Title: Re-Establishing Trust
Pairings: Clark/Lex
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2248
Summary: Set after episode 3x17 - Legacy (recap at beginning of story). Lex goes to the farm after Clark has discovered his FBI microphone.
Disclaimer: I admit it! I made it up!

REFRESHER: In Legacy, Lionel renews his interest in the caves. He sends men to raid the Kent farm to try to find the key he believes is his. Lex has been wearing a microphone because he wants to betray his father. Clark goes to Lex and tells him all about the farm being raided. This fic begins right after Lex sends the men he was talking to away.


“The FBI just raided our farm,” Clark had said, storming in like he owned the place.

Lex waited until his men were just outside the door to begin dealing with Clark’s problem. “Any idea why?”

“They didn’t say, but for some reason I think your dad’s involved.” Lex felt a pang in his chest. As horrible as it felt, he hoped Clark was right. If the FBI had gone after Clark with him as the driving force, he’d have to lie to Clark (again). The tragic part was that Lex wanted to protect Clark more than he wanted to protect himself.

“Clark, I can’t imagine my father’s on the FBI’s most trusted list, but I’m curious why you think he’d be interested in the farm.”

“I talked to him today. He was saying all sorts of crazy things.” Something was off in Clark’s voice. Lex’s chest tightened as he realized Clark was lying. It was a familiar action, but it hurt every time. “He thinks I can give him answers about the caves.”

Lex turned around to face Clark. “Can you?” His eyes locked onto Clark’s. “My father’s methods are often questionable, but usually there’s a germ of truth in his madness.” Please, Clark, just--

“Your father’s so obsessed about those caves that he’s imagining things that don’t exist.”

--trust me. He felt the defeat of failing to earn Clark’s trust, and prevented his hurt from showing by placing a comforting hand on Clark’s arm. “Clark, I’m glad you told me about this. It means a lot that you trust me enough to let me help.” It was difficult to keep the irony out of his voice. Clark was the only person he believed he could ever trust, but they would never be done playing this game unless Clark began to truly trust him.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Yes, he wanted to say. The microphone strapped to his chest prevented that, but he could always nod. Or write it down. He wanted this game to end.

He looked away from Clark’s gaze for a brief moment. Looking back, he asked, “And what would that be, Clark?” He could feel the anger radiating from Clark’s eyes. “I’ll check into it.”

He wanted the game to end, but he knew it wasn’t his place to make the first move.


As Lex headed back toward his Porsche, he began to digest what the FBI agents had told him. He wasn’t completely convinced that they hadn’t gone after Clark, but for now, their word was all he had to go on. He hit the button to unlock his car, then his world swam for a moment, and he was slammed into the door. Clark.

“Your father’s not the one working with the FBI. It’s you!”

Oh God. This was all wrong. He had never seen Clark so angry. “Clark, you have to trust me.”

“I did.” He felt his pulse quicken as his shirt was ripped open, then swallowed a gasp as he realized what Clark was revealing. The microphone was ripped from his skin before he could even begin to process an excuse. “I guess it was a bad mistake.”

The weight of Clark’s words sank in. Lex was moments away from losing the one friend he almost had. “Clark, you’ve got it all wrong!” Lex yelled after him. “Look, it’s not about you; we’re going after my father. He tried to pin the murders at Metron Labs on me, so I went to the Feds, and I cut a deal.” Clark stopped, turned around, and Lex had hope. “Look. Over and over, I’ve given him a chance to show me who he really is. And I now realize he already has. He deserves what’s coming to him.”

“And you don’t care whose privacy gets invaded in the process?”

Lex wanted to shout, I was trying to protect you more than anyone! Instead, he uttered the statement he hoped he could believe. “Clark, it wasn’t the FBI who raided the farm.” He suddenly realized how easily Clark had given up faith in him. “My father could’ve had his own men impersonate the Feds.” Then, he realized how much Clark’s opinion affected him. “But the question is why?” He really needed a nap.

