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tallihensiaTitle: Desert Mystery
Fandom: Smallville / Pairing: CLex (Clark/Lex)
Word Count: 9,212 / Rating: R
Challenge: CLFF Wave 35: Alternate Professions Challenge (choices at end)
Summary: Clark rescues a stranger in Egypt, which is no big deal, happens all the time... except this time Clark can't stop thinking about him. When Clark rescues the stranger a second time, sparks fly.
Type: AU, drama, adventure, romance
Warnings: none
Spoilers: general first season
Disclaimer: Only mine in my dreams. ;-) This story was written for free entertainment purposes only and may not be reproduced for profit or altered without permission.
Notes: AU from the start. Notes in story so people will be sure to read them. CLFF 35, Alternate Professions. Please also read the other CLFF 35 fics ^^ (LJs: Bev's and Twins'.)
AU Note: In this universe, while the Kents found Clark after the meteorite strike, they never found the spaceship. They adopted him thinking he was the orphaned child of somebody the meteors had killed, and his abilities were "normal" meteor mutations. Lex was in Smallville that day, but the Kents didn't see or help him and his father, and Lex never came back. Lionel never bought the fertilizer plant and never built a castle in Smallville.
Warmth, soaking up from above, radiating from the stones below. Sunlight fresh upon his skin, direct and intense.
Clark lay without moving, his whole self absorbed in the sun.
"Hey, sleepyhead! You're going to get burnt if you lay up there much longer!" Erin's voice floated up to distract him from the sun.
General laughter came from the rest of the group below. They were well used to Clark's odd ways.
"We're off to the city for supplies – want anything?" Mark, the expedition leader, asked more seriously.
Clark finally righted himself and peered over the edge of the ancient stone archway. "Fruit Loops?" he asked hopefully.
More laughter. "And Oreos! We wouldn't forget your life's blood, don't worry. But is there anything else?"
Clark started to shake his head, then paused. "Could you pick me up another pair of gloves? Mine are wearing through." He'd forgotten to take them off the other day when he super-speeded through some digging and as a result accidentally tore them into bits.
"You're tough on your clothes, Kent. At least it's not the expedition's equipment!"
After a few more volleys, the others departed, leaving Clark and Raul to watch the camp. Well, leaving Raul to watch the camp and Clark just because Clark didn't go into towns often.
Leaving his cozy sunning spot up top of the archway, Clark hopped down. "Raul, I'm going to go put some more time in on my dig."
The other man snorted, "You turn down a chance to go into town just to work some more. You're insane, Clark." He grinned, though, to show it was an insanity they all shared.
With a wave, Clark headed off. The sun was at full height, and though the pyramid rose high above him, no shadows were cast by it anywhere. None of the rest of the archaeological team would work during these hours; even inside the tents it was oppressively hot. Napping or heading off to town was the only way to escape it. Clark, however, loved it.
He loved the full sun beating down upon him with radiant energy, feeding him with sustenance and nourishment more than any food or drink. If Clark hadn't already been fairly sure he wasn't entirely human, working out in the Egyptian desert would have proven it to him.
Meteorite mutations there were aplenty in Smallville. None, however, had Clark's range of powers, nor his weakness to the rocks. And there were other odd little things over the years. After the meteor shower, Wilkens had shown off the spaceship he'd found for a few years before the government had come in and taken it away. They were all aware, though, that something besides just rocks had come down from the sky. And then those caves... Again, after the town had gone through its period of tourism and exploitation, the government had come and kicked everybody out, sealing it with their own studies.
Clark had been fascinated by the caves, by the stories that Kyla and her grandfather had told him, by the drawings and the need to figure out what they were. Even with the caves sealed off to him, that need had never really left and it expanded to all the other mysteries of history, not just his own. When they went to college, Clark deserted Chloe and journalism for the mysteries of anthropology and archeology.
Working his dig quickly but carefully, Clark uncovered another six inches over the top layer – something that would normally be a full day's work. But Clark could see through the ground with his x-ray vision and knew when he could dig at top speed and when he had to slow down for more delicate work. He always had his digs to one side of everybody else's, preferring to work alone. His bosses always allowed it, preferring his results and never minding the eccentricities. Everybody had them; within anthropology, archeology wasn't a field that attracted typically sane people or people-persons. The community-oriented usually went into cultural anthropology and the loners into archaeology. The field boss came by periodically to check that Clark hadn't collapsed of heat exhaustion and otherwise left him alone during the day.
Which was perfect for Clark's other job, the one he wasn't paid for. As Clark worked, he kept an ear out, listening across the desert, the sand brushing against sand, the scurry of the few desert creatures that lived there, out across to Luxor.
The town was noisy, busy, life bursting at the seams. The opposite of the desert. And it had its fair share of people; people going about their daily lives, people laughing, people crying, and people firing guns.
A few seconds later, Clark was knocking the gun out of one man's hand and throwing another up against a wall. They stared at him for a moment, then ran off. The man they were shooting at had escaped the first volley of bullets by diving into a roll from which he was just getting up. There was nobody else around in this private garden grotto, full of sculptured paths, desert plants, and mosaiced walls. A rich person's niche.
"Are you okay?" Clark approached the man, giving a cautious tug to the half-mask across his face to make sure it was on securely.
As he stood up, the man looked into Clark's eyes through the notches on the mask and Clark froze, his breath catching.
Caucasian pale, with enough of a touch of a tan to show that he got outdoors sometimes. Almost as tall as Clark, yet slimmer, all lean muscle and compact grace. Body framed by a black turtleneck and slacks that were just wrong for this hot weather yet looked so good on him. No hair; baldness accentuating the elegance of his face. Straight nose with just the tinniest hint of an upturn at the round end. His lips were pale as well, not ruby red yet attracting Clark's gaze. There was a slight scar on the upper lip, right in the middle. His eyebrows were light brown, framing the eyes without being too dramatic. And his eyes... they were the blue that shaded into grey, stormy grey or steel grey, with a darker rim around the edges, black pupils standing out in the middle with a clear sharp gaze.
Clark was so fucked. He knew it. It had happened to him before. Kyla, Alicia... he had fallen for them so hard and so fast, it had only taken one look and he was gone. This was similar; in the way that a creek was similar to a river, sweeping him away.
"Don't die!" Clark blurted out, his memories of Kyla and Alicia strong. He didn't want anything to happen to this man; he wanted to hold him and protect him and keep him safe forever.
The corners of that beautiful mouth turned upward as he smiled. "I won't. Especially now. Thank you for saving my life."
"I..." Clark stepped forward, involuntarily, drawn to this man.
The other man also moved in, his breath catching as he returned Clark's intense gaze, the black pupils starting to expand, taking over his eyes.
An explosive bang made Clark jump and turn, looking for the source. One of the two men, back again, a smoking gun in his hand.
Time slowed to a crawl for Clark. He put himself in front of the man he loved and looked for the bullet. He found it when it hit him in the chest, smashing through his clothes and crumpling on his skin. Another bullet was speeding towards him as well. Clark ignored that one and focused his gaze on the gun. Heat poured through him and he concentrated it back out, staring intently until the metal melted. The second bullet hit him, with the same effect as the first.
With a yell of pain, the gunman tried to open his hand, but the lead had brunt onto his skin. He ran away screaming.
Clark watched him go, a slight pang of remorse for it, but he shoved it down. Maybe that guy wouldn't shoot at people in the future now.
"Oh God, we have to get you to a hos..." the hands tearing apart Clark's shirt stilled on his chest, then traced over his skin, wonderingly.
"It's okay," Clark said, his voice rough. The smooth hands felt good on his chest. Very, very good. He cleared his throat. "I'm okay."
"You are." Smoky eyes looked into his and got closer and closer until they were kissing.
Heat. Similar to that which Clark had melted the gun with, yet different. This heat was melting him, burning him up from the inside out. A tongue in his mouth, lips on his, bodies pressed together and, oh, the other was as interested as Clark was from the feel of it.
Hands slipped downwards and did interesting things. Clark pulled his mouth away from the other man's and gasped, trying not to cry out loud.
A wicked grin and the other was falling to his knees, fingers on Clark's zipper. "Let me thank you for saving my life."
Clark didn't even know his name. He backed away, wrenching himself out of the other's grasp, a pain that had nothing to do with physical hurt shooting through him. "No," he gasped.
"What's wrong?"
"You don't know me."
"You saved my life," the man repeated, still on his knees. "You can have any reward you want for that." His eyes were smoky, his voice dark, "And I know you want this one."
Strangely, Clark was getting more control over himself with the conversation. Yes, he wanted it, but, "I only did what anybody else would."
The man snorted in disbelief.
Clark frowned. "I won't take a reward for doing the right thing. I'm sorry I... gave any other impression." He winced slightly. Clark still wanted him. Lips so rich on his, mouth tasting hotter than the desert sun.
Feet pounding the pavement behind him, shouts of concerned people. The gunmen had obviously roused the residents as they ran away. Probably the screams of the one who had the gun melted was the biggest factor. Seconds only before they got there. Clark studied the other man's face, placing it in his most precious memories' vault.
"There! Are you hurt—" There was a concerted gasp as Clark turned around, placing himself protectively in front again. "Black Mask..."
Clark scanned the new arrivals quickly, checking to make sure they were really there to help, not to hurt. He stepped backwards to place himself at the bald man's side and glanced a question.
The man got up from the ground, running a hand down his shirt, smoothing it down. "Thanks to this man," he gave Clark a grin, "I'm alive. Adelf, can you—"
That was enough; these people were known to him and weren't his enemies. Clark sped off, disappearing from their sight. Though he stopped on the other side of the wall and listened in, just to make sure.
"Wait! Don't..." The smooth voice trailed off, frustrated. "Darn it, he's gone. Adelf, you called him 'Black Mask'?"
"Are you hurt at all? I'm so sorry that this would happen! I promise I will find the security breech and —"
"It's okay. I'm okay." Curiosity in his voice. "I'm more interested in my rescuer at the moment, though I suppose I'll have to call Dad and find out who he's annoyed this time. Not that it matters. But now – who is this Black Mask?"
"If you're sure you're not hurt… Yes. He's one of those 'superheroes', though not one of the showier ones. Quiet, that one. He rescues people, then disappears like he did just now. Black Mask has been in Europe for several years, moving between the countries. Luxor has been his base for months now, though they still see him in Caere and Meteora."
Clark grimaced. He hadn't realized his pattern was that obvious; he'd thought he was going far enough afield with his rescues that it wouldn't be obvious where his base was, and by revisiting his old territories periodically, he could throw off the scent as to where he really was. He also had hoped that by not being 'flashy', they wouldn't care as much about him. Guess that wasn't working as well as he'd hoped. Time for a new plan.
"I see..." The man he'd rescued sounded thoughtful.
Eavesdropping was a sin. One of the biggest ones Clark constantly fought against, and lost often, but that didn't mean it still wasn't wrong. With a sigh, Clark looked through the wall one more time, and then he sped away.
