Your eyes still have the same magnetic effect they had on me years ago. They blink with complete innocence, unaware that the rest of you isn't as innocent. That is your gift. You are too pretty and pure looking to be seen as evil.

I have spent a lot of time thinking you are a bastard. And it's easy to think those things when I am not face to face with you. But now that we have this entire church between us, as you sit on one side of the aisle and I stand in the back,; It's still not enough space. I am beginning to want to talk to you and hear your voice.

I want to be taken back to a time when I believed I could change…

I want to say that I was forced to come here. But I wasn't. I want to say that this is torture, sitting here, with my father. But it's not torture because I am watching you. I always liked watching you. I like to think about what is going through your mind, and I like to try to pierce the pieces of the puzzle together of the enigma that I call you.

You look a lot older then last I have seen you. I don't mean as if you had finally grown up, you look to be carrying the weight of the world on your shoulder. And a part of me is happy to see that because you never understood how much pressure I was under, being pushed and pulled into three different directions in which none of them were my own choice. The other half wants to relieve you of your burdens.

But I can never take those burdens off of you unless you tell me what they are. That was why I had to leave. I can't defend you from the world if I don't know what I am protecting you from. I saw that desperation in your eyes when you realized you couldn't stay away from me, but you couldn't stay, because I was dangerous.

I would be the first to admit that knowledge is dangerous. But speculation is a lot more dangerous. All you had to do was to say the words. I already knew them deep down. But you couldn't and you attacked me verbally.

Those words were meant to hurt me, and they did. I wanted to hurt you. I couldn't do it psychically since you are stronger then me in every form but in the art of blackmail, I have no equal. To save you, I left. I haven't looked back.

I came here because of Lionel. That is my excuse. He is getting cozy with Nell, and seeing that my father always has ulterior motives for which he is currently dating or going to marry, I came here to keep a watch on him.

Even after the break-up on Clark's and mine's friendship, he keeps an eye on Clark. All the things I have found out by Clark's past five years have been through the files my father has on him. He might actually like Nell, he might not, but Nell is Lana's aunt and Lana is Clark's ex. The math is simple enough…

Nell may be watching her niece but Lionel's eyes are on Clark. Anyone who was not directly related to the married-couple-to be, is looking at Clark. And if they aren't looking at Clark, they are staring at my father or me.

It's not an abnormal thing for me, being that I spent my entire life in the spotlight, but Clark is purposely adverting his eyes, keeping them firmly placed on the happy couple. He has gotten better at not turning red when he is being looked at or embarrassed by the attention, but the back of his neck is beginning to turn red, a sure sign he is nervous.

If we were still friends, he would complain about it to me and ask how I could stand it. I would then add my witty remarks that they are looking at him because he was a pretty boy and they just look at me because I look like a freak or I am famous. In which he would then compliment me and I would begin to feel a tad more optimistic about my life.

Yeah, you could say I missed him. I have missed him since the day I left. I have had other people to try to fill that gap that he left in my life but no one could fill it.

They are running the speakers to see if they can fill the hall with noise. They are putting on cheesy love songs and they make me want to vomit. They don't hold nice memories for me and indirectly they all feature Clark.

Clark comforting me after Desiree tried to kill me, him constantly reminding me that this wasn't my fault and I would find someone who would love me, that having passion was not a bad thing. Clark trying to keep his anger in check when I told him about what happened with Julian and how my father blamed it on me, and though he tried to hide it, him crying, by my side, understanding what could have been. Understanding that love never did work well for me…

Clark inviting me over for Christmas to make sure I wasn't alone on the holidays and when I refused, he camped out at my house and made sure to give me a present every year.

He filled the hole, the only hole that money couldn't buy me. Love…

I drove the car back from the practice reception at speeds that shouldn't be used on a busy highway in my delusional state. I was nearing 120 when I saw something approaching the car, running towards me.

Time flips back and I think of Clark and how this is how we met the first time and maybe the reason I need to drive so fast down the nearly empty back roads is so I can crash and die, something I have been trying to do for a long time, or maybe I just want to get a good look and feel of Clark near me.