“Maybe he’s on to you. Maybe he’s warning you to back off.”

The rest of the argument was a blur. Lex said everything he could think of to direct Clark’s indignant attitude elsewhere. When he finally stated, “They’re your enemies. Not me,” resignation had set in Clark’s eyes. Lex could still call Clark a friend.

Now that the crisis was over, he could really use that nap.


Lex stumbled into bed, not bothering to look at the clock or change his torn shirt.

His thoughts inevitably moved to Clark and his righteous anger. He wondered if their next meeting would have them back to normal, teasing and smiling, or if Clark would have another (justified) reason for being angry, and their friendship would grind to a screeching halt.

The longer Clark played a role in Lex’s life, the more Lex felt his life was driving Clark away. The same maneuvers he had made for years to protect his own name, or company, now made him feel like a bad person. He knew these feelings were caused by Clark’s presence. His goodness.

Clark remained on his mind as he drifted into sleep.

Clark had pushed him against the car door, ripped his shirt completely open. But now his face wasn’t colored with anger, but something even more gripping. And Clark’s body was pressed completely onto his. He dipped his head down and bit lightly on Lex’s shoulder.

A moan escaped Lex’s lips, and he sat up straight as he realized he was awake. It was now morning. He had been dreaming. The electronic ringing of his cell phone brought him to his senses, but he stared down at his still-ripped shirt as he answered, “Lex Luthor.”


His father was still frantic, ranting about his godforsaken octagonal key, as Lex slid the key into the ignition of his Porsche. His responses were robotic, and he was glad he’d torn the microphone off and left it on the floor of his bedroom.

He hung up, turned the key, and was halfway to the Kent farm before he realized where he was headed.


“Clark.” He stepped out of the Porsche and promptly realized how stiff his legs were.


“I came as soon as I heard…” His shoulders hurt, too. Maybe he shouldn’t have rushed out of the house so fast.

“I can see that,” Clark interrupted.

Looking down at his shirt, he realized he was still wearing the shirt Clark had torn open, which now was wrinkled beyond all professional etiquette. He would’ve been embarrassed, but Clark was smiling, smiling, and that was exactly what he needed right now.

He felt himself smile. An uncommon occurrence for him lately. “I guess I should have taken some time to make myself decent.” A laugh from Clark, and he was encouraged to continue. “But as soon as my father called, I was worried about you. And your father. I don’t know what happened in that cave, Clark, but he very strongly believes that you and your father are behind it. And he’s angry. I wanted to make sure nothing had happened.”

Clark shrugged, setting aside his rake. “Nothing interesting around here, except chores, chores, and more chores. Come on,” he motioned for Lex to follow, “let’s get you into the barn before some lucky photographer drives by and catches you looking all rumpled in public.”

An hour later, Lex was resting comfortably in the loft, in the midst of the best conversation he could remember having. Clark was holding back sometimes, but he had stopped lying. Lex could feel it; their game had ended. They had started trusting each other, truly.

Also, Clark kept glancing down at Lex’s exposed chest.

“Clark, this thing is starting to feel like more trouble than it’s worth,” he indicated his shirt by pulling on his collar. “You won’t mind if I just take it off, will you?”

Clark visibly swallowed, then shook his head.

Lex took his time removing the shirt. When he finally looked up, Clark was unflinchingly staring.

Yes, this was definitely the best conversation he’d ever had.

He let the amusement show in his voice as he said, “Much better.”

Clark suddenly bolted up from the couch, causing Lex to snap out of his reverie.

Lex stood, telling himself to be serious. “Clark, is something wrong?” He placed a comforting hand on Clark’s shoulder, pulling gently to get Clark to face him.

Clark jumped slightly, but turned to face Lex anyway. His face was flushed, and he glanced quickly at Lex’s chest before meeting his eyes. “Lex, I…”

Oh. “I’m sorry, Clark. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No!” Clark exclaimed before his eyes widened. He obviously hadn’t meant to say that.

