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A Means to an End	By : trekkie89 Category: Smallville > General Views: 1470 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I have no ownership of Smallville or it's characters and make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-A Means to an End
- 2-2
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You stare down at your steaming cup of coffee and listen to the sounds of the Talon on a Friday night. It’s warm outside, but you opted for the cool air-conditioned environment of Smallville’s coffee hub. For the last half hour you’ve been alternating between pretending to read your paperback sci-fi novel and nursing your cappuccino, but really you’ve been hoping for your phone to go off with a text or a call.
Since Chloe started working for the Planet, you’ve had noticeably more free time on weekends. There’s still work and college classes to occupy you, but lately your friendship with Chloe Sullivan has had to take a backseat to her career and your full schedule. With Clark and Lana constantly on the fence about their relationship, you haven’t felt particularly compelled to pal around with either of them, let alone both of them together.
You shudder at the thought of listening to Lana recount her excessively emotional side of the story of why things have never worked out between her and Clark. It’s a very real thought, in fact, since you just experienced that particular torture last week and solemnly vowed not to relive it for at least another week.
Though you were never quite as close with the rest of Chloe’s group of friends, you still miss the time spent hanging out and helping out with the occasional Smallville mystery. It doesn’t even bother you that there are obviously things the group keeps secret from you. They wholly believe you’re completely unaware of the weirdness that permeates this small town, and you decided long ago to let it stay that way. You know Clark has powers of some sort, and you understand Chloe keeps his secret and would protect it at the cost of her own life.
Every time a meteorite mystery pops up and Clark’s abilities save the day and then are subsequently swept under the rug, you toy with the idea of telling them you know what’s going on. Ultimately, however, you always end up sporting a convincing “I know nothing” smile followed by a heavy sigh.
You finally look up and glance over at the counter, considering getting another coffee. Just as you’re about to get up you see Lana smiling over the counter at some customers.
Oh God, it’s just not worth it, you think to yourself as you quickly look away to avoid making eye contact. You mentally scold yourself for letting your coffee get cold, as it means an inevitable trip to the counter. It’s funny, you think with a nostalgic smile, but you never were that into coffee until Chloe introduced you to it in high school.
     You sigh a world-weary sigh, one that ages you in its heaviness. It’s not that you aren’t used to being alone, it’s quite the opposite in fact. You’ve spent too many nights lately in the Talon or in your apartment with countless cups of coffee and a book as your only company. Between work and school, you come home to your tiny apartment feeling like a zombie most nights anyway.
     Alright, just do it, you tell yourself, cold coffee cup in hand, standing up and slowly starting to make your way towards the counter. Just like a band-aid, do it quick.
     You keep your eyes on Lana and try to head for the counter while she’s busy so her co-worker will have to take your order. Even though the new guy is a complete idiot who doesn’t know the first thing about making a proper caramel macchiato… And he always calls the large a Grande even though this isn’t fucking Starbucks…
     At the last second you realize you weren’t looking where you were going, but it’s already too late. You walk straight into someone and watch in horror as your cold coffee sloshes out of the cup and onto a very expensive looking collared shirt. Instantly you can feel eyes on you as everyone in the place stops to view the carnage. You brace yourself for the barrage of angry insults your about to receive and look up at the stained shirt of the man you ran into, your mouth still open in shock.
     “Jesus Christ!” you can’t help but exclaim. Lukewarm macchiato drains down your arm and you notice the uncomfortable wetness of the front of your shirt.
     “I am so sorry, are you ok?” you blurt out. You’re vaguely aware you’re blabbering and your face feels extremely red. Everyone’s eyes are on you, a couple people even gasped. Jesus, since when is spilling coffee a federal offence?
     You finally glance up at the tall guy wearing your macchiato on his expensive shirt and you do what must look like a very comical double-take. The first thing that hits you is the unsettling realization that you’ve just accidentally assaulted Smallville’s notorious bald-headed billionaire, Lex Luthor. Your face just became even more flushed, if that were even possible.
     The second realization comes to you in the midst of all the hype and awkwardness, and so you try to shove it aside but it only makes you more aware of it. You’ve seen him in passing countless times only because he is or was at one point close with Clark Kent, but you’ve never actually talked to him. And so you find it particularly inconvenient that you’re brain has chosen this exact moment to determine that Lex Luthor is, upon closer examination, a very attractive man.
