#maybe fluff?

Clark Kenttenses, it’s not hard to catch the moment when his huge muscular frame goescompletely still; Lex would have narrowed his eyes at him had he been yourordinary comic book villain. Lex is, however, just a simple man trying to getrid of a very persistent problem. One that consequently wears a red cape andloves shooting through the sky like a missile. But that’s not the point here.

“What aboutSuperman?” Clark asks, words stilted, like he is made of wood and is notfamiliar with a concept of emotion. He is not fooling anyone: neither Lex, northe people gathering on the street to gawk at the two of them. Lex spares thegawkers a glance and a wave at the crowd, before turning back to Clark.

“I’m verybothered by your profound favoritism, Clark.” Lex shakes his head, deepdisappointment making itself known in every syllable. “I’ve seen a perfectlydisgusting example of it on my tablet first thing in the morning today. I had aheadache for hours after that. For hours!” He does not mean to shout, he neverdoes really, but his voice goes up and a flush rises to his cheeks, so Lextakes a breath and replaces it all with a smile. Smile feels just as familiaras anger; he can do this in his sleep.

“That-thatarticle about Superman.” He lunges into a jumbled explanation, so many wordscoming all at once, so many things he needs to say and, like always, ends upstumbling through a sentence until it reaches a point of coherence. “Savingkittens or dogs, or whatever…You wrote it.” The ending sounds like anaccusation, but it clashes strangely with the pleasant expression on his face.

“I did,” Clarkadmits hesitantly, probably trying to remember the article in question. He musthave written thousands of those by now and Lex likes to believe that only halfof those appreciative poems to ‘our favorite hero’ got published. “Was theresomething wrong with it? Are you saying it is untrue? I have witnesses.”

“I don’t careif it’s true or not. Or more like it, I believe it is, because let’s face it,that is such a Superman thing to do,” there is way too much disgust in how hesays it, but Lex is on a roll right now; there is no stopping that stream ofconsciousness. “But do you absolutely have to report it on the front page?Really? Like we need another reminder about that egocentric maniac in a cape!”He huffs and stomps and only then notices how the crowd of onlookers has grownbigger. Clark sees that too and Lex enjoys the awkward moment when the otherman tries to steer him away without actually touching him. It doesn’t work, ofcourse it doesn’t – Lex’s smirk foretold that outcome from the very beginning,so Clark rolls his eyes and carefully but resolutely leads Lex away with a handon his back. There is strength in the touch; Lex probably enjoys that a littletoo much.

Lex rambles allthe way to the Daily Planet building, making his displeasure widely known, andtakes a great pleasure in how Clark Kent grows more tense with eachexclamation. “It’s like this whole corporation is one big shrine to Superman,and you,” he shoves a finger into Clark’s chest, and what a lovely firm chestit is, “are the head priest. The one who would not shup up about their god. Atleast I hope you are not a eunuch. For my sake and for the sake of humanity –you are way to pretty to be a eunuch.”

Clark stumblesover the threshold, shoving Lex forward with too much strength so that theyboth practically fall through the big glass doors. “What are you even talkingabout?” An embarrassed flush rises to his cheeks.

“Is he payingyou?”

“What?” Embarrassmentdrains away, replaced by confusion once again. It seems to be Kent’s primarysetting.

“Is Supermanpaying you to write all that mushy crap about him?” Lex asks abruptly, hisvoice echoing in the half-empty lobby. The guard sends him a mild glare but continueswith his crossword puzzle.

“No!” Clarkdenies violently. So must be the truth.

“Is someoneelse paying you to wax poetic about Superman?”

“No.”

“Then we aretalking about your infatuation with him.” Lex exclaims, gesticulating widely. Hedoesn’t really know what to do with his hands, can’t keep them still in hisagitation.

Clark’s eyesgrow wide and he is shaking his head even before he is starting to speak. “Youare mad.”

Lex heaves asigh. “That’s not a ‘no’ by the way. So you are sleeping with him.” And then,with a terrible wince, like it pains him to ask the next question but he can’tkeep it in anyway. “Is he any good?”

Clark just standsthere, mouth closing and opening, like he is a giant fish that can’t quitefigure out why some of its relatives decided it was a good idea to grow legsand live on dry land. Then he just closes his mouth, finally, Lex was growingtired of the sight of those ridiculously straight teeth. Clark takes a deepbreath, yeah like he is the one evading questions and acting all ludicrous, andreplies evenly. “I am not sleeping with Superman.”

“I don’t believeyou.” Is Lex’s instant reply.

“I am notsleeping with Superman.” He repeats, still as calm, probably hoping his bighonest eyes will be enough to persuade his opponent.

Lex stepscloser, hands at his sides, and squints up at the man. He hums and looks intothose blue eyes, still pretty even hidden behind those huge frames. “Alrightthen.” He nods to himself.

Clark relaxesvisibly and even cracks half a smile.

“So say, if I sleptwith you would I get a praising article under your byline?”