In the next few hours, he rescued three people from muggings, caught one woman falling out of a window, broke up four fights, found a missing wedding ring for a grateful lady, and rescued a cat out of a tree. In all that time, he found within himself no inclination to kiss any of the victims, men or women (though he did admit to petting the cat), nor had he forgotten about the one he had.
Clark flew back to the dig, needing the retreat. He'd had his share of humanity for the day and had come away shaken in ways he didn't understand. Or understood and didn't really want to. He wasn't ready for love, not one he could never acknowledge or see again. Clark had met him as Black Mask, and Black Mask couldn't ever have a romance or even be a real person. It was a persona designed to save lives and leave. Clark was who Clark wanted to be, to live his real life. And yet Clark didn't know this man, had never met him, would probably never meet him. He would have to let the stranger go. Forget about him. Just one more rescue, not something special. Because this stranger couldn't be anything special to Clark Kent, archeologist. Not without Black Mask mixing in, and that, Clark couldn't let happen.
Desperately, Clark needed his other side. The quiet one that retreated into older mysteries and where love was something you dug out of a tomb and speculated about.
The others were back from their run into town, yet nobody seemed to have missed him, not surprisingly. Clark worked at his plot, this time deliberately angling towards the thing he'd been seeking. If he couldn't have the mysterious man of today, then he would have this instead. When he got close, he slowed, shifting sand and dirt out at a human speed and slowing down even more when he got to the stone tablet he'd been working towards.
Using a soft brush, he swept off the last of the dirt, uncovering the etchings with a patience that would have confounded most people. Of course, he'd already seen part of what was on the tablet with his x-ray vision, but he'd been unable to see it all, buried at the angle it had been. Even now, Clark had only exposed about three inches off the top and would have to dig deeper to get it all out. He wanted to see, though. There was nothing like seeing it personally.
Brushing over the words, careful not to touch it with his own fingers, Clark looked reverently down at the thousands-year-old table that wasn't from Earth.
It wasn't a language he knew, though he'd seen examples of it before. Going through museums, he could find a few here and there, pieces of this other civilization in the midst of Egypt. Not enough pieces, though, to pick out a whole. Had it been one spaceship, crashed on Earth, the travelers doomed to spend the rest of their lives with the primitive inhabitants? Had it been a series of vacationers, getting a thrill, seeing what it was like to live without luxuries? Or perhaps even the equivalent of cultural anthropologists or sociologists, checking Earth and Earth's inhabitants out?
Clark had taken plenty of pictures and drawings of the Smallville caves before they'd been sealed, and that writing had stirred something in his blood, something that called to him and claimed him. Something that said, 'this is who you are'. This was different. These parts of alien writing were not his own, they had no connection to him other than him being the one to discover them. Clark felt that as strongly as he'd felt the connection to the caves. And yet, it made no difference to him while he was seeking it out. It was still a mystery, still something to explore, to figure out, to speculate on. And still, it was something he could never tell anybody else.
With a wistful sigh, Clark let the brush drop to the sand. He would pull this tablet out, catalog it, record it, see it some day in a museum; and all anybody would think of it would be "unknown writing". They would assume it was another culture within Egypt, not one from the stars. Clark couldn't himself properly explain why he thought they weren't human, though he knew they were.
The visitors had been careful not to stray far from the product of the times. They worked in clay, in porcelain, with plant-based inks and carving tools. They left no mysterious metals or equipment that couldn't have been produced of the times. Clark wondered if it had been a rule, something enforced by another. Though if that was so, why weren't they watching over Earth now? Did they leave once Earth made telescopes and science starting getting to the point where they could be discovered? Or did something happen to them?
So many questions. It was why Clark was out here every day in the heat and the sand, digging through days of boring drudgery and dullness. For this one glimpse of when something could come out, something old, something new. Something lost and found. Something that might answer one question and might awaken many more.
As the hours passed by, with that seventh-sense that archeologists seemed to have, the others left their digs and came to his, passing him water and new tools, bringing out the sand as he carefully cleared more room, silently encouraging and joining with him in this wonder, yet letting it be his.
When the tablet was completely uncovered, there was a hush around them, profound and loud, the sound of breaths being held and thoughts that cheered internally but didn't let a sound out.
Mark, the dig supervisor, handed down a camera. "Good work, Clark," he said gruffly.
That broke the silence and a swell of congratulations and murmurs of speculation ran through their small group. It was familiar and heart-felt. Clark basked in it and let himself be drawn out of the pit into a more physical back-slapping and yells, a contrast to the earlier restraint. There would be alcohol at dinner tonight to celebrate his find. And then the next day, the tablet would be in Erin's hands to finish the cataloging and preliminary write-ups and all the rest of them would be back in their digs, waiting for the next discovery. But that would be tomorrow. For tonight, they celebrated.
...
The next few days went smoothly. Clark worked on his dig, finding nothing more, but giving him a lot of time to daydream about smooth skin and hot kisses. The hot desert air was nothing compared to the memory of that kiss.
Rescuees also received the side of his distraction. Clark rescued people and evaluated every one of them, looking at them and wondering. Like that day, though, none of the other people grabbed him. Well, a lot of them grabbed him, especially as they were being rescued from falling or when he'd pull them out of the way of run-a-way cars. When he put them down, though, there was no spark of attraction, no smoky-grey eyes to get lost in. This was both reassuring and not as he confirmed his crush was on one person only. Someone he could never have.
On the fourth day, Clark heard a grunt.
There wasn't anything special about grunts in particular. People grunted for a lot of reasons; they grunted in pain, in pleasure, in surprise, in displeasure... This particular grunt, though, was pain. Somebody had been hit, probably in the stomach, and it came out with a sound of hurt.
Clark was out of his tent and flying towards the city in an instant. He flew though the night sky, his attention on that one sound, that one location. Other sounds were coming to him, fists hitting skin, low voiced curses, deep breathing, feet moving on gravel on a street, slams of bodies against walls.
Four against one was not really a fair fight. However, the one was holding his own, mostly. Bald head, pale skin, glittering teeth as he dodged one fist and swung another over his hip, swiveling to meet the next attack with barely a pause.
Two of them came in at the same time from slightly different sides. Clark took out both of them, slamming them up against the walls and knocking them unconscious. He started for the third guy and then paused.
The handsome stranger seemed to be doing more than well enough now that the odds were reduced to two on one. Clark leaned against the alley wall and watched.
Those lean muscles that Clark had noticed the last time were now put to use. The bald man used a combination of martial arts and boxing and sheer survival in his fighting. He was beautiful. Dressed this time in clothes more fitting to the desert, loose and flowing around him while not getting in his way. Beige and white were his colors, slightly dirty from the fight. Sweat ran down his skin, over bruises and red scraped patches that Clark frowned at. That skin shouldn't ever be marred.
A boxing punch to the jaw took down one and then all of his attention was focused on the last guy. The wild grin showed that he had complete confidence that he would also take out this person too. The worried look in the last guy's eyes showed that he thought so as well.
At a pause in the trading of blows, the last guy turned and ran.
Clark stretched out a hand and snagged him as he went by. "Did you want this one?"
"Not really." Another grin, and those eyes were fixed on him and not on anything else. Intense, brilliant, focused.
Clark straightened up under that look, involuntarily checking to see if all his clothes were in place. He opened his hand and the guy ran. Clark and the stranger didn't watch him, but kept their attention completely on each other.
"We meet again..."
The voice was the same, low and sultry, dragging on the edges of Clark's nerves and sending a shiver through him. He involuntarily stepped forward, pulled towards that voice, those eyes. "Are you okay?"
The grin widened and the stranger also stepped closer. "I'm fine. Thank you for saving me, again."
"You were doing pretty well by yourself."
"And I thank you for that as well."
Clark blinked, confused.
"You let me," the man said, now only a foot away and inside Clark's comfort zone like he belonged there. "You evened up the odds, but then let me fight the battle. You didn't think I was helpless."
Clark tried to keep himself from swaying forward. He inhaled the smell of sweat and musk. "Not helpless," he breathed.
The other leaned in, pressing his lips against Clark's.
It was almost the opposite of the last time, which was all heat and explosion. This was instead sweet and savory. A coming together with promise instead of a first meeting. They were sure this time that they belonged together.
As they parted, Clark felt his bottom lip being nibbled upon and it was just that extra touch that made it all the more real. "I don't even know your name," he whispered.
That smile was all of Clark's dreams.
"Lex. I'm Lex. And you are...?"
"Lex," Clark repeated, rolling his tongue over it, memorizing it, savoring it.
"No, that's my name," Lex laughed, his hand drifting over Clark's hair, tracing the ties of the mask.
"You already know mine." Clark almost wanted him to take the mask off. Almost. He stepped back out of reach.
Dropping his hand, Lex snorted, "'Black Mask' is not a name, it's—"
People came dashing into alley, coming to see the aftermath of the fight.
Clark stiffened and looked a farewell at Lex.
"Oh no you don't..." Lex breathed and grabbed Clark's arm. "If you're going to pull another disappearance, you're taking me with you."
Clark glanced at the thugs that were starting to regain consciousness. "You don't need to..." Clark wasn't sure what the stranger would do – testify against them? Hold them accountable? Something lawful like that.
"No. Let's go." Peremptory.
The order went straight to Clark's bones, doing something funny inside. He shivered and picked up Lex and ran. It was just a simple grab and run, not a carry where he could hold Lex and feel like he was taking him to a bed as easily as the next street over. Yet Clark still got to have him pressed against his own body, lean strength along his side, the smell of Lex deep in his senses.
He stopped in a suburban area that was quiet and empty at this time of night. It was with the greatest reluctance that he opened his fingers. Slowly, he took his hands off Lex.
"I was hoping we'd arrive in a bedroom," Lex said, looking briefly around before returning his attention to Clark.
"I told you, that's not—"
"Oh, it wouldn't be a reward," Lex ran his hand over Clark's chest, playing with his shirt buttons. "It would be because I want to, and so do you."
"Jump into bed with strangers often?" Clark remarked dryly, less of a question than a thinly veiled jealous accusation.
"You saved my life, you're not a stranger." Lex avoided the question, his hands roving.
Clark's hands were on Lex's waist and apparently not planning to move from there any time soon. "About that... does this happen to you a lot?"
Lex shrugged, his face going a little remote and his hands stilling. "Often enough. My dad has enemies and they don't always remember, or care, that we're estranged."
"You need a bodyguard." Clark couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to Lex.
It was like turning a switch. The remoteness became complete and Lex was suddenly somebody Clark couldn't touch. Lex stepped away, his gaze flicking to the quiet suburban houses around them. "I had bodyguards. Four of them ended up in hospitals. The last one ended up dead."
When Lex finally turned back, there was a fire in his eyes. "Nobody's life is worth my own. Nobody will ever die for me again."
Clark had to catch his breath. Lex was beautiful. Completely beautiful inside and out. Love came as it would, knowing nothing about the person. This settled the love inside him and made it grow. "I won't die."
That gorgeous smile returned and it was just for Clark. "Want to be my bodyguard?"
