"It's not you, it's me. Really."

Clark's thumb nudged the crinkled label on the bottle of beer, keeping his eyes focused on the beads of moisture there as he continued. "I mean, I've just. . .waited a really long time to have a place of my own and I don't think I'm ready to share it, yet." He glanced up. "You understand, right? It's nothing personal."

It was possible the mouse twitched its whiskers but since Clark's powers still hadn't evolved into anything resembling mind reading, he wasn't much of a judge as to whether it was in agreement or defiance. "I know it's cold out there, but it's cold in here, too." He glanced around the spartan apartment, taking another sip of beer before admitting. "It's also probably a lot cleaner out there."

So this was being a grown up. Living alone, talking to vermin for company and negotiating squatters rights with the cockroaches that just may have been big enough to come from his home planet, trying to pretend that they weren't all looking at him with accusing eyes, because. . .everyone was hungry. Yeah, being an adult meant being broke and learning to love tuna out of the can and ramen out of the pot until you could make it to the next payday, and why had he turned down Pete's offer to share the Bachelor Boudoir again?

Oh, yeah. Her name was Becky and she liked to scream things about her daddy at really grossly inappropriate times. So. A mouse. Probably a family of mice. An entire small town of giant cockroaches that Clark was pretty sure hissed at him the last time he searched the fridge to reaffirm that yes, it was only peanut butter and jelly, because bread is a luxury for those in the upper lower class, Clark. He was going to starve, and possibly go crazy. At least he wasn't human, so he didn't think he could freeze to death, though the thought of growing old, crazy from hunger and keeping pet rodents wasn't really many rungs higher up on the appealing ladder right now.

God, he missed home.

The thump at the door didn't impress Clark. Three weeks into life on his own and he'd learned to ignore all manner of thumps, bumps and accusations in the middle of the night. Probably just Tommy stumbling home drunk again after his shift at the plant. More thumps, this time with intent and definitely not Tommy. Someone was kicking the door. Mouse didn't seem impressed and stayed put, content on eyefucking Clark until he handed over something edible. "Sorry, it's not happening," he apologized for the umpteenth time, deciding whoever was at the door had to be more interesting than an irritated mouse. Clark tilted his head back on his sad, thrift shop sofa and narrowed his eyes, using his vision to take a peek.

He was on his feet in an instant, swinging the door open with a smile that would've lit Metropolis during last summer's blackout. "Lex!" Almost hidden completely by the boxes he came bearing, but definitely Lex. Home again from Tokyo or maybe London--but bearing gifts that smelled like heaven.

"Boxes, Clark."

"Oh! Yeah, here, let me take those--god, is that General Tso's chicken?"

"That's an egregious amount of takeout, the General among them, of course," Lex followed him in, kicking the door shut behind him and looking for a free surface for the boxes he still carried. "Do you have furniture?"

"Umm, not really. A bed and a sofa."

"That's a stunning shade of brown," Lex remarked as he sank down on the lumpy cushions and lowered the boxes to the floor. His eyes flicked over to the ridiculously large television in the corner, smiling broadly. "I see you got the television."

Clark sat on the floor, pulling box after box of takeout from the larger cardboard box, his stomach rumbling loudly at the delicious smells assaulting him. "Oh, yeah. That's great. I mean, a little extravagant, and it'll probably get stolen, but big screen television." He flashed a smile up at Lex as he tore open a pack of chopsticks. "Who wouldn't want one?"

"You don't have cable, do you?"

Not an accusation, just a richly amused guess and Clark smiled sheepishly as he popped open cartons of food, god, so much gorgeous, glistening, MSG laden food. "Nope. But it's an awesome house warming gift."

Lex didn't seem to mind as he tugged off his gloves and rubbed his hands together. "Jesus Christ, it's freezing in here. Don't tell me you have no heat."

"Mmphskleaediarer." Clark gestured at the radiator in the corner of the room as he sucked up a limp lo mein noodle, then flicked his tongue over his lips and clarified. "I have a radiator."

"That doesn't work, obviously." Lex pushed himself up off the floor, wandering over to take a look. Probably from curiosity more than anything, because people like Lex Luthor didn't have to live in places that relied on radiators that had seen the live debut of I Love Lucy on a black and white set in another century. Clark plucked up a bite of chicken from another carton, eyes raking over the familiar but forgotten sight of his friend.

