Brittle Brittle
by Aelita
To Caro for the wonderful beta. (Changes have been made, all remaining
mistakes are mine) To Aelora and Sarah for the title (even if they weren't
aware that they helped). To all of you on my flist, who reads and comments
and gives me more support than I deserve.
AN: This was written after Slumber, but it probably works after
Perry even better.
The library is quiet and dark, and smells so much like dust that Clark
has to fight the urge to sneeze every five minutes. It's also intensely
peaceful and inert, making him reluctant to leave, to go back to the
confusing whirlwind of the real world. The routine of school/chores/sleep
is more comforting than he'd ever thought, but it's not enough.
It's nice being back home. His mom is very good at pretending that
everything is fine. Almost enough for him to ignore the new lines around
her eyes and how her smiles look just a little bit forced. He believes her
when she says that she had never blamed him. But the loss took a lot out
of her, and him running off only made it worse. She may not blame him but
he does enough for both of them.
His dad is trying very hard to erase the words that had haunted them both
for three months. Too hard, probably, but it's Clark's guilty pleasure,
knowing that his parents love him that much. So he does the selfish thing
and accepts it, gathers strength from it to just keep going.
He loves Smallville, and there are moments of longing for times when
everything was simpler. When Lana was the epitome of happiness, and the
rest of the world looked shiny but had little significance. His childhood
dreams do little for him now, except bringing a nostalgic smile to his
face.
Change is never easy, and it's not always for the best. But it's
inevitable and wanting to reverse the change, while very human, is
pointless. He isn't naive enough to believe that things can ever get back
to the way they were before the summer. More importantly, he isn't sure he
wants them to; it makes him think he's growing up.
He can still feel Metropolis thrumming in his veins, addictive in its
wicked intensity. One of Atlantis' resident junkies once told him that
drugs made everything around you brighter, sharper. After you've tried
them, living a life clean felt like watching a black and white movie from
far away. You could do it, probably, but it's just wasn't worth it.
Clark now understands what he meant. There was certain pleasure in living
for himself alone. Not worrying about anything but how he'd waste his
evening. But he doesn't crave Red Kryptonite, not really. What he does
miss is the sharp taste of excitement of the big city. Metropolis is alive
and passionate in all the ways that Smallville isn't. Bright, colorful
lights that stubbornly refused to hide the fact that he wasn't the only
freak in the city. Deceptively lazy strolls down the dirty alleys that
almost always ended in intoxicating, predatory games. Clubs, filled with
pounding music and liquid, drugged dancing. Flashy cars. Power over
others. He felt almost god-like, able to do anything with no consequences,
and it had little to do with the ring.
Metropolis' summon called for him long after he took off the ring, and he
can still hear it resonating when he isn't careful.
He certainly understands Lex's early bitterness about being exiled to
Smallville better. Even with all the money he stole and threw around, he
knew he'd never reached even close to the Lex's status as the city's
favorite child, and he can't imagine what it was like for Lex to give it
all up.
He thumbs the cheap, old covers of the books on the shelf. Most of them
have dog-eared pages and mysterious stains that each have a story of its
own. None of the titles catch his attention and he smiles, humorlessly. He
didn't really expect to find "How to Heal Your Best Friend From Being
Betrayed and Marooned on an Uninhabited Island for Three Months By His
Second Wife Less Than a Year After His First Wife Simply Tried to Kill Him
With a Shotgun" but a guy should always hope for everything.
Lex used to say that a lot. "A smart man once said, 'hope for everything
but expect nothing." It took Clark four months to drag it out of Lex that
the 'smart man' in question wasn't some Greek philosopher, but a fictional
character on one of the sci-fi shows Lex used to watch.
It pains Clark that Lex doesn't say that anymore. Lex doesn't say a lot
of things he used to. He's changed. Probably more than Clark, even if it's
less visible. At first glance, he seems only slightly withdrawn and more
resolved.
But first glances are deceiving. Lex talks big; he fills the room with
his ambition and confidence, and it's easy to miss that before the summer,
there was more to him than that. Clark likes to think that he knows Lex
better than most people. He pays more attention to him, and he looks for
what's missing, but he can't find it. The only thing he sees is that
beneath the mask of determination, Lex's eyes are unfocused and a little
lost and it's almost as if he isn't in the room, not entirely.
