Dark, heavy wood and muted lighting gave the room a feeling of age and importance. Lex Luthor hated it. Despite the soaring vaulted ceilings, the walls felt close and confining. Sometimes, it felt like he was smothering in his own home. Not now, though. Light and air had followed Clark into the room, as it always did. And that was a sappy idea, but no less true for the flowery words.

"Hey, Lex." Clark walked across the room to the pool table and picked up the cue ball, then looked up and smiled, turning the ball between his fingers. "Up for a game?"

Lex tilted his head, regarding Clark's open, innocent face. He was too innocent; he always had been, but Lex had learned to see the shadows in the clear blue sky, the veils that hid deep secrets from everyone, even Lex. "My father thinks you're remarkable." Lex kept his voice casual, with only a hint of a question to it.

Clark's signature guileless smile appeared. "Does he?" Clark lifted his shoulders in an aw-shucks gesture—not quite a shrug. "I guess my mom has been bragging."

Lex nodded, unconvinced. "I guess." He still found it difficult to wrap his head around the idea of Martha Kent working for his father, but it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that they may have talked about Clark. She had Lionel contributing to charities, after all. Her influence might actually make the older Luthor into something resembling a human being.

Clark appeared oblivious to Lex's skepticism, his mild smile never slipping. It was maddening that nothing ever seemed to shake him.

"It's not an easy task to impress my father." Lex poured himself a drink, watching Clark out of the corner of his eye as the amber liquid splashed into the crystal tumbler. Clark didn't react. Lifting the decanter, Lex raised an eyebrow. "Brandy?"

Clark laughed, his eyes a sundrenched summer sky. "Trying to corrupt me, Lex? You know I'm underage."

It was incredible how naïve he could be while simultaneously completely deceitful. And yet, Lex didn't believe the naïveté was feigned. Despite his secrets, Clark wasn't a very good liar. Replacing the decanter, Lex lifted his glass and turned toward Clark, smiling a small smile. "Maybe."

He lifted the glass to his lips and took a slow sip, never taking his eyes from Clark, who only laughed again. Was there a nervous edge to his laughter this time? Lex's smile widened and he crossed the room to stand before Clark. He carefully placed his drink on the pool table's rail and took another step closer.

"If I was going to try to corrupt you, Clark, I would do this." He lifted a hand and laid it gently along the side of Clark's face. Then, moving slowly so Clark could pull back if he wanted to, he leaned forward and gently kissed him on the lips.

Clark didn't pull back. He stood as if frozen, and yet a shiver went through him as their lips touched. It was possible this was his first kiss—though, he may have kissed Lana; probably had kissed Lana. Either way, he didn't seem to know how to react.

Lex lifted his head after a few seconds—or hours. That was strange; he didn't usually lose track of time when he kissed someone. The sunny summer skies of Clark's eyes had deepened to a stormy night shot with lightning.

"Lex?" Clark sounded slightly breathless, and Lex realized he had never heard Clark out of breath before. His voice was always so calm and even. Unruffled.

Delighted that he had rippled the calm surface even slightly, Lex dropped his hands to Clark's shoulders and brought his lips to Clark's ear. "And then," he whispered, "I would do this."

He took another step forward, turning them both with dancer's grace until Clark was backed up against the pool table. Dipping his head, he touched his lips to the side of Clark's neck, then flicked out his tongue against the skin.

Clark jerked as if shocked, and there was a loud snap. Lex lifted his head, and blinked, staring. Clark had grabbed the rail behind him, and the mahogany had cracked beneath his hands. The glass had tipped over, spilling brandy across the felt, a darker shadow against the deep red. Lex frowned and raised his eyes to meet Clark's. He didn't know that much about the work done on a farm, but he hadn't thought it created that kind of strength.

Clark looked horrified, his eyes wide. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice ragged.

Leaving one hand on Clark's shoulder, Lex ran the fingertips of his other hand over the deep cracks in the expensive wood. "No need to be sorry. I'm not worried about the table. I'm more interested in how you did that." Giving Clark's shoulder a squeeze, he raised his eyes to Clark's face once again, trying to meet his eyes.

Clark ducked his head, his cheeks reddening. His voice was barely a whisper. "I'm stronger than I look."

Lex made a soft sound of agreement. No shit, Sherlock. But why hide his strength? He picked up one of Clark's hands and ran his thumb over the knuckles, then turned it over. The skin was unmarked, soft. He frowned. "Clark, how is it possible that you don't have calluses?"

Clark's voice trembled on the reply. "I… uh… wear gloves."