For one long moment, Clark was tempted, very tempted. He swallowed. "I have a job."
"Rescuing people. I won't mind if you moonlighted." Lex's voice turned to a growl, "As long as you don't sleep with any of them."
Clark gulped, wanting that possessiveness in ways he couldn't express. "You're the only one."
Lex's eyebrows went straight up, stark against his bare skin, standing out with no hair to distract.
"I meant... I'm not a virgin." Clark blushed to the roots of his hair.
"Glad to hear it," Lex purred, stepping forward again.
Clark hadn't been this disconcerted since he was fifteen. What this man did to him... "You don't know me," he repeated from earlier.
"Black Mask. Gets his name from the characteristic mask he always wears. Clothes tend to be a mixture of routine American or European – jeans or slacks with buttoned-shirts, usually plain, often light-colored. Works in Europe quietly, rescues people from beatings, muggings, accidents. Has been seen at fires and disasters yet avoids most press. Works well with other heroes. Current base is Luxor, however—"
Initially fascinated, as Lex went on, Clark's horror grew.
Lex stopped. "What's wrong?" he asked in a quiet voice. "I thought..."
"You can't do that." Clark's voice trembled.
"I want to know who you are."
"I know, but... Lex, there's a reason we wear masks, there's a reason we have secret identities. I can't be hurt easily, but my family can. My mom, my best friend, the people I work with... I rescued you, and you're grateful – you won't hurt me with the information. But the people I rescued you from? They would be happy to have me out of the way, and don't care who they would hurt along the way. You're not the only one I've met with enemies... and some of those enemies have become mine. I don't want them to become my family's enemies. I don't want you to bring yourself to their attention. If you keep investigating, you will."
Lex was silent for a while after Clark finished. "My curiosity has always been my biggest problem," he finally said, ruefully. "I'm sorry, I didn't think that through."
"I like curiosity," Clark had to reassure Lex. After all, he had plenty of his own.
"Just not directed at yourself."
"If I didn't have to worry about others... I'd like yours." It showed a return of the obsession, after all. That it wasn't just Clark who had fallen on first glance.
Lex's smile re-emerged. "I guess I'll just have to redirect my obsession in other ways."
They were even using the same terms. Clark returned the smile, happy that Lex understood.
"Lex, I—" Clark's head whipped around as he heard his name called. Not his superhero name but his regular one. He focused his hearing, trying to figure out. Oh. Damn it.
"What's wrong?"
"They've missed me," Clark said unhappily. Normally, once everybody had retreated for the night, they left each other alone until the morning. But Erin had been working still on the tablet and had gone to Clark's tent to consult him on something and, well, apparently now they were worried. There were dangers in the desert. "I've got to go." He glanced around the quiet neighborhood. "Can you get home okay from here?"
"Home is a hotel," Lex said with a wry grin. "I'll be fine."
"I don't want to have to come back and rescue you again," Clark said with an attempt at a joke, though it fell a little flat.
"And I want to see you again. Don't make me get in trouble to do it." Lex kissed him lightly, drawing it out, fingers on Clark's cheek, on the mask over the upper half of his face.
Clark made a noise, wanting to stay, wanting to explore further inside Lex's mouth, wanting...
Lex was the one to pull away. His lips were red, his face flushed, his eyes dark. "Say I'll see you again, please."
"I will," Clark promised. He didn't know how he was going to do it, but he knew he would. His fists clenched as he tried to remind himself to leave.
"Wait. Here." Lex fumbled with his clothes and then from an inside pocket brought out a small envelope, the type tickets were kept in.
Clark looked at it a little dubiously.
"Take it," Lex said impatiently. "And don't tell me you can't accept them. You can do what you want – use the tickets yourself, give them away, sell them... but I want you to have them. I give these to all my friends, and... please."
If he couldn't have a blow job as a reward, tickets were probably innocent enough. It was, however, the 'please' that got to him. Clark took the envelope, his gaze not leaving Lex. His hearing was still concentrated back at camp. "I do have to go," he said, making no move to.
Lex's lips twitched. "So you said. Until the next time, Black Mask." He turned and started walking down the street, taking the decision out of Clark's hands.
Which was just as well. Clark watched him a minute more, admiring the liquid grace, the easy movements, the casual swing of the hips. Then he shook himself and flew back to camp.
...
He came around the corner of a pyramid, straightening his clothes, stopping when he saw all the activity. "Uh, what's up, guys?"
"Clark!" Maya almost dashed into his arms and the others gathered around. "We were worried about you."
"Uh?" Clark felt guilty, he really did.
"We couldn't find you," Sebastian explained. "Where were you?"
Clark blushed involuntarily. "Looking at the stars." He offered somewhat lamely. "I was on the capstone." The capstone was on the other side of the pyramid and a bit of a hike out – and Clark really did sometimes watch the stars from there. "Is there anything wrong?"
"No; just a bit of panic when Erin couldn't find you." Mark rolled his eyes. "We should have known better, with your tendency to wander off. But Clark, I'm responsible for the safety of this expedition. We can't afford any problems."
They couldn't. The dig was a smaller one, funded with the bare scrapings off another more important one. The twelve of them out there were all willing to work for almost no pay, just to be out here. An accident to any of them would shut this down completely.
"I'm sorry, Mark," Clark said contritely. "I'll be more careful."
The group broke up and headed back to their own tents, happy that Clark was safe. Clark reached out to Maya before she left. "Maya, do you know about Lex Luthor?" He'd peeked at the tickets, and all they had on it for information was 'Lex Luthor: A Night in the Desert". It didn't tell Clark anything about what they were all about. He could just google it, but asking Maya was probably quicker.
"Oh!" The dusky historian perked up. "He's incredible! I've got all of his CDs."
CDs? Clark had a problem picturing Lex as a singer. "I guess he's got a performance here this weekend?" That was when the tickets were for.
Maya wilted again. "I know. We found out last week. If only I'd known ahead of time! I would have gotten tickets. Now they can't be had for sex or money; completely sold out and the scalper's prices are too rich for me. I so wanted to go. It would have been incredible to hear one of his concerts in person. Though I don't know how he'd set it up, with all the synthesizers, but I hear it's incredible. And right here! In the Egyptian desert! It would be the most awesome experience..."
The six tickets were burning a hole in Clark's pants. He swallowed. "Do you have... would you mind if I borrowed one of your CDs?"
"You've got the bug too? I didn't know you were interested in music." Maya beckoned him to follow her and they went to her tent. "He's the most incredible sexy man..." she sighed.
"He is," Clark responded wistfully, his mind on the slim body, a joyful smile, the taste of those lips.
Maya almost tripped over her rug as she glanced at him. "Oh, it's not the music..." She laughed. "What, did you see one of his posters in town? He's definitely gorgeous, I'll give him that. And he knows how to work that to his advantage while touring." Sitting down at her computer, she pulled up a music program and rummaged through it.
"I don't actually have the CDs with me, but I have most of them downloaded. Let me burn you a copy of some of the ones I like best. His early stuff reminds me a lot of Yanni or Arkenstone, a lot of instrumental mixed with classical themes – he initially started out as a concert pianist before he moved out on his own. However his more recent work involves other cultures and incorporating their traditions. I would really have loved to hear his take on Egyptian work. That CD isn't being released, though, until after he's done with his tour here. Only a bit longer, though - this weekend is his last concert here."
A pang went through Clark's heart at hearing that. Lex was leaving. Going... somewhere else. This would be his last chance to see him, to hear what sort of music Lex could make outside of Clark's heartstrings.
Clark stared at the album artwork that was displayed on the computer while Maya transferred the music. It was one of the earlier ones, and a younger Lex stared out at him, lounging on a grand piano with smoldering eyes and slightly parted lips. There wasn't a picture anywhere that could have said "fuck me now" better. And God, Clark wanted to. He wanted to take that Lex and spread him out on that piano and...
"Here you go." Maya held out a thumb drive.
With a gulp, Clark took it, hoping his tented pants didn't show in the lamp light. "Thanks, Maya."
"No problem," she grinned at him. "At least now I have somebody to enthuse over with it. When his new album is released, expect me in your tent!" Her expression changed, "Er, I mean..."
Clark laughed. "I'm sure we'll be talking about the same thing." His bi-sexuality was well known among the group, and they were all pretty comfortable with it; after all, the dig was more important to them than anything.
As Clark was leaving Maya's tent, Erin caught him and dragged him back to hers to talk about the tablet. While Clark loved his work and exploring the mysteries of the space travelers from back then... the thumb drive and the tickets were both now burning holes in his pocket. The memory of the picture of Lex over that piano wasn't helping either. Clark escaped as soon as he could, leaving Erin slightly baffled.
Back at his tent, Clark put the drive in his laptop with trembling fingers. Running the music program, he sat down on his cot and listened.
Flutes. Pipes. Starting low, expanding through the air. First one set, then another joined in with a slightly different note. A stringed instrument joined them. Not a violin... a cello? Clark wasn't familiar with the different instruments. He stopped trying to identify them and just let the music float over him.
Some time later, he shook himself out of the enchantment. Slightly stunned, he brought up Firefox and googled Lex Luthor. The music was still playing.
Clark had never thought much about music. He'd had the usual teenage obsession with rock bands and the songs of their age. Yet once he'd moved from high school to college, music had fallen by the wayside. He listened to the radio, but it was more background stuff.
This stuff wasn't something he'd ever listened to. Kind of like elevator music yet so much more. Clark wondered about those other artists that Maya had mentioned. He was sure he'd heard this before, coming out of Maya's tent, or at parties they'd been to. That time he'd been talked into going in for a massage. But he hadn't ever listened to it. And he'd certainly never known anybody who made the stuff. Wrote it? Composed it? What was the term they used?
It made a difference. Knowing that Lex was the one behind this. He could still taste Lex, feel him pressed up to Clark, hear his voice, see that delicious smile. And now Clark also heard soaring music in with his senses.
Lex Luthor, contemporary instrumental artist. Had released a CD a year for the last six years. Relatively unknown for the first three and then his popularity started rising and hadn't stopped yet. Started doing tours last year and they'd been mostly sell-outs. Helped, probably, by the smaller, intimate settings that Lex played in, but still.
Digging a little deeper, Clark looked for Lex's father, to figure out what Lex's remark earlier had been. It was pretty easy. Lex's dad was Lionel Luthor, corporate millionaire. That alone was probably enough to explain the threats against Lex, but as Clark kept digging, he colder he got. Lionel Luthor wasn't a very nice person. Clark actually even remembered Chloe mentioning him a few times in her reporting. It made him very worried about Lex. Bodyguards dead. Lex's life threatened twice in one week. Out of a life that Lex had left behind.
That night, Clark went to sleep with the music playing. He slept to melodic tunes that took him on a world tour. Peru, Asia, Greece, Egypt. He woke up with a memory of Lex on a mountaintop, standing tall playing on pipes while Clark knelt before him. Clark also woke up hard and aching.
"Lex." Oh Lord, Clark had it bad. He didn't remember it ever being like this before.
