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"I was a quiet kid."
It came out of nowhere, froze Lex for a just a moment on his path from the Kents' fridge to the counter, where his coffee waited for the cream in his hand. Clark was at the sink, staring out the window as he spoke- his parents were out on the farm already. Lex could appreciate the dedication to tasks that could have been automated by the time Clark was in high school, let alone now.
"That's hard to imagine." A year ago, that would have been a nasty little barb. It was true, now. Lex couldn't imagine Clark keeping to himself when something excited him. "When did that change?"
"When I stopped being a kid." Clark turned over his shoulder to smile at Lex, and it thawed him enough to return to making his coffee, sidling up so close to Clark that he could feel the sunshine pouring off of him in waves. "When I started being Superman, probably."
Lex found it borderline insane that he couldn't get a coffee as good as this one- a pod in a machine, sugar from a dish that was probably lead-glazed, fresh cream from the herd of cows busy mooing their good mornings in the field. He could pay a thousand dollars for a cup of coffee and walk away with disappointing sludge covered in gold leaf, but any time he made coffee in Clark's childhood home, it was the best coffee he'd ever had. No matter what.
"Alright, I'll bite. Why is that?"
"People seemed like they actually wanted to listen to Superman. Even if all I was saying was that they were going to be alright- you want to know what it was like growing up? Tell me about something you like." Clark turned the rest of his body to match, then, leaning back against the sink with his arms folded over his sinfully broad chest. Lex stared down into his coffee for a half second as he tried to think of something to say: he'd never been a quiet kid, to his own detriment, but Clark had a good grasp on leaving him borderline speechless.
"They've figured out what's causing the increase in sargassum algae mats." He offered, and then waited for Clark. It was almost a flow chart: he offers the information, someone asks him to elaborate, or to clue them in, or even just to make a comment to sound as if they could follow the conversation- conversation depending. Instead, Clark looked at him for a second, made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat, and turned back towards the sink.
"The Sharks are doing pretty well this season." Clark turned the water on, and picked up a dish from the sink.
It was hard for Lex to track his own emotions over the next few measured breaths. He was confused, for a moment, and then angry, and hurt, and-
"And then you think, gee, what was the point of saying it in the first place?" Clark continued, pulling Lex out of the swirling pit of red he'd been sinking back towards, "People don't want to hear it. They don't want to hear about how you got a really good look at Venus last night, they don't want to hear about some new book you read, they don't want to know about the cool thing you learned in class. So you start saving your breath. And then you never know if people would want to hear it, because you don't give them the chance, 'cause you know they'll ignore you. Or they'll pretend they're not, but you know they are, and so you get quiet."
He passed the dish over to Lex, who kept his face down while he dried it and tucked it into the cabinet above the counter.
"But people listened to Superman. Even if it was just telling them to get out of the way. What's causing an increase in algae?" He nudged at Lex with his elbow- and Lex had to temper himself as he answered. Not because he was mad at Clark, obviously, because if there was anything to ever be mad at Clark for it wasn't this, but because he was mad for Clark, and Clark had so clearly moved on from it.
"Vertical oceanic mixing. You're a better man than I am." People listened to Lex because they were afraid, or they wanted something from him, but they listened. He'd nearly thrown a tantrum just because Clark pretended not to, and Clark had dealt with that for years. He would have had every right to tell humanity to shove it, but instead, he was Superman. And Lex, well...
Clark wrapped an arm around his waist, leaving a damp handprint on the side of Lex's borrowed pajamas, and tugged him into the warm space against his ribcage, halfway under his arm.
"Yeah, but you listen to me. And so does Lois- and all of my friends, too. It's hard to imagine I used to wash dishes right here convinced I'd never really have anyone who wanted to listen to me, but you let me talk your ear off all the time." Lex returned the gesture, winding his own arm underneath Clark's to find the small of his back with his fingers, tracing the knobs of his spine. "I guess I just wanted you to know how thankful I am for that."
Even melancholy and nostalgic, Clark looked like a statue lit in gold as he stared out through the sheer curtains into the sun. Lex tucked in closer to him as he reached across to grab his chin, yanking his head around with more force than he'd ever dream of using with anyone else- and less force than it would actually take to make Clark move. The sunlight caught his eyes sideways as he turned, and cast the shadow of his eyelashes across the gorgeous blue.
"I consider myself fairly lucky to hear you speak." He wished he could just lay it out plainly, but to risk Clark misunderstanding him was intolerable, especially here and now, "About anything. Everything. I would listen to you name every star in the sky, and then I'd ask you to fly out and name some more. You could read me every article you write. You know that, don't you?"
Clark answered him with a lopsided smile and a kiss, shifting his hand up from Lex's waist to skim his palm along the back of his neck, the gentle curve of the base of his skill. He held Lex like he was fragile; Lex enjoyed it.