Either way, it's a death wish and I don't steer away and I ran over the chipmunk. His dead carnage is lying on the road in the center of the yellow lines. And I hit the hotel in record time, before anyone else might appear from the reception. I don't want people knowing I am here.

I'm in my old town, and there lay too many memories of people and events in the castle so I am staying at the shabby hotel that is near the site of the meteor shower. It's the main attraction since the proof of what the meteor rocks could do. It just isn't very crowded at this time of the year, mid-summer when proof comes from LexCorp that the data on the rocks had no basis of scientific fact. It was my little gift to Clark and his family. I hoped they would appreciate it but so far, there has been no thank you letters or homemade pies.

He glows. That's the simple explanation to why when I first woke up, I thought I was dead and had gone to heaven to be greeted by an angel or I had been really high on something.

It takes a few blinks to figure out that it is Clark who is sitting next to me, and I sit up, confused.

"Uh, how'd you get in?" I asked him.

"The door was unlocked." I follow his gaze to the door and it doesn't look broken or anything is out of the ordinary and I sigh.

"You came in here, thinking that I invited you in here because the door was unlocked?" It came out crueler then I meant it to be and Clark doesn't seem to take it too personally and grins me at me. Damn, I have missed that grin. It's for no reason other then just fun and I don't get any of those now days with the cutthroat business world.

"It sounded like something you would do. I can leave if you really want," he is offering and I can see the child he was so many years ago when I met him still there. I snatch his wrist before he could move and give him a look. He smiles before getting comfortable on the cushion on the oak chair.

"I don't want you leaving yet," I tell him and I am not sure where that is coming from since what my brain was planning on saying was a little less honest to how I wanted this to go and end, with Clark and I being friends again.

He is not sure what to say and neither am I, and so we just stare at each other. Usually silence feels awkward but I am not minding it much. Sometimes the silence can speak louder then words ever would, and it is saying that both of us are here for the same reasons; Are both afraid of speaking because they might say the wrong thing. Clark's eyes vibrate quickly in the dim light, it's more of an affect from the poor lighting then anything, but Clark's eyes seem to dart around faster then he is getting nervous. He freezes up when he is nervous.

"So what's your opinion on the whole Lana-Pete getting married?" I ask him, interrupting the silence. It's a good enough place to start about our lives. He looks at me and I can see he is debating to say the truth or what he thinks he should say.

That was always his problem, he never could say that he thought because he cared too much about other's opinions then to worry about how it affected him.

I don't probe him to tell the truth, I am hoping he will and he opens his mouth to speak.

"I am happy for them, I guess. But…"

"But what?"

"They have known each other as long as I have known them and they never showed any interest before in one another until a month ago and suddenly they are getting married."

I can't contain my chuckle at how much disbelief he was in, and he smiles at me as I try to get back my breath so I can speak. I missed that the most, I think, the laughter he brought me. I know what he is saying is the truth.

"I just didn't believe that Lana would pick Pete in the end…"

"Why is that?" he is looking confused

"If you look at all the guys she has been with, she goes for the body beautiful type and with no offense to Pete, he doesn't fit the mold she has established for herself."

"Whitney, me, Jason, and you…?" he cracks an eyebrow at me as he counts them on his fingers.

I shake my head. "You assumed she was with me. I never touched her…"

That was one of the things that broke up our friendship, his distaste in the fact that Lana wanted to be with me after she finally gave up on Clark. He thought I slept with her; I hadn't…she tried to seduce me and I let her stay at the castle because she was so drunk. Clark had found us in the morning and assumed the worse and thus went the spiral downhill with our relationship.

"Yeah, I am sorry about that. I jumped to conclusions way too easy. And…"

He shuts up when I put my finger to his lips. He looks down cross-eyed and then at me, wondering what I am going to say and why I just did what I did.

"You do jump to conclusions too easily. But at the time, you were still young and naïve and I wasn't exactly being too trust-worthy at the time. Truce?"

He smiles at me and I pull my hand away from his face.