The lie was so obvious Lex nearly snorted in derision. Raising an eyebrow, he lifted his head, but Clark avoided his eyes, looking down to one side as if the floor was fascinating. Smiling thinly, Lex said mildly, "Must be some gloves."

Clark bit his lip, his eyes flickering up to Lex's face, then away. He lifted his free hand and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah." His voice was faint, and lacked his usual conviction.

Lex put two fingers under Clark's chin and gently lifted. Clark's eyes were a moonless midnight, obscuring everything. Lex sighed softly. "I'm not an idiot, Clark. I know you're hiding something from me." Clark opened his mouth, but Lex touched his lips with one finger. "You don't have to tell me. Just… don't lie to me." A shiver went through Clark, setting off electrical shocks all along Lex's nerve endings.

Clark closed his eyes, his long lashes sweeping across his cheeks, and swallowed. He inhaled deeply. "I'm sorry, Lex. I just…" His voice trailed off.

"It's all right." Lex brushed Clark's hair back from his forehead. "Everyone's allowed to have secrets." He grinned. "Just so you know, I'm probably imagining something far worse than it really is."

Clark laughed, his breath hitching slightly. "I doubt it."

Lex grinned again, letting his fingers trail down over Clark's ear. "You're a foundling, a faery child left on Jonathan and Martha's doorstep."

Clark's laugh was breathless. "Lex…"

Lex traced the curve of Clark's ear with a fingertip. "You're from another planet, sent here to spy on us…" He frowned, his voice trailing away. Clark had gone very still, had even stopped breathing. "Clark?"

Clark was staring at the floor again, his jaw tight, his body tense. Lex shook his head slowly. It was preposterous, impossible. And yet…

Lex slid his hand down to rest on Clark's shoulder. "Clark, are you a little green man from Mars?" The possibility that Clark was insane, completely out of touch with reality, crossed his mind, but he dismissed it immediately.

Smiling weakly, Clark met Lex's eyes. He shook his head, the tension draining from his body. "I'm not from Mars." His voice was nearly inaudible.

There was the ring of truth to Clark's words, but Lex didn't miss the evasion. "Where are you from then?"

Clark closed his eyes and sighed. "I don't know."

Lex shook his head helplessly. "Clark, are you telling me you're from another planet?"

Clark shrugged, his eyes a windswept summer's day. "Lex… I…" He shook his head sharply, then held Lex's gaze steadily. "Yes."

Lex's mouth fell open, and he snapped it shut. He had never expected this.

Clark bit his lip and said softly, "Maybe I should go."

Lex blinked, and shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry, Clark. You don't have to leave. I just… are you sure? Because the meteor rocks can have some strange effects on human physiology."

Clark laughed shortly, his eyes clouding. "Yes, they can. But they have even stranger effects on me." He pressed his lips together tightly for a moment. "I brought the meteor rocks here. I mean, it's all because of me: everyone who died or was affected by them—I caused it." He glanced up at Lex. "Even you."

Lex frowned, then ran a hand over his smooth scalp. "What, this? It gives me character." He narrowed his eyes. "You couldn't have been more than two when Jonathan and Martha adopted you. How can you blame yourself for something that happened when you were that young?"

Clark shrugged helplessly. "The meteor shower followed my ship down. If I hadn't come here, Lana's parents would be alive—so many people would still be alive."

Lex put his palms on either side of Clark's head, and held his gaze. "Listen to me, Clark. It's not your fault. None of it."

Clark nodded, but the shadows didn't leave his eyes. "I know, but—"

"No buts." Lex brushed his thumbs across Clark's cheekbones. "If you hadn't come here—if I hadn't met you—I would have gone back to Metropolis to work for my father, and probably be self-destructing in a bar somewhere. Jonathan and Martha would have lost the farm, and possibly each other."

Clark opened his mouth as if to protest, but Lex continued. "You don't think having you gives them purpose? I may not have a loving family, but that doesn't mean I don't recognize it when I see it."

Clark nodded slowly. "My mom says I was a gift."

Lex smiled. "A bit sappy, but I'm sure she means it." Drawing circles on Clark's cheeks with his thumbs, his smile widened. "And, despite his thoughts on your choice in friends, I'm certain your father agrees—and neither one of them would choose to go back and change things if they could."

Clark's eyes drifted closed. "I guess you're right," he murmured.

Lex laughed softly. "Of course I'm right. And, for the record, I wouldn't go back and change things either." Leaning forward, he brushed his lips across Clark's again, then lifted his head and murmured, "So, now that I've corrupted you, and you've told me your deepest, darkest secret, how about that game of pool?"