Lex realized that this was Very Significant, but his head was swimming. Hadn’t he almost lost Clark’s friendship last night? Hadn’t Lana said that Clark had kissed her last night?

But a lot could change in a small amount of time. Lex understood this better than anyone.

A sudden, unexpected laugh from Clark brought Lex back to the moment at hand. He raised an eyebrow at Clark.

“What the hell could you be analyzing now?”

Well that certainly wasn’t what Lex expected Clark to say. “Clark, I understand if you’re feeling confused. Don’t worry, it happens to every--”

“Lex.” Clark sounded commanding, so Lex let his assurance hang unfinished in the air. “I’m not confused. We’ve known each other for three years. Things are finally starting to make sense.”

And with that, Clark pulled Lex toward him, kissing him with passion. Clark’s hands were spread across his bare back, and Clark’s tongue was in his mouth, and Clark’s plaid was against his chest. The moment was perfect.

The next moment, however, wasn’t so perfect. A shocked, “Oh!” from the stairs, and they both turned to see Martha Kent staring at them, her mouth wide open. Lex vaguely realized he should take several steps back, but Clark’s hands were holding him firmly against his chest. Lex placed a hand on Clark’s shoulder, and Clark turned his shocked and fearful gaze on him. Lex managed to get away from Clark, immediately reaching for his shirt, as Clark finally managed to say, “Mom.”

“Mrs. Kent,” Lex said as soon as his shirt hung over his shoulders. It was the best he could do. “this isn’t Clark’s fault. We were just--”

“No,” Clark interrupted. “I’m sorry, Mom. I should’ve heard you coming, but… I mean. I just. This is more my fault than Lex’s.”


“Lex. I kissed you.” Clark turned back toward his mother, her mouth still slightly open. “Mom. I know this is a shock, but… but I’ve been thinking about it for a while. It wasn’t a mistake.”

She nodded slightly, then cleared her throat. “Well, Clark, I trust your judgment… If you really think that…” She let her sentence hang in the air for a few seconds. “I trust your decision.”

“Please don’t tell Dad.”

Lex ran a hand over his head. This was one of those few awkward times he wished he were anywhere but where he was.

“No, I—I won’t.” Lex knew they were all thinking the same thing. His heart won’t be able to take it. “I’ll just… I’ll set an extra place for lunch.” She nodded slightly at Lex, then disappeared down the stairs in a daze.

“Oh, God.” Clark rubbed his hand over his face and dropped onto the couch. “I don’t think that could have been more embarrassing.” He looked up at Lex, and Lex noticed the worry in his gaze. “I’m so sorry.”

Lex slid onto the couch, turning Clark’s worried face toward his, then kissed him until that needless concern disappeared. “It’s alright, Clark,” he finally said, pulling away. “We should just be grateful it was your mother and not your father, or we’d both be dead by now.”

Clark laughed, but became nervous again. “So this is okay?”

It wasn’t a mistake, echoed through Lex’s mind. He nodded, and Clark’s lips briefly met his before Clark stood, suddenly worried again.

“What now?” Lex couldn’t help asking.

“Lex, you can’t eat lunch here with…” he threw his hand out to indicate Lex’s shirt, “that. My dad will shoot you before you’ve even sat down.” Lex laughed, but Clark wasn’t joking. “Just… give me a second.”

Clark looked thoughtful for a moment. Then, nodding to himself, he disappeared. Less than a minute later, he reappeared, holding two plaid shirts.

“I couldn’t find anything you’d wear.” He was blushing and Lex wanted to forget the shirts and make out with his (his) Clark all afternoon.

He took the blue shirt from Clark’s hands and said, “You are gonna have to explain the disappearing act later.”

From a (safe) distance, Lex heard Clark’s mother yell, “Clark! Lex! Lunch is ready!”

Clark smiled mischievously at him. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you the full show later.”

Lex smiled back. He had a feeling that statement covered more than just disappearing.

That thought put him in a good mood all through lunch, even though Mr. Kent was eyeing his plaid shirt with suspicion the whole time.


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