He keeps running his hand through the nest of curls on the top of his head, ruffling them and tossing them around into more disorder. He keeps talking but I can't really pay attention when he is playing with his hair. I don't have hair, and I miss playing with my own hair like I used to do when I was little, and I just wanted to touch it, run my hand through it and uncurl them to watch them spring back into place.

"Lex…"he whistles and I spring back to attention, batting my eyes to try to clear my thoughts of bouncy brown curls.

"Sorry, I kind of got preoccupied looking at your hair," I admit and he lowers his head down, placing the curls of hair at my fingertips.

"Play," he whispered, and once getting over my surprise, I unwind one of the curls of hair to only watch it curl back up again. Clark is shaking with laugher at most possibly my excitement of getting to play with the silky strands.

"Clark, sit up here closer so I can play with them as we talk, " I ask, finding that I myself thought my request was odd but he goes along with it with a gentle smile and scoots to the corner of the armchair, leaning against me so I can play absent-mindedly with his hair.

"So the last thing I remember you saying was about how boring Lana was?"

"Yeah, I was just saying that with her, it just felt like we were always saying or doing the same things. It was never anything new and exciting."

"Like me?" I added, twirling my finger around one of the curls, staring at the tawny locks. It has gotten lighter over the years, I note.

"Yeah."

"So is that how you judge how a relationship would be? If she is more interesting and exciting then me?" I joke and he begins to redden. I find that interesting and continue to play with his hair.

We lay there for around an hour, when it occurred to me that neither of us was sleeping. My eyes seemed to be glued open, and Clark kept shutting his eyes to only reopen them a few minutes later.

I could feel his heartbeat through my chest and it would pick up speed every time the dream came, so it sounded like a constant rumbling of thunder over and over again. I don't think Clark picks up the fact his heart beat isn't average either. But then again, I don't think he spends his time sleeping around people who have a chance to be close enough to feel the heartbeat.

I always knew he was different. He just seemed too perfect to be human. His secrets, I don't know them all nor do I know what he is. He hides them in obvious sites that no one could come up with anything if viewed alone.

But together they made a devastating picture.

He glances up at me to share a shy smile. " You asked me that the first time we ever met."

"I did…and you said you did. Do you still believe in it?"

His body is beginning to tense up and the topic is making him uncomfortable. Good, it is supposed to. I can't dodge the past forever, we can either move past it or it can haunt us.

His answer is slow. It's unsure but he manages to look me in the eye when he says it. " People change, Lex."

I smile at him, the smile I only reserve for my father or for the board meetings when I am ready to slap the final blow on their already dying bodies. He flinches slightly and moves away slightly from me, but not far enough to break the connection of our skin.

"You are avoiding the question."

"So? If you didn't always avoid asking questions…

I can see the happy feelings flying out of the window as the war masks begin to be applied to our faces and we build up our armor against the foe and pull out the pointy sharp swords appearing at our side in a minute's time.

I was thinking he changed. But he's still the same Clark. He causes an argument about you when he can't talk about himself then is a hypocrite, condemning you for the things he does himself.

"I avoid asking questions because I hope that some day you would find it in you to tell the truth." I answer, trying to keep my answer simple and nothing worthy of him getting mad at.

But being Clark, logic always fails in his mind, and he just ignores what I said and continues his barrage of attacks on me.

"Because you are so fond of telling it yourself." He shoots back and it's low.

"I try to tell it. It's more then I can say about you. "

By this point I am still in the armchair and I have to keep my hands across to maintain body warmth since Clark has now gone to the other side of the room, staring at me like I am the most disgusting creature in the world.

It is silent, the only noise is the whirl of the air conditioner, puffing air into the room and sucking it out, with the steady drip of the moisture piling outdoors on the porch where it is rooted to.

I am waiting for his next blow, because Clark could never stay away from a verbal fight with me and not achieve the last word and soon enough it comes.

"You won't know the truth if you hit it."

I can't hide the laughter. I can't stop it anymore and Clark is glaring at me evilly, with his eyelids half closed. The irony of what he just said has yet to sink into him and I look at him, flipping onto my stomach.

