Disclaimer: Everything but the plot belongs to someone other than me.
Author's Note: This is set a few days after 'Kinetic'; Lex makes reference to events in that episode. This is for my fellow Truth Seekers.
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Motive: Friendship
She was there, as always; he could have set his watch to the intrepid reporter. She was there every day after school, perching on the ratty couch in Clark's loft, pretending his frequent absences didn't bother her at all.
That day in particular she looked ready to either kill someone (Lana Lang --who Clark was 'helping' with a project for the fifth day in a row-- Lex decided after seeing the glare Chloe aimed at the telescope in the corner) or cry. But Chloe Sullivan didn't cry if she could help it; Lex knew she prided herself on being stronger than that.
He was leaning against the entrance to the barn (it wasn't exactly a door) watching her, taking her in. In faded bootcut jeans with colorful trim, and a maroon peasant top that was scandalous by Smallville standards, black ankle boots on her feet, she appeared to be every bit the Metropolis native. She was anxiously twirling a strand of curly blonde hair around her finger, facing away from him. An unopened History book rested on her knees, and she kept picking at the old, peeling cover absently.
He imagined that very few people saw her like that; at her most vulnerable. That he could, though she wasn't aware of his presence so it didn't really mean anything, made him feel...something. There was something about her that made his self-control slip. It wasn't just that she challenged him (brought up theories and angles that forced him to think like her) but she also made him feel like he had to work to be worthy of her respect.
If she ever *did* deem him a person she'd choose to spend time with, he wouldn't lose interest; even after he had her (not just in the sexual sense, but he wouldn't deny that he'd thought of her like that more than once) he wouldn't grow tired of her; in fact, she constantly renewed his spirit. She made him laugh (and he never laughed), she made him think, she made him...
"Mister Luthor, you can stop posing for me; I'm not even looking at you, so there's no chance in hell I'm planning to immortalize you in oil paint," she began flatly, though there was a tinge of amusement in her tone.
Glancing down at himself, Lex furrowed his brow. He was simply leaning with his hands in the pockets of his trenchcoat, his ankles crossed. With a shrug, he supposed his stance could be perceived as pretentious. "If you aren't looking at me, how do you know I'm here?"
She threw a retort back without facing him. "ESP. Women's intuition. Meteor rock influence." She shrugged as well, finally turning to glance at him. "Or maybe your shoes are just really loud. The world may never know."
He glided over to the single piece of furniture and slowly dropped onto it. "Meteor rock influence...hmm, how ironic." Pause. She smirked for a second, then her eyes locked with his. "He blew you off again," he stated more than asked.
"Clark? Nah. He's letting me use the Fortress of Solitude for 'Chloe' time. Awfully generous, isn't he?" she muttered sarcastically, rolling her eyes. Her elbows landed on her knees, her chin sank into her palms. "If you're looking for him, try the Talon or Lana's house." She emphasized the name with a slight sneer.
Stifling a chuckle, Lex mirrored her position, minus the decrepit text book. "I'm here to see you, actually."
Her cocked eyebrows revealed her skepticism. "He put you up to this, didn't he? 'Hey, Lex, go see Chloe so she doesn't realize that I don't give a crap about her when the Fairy Princess is around.'" There was no self-pity in her voice; only raw, unadulterated anger. In her greenish-blue eyes, he noticed nothing but pessimism, instead of the usual sparkle. She had the attitude of a world-weary adult who had lived through everything, and no longer cared about anyone or anything. That attitude showed itself on very rare occasions, and that was one of them.
"No, I promise he didn't. I stopped by the Beanery today-"
"-making sure the peons are paying their dues," she interjected with a smirk.
"-and I noticed you weren't there. Pete spoke to me long enough to say that you were going to be here studying with Clark, and I thought I'd see how you were. We never finished our interview, after all." Another pause while she tilted her head so she could stare him square in the eye.
"At least you aren't apologizing every five seconds," was all she said.
"Would you like me to?" He had to look away; she managed to unnerve him.
"No; that's why I said that. I'm sick of people blaming themselves for what happened," she returned frankly, still concentrating on his profile.
"Will you at least let me tell you how happy I am that you're okay?" he whispered seriously, meeting her eyes again.
With a feigned sigh, she rolled her eyes. "Even though you *are* simply saying that because you feel guilty, fine. I guess I should thank you for taking care of everything; Dad really appreciates it."
"It was no problem." Strands of hair fell across her forehead, he carefully tucked them behind her ear. "I did feel guilty, but only because I wasn't there to help you." Her mouth opened, but he placed a finger against it before she could rant about how he hadn't been listening to her. "Yes, I'm sorry you fell out of *my* window, but I would be just as sorry if you fell out of someone else's."
Her forehead creased with confusion. "And, why, exactly?"
He pressed his mouth to her cheek lightly, for several seconds. "That's why," he explained cryptically, licking his lips.
Her hand connected smartly with his cheek, but he didn't mind. "All this time you've been hitting on me, Mister Luthor?" she snapped. "I only wanted someone to listen, to be a friend, but I guess you can't help yourself, can you?"
Taking her obvious annoyance in stride, he waited until her breathing slowed and her fists stopped clenching before he spoke again. "Chloe, if I was hitting on you, I wouldn't have done that; I would have tried something a lot bolder. I admit I can be something of a pig, but I need you to understand that I want a friendship with you."
She averted her gaze to her hands, she flexed her fingers. "Well, fine, but couldn't you have said, 'I want to be friends with you?' Geez, Luthor; you never do anything halfway, do you?" Her words were punctuated with a smirk, and he knew he'd been forgiven.
"You saw the flowers I sent," he shot back wryly, grinning.
Then she was holding his shoulders, brushing a kiss across his head. When she straightened again, she saw him gazing at her quizzically. "'Friendship', Mister Luthor; if you can do it, so can I." There was the sparkle in her eyes.
"You're something else, Chloe."
Another roll of her eyes. "As are you, Mister Luthor. Now, I'm going to go before Clark comes back and I get all depressed again. It was nice talking to you." She stood and was halfway out before he called after her.
"Wait, if we're going to be friends, you're going to have to start calling me 'Lex', Chloe," he requested with a sly smile. He braced himself...
Turning and smirking, she shook her head. "Let's not get carried away, there, *pal*." Without another word, she was bouncing out, her heels clicking as she walked.
He stared after her for a long time once she was actually gone, debating whether or not he did the right thing. "Like she said," he muttered to himself as he headed for his silver sportscar, "let's not get carried away."
FINIS