While Clark had worked on his degree at Metropolis U, Lex had begun to build his empire. Business meetings, trips to exotic locales where no one spoke English and deals over and under the table, but LexCorp was the fastest growing business in the world. People compared Lex to men like Gates, Forbes, Trump, but he had laughed it all off in emails and phone calls exchanged with Clark through the years. Those guys were amateurs, he'd said with the arrogance that only Lex could carry off convincingly. Compared to him, Clark thought they probably were. Right now, it was hard to remember that Lex was head of an international corporation. Dressed down, ridiculously down for him, and looking more like a college drop out than a multi-millionaire. White t-shirt, untucked, a brown jacket that looked like it was more for warmth than style and baggy, faded jeans. Had he ever seen Lex in jeans? Maybe black jeans, but never frat boy chic. It was an entirely new look but somehow it matched the playful energy that shimmered just beneath his curious smile as he stood over the radiator.

"Clark?" The word was drawn out, amused and it immediately brought an answering smile to his lips.

"Yeah?"

"There's a very determined mouse staring at me." Lex tilted his head, returning the stare as if this were a business rival and not Clark's reluctant roommate. "I think he expects me to fix the radiator."

Clark choked, swallowing too much chicken, half chewed, and pounded a fist against his chest as he barked laughter between coughs. "No, no. He doesn't care about the cold. He's hungry. Lex, you smell like food."

"You should feed your pets." Lex slipped his hands into the back pockets of his loose jeans, crossing back over to kneel by a box that he opened with quick, precise tugs. "Share."

Clark extended the chopsticks, offering a chunk of bell pepper that Lex took, barely taking a glance to see what it was. He chewed and swallowed, removing something. . .electronic from the box as he clarified. "I meant with the mouse."

"Oh." Clark blinked, still thick headed from the stupor of awareness that came, watching Lex's lips slide along the chopsticks. Seven years and he still wanted impossible things. Dragging his gaze away from the tangle of wires that long fingers were patiently working, he eyefucked Mouse. "He can have the rice, later." Eyes trailing back to Lex, he asked, "More gifts?" He smiled. "You're really getting off on my dad not being around to return them anymore, aren't you?"

"Every bachelor needs a Playstation, Clark." There was little boy glee in his eyes as he connected wires and walked on his knees over to the television. Clark watched, still putting away take out like New China might close its doors tomorrow, but more interested in trying to puzzle out Lex's behavior than actually staving off starvation.

"You sound like Pete." He ignored the warning smirk that got him and pressed on with a smile. "Where've you been and what were you on?"

Full concentration on connecting the series of cables and wires, Lex's voice was muffled from behind the television. "I've been in Hong Kong. Someday you'll have to come with me and see why, exactly, that food you're eating is so offensive." He reappeared with a triumphant smile. "I'm not on anything." A moment and look shared between them before the smile grew. "Except the Fortune 500 list."

Clark nearly fumbled his chopsticks. "I thought it didn't hit the stands until tomorrow?"

"You were keeping up?" It was impossible that Lex's smile could grow more. Or, well, maybe not.

"Yeah," Clark shrugged, his cheeks warming in spite of the cold. "I like to guess how close to the top LexCorp's gonna be this time around."

"Oh, it's going to be very close," Lex murmured as he crawled back across the floor towards Clark. Eyes flashing a spectrum of emotion. Hunger, playfulness, smug delight. "Ask me how close."

Clark felt an answering smile tug across his lips, elbows propped on his knees as he leaned in, playing along like he didn't have an erection pressing against his own jeans right now. "How close?"

"We're number one." Lex sat back on his heels, and yes, this was triumph. He had always worn it well.

"Really?" Clark didn't have to fake the excitement. Anyone who knew Lex knew how long he had wanted this, and Clark knew better than most how hard he had worked for it. "I hear Queen playing somewhere," he teased, laughing when Lex dropped back in a sprawl on the floor.

"The top of Fortune 500, Clark." Splaying his hands over filthy carpet, Lex stared up at the water stained ceiling and yelled it aloud just in case someone in Metropolis needed a clue. "Fucking Fortune 500!"

