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"Why'd we ever start fighting, anyway?" Clark asked, and it was Clark, despite the blue suit. The very sooty, torn blue suit that showed way too much sculpted chest for Lex's personal equilibrium.
"Because I'm a very bad man," Lex said, and he was, because this? Wasn't any different than when Clark was sixteen. He still wanted to trace his tongue over ridged muscle and hard, flushed nipples. Wanted to run his tongue along the edge of those impossible collarbones. The fact that it was all complicated by ten years and a way too much bad blood dimmed the desire not at all.
"Because I didn't trust you," Clark said, sitting down wearily. "I lied to you and it hurt your feelings."
"That," said Lex, "is a gross oversimplification of the situation. And, uh?" he gestured to Clark's cheek. "You have some of that interstellar slug's guts on you," he finally said, but Clark kept missing it so he had to lean down and wipe it off and then he was close enough to get a whiff of Clark, that smell of sunshine and ozone barely masked by smoke and slug guts and it was just pathetic, really.
Pavlovian even.
"It was nice working with you, instead of against you," Clark said wistfully, leaning back on the rooftop asphalt, taking his weight on his elbows. The skies above them were ruddy with all the debris still floating around up there, and Lex figured there'd be air quality warnings over Metropolis for weeks to come. Still. No giant slugs digesting them slowly, so it was a good trade off.
"This," Lex sighed, sitting down and sprawling alongside Clark, "is a temporary truce. I'm supposed to take over the world some day, and you're supposed to stop me. Being friends again will get in the way of all that." He tried to sound firm, but mostly just sounded punch drunk.
Clark sighed, turned so that his this hazel gaze -- not the blue he somehow faked for everyone else, but the real deal, like a forest pond struck with shadows and sunlight -- was focused directly on Lex.
"I had such a huge stupid crush on you," Clark said. "You were ... cool."
Lex snorted. "I'm still cool, just in a super villain sort of way, now." He paused, rewound the conversation. "What do you mean crush? And what do you mean had?" Lex demanded, going up on his elbows.
"Crush, as in, I kind of like liked you. And had is perhaps ... not totally accurate," Clark admitted. "When you're being noble, you're kind of sexy. And I like your big brain. And I really like the way you lick the edge of those blue bottles. How your tongue plays around the curves, and dips in. I spent one summer half-hard because of that," he said fondly.
"You were a teenager. You spent most summers half-hard," Lex said, but it lacked the CEO/Super Villain snap he'd been perfecting the last six or seven years.
"True," Clark smiled. It made Lex ache in a way that had nothing to do with intergalactic invaders kicking the shit out of him. "But you still played a big part." He reached out, trailed a finger along Lex's jaw. God. Clark had always had huge hands and feet. "I'm gonna kiss you, okay?"
"We're covered in guts and we smell like mucous," Lex said, but quickly added, when Clark hesitated, "Not objecting, just observing!" And then he was being kissed with slow, soft sweetness, like sunshine on hayfields and corn ripening slowly, so slowly, to sweetness.
"I'm still going to rule the world," Lex said finally, panting slightly. "I might, however, be persuaded to be a benevolent dictator." Clark smiled, cupped his crotch gently, and Lex said, "Oh, hell. I still haven't forgiven you!"
"But you will," Clark said, and Lex thought that he was probably right.
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