"I know the truth when I hit it, Clark. I hit you. That's the truth. If you think I am like everyone else in Smallville who can't put two and two together, you have that wrong. If you think you can't trust me, you got that wrong as well. I have known from day one that you are, and I have had years to reveal your secrets to the world. Anytime a masked stranger here saves a mysterious life, I know who it is. And I can just tell them. But I don't.

Clark begins to pale and it surprises me, I would have thought he would have already known that I knew his little secret.

"Why haven't you told?" he asks, swallowing hard.

I watch the way his Adam's Apple rises then falls as the salvia is swallowed down his throat and I look at him. I smirk and lay on the biggest blow I can think of. Guilt…

"Maybe the friendship we once had doesn't mean something to you, but it did for me."

The look of shock on his face was priceless and was worth the pain that I know I am causing him that I haven't wanted to use yet.

At least he hadn't said like my psychotherapist had; that why would I envy such a simple farm boy who lived in the middle of nowhere with no future, while I had all the money in the world and could do whatever I ever wanted or dreamed about in my life. I promptly fired him within the following two seconds.

"You had a family who loved you. They would love you anyway you came. You could never disappoint them, and they would give you the world if they were capable of it because they would feel you deserved it. And that, money can't buy. A family, who loved me, I would give up everything to have that. "

"Lex…?" he is climbing to his feet and coming towards me. He touches my face gently and pushes it up so I could look at his eyes. I avert my eyes quickly and whisper to him.

"Not now, Clark. I can't deal with this right now."

He looks unhappy but understands, and leaves my room without another word. When I hear the door close, I break down to tears.

I know he could hear me, if he tried. But I couldn't find it in myself to honestly care.

I can't help but smiling, and I fold it up and set it in my pocket. I walk over to my suitcase and rummage through it, looking for the right suit out of the five or so I brought with me. I have a wedding reception to go to, and I am going to find Clark.

So I can tell him one of my secrets, an exchange for what I had told him last night about knowing about his powers and his secret identity.

And that secret would be…I have been fantasying for years about being with him.

If that means I am in love with him, I am willing to go with it. I don't know what it means. I never have, since the first time it occurred which was the day after his rescue on the riverbank.

Lionel thought often that my bisexual tendencies are just a ploy to annoy him and attract his attention, which it was, sort of. It began that way but I started to find that it didn't matter which gender I was with, as long as they were beautiful.

When I told one of my other therapists that, which I was sent to when I was 15, and it was the second time I had been caught in bed with another guy, he made jokes about how I would fuck anything beautiful, living or non-living. He was fired and his reputation was tarnished past recognition, but I never forgot those words.

It could be true. Clark fit the entire beautiful image. That was the first thing I noticed when the car hit him; the wideness of his green eyes as he had gone flying over the side of the bridge along with me. He had seemed so surprised.

Now that I think about it, he had had the time to get away if he had wanted to, even without his hyper speed. Sometimes when I hit in the dream, I wonder why he hadn't moved away. He could have taken one step and I would have missed him completely.

The second thing I remembered about him was how I thought I was in heaven before my chest began to heave and I choked up all the water I had swallowed. The sun had cast a halo on his curly hair, and the gentle look he was giving to me as if I had mattered.

For those few seconds, I knew I had found heaven. Then Jonathan Kent had shown up and I had found hell again. But I knew it lay somewhere within him…that happiness and peace I felt in those split seconds, that was why I became his friend.

He was easy to love. It seemed natural to me. There were no hidden motives, we just talked for hours on end, and he would just listen to me. The last person who had ever listened to me was my mother. Though I never did get to be with him, somehow I feel I knew him better then I knew all of the women and men I had dated/fucked/married in the years since the descent into adulthood.

I know now that we had hidden motives. But they never seemed to matter to me.

I hated helping him attempt to have a relationship with Lana. I knew it would never work out and there is no point to doing something that you will fail in. They may have claimed to be in love with each other, but …she was too dull for him, and he had too much responsibility in the world for her to understand.

I straighten up my tie, and look at myself in the mirror. I look passable and appear ready to face the world. A quick glance of the clock tells me I have an hour till their wedding and I smile. My little plot shall work well in that time period.

