Pyjamas and Boxers

by jessica

Disclaimer: Nobody owns this Lex but me.

Notes: for Jack, who asks.

Feedback: wraps me up like cotton and silk.

Summary: This is the man he's become.

He rubs absently at a stain of something dark on his knee. He pulls his pants off and stops, wondering if he should take them straight to the laundry room. Pulls his socks off next and decides to throw everything into the waiting hamper.

Lex stands in front of the mirror. He wriggles his toes in the carpet, throws his shirt off and moves his hips to the song stuck in his head.

"What are you doing?"

Over his shoulder, Lex sees Clark's face caught somewhere between horrified and amused.

"Dancing," is the innocent answer Lex gives.

He stands a moment longer in front of the mirror. Not looking at anything, just looking. In the reflection, he can see Clark crawling into bed, laughing to himself, probably at Lex. He considers stripping off his boxers to stop Clark's laughter, but this is usually the time Nicky knocks on the door, wanting a glass of water.

Lex pads across the room to the dresser, grey silk pyjamas folded neatly in the top drawer. He pulls the shirt on, leaves it unbuttoned. Digs a little deeper, but the pants to match can't be found.

"Clark? Where are my pyjama pants?"

"In the bottom of the closet."

Lex turns to face him, but Clark's hiding in a book. Lex steps closer.

"Pyjamas don't belong in the closet. They belong in the pyjama drawer. That's why I call it that."

"Believe me, Lex, I know. I've lived with you long enough," Clark teases. "And I know you didn't want to see your favourite pyjamas in two pieces."

"From last weekend?" Clark nods. "Superman would be ashamed of your lack of control." Sighing, Lex looks down at his cotton boxers, silk pyjama top. "Do I look okay?"

Clark rises to his knees, captures Lex as he steps towards the bed.

"You look fine," he says, kissing his lips. Clark holds him around the waist, another hand running up Lex's inner thigh, under the boxers. He tickles the skin, then smoothes with a touch up and down. Back up again, Clark teases his hand closer.

"Have I ever told you that you have sexy legs?" Clark asks, his voice a low moan in Lex's ear.

"Never with a straight face," Lex counters and Clark breaks with a grin.


They fall back on the bed with Clark's sudden movement. Lex lands, Clark on top, with a muffled thump. He groans with relieved pressure when Clark pushes himself up off the bed.

"I'm too old for this, Clark."

"You're just tired."

Clark rolls off Lex, off the bed. Lex burrows under the covers and waits for to the lights to go out. Clark joins Lex in bed and there's that moment as they decided how they'll fit together tonight. It's Lex on his back, with Clark's leg curled up around his hip and Clark's hand inside the still unbuttoned pyjama top.

"You're never too old, Lex," Clark tells him. "Right here, you'll always be twenty-one."

Lex closes his eyes to the dark, shivers with the goosebumps following Clark's touch on his skin. Twenty-one is Clark's touch and the smell of autumn in Kansas.

Then a familiar knock at the door brings him back to thirty-five.

"Daddy?" The door opens, letting in a crack of light. "Papa?"

"Do you need a glass of water, sweetie?" Clark asks, looking up.

He rolls away again as Nicky steps inside. Clark catches him, picking him up, and dropping the tired boy in the bed. Nicky rolls closer to Lex, snuggling up to the silky pyjamas. Clark curls around his son, kisses his head, and puts a hand on Lex's hip, holding them all together.

"You're okay, Nicky? No bad dreams."

"I'm fine, Papa." Nicky's voice is quiet and muffled from his nest in the middle of the bed. "I just didn't want to be so far away anymore."

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