title: when the clock strikes twelve
author: jessica
mail: thegirlinglasses@illuminatedtext.com
date: march 18, 2003
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He has to leave. Right now.
There's no leniency for missed curfews in the Kent house. Clark has no excuses.
'Home by midnight. Don't give me that face, Clark. Leave Lex's by midnight, and you'll still make it on time.' But his dad keeps talking. There's the story about how he didn't have a truck at eighteen, let alone superspeed, and he had to leave parties at least fifteen minutes early to make curfew. Sometimes there's snow in the story.
Clark's boots are missing, and the grandfather clock in the hall downstairs continues to chime twelve, like it doesn't even care. In the first moment of silence, Clark stops, and thinks it through rationally. There are only seventy-five rooms in the castle, even fewer that Clark's actually been in.
They came in through the garage. It was raining and Lex doesn't like to leave his cars outside. They stopped in the kitchen. Lex was thirsty and Clark was hungry, despite the roast beef and potatoes Martha made for dinner. They went to the den to watch a movie, but something made Lex laugh, Clark couldn't help but kiss him, and then they were upstairs.
Clark finds his shirt at the doorway, his jeans on the dresser. He finds his underwear behind a chair, but even with superpowers, his boots are still missing.
Lex hid them. Clark is sure of it. They didn't sleep long, but Lex was awake when Clark opened his eyes. It's enough for Clark to accuse Lex of the crime.
"Why would I hide the shoes of a man with x-ray vision?"
Clark lifts himself up off the floor long enough to point a finger at Lex. "Don't think I can't run away without shoes, my friend." He has the most serious look on his face and Lex is ready to laugh.
"Why would I hide your shoes, Clark? Your underwear would be so much more fun."
"Lex, if you don't tell me where my shoes are, then I don't make curfew, then you won't be coming to anymore Sunday dinners, and I know you hate them, but that wouldn't be a good thing."
Kneeling next to the bed, Clark rests his chin on Lex's pillow with a sigh. He's flustered, but not tired. Lex reaches out to brush his bangs back.
"Kiss me?" Clark rolls his eyes, then leans forward and touches their lips. "Your shoes are downstairs. You left them in the hall."
"God, Lex. Was that so hard?" He smacks Lex on the head, and then kisses the spot. "I'll see you tomorrow."
They wouldn't be seeing each other tomorrow, actually. Lex has some meetings in Metropolis and will be staying the night. It's just the way they always say goodbye when they don't want to say goodbye.