Clark has never been as happy as he was the second he realized that Lex
was alive. To paraphrase Lex, three months of fear and feeling like a part
of him was torn away was almost worth it to see Lex alive again.
But deep down he misses the old Lex.
Lex, who once called him in the middle of school day because he'd read
somewhere that it was possible to melt metals in a microwave, and he
needed Clark to buy him some at the local hardware store. He'd blown up
his microwave trying to melt silver in it, but he managed to melt solder
and make grapes glow. Clark remembers Lex's face and how much younger it
looked when Lex was too engrossed to hide his anticipation. He remembers
Lex's smile and how it makes his eyes softer and playful, and that Lex
bites his lower lip when he's impatient and doesn't care that someone
might see him.
This Lex jokes about his bad taste in women and how a man hasn't lived
until he's seen his name carved on a tombstone, with a smile that almost
looks like a real one. The curve of the lip is right and there is that
tiny hint of a laugh line under his left eye. Except Clark has seen Lex's
genuine smile and the parody makes his chest hurt.
He wonders what'll happen if he drops by the mansion now, with some
solder and silver, saying that he needs help with chemistry. And then he
remembers that Lex isn't even at the mansion. Lex is in Metropolis, making
nice with his father, and that scares Clark even more. He wants to say
he's happy Lex is reconciling with his family, except he is not, because
he doesn't understand it. Doesn't understand what Lex is doing, doesn't
understand why, but doesn't ask because in his mind he sees the Lex who is
so angry with him, he cuts their friendship off with a blade.
Lex is probably in some meeting right now and calling him wouldn't be
good. Clark knows it, but he pulls out his new cell and stares at it,
wanting to call and... something. Just hear Lex's voice, because moments
like this one he needs to hear the proof. That Lex is alive and that he is
still Clark's friend.
The sudden ringing startles Clark into almost dropping the cell, but when
he sees the number of the caller, he smiles and turns it on eagerly.
"I need cream." The statement is unexpected, to say the least, but Lex's
voice is... impatient, anxious, and Lex's. Lex sounds like he does when he
wants to play and it's like the best Christmas present ever. Clark knows
he is grinning like a fool but doesn't care.
"Hi, Lex, yes, I'm well, thank you for asking. And how are you this fine
morning?"
Lex sighs irritatedly into the phone, but Clark can hear the smile
underneath and it's ok. "It's late afternoon and I'm terrible. I need
cream. Haven't you been listening?"
"Do I want to know?" He doesn't really care, as long as he gets to be
there for whatever reason it is.
"Probably no, but you will anyway. As soon as you bring me..." a pause
filled with sound of shuffling papers, "...two quarts."
Lex disconnects without saying anything else, and it makes Clark grin
wider. Because this is exactly what he was wishing for, and maybe there is
someone listening to him after all.
Clark finds Lex in the kitchen. He's pacing in front of the fridge,
wearing a white lab coat and holding yellow gloves that look like
something out of a sci-fi movie. Which isn't as strange as the fact that
on the counter Clark sees eggs, sugar, vanilla and instant coffee. There
is also a metal container that Clark eyes warily.
"Clark." There is a hint of a smile on Lex's face, made perfect by the
slight teeth indentations on the lower lip.
Clark nods his greeting and then points at the container. "What's that?"
Lex peeks into the bag Clark brought, frowning slightly as he takes the
cream out. After a brief glance at the back of the carton, he opens it and
pours its contents into a big metal bowl. "Liquid nitrogen."
Clark blinks at the nonchalant answer. Of course. As if there is a
kitchen out there that doesn't have at least a couple of cups of liquid
nitrogen in it. How silly of him to ask.
"And why do we need liquid nitrogen?"
That earns him an incredulous look. "To make ice cream, of course."
Clark's chemistry knowledge is limited, but he remembers that nitrogen is
cold. So putting products into it might help them freeze faster. Which
makes some sense. And which is exactly why Clark must be missing
something. When it comes to Lex's experiments, complicated is the way to
go.
"We're going to use it instead of ice?"
Lex stops measuring sugar, and the look he gives Clark sends a clear
signal of what he thinks about Smallville High chemistry department.
"Nitrogen will turn to gas at this temperatures before the ingredients
freeze properly. We need to mix it into the mixture."
"You're making nitrogen flavored ice cream for desert? Is your father
visiting?" Oh, crap. Less than five minutes in the mansion and his mouth
is already getting him in trouble.