During the dig that day, Clark went through all his usual motions, hearing in the background beautiful music. Mid-day, the music had changed to just eight notes repeated over and over again in variations of instruments and ranges of starting notes. Clark found himself humming the little tune. Then the music stopped.
"Will I ever see you again? Okay, the cello in bass. Though I also like the flute in soprano. I want the words in there too. Male or female voice? Or both? I could make it a round and completely confuse people, just like I am." Lex's voice was a breath in Clark's ear, full of humor and self-depreciation.
Clark straightened up and banged his head against the arch. Luckily, he didn't break it. He almost didn't notice, though. He hadn't been remembering Lex's music from the night of playing it – he'd been listening to Lex himself! Somehow, he'd zoomed in on Lex and the music he'd been listening to all day was real.
He'd almost forgotten that he had a decision to make on the tickets. Still listening to Lex with half an ear, he retreated off to the side and pulled out his cell phone.
"Hey, Chloe."
"Oh oh – that's you're "I want something" voice."
Clark winced. "Well... um, hi?"
"Hi yourself. Now what do you need?" Chloe sounded cheerful but resigned.
Clark figured he might as well just barrel through it. "Your connections... do they extend to getting extra tickets at a concert?"
Chloe laughed. "Well, that's about the most mundane request you've ever approached me for. Sure, sometimes. Depends on what for."
"The concert this week by Lex Luthor - A Night in the Desert."
Chloe whistled long and low. "Oh, now how did you get caught up in that one's circle?"
"You know him?"
"I've met him a few times; his dad likes him to play at the annual parties and Lex sometimes obliges. I think they both do it just to rub it in each other's face. Lionel that his son is in a "lesser" job and Lex that his chosen path is nothing that his dad wanted for him."
"Oh, um... what's he like?"
"Suave, sophisticated, sex-on-two-feet... but somehow I don't think I have to tell you that. How did you meet him?"
Clark grimaced and told Chloe about Lex's two run-ins with Black Mask.
"Humm... Lionel must have pissed a few people off recently. Not unusual, but most folks leave Lex alone considering how much the two hate each other."
"Lex said it happens all the time."
Chloe snorted. "Lex likes to exaggerate sometimes. Though it does happen more often than 'rarely' so I guess that counts. I think I'm going to go checking into some of LuthorCorp dealings. Something shady probably went down recently. Again, nothing unusual for LuthorCorp, but..."
"Chloe, I didn't tell you so you could put yourself in danger!" That was one thing that Clark really hated about his friend. She'd only gotten worse about it since their high school days, jumping into anything that looked like a story with no regard for her own safety.
"Don't worry, I'll be careful. And I'll get you your tickets too. How many do you want?"
"Two." Maya would kill him if Clark went to the concert without her.
"Okay - I'll email you the details and you can print them out there. Enjoy!" The call went dead.
Clark looked at the cell phone and sighed. He hoped Chloe wouldn't get herself in so much trouble that he'd have to come and rescue her. At least she knew to call for him if she needed to. Sometimes, Clark worried that she might count on it, but Chloe insisted that she didn't. Well, it wasn't anything he could fix anyhow.
...
The next day, the music he'd been hearing started up again, this time with starts and stops, adjustments here, a change of pace there, an instrument change, a pitch change.
Clark was fascinated with the process, never having considered what all music went through to get to the final forms that they heard. Lex, he rather thought, was a genius. Some of the things he was hearing made no sense while Lex was working on it, but then there would be a repeat of the whole thing together and all the changes were perfect in the whole. Though it took Lex a really long time to be satisfied.
Clark was eating dinner when he heard Lex's voice.
"Do I have to be in danger to see you? I could probably arrange it, you know. Though I think you'd be a little mad at me if I did that. I would, though. To see you. I'd do a lot of things to see you again. I would even spend two days composing something that's not even on my agenda. I'm supposed to be preparing for the concert tomorrow. Instead, I was working on this. It's finished now, and I'm going to play it for you. I hope you can hear it. I hope you like it. God, I hope I'm not just talking to myself."
The music started again.
Clark swallowed quickly, stood and made some stupid feeble excuse about running to town for the night. He didn't even check to see what his companions' reactions were before he took off. As soon as he was out of range, he flew, barely remembering the mask.
Landing on the balcony of a top-level suite in an expensive hotel, Clark hovered, listening to the music within, swaying just a little.
At a pause where the music shifted from the dangerous wild beat to a more gentle, wondering tone, a voice also spoke. "The sound is better in here."
Clark went through the open doors into Lex's suite. Lex was sitting in front of a large synthesizer, playing parts of the music himself and adjusting the rest as it played. A whole orchestra in one person. Somewhat blindly, Clark found the couch and sat down.
This was their meeting. The music described their meeting in wordless song. There was the initial danger, the wonder that Lex felt upon rescue, the heat flaring between them... Then the loss as they parted, with an ending of hope for more.
Clark had no idea that music could describe all that. That it was more than melody accompanying words. He'd listened to Lex's music, but until now he hadn't realized it was another form of communication. With the music, Lex shared with Clark just what their meeting had meant to him. And what he hoped for. Words were nothing compared to what Lex had just shared.
They were both silent for a while after the composition finished. Then Lex came and sat next to Clark, running his hand along Clark's thigh like it was an instrument he was about to play.
Clark shivered. "That was beautiful."
"You're beautiful." Lex leaned in to kiss him.
It was a few minutes before they got back to speaking.
"I've never had anybody write a song for me before."
Lex quirked a little grin. "Yes, you have."
"Huh?"
Lex moved from the couch to his desk, leaving the side of Clark he'd been pressed against feeling cold and abandoned. Clark quickly followed Lex, unable to stay very far away.
"Here." On the computer, Lex pulled up a website that was dedicated to Black Mask fans and fan work about him.
"Oh God." Clark hadn't known it existed. He wondered if Chloe did. Probably. Lex was right – in addition to art and stories, there was also music and poetry. Clark blushed. He also didn't feel anything except embarrassment towards them, nothing like the wonder he felt knowing that Lex had composed something for him.
"I googled you," Clark blurted out.
Lex raised an eyebrow. "Oh, that's rich, considering the lecture I got for doing the same."
Clark rolled his eyes. "You didn't get all of that about Black Mask from search engines."
"You'd be surprised how powerful some search engines can be if you give them the right input," Lex purred, but didn't exactly deny it either. He was silent for a little bit then looked at Clark a bit more seriously. "How do you know I'm not a villain?"
"What?"
"You rescued me... but villains can have other villains after them. Just because somebody is in trouble doesn't mean they're the soul of justice. You, on the other hand, are a true hero with a pure and honest soul. What is somebody like you doing letting somebody like me near you?"
"You're not your father." Clark had the impression that Lex's speech had been a long time coming and involved more than just him.
The smoky eyes were distant. "Perhaps not. But you don't know me, and I hurt almost everybody I touch." His gaze refocused on Clark. "I didn't expect you to come. I hoped. However... I don't want you to be hurt."
Clark shifted on the couch and drew Lex in to him, nuzzling his neck and smelling the strong masculine scent. "I won't be. I don't think you're a villain, and we'll get to know each other. Sometimes, one just has to trust." Kyla had been a murderer in her attempts at defending her heritage. Alicia had been a thief. Clark really didn't have the greatest track record on loving normal people. Sometimes he wished he could have loved Lana or Chloe more than just friends, the way they had wanted him to. Yet the heart wasn't something one could dictate to, and his had settled on Lex. Only time would tell where this would go. Clark thought, though, that Lex was made of better things. At the very least, stronger. Lex would be able to survive the intensity that had had others running from Clark.
"Getting to know each other sounds good." Lex returned the embrace, sliding comfortably into Clark's space. "I liked what you did with the tickets, but does that mean you won't be at the concert tomorrow?"
It took a moment for Clark to think of what Lex meant, his attention was so focused on the man in his arms. He'd given the tickets to a homeless shelter, advising them to use two of them on their own people – something they'd otherwise never get the chance for; and the other four to be sold off to raise funds and awareness for the shelter. Clark had gotten the recommendation of that particular shelter from the people, the ones he rescued in the dark hours, the ones with nowhere to go.
"I'll be there," Clark said. He'd already printed out the tickets Chloe had sent him and Maya was so ecstatic that Mark had sent her into town, away from the dig.
"You know, I could do something with that," Lex murmured into Clark's skin. "Look up everybody who has had ticket changes in the last few days, monitor those seats, watch you come in... I could recognize you. Even without the mask, I think I would know you."
Clark was sure Lex could. Normally, the mask also had a bit of hypnotic overlay that distracted people from the details of what Clark was, but it didn't seem to work on Lex. Clark wondered if his own interest in Lex is what kept that part at bay. "Will you?" At the moment, it didn't entirely seem to matter. Not with Lex nibbling at his collarbone, with Clark's hands inching their way up under Lex's shirt on the bare skin of his back.
"No." Lex pulled back, his hands loosely splayed on Clark's chest. "I've decided I like mysteries."
Gently disengaging himself, Lex walked back to the synthesizer. He switched the controls so it was a basic piano and then he started playing. Long elegant fingers over the keyboard, blue-gray eyes on Clark, music floating through the room, wrapping around them as closely as they had been wrapped around each other.
Clark lay back in the couch and listened. Mystery. Wonder. Fascination. Approach and dance back, approach again. A mortal, peeking into a God's world. Love, wondering what was before them.
...
Maya and Clark edged into the pavilion where security checked their tickets. The concert was held out in the desert, with the shapes of the pyramids rising up behind the stage, broken walls of an ancient town all around them. Clark wondered how Lex had gotten a permit to do something like that among the ruins. It was spectacular, though. Besides the giant synthesizer on the stage, there were also other musicians that would add to the electronic ensemble. People manned lights and other effects around the stage and the seats.
They found their seats and sat. It wasn't at the very front, nor in the back, a pretty good middle view. Chloe had done good with their tickets.
After the lights dimmed, rose again, then dimmed for the final count, spotlights came up on the stage. Lex walked out like he belonged there, like everything belonged to him. Ease in his rolling gait, confidence in his baring, serenity in his gaze that masked the banked intensity.
Lex waited for the applause to die down and then he stepped to his place. His eyes swept the audience.
"I don't usually dedicate my performances, at least I never have before. Yet there is always a time for change, and love is always a good reason. Tonight's night in the desert is dedicated to Mystery. Love is mysterious, and it is something I never thought would happen. But it has, and so Mystery will be my next album, and I will live in mystery until then. And hopefully for many years to come."
Lex sat down to the murmurs that started softly and then swelled higher. They all stopped, however, at the first touch of his fingers to the keys. The spotlight dimmed, the effect lights started. And the music surrounded them, transporting them to other worlds in the desert.