Clark tipped his gaze up towards the ceiling as the tenant overhead stamped on the floor in celebration or threat, still snickering at Lex's unabashed glee. "I'm really feeling the Queen vibe." He watched as Lex pushed himself up in one smooth motion, rubbing a hand over his head and glancing over at Mouse when he crept closer.

"For christ's sake, feed him," Lex complained, then reached into a carton, grabbing a pinch of rice and sprinkling it on the carpet. "Tonight you feast with kings, my friend."

"Feast with kings?" Clark slumped against the sofa, shaking with laughter. "You're seriously high off this, aren't you?"

"Fortune 500. I'm fucking ecstatic." Lex reached into the box, emerging with a fortune cookie that crackled in protest as he peeled away the plastic wrapper. "My head is freezing, you're going to die of hypothermia in this place."

"Oh, head. Right." Clark reluctantly abandoned a carton of Mu Shu pork and scrambled up off the floor, disappearing into his bedroom. Rooting around in still half packed boxes, he finally found the hat that he may or may not have stolen from Pete when they were packing up the dorm room. It would do for now, Clark thought, grinning as he emerged with it to find Lex--taking apart his sofa and tossing cushions across the floor in front of the television. "Making yourself at home? Here," he quipped, tossing the stocking cap to Lex who eyed it with a sly smile.

"Should I ask?"

"Pete," Clark shot back. "Don't even go there."

Lex held up the hat with its self proclaimed label. "Porn Star? I don't have to go there, the hat already does."

"You're the one who said your head was cold." Clark folded himself back down by the food, fingers dancing over cartons before deciding to try the Mongolian beef. "Take it or leave it." He glanced up and saw that Lex had opted for survival. He seemed utterly unconcerned with the ridiculous hat as he settled back onto the cushions with the game controls. Clark couldn't help but reach around behind himself to rummage blindly in his satchel for his camera.

"You're going to die a slow and painful death if that picture ever gets out," Lex threatened when the shutter snapped moments later.

"Immortalized." Clark chuckled as he tucked the camera away again, settling in to watch the world's most successful businessman take on the role of a kick ass action heroine. Grinning. Casual. Relaxed and wired at once, but looking completely at ease on a filthy floor, in a tiny apartment on the bad side of town, with a mouse eating rice less than a foot from his head.

It was amazing.

Maybe it wasn't home that Clark missed.

"Does she seem. . .proportionate to you?" Clark asked as he watched water begin to drip directly beneath the overhead neighbor's bathroom. He had always wondered what was leaking up there, exactly, but had never been brave enough to find out. God, the music for Tomb Raider IV was pretty lame, even if Lara Croft was hotter than ever. Clark realized this in spite of the fact that he was a little drunk. Rolling his head on the cushion, he glanced over, trying to confirm if Lex was drunk. It was hard to tell with the giddy factor. Lex. Giddy. Strung out on Playstation, MSG and domestic beer that Clark was pretty sure was never supposed to touch Luthor lips.

Weird.

"No, but neither do you. Why ask why, Clark?" Lex tore his eyes away from the ass kicking heroine long enough to grin over at him. "Do you always get drunk this fast?"

"Not usually," Clark smiled up at the ceiling. "Guess tonight's my lucky night."

"Let's not forget who's the Porn Star, hm?"

"Lex?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did you stop asking why?"

"What?"

"Yeah. That, too. And how. And all those other things you used to ask me, all the time." Clark rolled his head, giving himself a moment to let the world adjust before he pushed himself up on his elbow beside of Lex. "Why'd you stop asking?"

"Because I didn't like watching you lie."

Clark felt a flush crawl over his body that had nothing to do with the amount of beer and spicy food he'd consumed. "Oh."

Lex paused the game, letting the controls rest on his stomach as he sprawled back on a cushion to watch the progress of the water leak. "More specifically, I didn't like watching what lying was doing to you." He was quiet for a moment, so still that Mouse crept a little closer. "You were my friend and I didn't want that to be hard."

"So you just stopped asking."

"After the takeover at the plant, there was a shift in priorities. It wasn't deprivation of any sort, Clark." Lex smiled over at him. "Don't look so damned guilty about it."

