swaying as his face betrayed the pain in question, and then his fist shot out to graze Lex's mouth and jaw, wincing as he watched the bald head snap back.

Rubbing the fresh bruise with the back of his hand, Lex shook his head to try to clear it. "Who is to measure whether those actions are harmful or not? You?"  He coughed and spat out some blood from his split lip. "Can you trust your own judgment in the matter? Can you refuse your heart so easily? Can you refuse mine?"

Clark's face crumpled and he reached out in a movement quickly aborted as he recalled where they were. "There are times when the only action left is to fight, nothing else remains." His fist shot ou