END
End Note: For the Alternate Professions, I chose Anthropologist and Professional Musician. Using the subset of Archaeology for Anthropology. ^^; A little obvious at this point, but I didn't want to put it at the top for spoilers. ^^
[Poll #1523453]
Fandom: Smallville / Pairing: CLex (Clark/Lex)
Word Count: 9,212 / Rating: R
Challenge: CLFF Wave 35: Alternate Professions Challenge (choices at end)
Summary: Clark rescues a stranger in Egypt, which is no big deal, happens all the time... except this time Clark can't stop thinking about him. When Clark rescues the stranger a second time, sparks fly.
Type: AU, drama, adventure, romance
Warnings: none
Spoilers: general first season
Disclaimer: Only mine in my dreams. ;-) This story was written for free entertainment purposes only and may not be reproduced for profit or altered without permission.
Notes: AU from the start. Notes in story so people will be sure to read them. CLFF 35, Alternate Professions. Please also read the other CLFF 35 fics ^^ (LJs: Bev's and Twins'.)
Desert Mystery
AU Note: In this universe, while the Kents found Clark after the meteorite strike, they never found the spaceship. They adopted him thinking he was the orphaned child of somebody the meteors had killed, and his abilities were "normal" meteor mutations. Lex was in Smallville that day, but the Kents didn't see or help him and his father, and Lex never came back. Lionel never bought the fertilizer plant and never built a castle in Smallville.
Warmth, soaking up from above, radiating from the stones below. Sunlight fresh upon his skin, direct and intense.
Clark lay without moving, his whole self absorbed in the sun.
"Hey, sleepyhead! You're going to get burnt if you lay up there much longer!" Erin's voice floated up to distract him from the sun.
General laughter came from the rest of the group below. They were well used to Clark's odd ways.
"We're off to the city for supplies – want anything?" Mark, the expedition leader, asked more seriously.
Clark finally righted himself and peered over the edge of the ancient stone archway. "Fruit Loops?" he asked hopefully.
More laughter. "And Oreos! We wouldn't forget your life's blood, don't worry. But is there anything else?"
Clark started to shake his head, then paused. "Could you pick me up another pair of gloves? Mine are wearing through." He'd forgotten to take them off the other day when he super-speeded through some digging and as a result accidentally tore them into bits.
"You're tough on your clothes, Kent. At least it's not the expedition's equipment!"
After a few more volleys, the others departed, leaving Clark and Raul to watch the camp. Well, leaving Raul to watch the camp and Clark just because Clark didn't go into towns often.
Leaving his cozy sunning spot up top of the archway, Clark hopped down. "Raul, I'm going to go put some more time in on my dig."
The other man snorted, "You turn down a chance to go into town just to work some more. You're insane, Clark." He grinned, though, to show it was an insanity they all shared.
With a wave, Clark headed off. The sun was at full height, and though the pyramid rose high above him, no shadows were cast by it anywhere. None of the rest of the archaeological team would work during these hours; even inside the tents it was oppressively hot. Napping or heading off to town was the only way to escape it. Clark, however, loved it.
He loved the full sun beating down upon him with radiant energy, feeding him with sustenance and nourishment more than any food or drink. If Clark hadn't already been fairly sure he wasn't entirely human, working out in the Egyptian desert would have proven it to him.
Meteorite mutations there were aplenty in Smallville. None, however, had Clark's range of powers, nor his weakness to the rocks. And there were other odd little things over the years. After the meteor shower, Wilkens had shown off the spaceship he'd found for a few years before the government had come in and taken it away. They were all aware, though, that something besides just rocks had come down from the sky. And then those caves... Again, after the town had gone through its period of tourism and exploitation, the government had come and kicked everybody out, sealing it with their own studies.
Clark had been fascinated by the caves, by the stories that Kyla and her grandfather had told him, by the drawings and the need to figure out what they were. Even with the caves sealed off to him, that need had never really left and it expanded to all the other mysteries of history, not just his own. When they went to college, Clark deserted Chloe and journalism for the mysteries of anthropology and archeology.
Working his dig quickly but carefully, Clark uncovered another six inches over the top layer – something that would normally be a full day's work. But Clark could see through the ground with his x-ray vision and knew when he could dig at top speed and when he had to slow down for more delicate work. He always had his digs to one side of everybody else's, preferring to work alone. His bosses always allowed it, preferring his results and never minding the eccentricities. Everybody had them; within anthropology, archeology wasn't a field that attracted typically sane people or people-persons. The community-oriented usually went into cultural anthropology and the loners into archaeology. The field boss came by periodically to check that Clark hadn't collapsed of heat exhaustion and otherwise left him alone during the day.
Which was perfect for Clark's other job, the one he wasn't paid for. As Clark worked, he kept an ear out, listening across the desert, the sand brushing against sand, the scurry of the few desert creatures that lived there, out across to Luxor.
The town was noisy, busy, life bursting at the seams. The opposite of the desert. And it had its fair share of people; people going about their daily lives, people laughing, people crying, and people firing guns.
A few seconds later, Clark was knocking the gun out of one man's hand and throwing another up against a wall. They stared at him for a moment, then ran off. The man they were shooting at had escaped the first volley of bullets by diving into a roll from which he was just getting up. There was nobody else around in this private garden grotto, full of sculptured paths, desert plants, and mosaiced walls. A rich person's niche.
"Are you okay?" Clark approached the man, giving a cautious tug to the half-mask across his face to make sure it was on securely.
As he stood up, the man looked into Clark's eyes through the notches on the mask and Clark froze, his breath catching.
Caucasian pale, with enough of a touch of a tan to show that he got outdoors sometimes. Almost as tall as Clark, yet slimmer, all lean muscle and compact grace. Body framed by a black turtleneck and slacks that were just wrong for this hot weather yet looked so good on him. No hair; baldness accentuating the elegance of his face. Straight nose with just the tinniest hint of an upturn at the round end. His lips were pale as well, not ruby red yet attracting Clark's gaze. There was a slight scar on the upper lip, right in the middle. His eyebrows were light brown, framing the eyes without being too dramatic. And his eyes... they were the blue that shaded into grey, stormy grey or steel grey, with a darker rim around the edges, black pupils standing out in the middle with a clear sharp gaze.
Clark was so fucked. He knew it. It had happened to him before. Kyla, Alicia... he had fallen for them so hard and so fast, it had only taken one look and he was gone. This was similar; in the way that a creek was similar to a river, sweeping him away.
"Don't die!" Clark blurted out, his memories of Kyla and Alicia strong. He didn't want anything to happen to this man; he wanted to hold him and protect him and keep him safe forever.
The corners of that beautiful mouth turned upward as he smiled. "I won't. Especially now. Thank you for saving my life."
"I..." Clark stepped forward, involuntarily, drawn to this man.
The other man also moved in, his breath catching as he returned Clark's intense gaze, the black pupils starting to expand, taking over his eyes.
An explosive bang made Clark jump and turn, looking for the source. One of the two men, back again, a smoking gun in his hand.
Time slowed to a crawl for Clark. He put himself in front of the man he loved and looked for the bullet. He found it when it hit him in the chest, smashing through his clothes and crumpling on his skin. Another bullet was speeding towards him as well. Clark ignored that one and focused his gaze on the gun. Heat poured through him and he concentrated it back out, staring intently until the metal melted. The second bullet hit him, with the same effect as the first.
With a yell of pain, the gunman tried to open his hand, but the lead had brunt onto his skin. He ran away screaming.
Clark watched him go, a slight pang of remorse for it, but he shoved it down. Maybe that guy wouldn't shoot at people in the future now.
"Oh God, we have to get you to a hos..." the hands tearing apart Clark's shirt stilled on his chest, then traced over his skin, wonderingly.
"It's okay," Clark said, his voice rough. The smooth hands felt good on his chest. Very, very good. He cleared his throat. "I'm okay."
"You are." Smoky eyes looked into his and got closer and closer until they were kissing.
Heat. Similar to that which Clark had melted the gun with, yet different. This heat was melting him, burning him up from the inside out. A tongue in his mouth, lips on his, bodies pressed together and, oh, the other was as interested as Clark was from the feel of it.
Hands slipped downwards and did interesting things. Clark pulled his mouth away from the other man's and gasped, trying not to cry out loud.
A wicked grin and the other was falling to his knees, fingers on Clark's zipper. "Let me thank you for saving my life."
Clark didn't even know his name. He backed away, wrenching himself out of the other's grasp, a pain that had nothing to do with physical hurt shooting through him. "No," he gasped.
"What's wrong?"
"You don't know me."
"You saved my life," the man repeated, still on his knees. "You can have any reward you want for that." His eyes were smoky, his voice dark, "And I know you want this one."
Strangely, Clark was getting more control over himself with the conversation. Yes, he wanted it, but, "I only did what anybody else would."
The man snorted in disbelief.
Clark frowned. "I won't take a reward for doing the right thing. I'm sorry I... gave any other impression." He winced slightly. Clark still wanted him. Lips so rich on his, mouth tasting hotter than the desert sun.
Feet pounding the pavement behind him, shouts of concerned people. The gunmen had obviously roused the residents as they ran away. Probably the screams of the one who had the gun melted was the biggest factor. Seconds only before they got there. Clark studied the other man's face, placing it in his most precious memories' vault.
"There! Are you hurt—" There was a concerted gasp as Clark turned around, placing himself protectively in front again. "Black Mask..."
Clark scanned the new arrivals quickly, checking to make sure they were really there to help, not to hurt. He stepped backwards to place himself at the bald man's side and glanced a question.
The man got up from the ground, running a hand down his shirt, smoothing it down. "Thanks to this man," he gave Clark a grin, "I'm alive. Adelf, can you—"
That was enough; these people were known to him and weren't his enemies. Clark sped off, disappearing from their sight. Though he stopped on the other side of the wall and listened in, just to make sure.
"Wait! Don't..." The smooth voice trailed off, frustrated. "Darn it, he's gone. Adelf, you called him 'Black Mask'?"
"Are you hurt at all? I'm so sorry that this would happen! I promise I will find the security breech and —"
"It's okay. I'm okay." Curiosity in his voice. "I'm more interested in my rescuer at the moment, though I suppose I'll have to call Dad and find out who he's annoyed this time. Not that it matters. But now – who is this Black Mask?"
"If you're sure you're not hurt… Yes. He's one of those 'superheroes', though not one of the showier ones. Quiet, that one. He rescues people, then disappears like he did just now. Black Mask has been in Europe for several years, moving between the countries. Luxor has been his base for months now, though they still see him in Caere and Meteora."
Clark grimaced. He hadn't realized his pattern was that obvious; he'd thought he was going far enough afield with his rescues that it wouldn't be obvious where his base was, and by revisiting his old territories periodically, he could throw off the scent as to where he really was. He also had hoped that by not being 'flashy', they wouldn't care as much about him. Guess that wasn't working as well as he'd hoped. Time for a new plan.
"I see..." The man he'd rescued sounded thoughtful.
Eavesdropping was a sin. One of the biggest ones Clark constantly fought against, and lost often, but that didn't mean it still wasn't wrong. With a sigh, Clark looked through the wall one more time, and then he sped away.
