Lex woke up with a smile on his face. His dream had been exceedingly pleasant; his only regret was that it wasn't feasible.

Lex stopped himself there. He was Lex Luthor, and even if he didn't remember what that meant exactly, he did know that there was nothing that wasn't feasible for him. If he wanted it, then he would have to make it happen.

"What the hell, Lex?"

Lex looked up from his computer to find Clark Kent bursting through the doors of his office, having apparently gotten past security, looking incredibly angry. He was also, unfortunately, not wearing any of the new suits or silk shirts that Lex had stuffed his closets with. Instead he had on an old pair of jeans and a battered red jacket that Lex knew hadn't been in the apartment before, because there was no way he wouldn't have gotten rid of it. And the whole sense of déjà vu Lex was getting about the situation really wasn't helping him gain his equilibrium.

"What can I do for you Mr. Kent?" Lex asked, keeping his voice calm and even.

"I don't know, maybe give me back the clothes that you stole? I had to fly all the way to Mom's just to get something I could wear. These are Conner's jeans!" Lex wasn't sure who Conner was, but he was definitely smaller than Kent; those jeans were way too small on him. Not that Lex was complaining.

Lex quickly, but methodically, examined the situation. Kent had clearly figured out that Lex was behind switching out his clothes, though how Lex didn't know. Possibly because there were so few people with the resources to break into Kent's apartment and replace all his clothes with designer labels. Kent was also upset and revealing things that he might not otherwise. If Lex played his cards right, he might figure out just what it was Kent was doing to get into Lex's head.

"What makes you think I took your clothes?" Lex said, quite reasonably in his opinion.

Kent did not, apparently, share this opinion. "Look Lex I don't know if you were lying about not researching your past or if the memory drug didn't work in the first place and this whole thing was your idea of a practical joke or what, but it's not funny. I want my clothes back, my own clothes. I didn't take the truck and I'm not taking the wardrobe either," Kent said, crossing his arms.

So Lex had known Kent from before. That certainly explained some things, but it still raised more questions than it answered. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," Lex told him honestly, though no doubt Kent wouldn't take it that way.

"Can we just cut the plausible deniability crap? I'm in no mood right now, because someone stole my clothes," Kent said with a glare.

Lex debated his options. If he kept pushing he would undoubtedly get more information, but Kent was also far more likely to discover that Lex really didn't have the slightest clue what he was talking about. In the end, he decided the benefits didn't out-weigh the risks. "Just talk to my secretary, she'll see about getting your clothes back." Well, exact duplicates of his clothes since the originals had been unceremoniously thrown into the dumpster.

"Good," Kent said, his anger deflating. "And could you maybe not mention to Lois or Chloe that I came here? The current party line is that, since you lost your memory, we're supposed to be avoiding you."

"Sure thing… Clark," Lex said, testing the word in his mouth. It felt strangely comfortable.

"Thanks Lex," Ken – Clark responded flashing a smile that Lex was absolutely sure he had never seen before, no matter how familiar it seemed. "But next time you want to get my attention just, I don't know, call me or something. I'll talk to Lois and Chloe," Clark reassured.

"No more clothes stealing," Lex promised. He liked to keep his options open after all.

"Alright, I'll see you around then," Clark said, exiting the room and closing the door behind him.

Well. That was certainly something that bore looking into.

A/N: This story now has a sequel titled "Never a Sane Moment" (Story ID: 8131689)