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Clark/Lex, no spoilers, set season two I guess. Thanks, as always, to my smoochie. Suitable for all :)

*

There was no great revelation, no one event that made him realise. It just happened one day, while they were playing pool. Lex was pouring himself a drink, and as Clark lined up his next shot the information quietly appeared at the front of his brain: he was in love with his best friend.

He didn’t miss his shot, or the one after it. In fact the rest of the day’s events were astonishingly normal, not something he would have anticipated (if he’d previously been aware enough of his feelings to anticipate...yeah, he was confusing himself).

With Lana there had always been these sudden *moments*: realisation, pain, an odd sense of guilt. Days, *weeks*, spent angsting up in his fortress. Hours spent ogling her though his telescope, jealousy flaring whenever he saw Whitney with her.

But with Lex things just...happened. One moment carelessly slipping into the next, seconds and months overlapping, his feelings bending and twisting so slightly that he had no idea he was even falling for Lex until long past the point where he already completely had.

There should have been angst. There was *always* angst. He was Clark Kent, angsty boy wonder. He specialised in it. And God knew there were a lot more reasons to angst over Lex than there ever had been to angst over Lana.

His dad hated Lex’s guts, Clark was apparently bi (which was certainly news to him), he had absolutely no clue if his feelings were reciprocated at all, Lex was capable of things he knew he’d personally never, ever be able to do...and then there was the whole alien thing, oh and by the way, Lex, did I mention that I’ve been lying to you since the very first time you heard me speak?

See? Essays, *novels* full of angst were just *waiting* to come pouring out of him.

Only they didn’t.

When he realised he was angsting over his lack of angst (only you, Kent), he gave himself a metaphorical head thwap and got over it.

Life stayed the same. He studied, went to school (usually late), worked on the farm and hung out with his friends. Meteor mutants attacked them on a semi-regular basis but that was (kinda) normal too.

And Clark still spent time with Lex. Sometimes playing pool, sometimes sitting on the sofas by the fire, as Lex told him about history and legends, his face more animated than at any other time.

Clark didn’t pine for him, didn’t anxiously wait for each accidental brush of his hand or dreamily wonder if one day Lex would burst into the farm, declare his love for Clark in front of his parents, and tell Jonathan where he could shove that pitchfork of his (although the mental image? *Funny*).

Part of him knew that didn’t really made sense. He’d watched movies, listened to his parents stories, had even read a few romance novels (he and Chloe had a deal – she wouldn’t tell anyone he read them, and he’d do the same for her), and everything told him that love was about the anticipation, the nervousness, the waiting for the moment that might not actually ever come.

But he figured that being an alien, and gay, and a dork, meant he didn’t really have to pay attention to any of that.

And then one warm Tuesday evening on a day where nothing in particular happened, Lex’s hand moved along his arm, across his shoulder, up into his hair and then Clark was kissing him, his hands shaking slightly as they brushed over his hips.

And it was just one moment, slowly sliding into another.

~FINIS

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