     Maybe he’s not attractive in the Clark Kent sense of the word; he’s not as tall, he’s completely bald, and he’s nowhere near as incredibly muscular as Clark. Of course, if Clark were the standard for all men’s attractiveness, it would be a sad day for most men.
     ”I’m okay,” he says with marked irritation in his smooth tone, “But I’m afraid my shirt didn’t make it.”
     Normally this is where you would have some clever quip or comedic subterfuge to alleviate the awkwardness of the situation, but you’re oddly flustered and your mind is completely blank but for the stares of everyone around you and especially the eyes of one specific bald-headed man.
     “God, and it looks…expensive.” You have no idea why you said that.
     I’m a fucking idiot! You scold yourself mentally, though that’s doing nothing but make you more embarrassed. You tell yourself to calm down, after all it’s not like he’s going to sue you. He’s loaded, the last thing he needs is money. He’s probably got mountains of it that he bathes in every night with a bunch of expensive blonde escorts. Wait, why are you thinking about him bathing in money?
     You snap back to reality and Mr. Luthor is looking at you with an expression you could only categorize as mildly amused. Well, at least he seems slightly less irritated. He’s probably shocked that a two hundred dollar shirt is your idea of expensive. Furthermore, it’s the middle of summer, what kind of man wears a long sleeved violet dress shirt in the middle of summer? Not that that color is ever okay for a man to be wearing… He’s still looking at you and you can’t think of anything to say. You’re standing so close you can smell his cologne. Whatever it is, it’s intoxicating and very masculine. If you can manage to not blurt out that his cologne smells expensive, maybe you can save some semblance of dignity.
     Before either of you can say anything else, Lana appears holding a wet towel of some sort and a classic Lana Lang smile. She touches Lex’s shoulder with a sense of familiarity one had to expect from Lana. Damn her being so sweet and conscientious all the time… It just isn’t normal.
     “Lex, I see you’ve met my friend,” Lana says with a smile, attempting to lighten the mood. As always, Lana is looking flawless even while at work. She brushes a piece of long brown hair away from her face in that girlish way that sort of makes you want to roll your eyes.
     “Yes, we’ve become very well acquainted,” Lex says with a dry humor you can’t help but appreciate even when you’re getting the brunt of it.
     Lana formally introduces you and you’re not sure if you should try to shake his hand. He doesn’t attempt it, so you nod your head and try to smile casually. He hasn’t stopped looking at you but for a brief moment when Lana appeared. You’re not returning his gaze but you’re completely aware of it in your peripheral vision. You assume he’s still rather disconcerted from the spill and look to Lana for some kind of help, which you could have sworn would only ever happen when hell froze over. She still has her hand on Mr. Luthor’s shoulder and you’re starting to wonder how well they know each other exactly. For some reason you really want her to take her hand off his shoulder.
     The people-pleaser persona in her shows itself at last as Lana takes the wet towel and performs what you consider an extremely half-assed attempt at blotting the coffee off of Lex’s sodden shirt. Now you’re pretty sure you must be glaring at her.
Roughly seventy-five percent of the time you’re certain Lana’s intentions are pure and well-meaning, but once in a while you just can’t help but suspect she’s secretly competitive about the attention she receives from men. You don’t see why she should be, since there really hasn’t ever been anyone in competition with her. Even if there ever were a bold female contender for Clark’s affection, all the men in Smallville would gladly trample said contender in an attempt to win Lana Lang’s heart. And by ‘heart’ you really mean her good looks and saccharine sweet guise. A moment ago you were wanting her help in an awkward social situation, and now you find yourself just wanting her to leave. And isn’t that always how it is with Lana.
     Lex is smiling a small, comfortable smile at Lana as he stops her sad attempt at mopping up his shirt.
     “I hate to take up your time, Lana,” he says with a diplomatic ease, handing her the towel. “And I’m sure it’s nothing the dry cleaner won’t be able to handle.”
