Well, here it is, as promised! Hope you like the ending!!! :D


Disclaimer: ‘Smallville’ and certain characters belong to Miller-Gough et. al. No profit is gained from this writing. Only, hopefully, enjoyment.



"You don't want me there anyway," Clark doggedly said. "I don't see why I have to stand in the corner of some party where I don't know anyone and no one wants to talk to me." He kept his head down and his eyes on the floor, but Clark could still tell where William was in the room just by the loud, angry rasps of breath. Mary's were the quick, shallow ones over by the window.

"You'll be there, and that's final," William said. "Seven sharp. Now please excuse us."

There was a tense silence and Clark just shook his head and strode out of the study. On the way up to his room, he refused to mutter to himself, actively forced himself not to let it matter. It wasn't important. It was no big deal. One night standing around was nothing in the grand scheme of things.

It shouldn't matter, he kept thinking, but it did. And it hurt.

It'd been almost two months since. . .

. . .since he'd come to live with William and Mary. And it seemed like an entire lifetime away from Smallville. This was someone else's life he was living, not his. Not Clark Kent's.

William's birthday was Saturday. He was having a party downstairs in celebration, and Clark had thought it worth the effort to beg off. So he'd pleaded his case, made his argument in true lawyer style. He'd even caught Mary stifling a smile behind her hand at one point, and had thought it a done deal.

But not to William, it wasn't. He wanted Clark there, for some stupid reason, and so Clark had to go. Had to dress in a suit and stand around waiting for someone -- anyone -- to just talk to him. Look at him and smile, or say, 'Oh, excuse me! I didn't see you there!'

He hated going to these things. Two weeks ago, they'd dragged him to someone's niece's coming-out party -- he'd had to ask Lex what the hell they meant by that because what he'd been thinking turned out to be completely wrong! -- and Clark had spent the entire time taste-testing the ginger ale. He'd tried the punch, but it'd been far too sweet and there were four different kinds of ginger ale being offered. Sounded like a challenge to him, but William didn't find it funny. He'd waited until they got back to the house before telling Clark to 'quit acting like a child in front of my colleagues.'

Clark replied that it wasn't his fault no one wanted to talk to him, and that maybe he should just sit the next one out. William had stared at him for a moment before saying a terse 'No' and closing the door to his study.

He had a paper due tomorrow for English. It was supposed to be a partnered project, but Clark had realized right away that his partner wouldn't be coming through. No big surprise there really, and it wasn't like the two of them had ever been on good terms. Clark had just looked at Mr. Jenks and sighed. He had to hand it to the teacher. At least he'd looked sad about dumping Lyons on Clark. Jenks had to have known that was a really bad idea, but he still hadn't done anything about it.

So now Clark had four pages of summary and analysis to write for his part of the assignment, and three pages of societal context and historical background on the author for Lyons' share. They'd been given the assignment a week ago, but Clark hadn't done anything on it. He'd never been one to procrastinate, never would have gotten away with it at home, but these days it was like he couldn't even make himself want to do anything. Even when he knew his grade kinda needed a big A like this one, Clark couldn't get started. He aced all his tests, all his pop-quizzes and exams and in-class assignments. But he never turned in any homework, and he was starting to get the impression Jenks was kinda pissed at him. The teacher would hand back the graded assignments at the beginning of class. When he'd pass Clark by, Jenks would always look at him funny. . . like he was trying to figure out how the hell Clark never did any homework and still managed to get a B.

If Clark called Lex. . .

But Lex probably wouldn't get it. He'd always been so ambitious and motivated. And Lex was a genius and really charismatic. He wouldn't understand that Clark just couldn't do anything. It was like a mental block. When he was alone, he just. . .

He had a bunch of books he was reading -- trying to read. Nine, at last count, and he hadn't gotten any further than the 30th page in any of them. He tried watching movies or surfing the net, or. . .

But nothing worked. He couldn't do anything. At school, he was okay. With Lex or Chloe or Pete, he was fine. He managed to concentrate and even contribute a few ideas to the conversations.

But when he was alone. . . well, Clark had been walking a lot lately. It was just around the city, and he never had a set path or route or anything. He just walked around. Before school, afterwards, after dinner with Mary, at night when he couldn't sleep. . . he walked and watched and wondered when he'd feel something again.

Chloe said he'd lost weight, but Clark knew it wasn't true. He looked exactly the same as he always had, save his hair was a little longer than usual because he wasn't getting it cut by his m-- . . .wasn't having it cut every two weeks. Like he had before. But he couldn't gain weight and he couldn't lose any, either, so Chloe was just being melodramatic.

Pete had given him a hug and punched his arm. He'd brought some of his mom's fudge and Clark had forced a smile and told Pete to pass along his thanks. And there hadn't even been a problem between Pete and Lex the whole day. They'd nodded at each other calmly in greeting, and later Pete told Lex goodbye with a 'take it easy, man,' as if they were two buddies just hanging out. Chloe had hugged Clark, rocked him for a bit in the circle of her arms, and he'd almost felt peaceful.

