Written for contrelamontre's "complimentary colours" challenge in 90 minutes over three days.

He doesn't laugh. It's work, a constant chanting in his head ("don't laugh, don't laugh"), but when the new - not necessarily improved - and newly name Superman lands on his balcony, Lex doesn't laugh.

"God, Clark. Who taught you how to dress?"

Clark looks down at himself, shrink-wrapped in bright reds, blues, and yellows, then back up at Lex. Martha may have let go of the flannel when Clark did, but Lex can still see her in this new uniform. He doesn't laugh, and he doesn't say anything more, because Lex has never been able to say anything about Martha Kent.

Pointing at the mismatched boxers and t-shirts Lex is wearing, Clark says, "Who taught you?"

"GQ," Lex answers easily. "But only for when people are looking."

"I'm looking."

"You're also wearing the three primary colours, Clark. You don't count."

"You want Superman in purple, maybe?"

Clark pulls a chair away from the wall and sits, bending down to yanks the red boots off his feet. Lex takes his own seat on the bed and watches the performance. He could see a younger Clark getting tangled, getting an arm stuck in the wrong hole, and a leg wrapped around his neck. Lex waits for a moment like that again to step forward to help Clark out of the mess.

The uniform may be new, but Clark pulls it off like a familiar t-shirt. He lays it over the chair, smoothing inexistent wrinkles. He scrubs his fingers through his slicked back hair, walking towards Lex on the bed.

"If Superman wore purple, everyone would know who he belonged to."

Superman stands out in the blue and red. Clark Kent does not.

Hiding's easy for Clark. He has a favourite suit, and he wears it every day that it's not at the cleaners. A brown Brooks Brothers bought on sale with his first paycheck and enough money left over to send home. Lex knows Clark picked it out himself, but it still looks like Martha had been standing over his shoulder.

"Let me buy you something."

Clark shakes his head. "You buy me things all the time."

"Let me buy you more," Lex tries again.

"This is me," Clark says, then walks into the bathroom - his suit on its hanger - and closes the door behind him.

Lex almost laughs. "Fine. Wear your brown suit." He pulls his own from the closet. "But you can't make fun of me anymore."

The door clicks open. In the mirror, Lex can see Clark's head poking out into the bedroom.

"Not even the purple boxer briefs?"

"Not even."

Clark lets out a breath, considering. Lex steps into the closet for a shirt and returns to Clark sitting on the bed.

"You can get used to Superman's uniform, but not Clark Kent's?"

"Clark Kent shouldn't need a uniform," Lex says, walking towards the bed. Clark reaches out, batting Lex's hands away and buttoning the purple shirt himself. "There are a million colours out there for Clark to try on. I think he could make every one of them look good."

Clark looks up, smiling.

"Even brown?"

Clark relents finally, and lets Lex buy him a tuxedo. It's a necessary tool for his job as Lex Luthor's boyfriend.

"And Lois says it's easier to crash a party when you're dressed like the enemy," Clark told him.

But he looks nothing like the enemy. Clark's already dressed, just fighting with his bowtie when Lex steps into the bedroom.

"Sorry I'm late."

Clark turns his head for a kiss as Lex passes by to get his own tux from the closet.

"Hey, the less time I have to spend at this thing, the happier I am," Clark grumbles, yanking the tie out again and starting over.

Lex turns him around, and away from the mirror. "Do you not know how good you look in a tux?" He distracts Clark with a kiss, and ties the bowtie blind. When he pulls away to check his work, Clark groans.

"Tell me again how good I look."

"Later." Lex drops a quick kiss on his lips. "I need to change."

Giving Clark one last look, something catches his eye.

"Wait. Didn't we buy you a red cumberband?"

"Yeah." Clark follows Lex's eyes down to the yellow fabric wrapped around his middle. "But I was thinking about it, so I went back, and the guy said yellow might be a better complement." He shrugs. "Red and purple have never matched, Lex."

He kisses Clark again. "Yes, they have."

06/07/03

email * back to smallville fic