Lex sets the metal spoon aside and looks at Clark, with something that's
too much of an apology. Lex isn't the one who is supposed to be
apologizing. Clark opens his mouth to say that but isn't really sure how
to, and Lex beats him to it.
"Clark, I know you aren't exactly ecstatic about my sudden reunion with
my father."
"I am fine with it as long as it's what you want." Right words, but he
could never lie well to Lex.
"No, you're not." Lex leans against the dark marble, and he isn't trying
to hide the bitter resignation.
"Lex..."
"Clark, don't tell me something just because you think I want to hear it.
Just... don't. I've had enough lies, white or otherwise, to last a few
lifetimes." There is an edge of anger in his voice that makes Clark
recoil, and feel very sorry that his big mouth dragged them into this
dangerous territory. Lex must see it, because his face softens, and he
rubs his forehead, suddenly looking very tired. "It's fine, really. I'm
not sure I understand it myself entirely." His eyes grow distant, just the
way Clark hates it. But there is nothing he can do except stand there and
wait. "Whenever I used to fuck up, my father would swoop in, to fix things
if needed, or, if I managed to fix them myself, to just spend some quality
time insulting me and explaining how much of a disappointment I am. But
the point is... he'd always come, be it an overnight flight to England,
five-minute walk to MetU or three-hour drive to Smallville. It took me a
while to understand. Wasted and delirious, I wasn't mad at him because I
truly believed that he marooned me on that island. I was mad because he
didn't come this time."
Lex glances at him, with something that would've looked like
vulnerability on anyone else, but on Lex looks like a bleeding wound,
because when it comes to Lex, that's what it takes to strip away layers of
natural confidence and ingrained control. And Clark thinks about
late-night phone calls to his mother and realizes that maybe he does
understand better than he thought. There comes a point in every child's
life when he stops needing his parents to survive in this strange,
confusing world. But he will never stop needing or wanting them in his
life. Clark has been so focused on his fear of Lionel's influence on Lex,
that he'd forgotten that Lionel had been a constant in Lex's entire life.
And Lex had managed to become his own person nevertheless. Maybe all Lex
wants is to stop fighting with his father. Or maybe not. But at the end of
the day, he will still be Lex. Too stubborn and proud to be forced into
any mold, even the gold one carved by his father.
"I've said it before, Lex, I will never understand Luthor family
dynamics. But even I understand that."
Lex gives him an enigmatic little smirk, which doesn't tell Clark
anything except that Lex isn't mad with him, and puts on the gloves. "You
better step back, Clark. I'm about to start adding the liquid in and you
don't want it to spill on you. It has an ability to freeze body parts
solid."
Clark leans against the fridge, and watches his best friend play mad
scientist. Lex's every move is fast, confident and efficient. But it's
more than that - Clark doesn't remember many times when Lex wasn't fast,
confident and efficient - Lex looks relaxed and there is a ghost of that
smile that Clark had missed so much. It's not... enough yet. But it's a
step forward.
Lex is also talking. An impromptu lecture on rapid freezing and how it
prevents bad ice crystals from forming, leaving you with microcrystalline
ice cream that is smooth and light. Come to think of it, Clark probably
shouldn't be so amused by it, except Lex is surrounded by clouds of water
vapor, like a bad horror movie, and the sparkle in his eyes tells Clark
that he knows it. Clark is very impressed that they both manage to avoid
the obvious jokes about Frankenstein and Igor.
A few minutes later, they are both standing over the bowl, looking at its
contents dubiously.
"Well, it was... fast."
Lex's mouth curls up on one side. "I'm more worried about it killing the
cook."
Clark gapes at him. "I thought you said it's safe."
Lex shrugs and cautiously slides a finger into the bowl, scooping up a
bit of brown-colored mass. Eyeing it suspiciously, he licks it off before
Clark can stop him. Not that he was planning to, because Lex sucking on
his finger? Is the stuff fantasies are made off.
"You can stop staring at me, Clark. This ice cream really is safe." A sly
grin tells Clark that Lex knows a lot more about why Clark was staring at
him than he is letting on. Lex takes out two spoons, and throws one to
Clark. "And is actually pretty good."
They eat in companionable quiet, and Clark uses this time to inspect Lex
as discreetly as he can.