After Pete and Chloe left for the long drive back to Smallville, Lex had invited him over to his place again. They'd watched an advanced copy of 'The Fellowship of the Ring' on DVD and at the end of the night, Lex had hugged him.

It felt like. . .

And he couldn't help comparing that hug with all the others he'd had over the years. The ones from his school teachers, all close and proud and very impersonal. Or the hugs from Pete's mom and dad, even Gabe Sullivan had hugged him a couple times, which had been comforting and had made him feel appreciated and needed. . . if only a little. The hugs from Chloe, the hugs from Lana. . . they had made him feel important and strong and. . . sometimes liked. The few times Pete had hugged him, it'd felt like what he imagined having a brother would.

And. . . Dad's. . . hugs, made him feel like. . .

had made him feel like he was at times grown up, and at others like he was still four years old and wrapped up in his father's brown, lambskin coat. Mom's had been like being saved every time, like he was always forgiven and the slate wiped clean. Like nothing could stain him while she held him.

But Lex's didn't feel like any of those hugs. The word embrace came to mind, something grand and all-encompassing, warm, hot, deep and meaningful. Where before Clark had felt needed, appreciated, loved. . . with Lex he felt wanted, seen, acknowledged. Equal.

With Lex's arms around him, with his body holding and surrounding him. . . Clark felt

Alive.

()()()()()()()()()()

"You doin' anything this weekend?" Adrianne asked. She brought up her arm and pointed out a table on the left. "There okay?"

Clark nodded and began carefully threading his way through the crowded cafeteria. He waited until they'd set their trays down before answering her question. "Just some party I have to go to."

She perked up a little, smiling nervously at him across the table. "Party? Like, what kind of party?"

Clark smiled. "Not the kind you're hoping for. My guardian, William, his birthday is this Saturday so he's having a party." He made a face at his tater tot casserole and began stabbing at it with his fork. "A bunch of rich old people chatting and gossiping and raising their noses, all while smiling and drinking like fish."

When he looked up, Clark saw Adrianne wearing a confused, sad expression. "What?" he asked her softly.

"Your. . . guardian?" she asked hesitantly, slowly meeting his eyes.

"Yeah," he replied. He picked up his juice and said around the bottle, "My parents are dead."

"Oh," Adrianne breathed, dropping her eyes back down to her tray. "I didn't know. I'm sorry, Clark."

He shrugged and arched an eyebrow. "No way you could've. William and Mary, his wife," he clarified. "They were my mom's parents and when. . . well, they took me in. . . after." Adrianne gave him a nod of understanding and a tentative smile, encouraging him. Clark rolled his eyes and said, "And William's this big corporate lawyer or something, so they're like super rich." He stabbed another tater tot, pretending to be distracted by the few people who'd just sat down near them.

"How long, uh, how long have you. . been with them?"

"A couple months," Clark replied.

"Oh," Adrianne said. "So when you said you were new too, you meant really new, didn't you?" She smiled at him again and Clark felt himself relax a little more.

"Yeah," he said. "Like, just-got-into-town-three-days-before-coming-here new."

She chuckled and began eating her corn. "So these rich people parties, are they like, boring or just. . . tedious."

"Um, both?" Clark mused. "Seriously, everyone there is like one step away from being the cliched rich person. I keep waiting for one of those women to bring in a little dog or something, you know?" And Adrianne giggled. "Fluffy. . . or Sir Minces, some crap like that."

She was laughing now, and Clark grinned. "Oh, you're killing me here!" Adrianne exclaimed, setting her fork down and putting a hand to her forehead. "They can't be that bad, can they?"

He shook his head and sighed. "Naw, it's just. . . " He hesitated, looking for the right words. "They're all so into themselves, you know? And everything is just for show. All the dresses and tuxes and jewelry and stuff, it's all just so they can look better than the next person." Clark paused, watching Adrianne's face as he said the next part. "And they talk bad about each other, like, all this horrible, horrible, just mean stuff, and then. . . two minutes later they'll be gossiping with someone they just dissed. All behind their hands, like that makes it okay." He sighed and picked up his juice, finishing it off in a couple swallows. Adrianne had somehow managed to polish off everything on her tray, including the weird tater tot casserole. Looking down, Clark saw his tray was still full and tried to sort of hide it by crossing his arms over top of it.

Adrianne smiled ruefully, tilting her head to the side and meeting his eyes. "Hate to break it to ya, Clark, but a lot of people are like that, not just the rich. Take church-goers for example. I mean, sure, you get some really nice, truly thoughtful people once in awhile. . . people that actually are Christians, but a lot of them?" She shook her head, lines on her forehead appearing as she frowned. "They're just there because it's expected. It's 'the thing to do,' and all their enjoyment comes from cutting people down and making fun of them. Or just gossiping like crazy."

"I guess," Clark hedged.

"Your parents were good people, weren't they?"

He looked up quickly, assessing the look in her eyes before answering. "Yeah. Yeah, they were great people."