We are surrounded by people filing in and out, chattering like old friends and it appears the entire town of Smallville is out this morning to watch its little princess get married off.

Clark and I stay off to the side, because I had wanted to talk to him, and put the plan in motion. He returned my gaze, it showed he wasn't mad at me anymore.

"Enjoying the wedding so far?" I inquire, having noticed his earlier look of displeasure.

"I want them to just hurry up and put out the food. I'm hungry…" he answered me.

"Did you forget to eat breakfast?"

"I ate about ten minutes ago," he chuckles to himself, and I smile. It's typical.

People are beginning to look at us. I guess they hadn't seen either of us in awhile, and they appraise us. I think they are surprised to see we are talking since our last fight we ever had took place at the Talon and the entire town saw it about, or heard about it through the local grapevine.

"Are Lionel and Nell together?" Clark asks and I stop setting the glare of the people who are watching us, to look at him.

"No more then usual. They both use each other. Lionel probably wants something out of her."

"Is he still interested in me?" He looks worried and I pat him on the shoulder reassuringly. He flinches and looks up at me apologetically. My eyes tell him it is all okay, and I lean back against the wall.

"Luthor's will always be fascinated by you, Clark. You should just get used to it. "

He blushes. " Does he or not?"

"He's not investigating you. But after today, he'll be probably at it again."

He wants to ask me why. But he manages to not and to just trust me.

"So what's his real reason for being with Nell?"

I shrug. It could be the Talon or about Clark. I don't know, I stopped worrying about my father's reasons a long time ago.

"Are your parent's coming today?"

He nods. " Lana was like a daughter to my mother and my father is still ticked that I never slept with Lana."

He begins laughing at me and I realized that my jaw had dropped several inches, and I was staring at him in skepticism.

"I didn't sleep with her. We went out the summer before collage. She offered but…"

"Didn't want to?" I filled in, trying to keep him from feeling so embarrassed.

"Yeah, and it got around the town that I was gay."

Things are looking up right now. This would be easier then I thought it would be.

His smile is uneasy. " My father said the same thing. He said I should have, but what he said bothered me."

"Because that would be using her?"

"Yeah. We broke up after that. I haven't been with anyone since."

This sudden burst of newfound knowledge is appealing. I can't help but feel bad for him, but somewhat jealous.

" I am proud of you," I tell him, sliding down the wall to sit.

He follows my lead and cocks his head, waiting for me to explain.

"I lost my virginity when I was around 13. I was too high to remember any of it. I don't remember the girl's name or what she looked like. The only reason I knew it happened was because someone told me."

"I'm sorry," he apologizes as if those words could make up for the things that had happened fourteen years ago.

The sad part is that they do make up for it.

"Just curious. Why didn't you want to?"

It's the burning question and I am not sure he was going to answer it until the words began to pile of his mouth.

"I was afraid I would hurt her. I can control them most times but…"

"…As emotions surge, you begin to lose a handle of control and just want to relax and enjoy?"

I realize I am filling in for him what he would say, but he's nodding and I assume it's close enough to the point.

"I couldn't though. It felt like I was supposed to like her and want her…"

"…But it wasn't what you needed."

"Please stop filling in my sentences for me."

"Why?" He is smirking at me.

"Because you are hitting them dead-on and it's scaring me."

"Well, perhaps I know you better then you think."

He thinks about it for a second. A glint in his eye begins to appear. " Since you know so much, tell me what was it that I need in a person."

"Someone who isn't frail and breaks at the slightest touch. Someone who would accept you for the person you were with all flaws included. Someone who challenges you and understands what you represent. Someone who is just as stubborn and loyal…"

He smiles and I know I got it right.

"Does it just happen that you fit all of those qualities, Lex?"

I can't ignore the erupting smile that is coming across my face, and he isn't as stupid as I took him to be. My plan has just gotten a lot easier.

"I can't help being perfect for you," I smirk, seeing if he will take the bait I have offered him.

"Who would the perfect person…" he empathizes the person part, " …for you."

"Why don't you tell me, Clark?"