Lex looks exhausted. There are soft shadows under his eyes, and it's more
visible how wired he is, now when he's pretending to be at rest. So much
unleashed energy that it can't be natural, not even on Lex. Clark has to
wonder when was the last time Lex had some decent sleep, and is almost
sorry that he didn't suggest strawberry ice cream instead of coffee.
Lex's cell rings, interrupting the silence. A frown mars Lex's brow, when
he sees the number. He glances at Clark as he gets up, apologetic grin in
place. "I have to take this." Clark feels like something heavy just found
a residence in his chest and for a moment he's afraid that this afternoon
is over. But Lex touches his shoulder as he passes him. "I'll be right
back, ok?"
Lex is asking him, like there is even a slight chance that Clark would
say no. Clark nods, too relieved to speak, and kills time by playing with
his slowly melting ice cream.
Clark isn't sure how long passes, but the ice cream has turned into a
coffee-scented puddle, and the kitchen is dark enough that he thinks about
turning on the light. He wonders if Lex is still on the phone or if he
simply forgotten about him, and wow, doesn't that feel like a blow to his
stomach. He has two choices, he can leave or he can go find Lex.
The first one really isn't much of an option.
Clark pauses at the entrance to the office and watches Lex, who is
standing in front of the fireplace, staring into it but undoubtedly not
seeing it.
The office seems even darker than the kitchen, or maybe it's the reddish
flames that make it appear that way. Sometime, while he was here, Lex
managed to lose the white lab coat and he is wearing a dark burgundy
sweater that makes Clark shift uncomfortably. Clark glances at the sword
on the wall, and he knows it's fake - he held it and watched Lex play with
it - but for a brief moment, he feels it shatter against his skin, and he
can hear Lex yell. He gets an almost overwhelming urge to melt the damn
thing with his heat vision but something stops him.
Lex used to always sense when there was someone in the room and the fact
that Clark has been standing there for five minutes, unnoticed, scares him
a little. He calls Lex's name but Lex doesn't move, not even his breathing
changes, and that's like even a worse nightmare. Because he'd rather have
Lex be mad at him, than ignore him. He wants to grab Lex, and shake him
out of whatever trance he'd worked himself into.
He reigns in his impatience, walks into the room and claps Lex on the
shoulder. Simple touch - he used to do it often with Lex and Lex always
welcomed it from him - but Lex twists from under his hand in a move that
is too graceful to be anything but a fighting maneuver, and is five feet
away before Clark understands what happened. They both freeze, but Clark
sees the tightness in Lex's body that tells him how much effort it took
for Lex to stop where he does. Panic flashes in dark gray eyes, bruised
with something Clark can't identify, but, god, he never wants to see it in
Lex's eyes again.
No, that's not true. Clark knows what it is, knows the words for it, but
he won't use them. Not when it comes to Lex, because that would be too
much like giving up on him. Clark can't give up on Lex, but he really
didn't know, didn't even consider a possibility.
Lex walks around with easy confidence that makes him look compelling and
invincible. Clark had watched Lex face meteor mutants and violent gunmen
with cool sarcasm and unbreakable control, shaken up only when something
threatened those under his protection. And Clark can't even imagine what
could've happened on that island to put that edge of madness in his eyes.
Clark realizes that his hand is still lifted and lowers it quickly. That
- whatever it was - is gone in a blink and Lex is watching him with a
shuttered, unreadable expression. His fingers are rubbing his lower lip
and he looks so absentminded, that Clark has to wonder if he's even aware
that he's doing it.
"Have you ever had a nightmare that was so real that when you woke up,
you had bruises?" Lex's whisper sounds strangled, and it hits Clark that
Lex, when he came back from the island, had a bruise right where his
fingers are now resting. "At least now I know why Louis' hands felt so
familiar." He murmurs to the side, so softly that Clark is pretty sure he
wasn't supposed to hear it.
Lex swallows and takes a deep breath, pulling himself together until he's
there again, in the room, and it's an almost tangible change in the air.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... You just startled me."
Clark nods, mutely because they both know that's a lie and he doesn't
really know what to say.
Another soft sigh, and Lex looks up at him with the painfully familiar
exhaustion-and is it really a shock now that Lex always looks so tired?
Clark can't even imagine how much energy it takes to walk around like
nothing is wrong, like Lex isn't fighting for his sanity during every
contact, every conversation.