In the next few hours, he rescued three people from muggings, caught one woman falling out of a window, broke up four fights, found a missing wedding ring for a grateful lady, and rescued a cat out of a tree. In all that time, he found within himself no inclination to kiss any of the victims, men or women (though he did admit to petting the cat), nor had he forgotten about the one he had.
Clark flew back to the dig, needing the retreat. He'd had his share of humanity for the day and had come away shaken in ways he didn't understand. Or understood and didn't really want to. He wasn't ready for love, not one he could never acknowledge or see again. Clark had met him as Black Mask, and Black Mask couldn't ever have a romance or even be a real person. It was a persona designed to save lives and leave. Clark was who Clark wanted to be, to live his real life. And yet Clark didn't know this man, had never met him, would probably never meet him. He would have to let the stranger go. Forget about him. Just one more rescue, not something special. Because this stranger couldn't be anything special to Clark Kent, archeologist. Not without Black Mask mixing in, and that, Clark couldn't let happen.
Desperately, Clark needed his other side. The quiet one that retreated into older mysteries and where love was something you dug out of a tomb and speculated about.
The others were back from their run into town, yet nobody seemed to have missed him, not surprisingly. Clark worked at his plot, this time deliberately angling towards the thing he'd been seeking. If he couldn't have the mysterious man of today, then he would have this instead. When he got close, he slowed, shifting sand and dirt out at a human speed and slowing down even more when he got to the stone tablet he'd been working towards.
Using a soft brush, he swept off the last of the dirt, uncovering the etchings with a patience that would have confounded most people. Of course, he'd already seen part of what was on the tablet with his x-ray vision, but he'd been unable to see it all, buried at the angle it had been. Even now, Clark had only exposed about three inches off the top and would have to dig deeper to get it all out. He wanted to see, though. There was nothing like seeing it personally.
Brushing over the words, careful not to touch it with his own fingers, Clark looked reverently down at the thousands-year-old table that wasn't from Earth.
It wasn't a language he knew, though he'd seen examples of it before. Going through museums, he could find a few here and there, pieces of this other civilization in the midst of Egypt. Not enough pieces, though, to pick out a whole. Had it been one spaceship, crashed on Earth, the travelers doomed to spend the rest of their lives with the primitive inhabitants? Had it been a series of vacationers, getting a thrill, seeing what it was like to live without luxuries? Or perhaps even the equivalent of cultural anthropologists or sociologists, checking Earth and Earth's inhabitants out?
Clark had taken plenty of pictures and drawings of the Smallville caves before they'd been sealed, and that writing had stirred something in his blood, something that called to him and claimed him. Something that said, 'this is who you are'. This was different. These parts of alien writing were not his own, they had no connection to him other than him being the one to discover them. Clark felt that as strongly as he'd felt the connection to the caves. And yet, it made no difference to him while he was seeking it out. It was still a mystery, still something to explore, to figure out, to speculate on. And still, it was something he could never tell anybody else.
With a wistful sigh, Clark let the brush drop to the sand. He would pull this tablet out, catalog it, record it, see it some day in a museum; and all anybody would think of it would be "unknown writing". They would assume it was another culture within Egypt, not one from the stars. Clark couldn't himself properly explain why he thought they weren't human, though he knew they were.
The visitors had been careful not to stray far from the product of the times. They worked in clay, in porcelain, with plant-based inks and carving tools. They left no mysterious metals or equipment that couldn't have been produced of the times. Clark wondered if it had been a rule, something enforced by another. Though if that was so, why weren't they watching over Earth now? Did they leave once Earth made telescopes and science starting getting to the point where they could be discovered? Or did something happen to them?
So many questions. It was why Clark was out here every day in the heat and the sand, digging through days of boring drudgery and dullness. For this one glimpse of when something could come out, something old, something new. Something lost and found. Something that might answer one question and might awaken many more.
As the hours passed by, with that seventh-sense that archeologists seemed to have, the others left their digs and came to his, passing him water and new tools, bringing out the sand as he carefully cleared more room, silently encouraging and joining with him in this wonder, yet letting it be his.
When the tablet was completely uncovered, there was a hush around them, profound and loud, the sound of breaths being held and thoughts that cheered internally but didn't let a sound out.
Mark, the dig supervisor, handed down a camera. "Good work, Clark," he said gruffly.
That broke the silence and a swell of congratulations and murmurs of speculation ran through their small group. It was familiar and heart-felt. Clark basked in it and let himself be drawn out of the pit into a more physical back-slapping and yells, a contrast to the earlier restraint. There would be alcohol at dinner tonight to celebrate his find. And then the next day, the tablet would be in Erin's hands to finish the cataloging and preliminary write-ups and all the rest of them would be back in their digs, waiting for the next discovery. But that would be tomorrow. For tonight, they celebrated.
...
The next few days went smoothly. Clark worked on his dig, finding nothing more, but giving him a lot of time to daydream about smooth skin and hot kisses. The hot desert air was nothing compared to the memory of that kiss.
Rescuees also received the side of his distraction. Clark rescued people and evaluated every one of them, looking at them and wondering. Like that day, though, none of the other people grabbed him. Well, a lot of them grabbed him, especially as they were being rescued from falling or when he'd pull them out of the way of run-a-way cars. When he put them down, though, there was no spark of attraction, no smoky-grey eyes to get lost in. This was both reassuring and not as he confirmed his crush was on one person only. Someone he could never have.
On the fourth day, Clark heard a grunt.
There wasn't anything special about grunts in particular. People grunted for a lot of reasons; they grunted in pain, in pleasure, in surprise, in displeasure... This particular grunt, though, was pain. Somebody had been hit, probably in the stomach, and it came out with a sound of hurt.
Clark was out of his tent and flying towards the city in an instant. He flew though the night sky, his attention on that one sound, that one location. Other sounds were coming to him, fists hitting skin, low voiced curses, deep breathing, feet moving on gravel on a street, slams of bodies against walls.
Four against one was not really a fair fight. However, the one was holding his own, mostly. Bald head, pale skin, glittering teeth as he dodged one fist and swung another over his hip, swiveling to meet the next attack with barely a pause.
Two of them came in at the same time from slightly different sides. Clark took out both of them, slamming them up against the walls and knocking them unconscious. He started for the third guy and then paused.
The handsome stranger seemed to be doing more than well enough now that the odds were reduced to two on one. Clark leaned against the alley wall and watched.
Those lean muscles that Clark had noticed the last time were now put to use. The bald man used a combination of martial arts and boxing and sheer survival in his fighting. He was beautiful. Dressed this time in clothes more fitting to the desert, loose and flowing around him while not getting in his way. Beige and white were his colors, slightly dirty from the fight. Sweat ran down his skin, over bruises and red scraped patches that Clark frowned at. That skin shouldn't ever be marred.
A boxing punch to the jaw took down one and then all of his attention was focused on the last guy. The wild grin showed that he had complete confidence that he would also take out this person too. The worried look in the last guy's eyes showed that he thought so as well.
At a pause in the trading of blows, the last guy turned and ran.
Clark stretched out a hand and snagged him as he went by. "Did you want this one?"
"Not really." Another grin, and those eyes were fixed on him and not on anything else. Intense, brilliant, focused.
Clark straightened up under that look, involuntarily checking to see if all his clothes were in place. He opened his hand and the guy ran. Clark and the stranger didn't watch him, but kept their attention completely on each other.
"We meet again..."
The voice was the same, low and sultry, dragging on the edges of Clark's nerves and sending a shiver through him. He involuntarily stepped forward, pulled towards that voice, those eyes. "Are you okay?"
The grin widened and the stranger also stepped closer. "I'm fine. Thank you for saving me, again."
"You were doing pretty well by yourself."
"And I thank you for that as well."
Clark blinked, confused.
"You let me," the man said, now only a foot away and inside Clark's comfort zone like he belonged there. "You evened up the odds, but then let me fight the battle. You didn't think I was helpless."
Clark tried to keep himself from swaying forward. He inhaled the smell of sweat and musk. "Not helpless," he breathed.
The other leaned in, pressing his lips against Clark's.
It was almost the opposite of the last time, which was all heat and explosion. This was instead sweet and savory. A coming together with promise instead of a first meeting. They were sure this time that they belonged together.
As they parted, Clark felt his bottom lip being nibbled upon and it was just that extra touch that made it all the more real. "I don't even know your name," he whispered.
That smile was all of Clark's dreams.
"Lex. I'm Lex. And you are...?"
"Lex," Clark repeated, rolling his tongue over it, memorizing it, savoring it.
"No, that's my name," Lex laughed, his hand drifting over Clark's hair, tracing the ties of the mask.
"You already know mine." Clark almost wanted him to take the mask off. Almost. He stepped back out of reach.
Dropping his hand, Lex snorted, "'Black Mask' is not a name, it's—"
People came dashing into alley, coming to see the aftermath of the fight.
Clark stiffened and looked a farewell at Lex.
"Oh no you don't..." Lex breathed and grabbed Clark's arm. "If you're going to pull another disappearance, you're taking me with you."
Clark glanced at the thugs that were starting to regain consciousness. "You don't need to..." Clark wasn't sure what the stranger would do – testify against them? Hold them accountable? Something lawful like that.
"No. Let's go." Peremptory.
The order went straight to Clark's bones, doing something funny inside. He shivered and picked up Lex and ran. It was just a simple grab and run, not a carry where he could hold Lex and feel like he was taking him to a bed as easily as the next street over. Yet Clark still got to have him pressed against his own body, lean strength along his side, the smell of Lex deep in his senses.
He stopped in a suburban area that was quiet and empty at this time of night. It was with the greatest reluctance that he opened his fingers. Slowly, he took his hands off Lex.
"I was hoping we'd arrive in a bedroom," Lex said, looking briefly around before returning his attention to Clark.
"I told you, that's not—"
"Oh, it wouldn't be a reward," Lex ran his hand over Clark's chest, playing with his shirt buttons. "It would be because I want to, and so do you."
"Jump into bed with strangers often?" Clark remarked dryly, less of a question than a thinly veiled jealous accusation.
"You saved my life, you're not a stranger." Lex avoided the question, his hands roving.
Clark's hands were on Lex's waist and apparently not planning to move from there any time soon. "About that... does this happen to you a lot?"
Lex shrugged, his face going a little remote and his hands stilling. "Often enough. My dad has enemies and they don't always remember, or care, that we're estranged."
"You need a bodyguard." Clark couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to Lex.
It was like turning a switch. The remoteness became complete and Lex was suddenly somebody Clark couldn't touch. Lex stepped away, his gaze flicking to the quiet suburban houses around them. "I had bodyguards. Four of them ended up in hospitals. The last one ended up dead."
When Lex finally turned back, there was a fire in his eyes. "Nobody's life is worth my own. Nobody will ever die for me again."
Clark had to catch his breath. Lex was beautiful. Completely beautiful inside and out. Love came as it would, knowing nothing about the person. This settled the love inside him and made it grow. "I won't die."
That gorgeous smile returned and it was just for Clark. "Want to be my bodyguard?"