Adrianne nodded. "And they taught you to be like that, too, I can tell." Clark smiled a little, caught off guard as to how to respond to the seeming compliment. But she just continued, saying, "But a lot of people don't care about that stuff, I've found. And then their kids learn that it's alright not to care either, and that's how we get cheerleaders and jocks."

Clark laughed loudly and Adrianne joined him after a moment.

"All that build-up," he said, still chuckling. "Just to get in one against the popular kids."

She winked at him, grinning. "I never said I was a good person."

Clark looked at her seriously for a moment. "Oh, I think you are, Adrianne," he argued, and watched as she blushed at the compliment.

()()()()()()()()()()

Well, Clark had to hand it to the man. William sure knew how to make his 'friends' happy. The party'd been going strong for over three hours and no one seemed to be angry or bitter yet. Lots of laughing, smiling people, and Clark wondered for how long he could disappear before anyone missed him.

Before William noticed he was gone. Or Mary. He wouldn't put it past her to go and tell her husband on him if he snuck off.

Clark was leaning back against the wall in a corner of the big room. William didn't have any ginger ale on the menu -- and Clark had smiled when the waiter told him that -- so he'd stuck with punch. . . even if it were too sweet.

He scanned the room again, spotting William over by the fireplace and Mary further towards the dining room. But as he turned his head back, Clark's breath caught in his throat as he glimpsed a pale, bald head in amongst the crowd of people. He pushed away from the wall, stretching up to see over heads and hair piled up high. Back and forth, back and forth he looked but couldn't find him. It was probably just your imagination, Kent, he told himself. You're so bored, you're daydreaming.

He looked around once more, gearing up to make a break for it, when--

"Who are we looking for?" asked a deep voice to his left.

Clark startled and jerked, causing a little of the blood red punch to spill on his hands. He turned his head and smiled, relieved.

"Not to worry," he said. "I've found him."

Lex nodded and smirked, and Clark settled back against the wall once more. He nodded his head towards the glass in Lex's hand, and asked, "Whatcha drinkin'?"

Lex held it up, pretending to have just realized it was there. Clark chuckled at the shocked expression on Lex's face, and took a sip of his punch. "Oh, this?" Lex asked. "Bourbon, I hope. Though the bartender was rather busy when I placed my request. Perhaps I was given the lady's schnapps by mistake." Clark snorted and raised a hand to cover his laughter. Lex made a face as he took a sip of the alcohol, his nose wrinkling up and his eyes narrowing in contemplation. "I thought it tasted funny," he finally said after awhile, and Clark gave up on being discreet.

He laughed out loud, causing some ladies nearby to turn and look at him. Well, he thought, meeting their cold eyes head on, at least they can see me now. Looking back at Lex, he saw the other man had also taken in the women, as he was still staring at them. Lex gazed steadily at those women until they huffed and pointedly turned their heads away. And then Clark saw Lex smile wickedly before turning to meet Clark's amused eyes.

"You want to go for a little walk?" he asked Clark quietly. And Clark nodded gratefully.

"Yeah," he said, searching out William across the room. Still talking with the mayor, and not looking to be done any time soon. "Yeah, Lex, let's get out of here." And Lex's smile was just as welcomed, and infintely warmer than his last one.

()()()()()()()()()()

"So how'd you get the invitation?" Clark asked. He scuffed his feet in the grass, enjoying the soft, yet prickly, feel of it in between his toes. Lex had suggested the park down the street, and when they'd arrived, he'd bent over right away and started untying his shoes. "No one here but us, looks like," he'd said. "Care to join me for a late night stroll, Kent?" And he'd had that warm, open look on his face.

"Well," Lex said. "Your grandfather often does work for Luthorcorp -- business mergers and the like. And he always sends out invites to the CEO." Lex gave Clark a small smirk after saying that, and Clark wondered how often he felt he had to make excuses for Lionel. "But my father is out of the country at the moment, so who better to accept William Clark's invitation than the. . . VP?"

"Whoa! You got it?" Clark stopped Lex with a hand on his arm. "Congratulations, Lex!" he exclaimed, grabbing the man up and hugging him.

Lex was sort of stiff in his arms and Clark slowly realized what was happening.

They were alone in the park, with their shoes off. They were skipping out on a party and talking in low tones.

Clark turned his head slightly and made eye contact again. Under the stars, he could still see just how pale Lex's eyes were. . . and how blue here, in this dim light.

"Lex?" he whispered, and slowly those eyes lit up.

"How was today?" Lex asked in a low voice. Clark's arms were still around him, and he felt it when Lex started to hug him back. His arms slid around Clark's waist and tightened, pulling him closer and closer until there was barely any space between them.

"Okay," Clark answered. Then, breathing in for courage, he said, "Better now that you're here."

Lex smiled. "It runs both ways, you know," he whispered. "This, this here. . . with you. . . this is the best part of my day, Clark."

"I know," he replied, because he did.

And then Clark leaned down and closed the final gap between them.