"It's ok, Clark, you can touch me." He offers Clark his hand with a smile
that five minutes ago Clark would've called sad. But now he sees more,
understands better, and he compares it to fine crystal with a thin, almost
invisible crack. Beautiful, but handle it without care and it'll explode
into thousands of tiny shards, leaving everyone around bleeding and
scarred. "I promise not to freak out on you any more."
Clark wants to grin and joke it off with mentions of Lex's speed and
requests for fighting lessons, but he can't. He's been breaking for Lex
every time he's seen him for the last month and this... this scares him
too fucking much. It's selfish and unfair, but he needs Lex strong. He
tries to hide who he is from Lex, but the truth is, he knows that Lex
always has his back. That whenever Clark stumbles, Lex is there, providing
support, protection, information - whatever Clark asks for, Lex gives.
Clark needs Lex there. "Lex, I..." the words clutter in his throat, almost
choking him.
He must look... he doesn't even know. But whatever it is Lex sees on his
face worries him. Lex steps closer to him, slowly, as if he's afraid to
spook Clark. "Clark, I swear, it's ok. It's fine." He's close enough that
all Clark has to do is shift, and they'll be touching. "Clark." Clark
looks him in the eyes, searching for something. Reassurance. Strength. He
finds calm instead. "Touch me. Please." Stern, almost an order, but Clark
can hear a plea underneath and he realizes that Lex needs it as much as he
does. "I think we both need to remember."
Clark isn't sure what he means but he gradually lifts his hand, passing
up Lex's arm and reaching for his face instead. "Remember what?"
He can read the surprise on Lex's face but Lex is calm and that's enough
of permission. "The difference between reality and a dream." Clark touches
the soft cheek and is rewarded with a soft gasp and a flutter of a
heartbeat.
Clark gets it. Lex means nightmare, not dream, but it only makes this
more important. "You're real." His whisper probably startles Clark more
than it does Lex. He thinks it might be a good time to shut up, but he
can't. "I had a nigh... nightmare. You were so angry with me. You..." his
throat feels swollen and he has to swallow before he's able to continue.
"You hated me."
There is something wrong about the fact that Clark is better at handling
the nightmares where his best friend is dead than the ones where he hates
him.
"I could never..." Lex pauses, hundreds of possibilities flashing in his
eyes. The resulting smile is self-depreciating and not reassuring at all,
but Lex isn't moving away and that's significant in ways Clark isn't sure
his clouded mind understands right now. "I probably could. But not enough
to forget."
"Forget what?" Lex's skin is cool and smooth under his fingers.
Grounding, and Clark can breathe again. Lex tilts his head into Clark's
hand, just a fraction of an inch, and it's almost unnoticeable. It's a
caress, and Clark realizes that his eyes are half-closed and he is
whispering, afraid to ruin the moment.
"Who you are." Lex wraps his fingers around Clark's wrist, stroking the
more sensitive skin inside with his thumb. "Who you are to me." Lex's eyes
are wide and Clark can see in them things that Lex won't say, isn't ready
to say. And it's ok, because Clark isn't sure he's ready to hear them. "I
lost myself on that island, lost... everyone, but I didn't forget you."
Lex leans back, until Clark's fingers are touching empty air, but Lex's
hand is still holding Clark's, tighter now. As if Lex doesn't want to let
go any more than Clark does. "It's not a good time, Clark. I can't..." Lex
sounds sharp and... fragile. "I can't be with you. Not until I remember
who I am."
Clark understands that. Relationships of any kind are complicated, and
the last thing Lex needs right now is another complication. Especially
alien-sized, super-strong complication, that has been lying to him for
years. Clark has been more honest with Lex after the summer, but he knows
that he'll have to be completely honest if he wants to be with Lex and Lex
isn't ready yet. He needs the time and the distance to heal. Clark's mind
flashes to his own nightmares, and he thinks that maybe they both do.
Clark needs Lex, but now that he knows that he will have him, he can wait.
Lex's voice is the definition of promise, when he whispers, "But it's
already a better time than it was this morning."
Clark nods. Leaning forward, he brushes his lips against where his
fingers were touching a moment ago. A brief, intoxicating graze that makes
them both shiver and for a second, Clark can swear the room around them
glows.
When he pulls back, Lex is smiling. Little, soft smile that makes him
look younger and playful, and his eyes luminous with want and
anticipation.
Clark licks his lips, finding traces of ice cream, Lex, and something
that makes him think of happiness. He wonders if this is what hope tastes
like.
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