I see a slight glint of fear in his eyes, but it subsides into a lazy dangerous smile. " A person who can protect you from anything in the world including yourself. A person who can listen to all your lectures on history and is entertained. A person who is not afraid of your name or your status nor are they in a relationship for any gain besides your companionship…"

He stops and shrugs, not sure what to say, and I keep staring at him. The stare always works just like the puppy dog look always works for Clark.

"Do you want me to continue?" he asks and I nod.

He takes a deep breath and exhales heavily. "A person who is taller then you, stronger then you, a lot less rich then you, and belongs to a hoard of media who would love to take you down?" He appears nervous and he holds a question. He was describing himself; he was a mind reader when he tried. He is waiting for me to okay what he said.

"Bingo," I hiss with a smile that I am hoping is seductive. My word choice isn't very articulate but it said it clearly.

"Have you guys found Pete yet? He's not in his dressing room!"

The voice snaps both of us out of our distant thoughts and both follow the voice all the way down the hall. There are bridesmaid running around, holding their dresses up, and looking rather frantic.

I can see Clark out of the corner of my eye, and he is biting his lip, a classic worry sign on him. It's not worry like he doesn't know where his friends are, it's a worry of he somehow caused it and he just might get in control.

He stops nibbling on his lip and his face begins to pale. His eyes wander into the other direction and I follow him to see his parents walking down the hall.

All I can hear is the mumbled cursing of "Oh fuck" and I feel Clark grabbing my arm tightly, and being thrown into the nearest room with an open door.

I take the sights in quickly and by the amount of pink in the room, and the various pictures of Chloe, Clark, and Pete in there, I take it to be Lana's dressing room. It also helps that her name is written in steam on the mirror with a heart under it. The name she wrote under it is blurred. It figures…she couldn't decide what to write so she erased it.

"Any reason for pushing me into an abandoned room with you?" I comment, trying to progress the little dance we always seem to play.

"Pete is currently lying in my hotel beaten shitless…" he says this with a straight face and I almost believe that he is innocent enough to not pick up on my little interlude, key word being almost.

"Other then that fact?" I take a step closer to him. He's leaning on the dresser that is cluttered with Lana's make-up, and I feel his eyes watching my every move.

"…And my parents were coming and they wouldn't be happy to see me speaking in kind terms with you."

"And?" Another step forward and Clark is beginning to lose his innocent demeanor. The crease at the edge of his lip is beginning to twitch.

I blink and he's there. I blink again, and he's right next to me. He moves faster then I can see and it's hard to tell if it was I who moved or him, because it appears he hadn't moved an inch from his position by the dresser.

He chuckles at my confusement, and swipes his hand against the wood, scattering the make-up jars so he has a place to sit. I notice he doesn't make enough room for me, and I look at him.

I can feel his hand on my wrist, wrapped around it easily, his other hand is on the wood, pressed into it. My other hand is free, frozen at my side. All he has to do is pull, and I'll be there. So why hasn't he? He just seems to be content with staring at me in one of those really uncomfortable states.

"So did you drag me in here to stare at me, or make-out with me?" I ask, and I find myself dragged forward, so I am practically in his lap.

"Both…" he whispers, and finally kisses me.

It was worth the ten years of arguing for this one perfect moment. Soft…chaste…and over way too quickly.

A lazy smile is given to me as I grumble, and I swear he is enjoying teasing me.

"Sorry, I been wanting to do that since I was 15…" he explains and I shoot him a death glare. He just laughs it off.

"And…" he continues. "…I've been wanting to do this since yesterday."

The second kiss is a lot longer and heated, and the force in which our lips connect is painful. He pulls me into his lap and it feels natural, more natural then breathing.,

His tongue traces the lines of my lips, playing within the groove on my scar and for once in my life, I don't feel like putting up a fight to be the dominant one. The warmth that is surrounding me is intoxicating and it feels too nice to pull away so I could get rational thoughts running through my vein such as anyone could walk in on us at any time.

He is clawing at the buttons on my shirt and he pulls away to stare at them. I apply a sharp nip at his jaw line, and he loses his control and rips the shirt. He looks up at me apologetically but I smile, it was the idea.