For one long moment, Clark was tempted, very tempted. He swallowed. "I have a job."
"Rescuing people. I won't mind if you moonlighted." Lex's voice turned to a growl, "As long as you don't sleep with any of them."
Clark gulped, wanting that possessiveness in ways he couldn't express. "You're the only one."
Lex's eyebrows went straight up, stark against his bare skin, standing out with no hair to distract.
"I meant... I'm not a virgin." Clark blushed to the roots of his hair.
"Glad to hear it," Lex purred, stepping forward again.
Clark hadn't been this disconcerted since he was fifteen. What this man did to him... "You don't know me," he repeated from earlier.
"Black Mask. Gets his name from the characteristic mask he always wears. Clothes tend to be a mixture of routine American or European – jeans or slacks with buttoned-shirts, usually plain, often light-colored. Works in Europe quietly, rescues people from beatings, muggings, accidents. Has been seen at fires and disasters yet avoids most press. Works well with other heroes. Current base is Luxor, however—"
Initially fascinated, as Lex went on, Clark's horror grew.
Lex stopped. "What's wrong?" he asked in a quiet voice. "I thought..."
"You can't do that." Clark's voice trembled.
"I want to know who you are."
"I know, but... Lex, there's a reason we wear masks, there's a reason we have secret identities. I can't be hurt easily, but my family can. My mom, my best friend, the people I work with... I rescued you, and you're grateful – you won't hurt me with the information. But the people I rescued you from? They would be happy to have me out of the way, and don't care who they would hurt along the way. You're not the only one I've met with enemies... and some of those enemies have become mine. I don't want them to become my family's enemies. I don't want you to bring yourself to their attention. If you keep investigating, you will."
Lex was silent for a while after Clark finished. "My curiosity has always been my biggest problem," he finally said, ruefully. "I'm sorry, I didn't think that through."
"I like curiosity," Clark had to reassure Lex. After all, he had plenty of his own.
"Just not directed at yourself."
"If I didn't have to worry about others... I'd like yours." It showed a return of the obsession, after all. That it wasn't just Clark who had fallen on first glance.
Lex's smile re-emerged. "I guess I'll just have to redirect my obsession in other ways."
They were even using the same terms. Clark returned the smile, happy that Lex understood.
"Lex, I—" Clark's head whipped around as he heard his name called. Not his superhero name but his regular one. He focused his hearing, trying to figure out. Oh. Damn it.
"What's wrong?"
"They've missed me," Clark said unhappily. Normally, once everybody had retreated for the night, they left each other alone until the morning. But Erin had been working still on the tablet and had gone to Clark's tent to consult him on something and, well, apparently now they were worried. There were dangers in the desert. "I've got to go." He glanced around the quiet neighborhood. "Can you get home okay from here?"
"Home is a hotel," Lex said with a wry grin. "I'll be fine."
"I don't want to have to come back and rescue you again," Clark said with an attempt at a joke, though it fell a little flat.
"And I want to see you again. Don't make me get in trouble to do it." Lex kissed him lightly, drawing it out, fingers on Clark's cheek, on the mask over the upper half of his face.
Clark made a noise, wanting to stay, wanting to explore further inside Lex's mouth, wanting...
Lex was the one to pull away. His lips were red, his face flushed, his eyes dark. "Say I'll see you again, please."
"I will," Clark promised. He didn't know how he was going to do it, but he knew he would. His fists clenched as he tried to remind himself to leave.
"Wait. Here." Lex fumbled with his clothes and then from an inside pocket brought out a small envelope, the type tickets were kept in.
Clark looked at it a little dubiously.
"Take it," Lex said impatiently. "And don't tell me you can't accept them. You can do what you want – use the tickets yourself, give them away, sell them... but I want you to have them. I give these to all my friends, and... please."
If he couldn't have a blow job as a reward, tickets were probably innocent enough. It was, however, the 'please' that got to him. Clark took the envelope, his gaze not leaving Lex. His hearing was still concentrated back at camp. "I do have to go," he said, making no move to.
Lex's lips twitched. "So you said. Until the next time, Black Mask." He turned and started walking down the street, taking the decision out of Clark's hands.
Which was just as well. Clark watched him a minute more, admiring the liquid grace, the easy movements, the casual swing of the hips. Then he shook himself and flew back to camp.
...
He came around the corner of a pyramid, straightening his clothes, stopping when he saw all the activity. "Uh, what's up, guys?"
"Clark!" Maya almost dashed into his arms and the others gathered around. "We were worried about you."
"Uh?" Clark felt guilty, he really did.
"We couldn't find you," Sebastian explained. "Where were you?"
Clark blushed involuntarily. "Looking at the stars." He offered somewhat lamely. "I was on the capstone." The capstone was on the other side of the pyramid and a bit of a hike out – and Clark really did sometimes watch the stars from there. "Is there anything wrong?"
"No; just a bit of panic when Erin couldn't find you." Mark rolled his eyes. "We should have known better, with your tendency to wander off. But Clark, I'm responsible for the safety of this expedition. We can't afford any problems."
They couldn't. The dig was a smaller one, funded with the bare scrapings off another more important one. The twelve of them out there were all willing to work for almost no pay, just to be out here. An accident to any of them would shut this down completely.
"I'm sorry, Mark," Clark said contritely. "I'll be more careful."
The group broke up and headed back to their own tents, happy that Clark was safe. Clark reached out to Maya before she left. "Maya, do you know about Lex Luthor?" He'd peeked at the tickets, and all they had on it for information was 'Lex Luthor: A Night in the Desert". It didn't tell Clark anything about what they were all about. He could just google it, but asking Maya was probably quicker.
"Oh!" The dusky historian perked up. "He's incredible! I've got all of his CDs."
CDs? Clark had a problem picturing Lex as a singer. "I guess he's got a performance here this weekend?" That was when the tickets were for.
Maya wilted again. "I know. We found out last week. If only I'd known ahead of time! I would have gotten tickets. Now they can't be had for sex or money; completely sold out and the scalper's prices are too rich for me. I so wanted to go. It would have been incredible to hear one of his concerts in person. Though I don't know how he'd set it up, with all the synthesizers, but I hear it's incredible. And right here! In the Egyptian desert! It would be the most awesome experience..."
The six tickets were burning a hole in Clark's pants. He swallowed. "Do you have... would you mind if I borrowed one of your CDs?"
"You've got the bug too? I didn't know you were interested in music." Maya beckoned him to follow her and they went to her tent. "He's the most incredible sexy man..." she sighed.
"He is," Clark responded wistfully, his mind on the slim body, a joyful smile, the taste of those lips.
Maya almost tripped over her rug as she glanced at him. "Oh, it's not the music..." She laughed. "What, did you see one of his posters in town? He's definitely gorgeous, I'll give him that. And he knows how to work that to his advantage while touring." Sitting down at her computer, she pulled up a music program and rummaged through it.
"I don't actually have the CDs with me, but I have most of them downloaded. Let me burn you a copy of some of the ones I like best. His early stuff reminds me a lot of Yanni or Arkenstone, a lot of instrumental mixed with classical themes – he initially started out as a concert pianist before he moved out on his own. However his more recent work involves other cultures and incorporating their traditions. I would really have loved to hear his take on Egyptian work. That CD isn't being released, though, until after he's done with his tour here. Only a bit longer, though - this weekend is his last concert here."
A pang went through Clark's heart at hearing that. Lex was leaving. Going... somewhere else. This would be his last chance to see him, to hear what sort of music Lex could make outside of Clark's heartstrings.
Clark stared at the album artwork that was displayed on the computer while Maya transferred the music. It was one of the earlier ones, and a younger Lex stared out at him, lounging on a grand piano with smoldering eyes and slightly parted lips. There wasn't a picture anywhere that could have said "fuck me now" better. And God, Clark wanted to. He wanted to take that Lex and spread him out on that piano and...
"Here you go." Maya held out a thumb drive.
With a gulp, Clark took it, hoping his tented pants didn't show in the lamp light. "Thanks, Maya."
"No problem," she grinned at him. "At least now I have somebody to enthuse over with it. When his new album is released, expect me in your tent!" Her expression changed, "Er, I mean..."
Clark laughed. "I'm sure we'll be talking about the same thing." His bi-sexuality was well known among the group, and they were all pretty comfortable with it; after all, the dig was more important to them than anything.
As Clark was leaving Maya's tent, Erin caught him and dragged him back to hers to talk about the tablet. While Clark loved his work and exploring the mysteries of the space travelers from back then... the thumb drive and the tickets were both now burning holes in his pocket. The memory of the picture of Lex over that piano wasn't helping either. Clark escaped as soon as he could, leaving Erin slightly baffled.
Back at his tent, Clark put the drive in his laptop with trembling fingers. Running the music program, he sat down on his cot and listened.
Flutes. Pipes. Starting low, expanding through the air. First one set, then another joined in with a slightly different note. A stringed instrument joined them. Not a violin... a cello? Clark wasn't familiar with the different instruments. He stopped trying to identify them and just let the music float over him.
Some time later, he shook himself out of the enchantment. Slightly stunned, he brought up Firefox and googled Lex Luthor. The music was still playing.
Clark had never thought much about music. He'd had the usual teenage obsession with rock bands and the songs of their age. Yet once he'd moved from high school to college, music had fallen by the wayside. He listened to the radio, but it was more background stuff.
This stuff wasn't something he'd ever listened to. Kind of like elevator music yet so much more. Clark wondered about those other artists that Maya had mentioned. He was sure he'd heard this before, coming out of Maya's tent, or at parties they'd been to. That time he'd been talked into going in for a massage. But he hadn't ever listened to it. And he'd certainly never known anybody who made the stuff. Wrote it? Composed it? What was the term they used?
It made a difference. Knowing that Lex was the one behind this. He could still taste Lex, feel him pressed up to Clark, hear his voice, see that delicious smile. And now Clark also heard soaring music in with his senses.
Lex Luthor, contemporary instrumental artist. Had released a CD a year for the last six years. Relatively unknown for the first three and then his popularity started rising and hadn't stopped yet. Started doing tours last year and they'd been mostly sell-outs. Helped, probably, by the smaller, intimate settings that Lex played in, but still.
Digging a little deeper, Clark looked for Lex's father, to figure out what Lex's remark earlier had been. It was pretty easy. Lex's dad was Lionel Luthor, corporate millionaire. That alone was probably enough to explain the threats against Lex, but as Clark kept digging, he colder he got. Lionel Luthor wasn't a very nice person. Clark actually even remembered Chloe mentioning him a few times in her reporting. It made him very worried about Lex. Bodyguards dead. Lex's life threatened twice in one week. Out of a life that Lex had left behind.
That night, Clark went to sleep with the music playing. He slept to melodic tunes that took him on a world tour. Peru, Asia, Greece, Egypt. He woke up with a memory of Lex on a mountaintop, standing tall playing on pipes while Clark knelt before him. Clark also woke up hard and aching.
"Lex." Oh Lord, Clark had it bad. He didn't remember it ever being like this before.