"I just. . ." Clark mulled the words--mulled the answer Lex had given him, the past few years without him, the one year that had passed when he had been the absolute focus of all of that heat and attention. It was two different things entirely to exist in Lex's world, and to be the center of it. Clark met his gaze, brows inching up as he confessed. "I'm really strong."

"I know that. You tore the roof off my car." Lex continued to grin up at the ceiling as if the confession only amused him more.

"I can move faster than a bullet."

"Mm, but not a lot of bullets. Sorry about the thing in the garage with the Mac 10. An automatic weapon was an unfair advantage."

Clark closed his eyes, deciding that he was passed out and dreaming and no, definitely no more Chinese food with MSG for him. He opened his eyes again. Lex was still wearing the Porn Star hat, still smiling up at his ceiling, his feet actually swaying and bumping together in anticipation of more. "S'okay. I, uh. . .I can jump. . ."

"I saw you clear the gymnasium after the ballgame--what was that, your junior year?" Lex turned the focus of that smile on him and Clark felt something squeeze deep inside.

"Yeah, maybe. Can't remember." Brows furrowing, Clark tried again. "I can see through walls and--"

"High school was much more interesting for you than the average teenage boy, wasn't it?" Lex exhaled a laugh, brows inching up. "You can fly, you burn holes through solid oak with your vision and meteor rocks make you sick. Clark, just because I stopped asking questions, doesn't mean I didn't want to know." Lex cut him off before a coherent response could form. "Or that you didn't want me to find out."

"Oh. Um." Clark glanced down, shaking his head when he saw Mouse scamper up Lex's leg and over a hip. A quick swipe and he'd trapped the mouse against Lex's crotch and--oh. Lara Croft, Clark Kent or Fortune 500? Clark wondered which one was most likely to give Lex an erection, heat washing over his face when he realized three things: he wasn't moving his hand, Lex wasn't blinking, and Mouse--was starting to squirm.

"Clark?" It was low and breathless and a quick glance at Lex's face confirmed that he was blinking again. Rapidly and staring at the ceiling in accusation as he processed the suddenly weird turn of events in the vicinity of his crotch. "That's. . .this would be the perfect time for a throw away line about Richard Gere."

"What?" Clark closed his hand around Mouse. Not too hard, just enough to get him to stop squirming.

Was that Mouse?

"Jesus, nothing. Urban legend," Lex rasped out, swallowing before he lifted his head to peer down over the long expanse of white t-shirt at Clark. "What are you--Clark?"

Mouse scampered away but Clark's hand stayed put, cupping Lex through the jeans as their gazes locked and burned. "I had questions, too."

Lex shifted, a slow lift against Clark's hand as their breath echoed in the quiet apartment. "You never asked."

"Doesn't mean I didn't want to find out."

It was easier to touch him like this. Nothing tailored and immaculate, he was covered in warm cotton, splayed out on lumpy cushions, made to touch and taste. Brushing up the loose hem of his t-shirt, Clark ignored the clatter of the game control when it slid from his flat belly, choosing instead to concentrate on a single victory lap around Lex's navel. Skin warm and sweet under his tongue like rain and cornfields and endless summer days.

Like home.

Clark felt long fingers slip into his hair, tugging him up and pulling the curls out as if this was something Lex had fantasized about on cold nights like this. Nights when all Clark had fantasized about was finding him in the dark castle and keeping him warm and safe and maybe sweaty, but the shock of his mouth was better than anything he had dreamed of back then. Wet, slick, Clark would have been messy and hurried then, but college had been a wonderful experiment. He could savor Lex, now. Catch his lip between his teeth, suck until he heard a groan, then feed it all back to him with the slide of his tongue into the spicy heat of Lex's mouth. Licking, tasting, learning textures and tricks that made Lex arch into him, learning what tastes tickled and made him laugh. God it was hot, making Lex laugh. Even hotter when he learned how to turn the laugh into a groan and--it was addictive. Smiles and honesty and just having Lex back was a drug. Clark licked the scar nestled in the bow of his kiss swollen lip, licked it again when Lex exhaled raggedly into his mouth. Eyes open, Clark watched every expression, learned the slide of body that brought Lex's neck arching up to his mouth, and the way that teeth scraped along corded muscle sent him slumping back into the cushions bonelessly.