He pulls at my tie to bring me closer to him if not we already were overlapping each other, and his hands run along my spine, tracing letters and other lazy shapes on the sensitive skin. I get sick of the petting, and kiss him, ghosting upon his lips. He whimpers and I kiss him again, sucking on his lips, trying to gather as many mews and purrs of pleasure out of him before I continue.

Clark's father is at the head of the pack, scowling and looking murderous. Martha is at his side, her hand on his shoulder. It's hard to tell if it's a supportive gesture or to restrain him if it came necessary.

Lana is behind him, glaring and it's more funny then scary. But then again, it's hard to look scary in a wedding dress with flowers in your hands. Pete is behind her, and his right eye is swollen and has a dark patch of purple bruising on it. He looks like he is sore by the way his body is holding itself, like it could shatter any minute.

Lionel is in the doorway, not in as far as the others are. Nell is in front of him next to Lana, in protective parental mode, but it doesn't look very natural. My father is probably the only person who surprises me in this little fiasco of the building up of the troops. He doesn't look angry or surprised. He looks like he had just eaten the canary, and I catch his eye. His next gesture surprises me, an approving nod.

"I think your son is capable of making his own decisions," I speak, not sure where to start. The plan of attack is to get him angry enough to make him do something stupid.

"He is not going to be making out with a Luthor." He spits my last name out like it's a curse word and Lionel is glaring holes in the back of his head. For once in my life, I am happy for the family support, though it's unnerving to think of why I have it.

"Why not? You did…" Lionel puts his two cents in, and the entire room gasps and Clark's eyeballs are bulging out at this new selection of the history of the Kents and the Luthors

I act like I have known that all along, which I didn't. It's news to me but it makes sense. There had always been this undeniable tension in the room when they were around each other, more then just hatred.

Jonathon is snarling at my father who is grinning like the Cheshire Cat. All eyes are on them instead of us, and Clark is momentarily relieved of the stares.

I check out the look on Martha's face, and she looks calm, too calm in fact. It's her game face, and after several tense seconds of the two men nearing each other, she interrupts them and motions towards us.

"Why him?" Martha speaks for the first time and it takes a minute for me to register she is asking me and not Clark.

"He understands," I answer simply and she smiles. She likes my answer.

"You hate each other," it is more a statement then a question.

"Aren't love and hate most of the time, the same?"

Her mannerisms are the same as Clark's, and it is like watching his response through her. Her body relaxes, eyes lose their hawk stare, and she smiles a welcome.

"You just want to exploit Clark!" Jonathon yells out of the comforting silence, weird looks follow.

"How's that, Mr. Kent?"

He figures his mistake. He can't say anymore on the subject without completely blowing Clark's hidden identity and he flushes and glares.

He is scowling, and he's not capable of dropping the argument without mentioning Clark's powers and abilities. Despite my better knowledge, I give the command for everyone to leave except for both of the Kent's.

Everyone shoots me dirty looks as they file out and Martha locks the door. Now we're all tigers in the same pen, ready to kill.

"My son is not a dirty faggot!" he hisses and Clark flinches. I am feeling guilty that this conversation ever had to take place, but I am keeping my eye on the prize, him. I just have to convince that I love Clark, not for any reason besides that. Unfortunately hell would freeze over before that would happen, the odds happened to say.

"Being bi doesn't constitute being a faggot…"

"It's unnatural…"the list begins to appear.

"Homosexuality has existed even before humans existed."

"You black-mailed him into it!"

"Did it look like black-mail when you walked in here? Sorry to disappoint, 100% consensual."

"It's absolutely disgusting!"

"So is that why you had interactions with my father of that nature?"

I got him there. He's pissed. And I smile.

"I have known Clark's secret or suspected it since the day we met. I have had years to do my damage and plenty of opportunities arrived. I haven't done it yet and have no intention of doing it."

Another point for me, and Jonathon is left speechless. He knows I have won; I thought it would have been harder.

Clark leaves the room as does Jonathon and Martha takes a seat next to me on the make-up table. I am surprised when she smiles at me gently, like a mother would have. I try to return the smile but all I do is end up with a twisted expression on my face.

"I am happy for you both." She says.