During the dig that day, Clark went through all his usual motions, hearing in the background beautiful music. Mid-day, the music had changed to just eight notes repeated over and over again in variations of instruments and ranges of starting notes. Clark found himself humming the little tune. Then the music stopped.
"Will I ever see you again? Okay, the cello in bass. Though I also like the flute in soprano. I want the words in there too. Male or female voice? Or both? I could make it a round and completely confuse people, just like I am." Lex's voice was a breath in Clark's ear, full of humor and self-depreciation.
Clark straightened up and banged his head against the arch. Luckily, he didn't break it. He almost didn't notice, though. He hadn't been remembering Lex's music from the night of playing it – he'd been listening to Lex himself! Somehow, he'd zoomed in on Lex and the music he'd been listening to all day was real.
He'd almost forgotten that he had a decision to make on the tickets. Still listening to Lex with half an ear, he retreated off to the side and pulled out his cell phone.
"Hey, Chloe."
"Oh oh – that's you're "I want something" voice."
Clark winced. "Well... um, hi?"
"Hi yourself. Now what do you need?" Chloe sounded cheerful but resigned.
Clark figured he might as well just barrel through it. "Your connections... do they extend to getting extra tickets at a concert?"
Chloe laughed. "Well, that's about the most mundane request you've ever approached me for. Sure, sometimes. Depends on what for."
"The concert this week by Lex Luthor - A Night in the Desert."
Chloe whistled long and low. "Oh, now how did you get caught up in that one's circle?"
"You know him?"
"I've met him a few times; his dad likes him to play at the annual parties and Lex sometimes obliges. I think they both do it just to rub it in each other's face. Lionel that his son is in a "lesser" job and Lex that his chosen path is nothing that his dad wanted for him."
"Oh, um... what's he like?"
"Suave, sophisticated, sex-on-two-feet... but somehow I don't think I have to tell you that. How did you meet him?"
Clark grimaced and told Chloe about Lex's two run-ins with Black Mask.
"Humm... Lionel must have pissed a few people off recently. Not unusual, but most folks leave Lex alone considering how much the two hate each other."
"Lex said it happens all the time."
Chloe snorted. "Lex likes to exaggerate sometimes. Though it does happen more often than 'rarely' so I guess that counts. I think I'm going to go checking into some of LuthorCorp dealings. Something shady probably went down recently. Again, nothing unusual for LuthorCorp, but..."
"Chloe, I didn't tell you so you could put yourself in danger!" That was one thing that Clark really hated about his friend. She'd only gotten worse about it since their high school days, jumping into anything that looked like a story with no regard for her own safety.
"Don't worry, I'll be careful. And I'll get you your tickets too. How many do you want?"
"Two." Maya would kill him if Clark went to the concert without her.
"Okay - I'll email you the details and you can print them out there. Enjoy!" The call went dead.
Clark looked at the cell phone and sighed. He hoped Chloe wouldn't get herself in so much trouble that he'd have to come and rescue her. At least she knew to call for him if she needed to. Sometimes, Clark worried that she might count on it, but Chloe insisted that she didn't. Well, it wasn't anything he could fix anyhow.
...
The next day, the music he'd been hearing started up again, this time with starts and stops, adjustments here, a change of pace there, an instrument change, a pitch change.
Clark was fascinated with the process, never having considered what all music went through to get to the final forms that they heard. Lex, he rather thought, was a genius. Some of the things he was hearing made no sense while Lex was working on it, but then there would be a repeat of the whole thing together and all the changes were perfect in the whole. Though it took Lex a really long time to be satisfied.
Clark was eating dinner when he heard Lex's voice.
"Do I have to be in danger to see you? I could probably arrange it, you know. Though I think you'd be a little mad at me if I did that. I would, though. To see you. I'd do a lot of things to see you again. I would even spend two days composing something that's not even on my agenda. I'm supposed to be preparing for the concert tomorrow. Instead, I was working on this. It's finished now, and I'm going to play it for you. I hope you can hear it. I hope you like it. God, I hope I'm not just talking to myself."
The music started again.
Clark swallowed quickly, stood and made some stupid feeble excuse about running to town for the night. He didn't even check to see what his companions' reactions were before he took off. As soon as he was out of range, he flew, barely remembering the mask.
Landing on the balcony of a top-level suite in an expensive hotel, Clark hovered, listening to the music within, swaying just a little.
At a pause where the music shifted from the dangerous wild beat to a more gentle, wondering tone, a voice also spoke. "The sound is better in here."
Clark went through the open doors into Lex's suite. Lex was sitting in front of a large synthesizer, playing parts of the music himself and adjusting the rest as it played. A whole orchestra in one person. Somewhat blindly, Clark found the couch and sat down.
This was their meeting. The music described their meeting in wordless song. There was the initial danger, the wonder that Lex felt upon rescue, the heat flaring between them... Then the loss as they parted, with an ending of hope for more.
Clark had no idea that music could describe all that. That it was more than melody accompanying words. He'd listened to Lex's music, but until now he hadn't realized it was another form of communication. With the music, Lex shared with Clark just what their meeting had meant to him. And what he hoped for. Words were nothing compared to what Lex had just shared.
They were both silent for a while after the composition finished. Then Lex came and sat next to Clark, running his hand along Clark's thigh like it was an instrument he was about to play.
Clark shivered. "That was beautiful."
"You're beautiful." Lex leaned in to kiss him.
It was a few minutes before they got back to speaking.
"I've never had anybody write a song for me before."
Lex quirked a little grin. "Yes, you have."
"Huh?"
Lex moved from the couch to his desk, leaving the side of Clark he'd been pressed against feeling cold and abandoned. Clark quickly followed Lex, unable to stay very far away.
"Here." On the computer, Lex pulled up a website that was dedicated to Black Mask fans and fan work about him.
"Oh God." Clark hadn't known it existed. He wondered if Chloe did. Probably. Lex was right – in addition to art and stories, there was also music and poetry. Clark blushed. He also didn't feel anything except embarrassment towards them, nothing like the wonder he felt knowing that Lex had composed something for him.
"I googled you," Clark blurted out.
Lex raised an eyebrow. "Oh, that's rich, considering the lecture I got for doing the same."
Clark rolled his eyes. "You didn't get all of that about Black Mask from search engines."
"You'd be surprised how powerful some search engines can be if you give them the right input," Lex purred, but didn't exactly deny it either. He was silent for a little bit then looked at Clark a bit more seriously. "How do you know I'm not a villain?"
"What?"
"You rescued me... but villains can have other villains after them. Just because somebody is in trouble doesn't mean they're the soul of justice. You, on the other hand, are a true hero with a pure and honest soul. What is somebody like you doing letting somebody like me near you?"
"You're not your father." Clark had the impression that Lex's speech had been a long time coming and involved more than just him.
The smoky eyes were distant. "Perhaps not. But you don't know me, and I hurt almost everybody I touch." His gaze refocused on Clark. "I didn't expect you to come. I hoped. However... I don't want you to be hurt."
Clark shifted on the couch and drew Lex in to him, nuzzling his neck and smelling the strong masculine scent. "I won't be. I don't think you're a villain, and we'll get to know each other. Sometimes, one just has to trust." Kyla had been a murderer in her attempts at defending her heritage. Alicia had been a thief. Clark really didn't have the greatest track record on loving normal people. Sometimes he wished he could have loved Lana or Chloe more than just friends, the way they had wanted him to. Yet the heart wasn't something one could dictate to, and his had settled on Lex. Only time would tell where this would go. Clark thought, though, that Lex was made of better things. At the very least, stronger. Lex would be able to survive the intensity that had had others running from Clark.
"Getting to know each other sounds good." Lex returned the embrace, sliding comfortably into Clark's space. "I liked what you did with the tickets, but does that mean you won't be at the concert tomorrow?"
It took a moment for Clark to think of what Lex meant, his attention was so focused on the man in his arms. He'd given the tickets to a homeless shelter, advising them to use two of them on their own people – something they'd otherwise never get the chance for; and the other four to be sold off to raise funds and awareness for the shelter. Clark had gotten the recommendation of that particular shelter from the people, the ones he rescued in the dark hours, the ones with nowhere to go.
"I'll be there," Clark said. He'd already printed out the tickets Chloe had sent him and Maya was so ecstatic that Mark had sent her into town, away from the dig.
"You know, I could do something with that," Lex murmured into Clark's skin. "Look up everybody who has had ticket changes in the last few days, monitor those seats, watch you come in... I could recognize you. Even without the mask, I think I would know you."
Clark was sure Lex could. Normally, the mask also had a bit of hypnotic overlay that distracted people from the details of what Clark was, but it didn't seem to work on Lex. Clark wondered if his own interest in Lex is what kept that part at bay. "Will you?" At the moment, it didn't entirely seem to matter. Not with Lex nibbling at his collarbone, with Clark's hands inching their way up under Lex's shirt on the bare skin of his back.
"No." Lex pulled back, his hands loosely splayed on Clark's chest. "I've decided I like mysteries."
Gently disengaging himself, Lex walked back to the synthesizer. He switched the controls so it was a basic piano and then he started playing. Long elegant fingers over the keyboard, blue-gray eyes on Clark, music floating through the room, wrapping around them as closely as they had been wrapped around each other.
Clark lay back in the couch and listened. Mystery. Wonder. Fascination. Approach and dance back, approach again. A mortal, peeking into a God's world. Love, wondering what was before them.
...
Maya and Clark edged into the pavilion where security checked their tickets. The concert was held out in the desert, with the shapes of the pyramids rising up behind the stage, broken walls of an ancient town all around them. Clark wondered how Lex had gotten a permit to do something like that among the ruins. It was spectacular, though. Besides the giant synthesizer on the stage, there were also other musicians that would add to the electronic ensemble. People manned lights and other effects around the stage and the seats.
They found their seats and sat. It wasn't at the very front, nor in the back, a pretty good middle view. Chloe had done good with their tickets.
After the lights dimmed, rose again, then dimmed for the final count, spotlights came up on the stage. Lex walked out like he belonged there, like everything belonged to him. Ease in his rolling gait, confidence in his baring, serenity in his gaze that masked the banked intensity.
Lex waited for the applause to die down and then he stepped to his place. His eyes swept the audience.
"I don't usually dedicate my performances, at least I never have before. Yet there is always a time for change, and love is always a good reason. Tonight's night in the desert is dedicated to Mystery. Love is mysterious, and it is something I never thought would happen. But it has, and so Mystery will be my next album, and I will live in mystery until then. And hopefully for many years to come."
Lex sat down to the murmurs that started softly and then swelled higher. They all stopped, however, at the first touch of his fingers to the keys. The spotlight dimmed, the effect lights started. And the music surrounded them, transporting them to other worlds in the desert.
END
End Note: For the Alternate Professions, I chose Anthropologist and Professional Musician. Using the subset of Archaeology for Anthropology. ^^; A little obvious at this point, but I didn't want to put it at the top for spoilers. ^^
[Poll #1523453]
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