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"Lex here."
"Hi... er, this is Clark."
"Clark! I wasn't expecting to hear from you."
"Yeah, well, I kinda figured that, given how you've been avoiding me."
"Avoiding you?" Lex didn't deny it, since after all he had been dodging Clark.
"Uh huh. Gonna make up an excuse and hang up on me?"
"If I were, it would be awkward now, don't you think?"
"Good. I want to talk to you."
"You've got me." Thankfully, Clark had no idea how true that was. Lex sat back in his chair, waiting.
"I want to apologize. For whatever I did that's making you upset with me. I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry."
"If you don't know what you're apologizing for, then you can't be very sorry."
"Yeah, I can. I'm sorry it's been three days since I saw you. I'm sorry my best friend suddenly can't stand the sight of me."
"Clark..." he began, trying to placate the anger he could hear in Clark's voice.
"Don't give me some lame excuse, Lex. I know something's wrong, even if I don't know what."
"If you give me a minute, I'll try to make up a more interesting excuse."
A long pause. "Okay. You don't want to talk to me, I get that. I'm sorry I bothered you. I just... I thought we were friends, Lex."
Lex realized he was about to be hung up on. "Wait, Clark..."
"Yeah?"
So many things he could say, but then, if he wanted to say them, he wouldn't have spent so much effort avoiding Clark. "I don't want you to be upset with me."
"I don't want to be upset with you either. Just talk to me, Lex."
"Can we pretend we had the lengthy conversation about my moodiness and that it's over, and we've agreed it isn't your fault I'm a manic-depressive ass?"
"If it isn't my fault, why won't you talk to me?"
This was beginning to sound like a conversation with one of any of the psychologists that his father had subjected him to before Lex had realized that toying with them was a more entertaining approach than blowing up at them. He didn't like being picked apart. The difference was, Clark actually cared about the answers. Reminding himself of that, Lex took a deep breath and started over with something resembling the truth. "You caught me at a bad moment the other day. I don't like being like that. I'll be a prickly bastard for a while until I deal with it."
"Oh." Brief silence on Clark's end, then, "Should I call you back later then?"
"If you hang up now, I will go outside, dig a hole and bury the cell phone in it."
"So does that mean no?"
A moment of shock; it was surprising that Clark could tease him so soon after he'd been a grade A jerk -- and Lex grinned. "That means no, Clark."
"Oh, good."
"Good? Your day was so bad that you were actually looking forward to a conversation with a prickly, manic-depressive asshole?"
"You forgot 'bastard'."
"Despite my fondest hopes, it seems that I am indeed Lionel Luthor's legitimate heir."
"Lex!"
"Clark," he mimicked. "Think we can have one conversation without talking about my father? If it isn't obvious, I don't particularly like him."
"You brought him up."
"Point. Subject change then. Did you decide what you were going to do about that dance of yours?"
"Not really. I... Actually, that was one of the things I wanted to talk to you about."
His eyebrows rose. "All right. Hit me."
"Lana asked me if I wanted to go to the dance with her."
Punch to the gut. Maybe he would bury the phone after all. He could afford another one. And the tradition of shooting the messenger was a long and honorable one. Lex kept his voice even. "Congratulations. What's the problem? I assume there's a problem. If there's anything I can do..."
"Er... not exactly."
"Not exactly?"
"Well, see, I didn't tell her yes."
"You told Lana Lang no?" Forget burial. He'd bronze the damn thing.
"I said I'd have to think about it."
"Ah." Where would his gardening staff keep the shovels? "What do you need to think about? You should be happy. This is something you've wanted for a long time, isn't it?"
"Yeah, I guess. It's just..."
"Just what?"
"Do you remember when you came over for dinner on Friday?"
"Of course."
"And I said that there was someone else I... I thought I might like more than Lana."
"I remember."
"I... if I could ask them, I'd rather go to the dance with them, but it... I can't ask, it..."
Clark was almost stuttering in his attempts to reword what he wanted to say. Lex summoned up what gentleness he had and asked, "Is it because the other person is a guy?"
Slowly, as though it would shock Lex -- as if anything could -- Clark replied, "Yeah. How -- how'd you know?"
"The pronoun game, remember?" He felt immensely better, but there was always the chance that Clark had inexplicably fallen in love with Pete -- or Whitney, for that matter. "You're probably right. Even if the person you have in mind is open to the idea, taking another guy to a dance in Smallville, Kansas is still likely to be difficult."
"Why's that?"
Lex reconsidered. "I guess it depends on the level of formality. I attended boarding school. Different social rules."
"Dances are pretty casual here except at, y'know, Homecoming and stuff like that. Just a lot of people in the gym and loud music."
"Well, then, you could probably get away with it. Skip the slow dances and you'll be fine."
"Yeah. Except..."
"Except?"
"Mom and Dad..."
"Don't tell them."
"Lex, I kinda have to tell them."
"No, you don't. Let me give you one of the best pieces of advice you're ever going to get from me -- skip the coming-out speech until after you're sure what your sexual orientation is. You really don't want the hassle."
"Did you... er, never mind. You said you didn't want to talk about your dad."
"I never told my father I was gay or bisexual if that's what you mean, Clark. I didn't have to." That was what detectives and police reports were for.
"Oh."
Lex waited for Clark to say something, but he didn't. Finally, he prompted. "Anything else?"
"Yeah... well, the most important part. I'm not sure if he's... er..."
"Gay?"
"Yeah."
Lex framed the problem in his head. Was Clark talking about him? Unless he was capable of missing the some of most painfully obvious flirting Lex had ever been guilty of, then no. So, someone like Whitney or Pete. In which case, the likely answer was, "You're screwed."
"Thanks, Lex. That really helps. Not."
"You're welcome."
"So I should tell Lana I'll go with her?"
"If that's what you want to do."
"You're not being very helpful here, Lex."
"I'm not sure what to help with. Do you need advice, material assistance, moral support, or something else entirely?"
"Advice mostly."
"Advice on what precisely?"
"What should I do?"
Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. Or was that hung like a bull? Lex wasn't sure at this point. Knew he wasn't thinking straight, and that jealousy was at the root of it. "Forget Lana and your mystery guy, and come over here instead. Bring your telescope. We can have dinner and do some stargazing."
"Are you asking me out, Lex?"
"This'll be our third date, Clark. We're practically going steady." Long silence, and Lex wondered if Clark was blushing. "It's all right to say no -- I know how long you've wanted to date Lana."
"And if I say yes?"
"Come over around seven?"
"I can do that."
Lex smiled. The day -- the week even -- was looking up. "I'll look forward to seeing you Friday then. And Clark?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad you called."
-the end-