"I know. But I wanted you to know that I take it seriously when I say that I like listening to you too." Lex faltered for a moment, pulling back another half inch so that he wasn't staring at a blurry, cross-eyed Superman at the end of his nose. "And that I wish you would quit stopping yourself."
"What do you mean?" He hadn't meant to sound as scandalized as he did, pushing back further to hold Clark at arm's distance while he narrowed his eyes at him again, defensive in ways he couldn't stop before it left his mouth, "People listen to me, Clark, I'm not the self-conscious one telling sad childhood stories."
Lex grimaced as soon as he said it, face twisted up like he'd tasted something sour, and tried to pull away entirely so that he could collect himself and apologize, but Superman wouldn't allow it. Clark tugged him up against his chest again, and granted him exactly what he needed then, just like always. If 'telepathy' was on the list of things Kryptonians were capable of, Lex wouldn't be shocked. Clark tucked Lex's face into the hollow between his shoulder and his neck, pressing his cheek against Lex's temple, and held him there.
"I know what people say, and I know when it bothers you. I can practically hear your brain." There was a smile in Clark's voice, so at least he hadn't upset him. It stood to reason that Clark was used to the nasty things that left Lex's brain before he could think twice, even if Lex hadn't given himself as much grace, "You don't make me feel stupid."
So Clark had heard. Of course Clark had heard, because Lex had heard it, and Lex didn't even have particularly good hearing for a human, let alone super hearing. It was one of the interns, who Lex had very pointedly not fired, who had said it just a week ago in the break room with their back turned, while Lex was looking for someone else. It should have been a good thing to find out that his employees were comfortable complaining about him without fear of illegal or unethical retribution- he couldn't promise no retribution, not when it came to his company, but he did promise Clark to keep it within the bounds of an at-will employment state- but instead it had made him feel some sort of hot, guilty shame that he hadn't quite dealt with before, because he hadn't quite cared before.
'It's not just me, right?' They'd tittered with their friends, 'It's like he can't use a normal word if there's something better to say. He told me my utility in the lab was deliquescing faster than this specimen. It's like he wants to make everyone feel stupid. Just tell me I'm doing a bad job!'
It wasn't the first time, and it wasn't the most upsetting, but he hadn't heard something like that since he'd returned from Belle Reve under the custody (and responsibility) of Superman and he'd admit that it threw him off his game for the rest of the day, and maybe he'd kept himself from going over the current project results over dinner after Clark had told him about his day saving sweet old ladies and thankful children. After all, what was he supposed to say? 'What have people said to me while they were busy thanking you for being the savior of the world? That I make them feel stupid.' It would have been more childish to be open about it than it was to mope the way he had been. He was an idiot to think Clark hadn't noticed.
"I think it's great. I love how specific you are." He could feel Clark speaking almost as much as he could hear him, could feel his lips moving against his temple, "I love how smart you are. You've never made me feel dumb, Lex, you only make me feel smarter."
Lex couldn't stop the smile that twitched across his lips, and he knew that Clark could feel it- he could probably hear his heart beat faster and read him like a book for it- so he settled down into his hold and let himself smile.
"Thank you." He spoke directly into Clark's perfect, perfect skin, a tiny confession in his own personal confessional booth, "You make me feel normal."
"Lex, I hate to break it to you, but you are pretty normal." Clark laughed, and then carefully released Lex and pushed him back just a fraction of an inch with the same slow, purposeful action that Lex had come to realize meant he ought to trust him: and trust him he ought to, because if Jonathan and Martha Kent had come strolling into the kitchen while their son cradled him to his chest he may as well have walked himself back to jail to save himself the embarrassment. By the time the footsteps made it to the kitchen, Lex and Clark were a cautious foot apart as they washed dishes, two teenagers trying not to get busted for canoodling.
Martha swept by to give Lex a friendly squeeze around the shoulders as she grabbed the cream from where he'd left it on the counter, ferrying it back to the fridge without a word. Maybe Clark had gotten some of his powers from her after all, because it felt just as much like sunshine on his skin as Clark did.
"Clark, you mind if I steal your boyfriend for a few?" Jonathan smiled as he said it- it was still strange, for both of them, to hear him speak about it so candidly. Not that Clark had been concerned about his father being a bigot, and neither had Lex, because a bigot would never be able to raise the man that Jonathan Kent had raised, but Clark's pa might have been the only person to refer to them so plainly as boyfriends, "I think it's about time he learned how to milk a cow."
Clark rolled his eyes, and shot a smile towards Lex as if to tell him he could say no.
"I guess I can't really call myself a genius if I can't do something as crucial as milking a cow." Lex smiled back at him, and then turned that smile towards Clark's parents- there was a little, tiny part of him that had started to almost think of them as his parents as well, a tiny part he had to remind time and time again wouldn't be true unless they did something as crazy as getting married- as he dried his hands off. "Lead the way, Mr. Kent."