Still buried knuckle deep in curls, Lex's fingers kneaded his scalp as Clark peeled away the jacket, then tore away the t-shirt. He had plenty, he could replace it, but--skin. Lex's shocked, breathy laugh making him vibrate beneath Clark's lips like the world's greatest sex toy. Oh fuck, Lex Luthor was his kink. Bald, rich, bad ass and beautiful, Clark licked a nipple, teeth biting, tugging until the fingers in his hair tightened and spasmed. There were freckles to taste, scattered across smooth, bare flesh and Clark knew he would explore them later, maybe play with them and make Lex a living, breathing activity book for curious, horny aliens. His tongue mapped the ridge between softly defined abs. Lex was lean, spicy and hard beneath his mouth--but covered in the softest, smoothest skin, like some rare delicacy that Clark would never have his fill of no matter how many times he tasted.

He loved the jeans and loved being just experienced enough to get inside of them without awkward fumbling. Peeling them away, dragging underwear with them until Lex was naked, hard and waiting. Clark watched, wondering how he would have managed this as a kid, before he knew control, before he learned anything like the basics. It was right that it had taken so long, that they had both gone away and become men, and come back together at different points in their life. Different people, but better now. Stronger. Ready.

"Clark?"

When he answered, it was with a long, slow lick from base to tip, the flat of his tongue slipping up along the vein that ran the length of Lex's cock, circling the head, sucking it just between the tight ring of his lips before he released it with a soft, wet sound. "Yeah?"

"Fuck."

"Maybe later," Clark murmured, smiling coyly up at him through lashes as he took him in, flattening his tongue and swallowing the length in one slow stroke. Yeah, fingers back in his hair--back where they belonged, and Lex laughed as he arched up into Clark's mouth. Happy, Lex was happy and Clark was blowing him. MSG was the best thing in the world if this really did turn out to be a dream. He might scrap reporting and just buy New China for the sheer erotic potential of it. Wet and slow, Clark built the pressure with the tempo, lips bumping his fist as he went down again and again. Lex was saying things, maybe promising him penthouses or farmhouses--something about living together and video game porn and Clark had never, ever imagined Lex would be a talker.

Deeper, faster and Lex shut up at the end, shaking and burying himself in Clark's throat, his head rolling back and forth as he chanted things that sounded vaguely religious for a guy who proclaimed himself an atheist. Maybe Lex had found god in an orgasm, and Clark found himself choking off a laugh at the thought when he pulled away, swallowing and collapsing on the floor beside of him, his face buried against the damp, musky hollow of one hip. His hand slipped up, fingers trailing slow traces along the length of Lex's side, ribs to hip. Slow strokes, soothing as he grinned and waited on Lex to come back to an accessible plane of existence.

"Are you smiling?"

Clark grinned more. "Yeah."

"Mmm. Good."

He wasn't the only one, from the sounds of it. "You're a talker."

"I was delirious."

"You promised me mansions, Lex."

"I was promising them to the mouse."

Clark turned his face against the damp skin, shaking against Lex with laughter before he lifted his head to ask incredulously. "You want my mouse?"

"I owe your mouse. He's going to live in rodent splendor. I'm envisioning a luxury mouse condominium, custom decorated with warm denim and catered with the finest cheap takeout in Metropolis. . .Clark."

"Hmm?"

"Come here." Lex waited patiently, rolling his eyes to watch as Clark retrieved the discarded hat and tucked it against his chest as a keepsake. "What are you going to do with that picture?"

"Sell it to Forbes magazine."

"Clark. . ."

It was time for the earnest eyes. "Mouse will need artwork for the condo, Lex."

"Clark."

"It's going on my desk at the Planet."

Lex paused, thinking on the words as his fingers absently rubbed a lock of Clark's hair. Too bad Luthors didn't negotiate. "So you think."

Clark pushed up on one elbow, wheedling in earnest now. "Lex, I don't think anyone there would even recognize you like this."

"Like this?"

"Like that." Clark smiled, yes, still stupid, and it was still Lex's fault that he couldn't think when he could smell him. "Smartass."

"Smartass Porn Star."

Clark leaned down, kissing the sharp jut of one shoulder as Lex busied himself with removing Clark's clothes. So natural. Familiar. This was being a grown up, and maybe being in love. "Lex?"

"Hmm?" Eyes tipped up, wry and amused and--right.

"Welcome home."

End