"It's nice to know someone is."

"Clark could never have a normal romance. Yours would be aberrant enough for it to maybe just work."

"What do you mean our relationship wouldn't be normal?" I am beginning to get worried and a belly laugh emits out of her mouth.

"Between the two of you, there is enough manpower and brain power to take over the world. Both of you are obsessive compulsive control freaks and…"

I don't allow her to continue, because I am laughing way too hard. It almost hurts to be laughing.

"Did you expect this to happen? Clark and me?" I ask, and she is perplexed by the question. It takes her awhile to think up her answer.

After a long suspended pause, she answers. " Yeah. The first time both our families met, on the day of the meteor shower, I knew somehow you would hold some part in Clark's life. I guess it is just mother's instincts. The day you crashed the car into him, when I saw you step out of that car, I knew whom you were though so many years passed. You were right next to each other, and it just seemed right."

She smiles at the memory and it makes me feel better about the future. "What about you?"

I am uncomfortable with telling her, but here she was, being honest to me and being so accepting, that it felt rude to not tell.

"The riverbank. Clark never knew that I could have stopped the car. It was a tough day and life sucked. My mind was on ways to kill myself and it popped up before me. As I got out of the way of the log, it occurred to me that my life could end this way. Clark could have gotten out of the way, I could have stopped. But neither of us did.

"When I awoke, it felt like for once, I was alive. I had a second chance. I was thankful for it, but the only second chance I got was the fact I had the chance to meet him and attempt to not be my father. But in the end, I am. But I guess the reason I always loved him was that he made me believe I could change."

The smile on her face says she accepts my answer and with an unspoken agreement, we both leave the room.

The whole hallway of people turn at my presence and stare as I make my death march down to the area which my father has secluded himself. Clark is in the other hallway and I can see him laughing with Chloe. His back is facing to me but she sees me, and winks. It figures she knew about this from Day One and has wanted this to happen.

Pete is standing next to him and they seem to be on comfortable terms. His bruises are now concealed so he looks less like a gangster and more like a clown.

Lana looks angry. It think it is because I took the spotlight out of her wedding and no longer will it make the newspapers because it is her and Pete's wedding. It will go on to be known as the paper as that I am having a homosexual affair with the head reporter of the Daily Planet. Too bad they don't know he is Superman. It would make the papers so much more drastic.

Even Jonathon is looking less pissed off she is. He looks crazed. The blood has left his face and his fists are an odd shade of purple from clenching them so much, cutting off the oxygen supply. He eyes me warily as I pass, and I feel his eyes drilling holes into my body and I finally reach my father.

I haven't been nervous until this moment. He is smiling which is never the greatest sign or the best way to start a conversation with him.

"So you finally acted on it?"

He is looking out the window, and I look out of it to see what he is seeing. People on the street, walk around, smiling, going about their every day life.

"We are not meant to be like them." He continues. "Contentment breeds failure."

"And unhappiness fails in achieving anything, I know."

He looks at me, and smiles. For the first time in my life, it's not a sadistic smile. It's one that a father would give to his son in pride.

"Love of the lips was touch, as sweet as I could bear…"

"And once that seemed too much, I lived on air," I finish off the poem. "Robert Frost. I can assure you that is not the case."

"Good. Have a good fight…" he walks away from me and I think about what he meant by it.

It would be a fight. The world was not ready to see a same-sex couple, especially with ones who are such media-moguls. People would be prejudice. I could lose business because what I did with my private life. I would be mocked. I would be ridiculed. He was asking; was I prepared for the consequences of finally admitting my feelings for Clark? He was asking could I rise above it? Was I ready to be my own person and stop hiding behind his shadow of protection?

And the truth is, I am. I have never been so certain of something in my life. I spent so much time trying to be the person that I was supposed to be, to succeed, that I denied my happiness. I realize that I can have both. It may be hard but I want it. And anything I want, I can have…

I catch Clark's eyes across the room. I wonder if the impending onslaught of attacks would be worth it. The thought is immediately squished the second he looks at me. I would die to protect him. He would do the same for me. I lucked out and I can't avoid things because I am scared of where they might go.