     Ah, there it is, his rich guy personality is starting to show itself. You should be relieved he’s taking it so lightly, but at this point you’re just bitter with the whole situation. You’ve always been a little too blunt for Lana’s taste, and you’re exercising most of your patience right now to remain calm and friendly when really you’d like nothing better than to pour the remainder of your coffee out on Lana’s dainty tennis shoes with the rhine stones on the sides and follow it up with an utterly disingenuous “Oops”. You recognize them as her old cheerleading shoes and wonder if in some way she’s still clinging to that part of her past.
     Lana finally takes her hand off of Lex’s shoulder, still smiling that warm smile. She glances over at you and makes an expression of slight concern at your wet shirt. You look down at your black band t-shirt with a graphic of a monkey riding a skateboard on it. And the embarrassment factor continues to escalate, you think to yourself. At least your jeans made it out unscathed. They’re your favorite pair of jeans, ripped at the knees from being worn so much but still a good fit and flattering. However, your sense of relief is dimmed as you realize how much of a slob you must look like at the moment. Jesus Christ, why did I pick today to dress like a fucking homeless person?
     You try to make it less awkward with a joke.
“I don’t think I’ll have to take this one to the dry cleaner’s,” you say wryly.
     Mr. Luthor smirks at the joke, clearly covering a laugh, and suddenly you feel like you’ve never wanted so badly to make someone smirk. It’s a measured, approving half-smile that you immediately want more of. You glance up at him and then over at Lana. She’s watching the exchange with a convincingly warm expression, as though she’s just happy she could help. But her hand is on her hip now and you know her well enough to interpret that mannerism for what it is, a sign of her slight annoyance. You don’t know why Lex isn’t giving you shit for spilling coffee all over him, or why he isn’t fawning over Lana, but in the subtlest of ways Lana seems to be vexed by it. And isn’t that something. You wonder if somehow this has to do with Clark, since one way or another everything always has to do with Clark.
     Lana makes a comment to Lex about something involving his father’s company, and they start a short conversation, mainly small talk. You act interested but secretly plot your escape from the situation. You had planned to go to the library to check out a few books for your term paper and possibly meet up with Chloe if she managed to get out of work early enough, but your incident with Lex has left you unsettled and your shirt quite damp. You’ll have to go out of your way to go home and change now. Too bad you walked instead of driving, it’s starting to cloud up outside and it’s looking like you won’t make it home before it downpours.
     The conversation dies down and you sense your opening.
     “Well I think I’ve done enough damage for one day,” you say, turning slightly away from Lex and Lana, “And I need to run home and change to go to the library for my paper. So Mr. Luthor, it was nice meeting you… Again, I’m so sorry about the coffee. Lana, thanks so much, and I’ll see you later.” You smile genuinely and begin to turn back to your table when Lex says your name.
     You turn back and he takes a couple steps to close the space between you. Lana stays where the three of you had been talking, but you can see she is watching interestedly.
     “Please call me Lex,” he says with a slight smile, “’Mr. Luthor’ reminds me too much of my father.”
     You nod politely. “Okay then, Lex it is.”
     You think the conversation is over but he doesn’t turn away.
     “I live not too far up the road from the library,” Lex says in a slow inviting tone. He’s being modest, since everyone in Smallville knows where the Luthor mansion sits. “If it’ll save you some trouble, I wouldn’t mind giving you a lift.”
     You’re glancing outside hesitantly, trying to figure out why he’s being so nice. Everything you’ve ever heard about Lex has been negative, but here he is offering you a ride. You don’t want to be rude, but you just met him and you don’t think it’s entirely safe to be getting in cars with strange billionaires you meet.
     “I assure you it’s safe,” he says with an amused smile, as if reading your mind.
     “Oh, of course,” you laugh nervously, “It’s not that, it’s just…” You scramble to think of an excuse. “I need to change my shirt, I uh… I guess I made quite a mess of things.”
     He glances down at your band shirt.
     “Ah, yes,” he says reminiscently as he reads the band name. “I particularly enjoyed their third album.”
     You can’t help but smile in response as you try not to stare wide-eyed at him for recognizing the band and actually enjoying their music. What would a rich, intelligent, scandalizing bastard like Lex Luthor be doing listening to your type of music?
     “Wow,” you manage to say. “I haven’t met a lot of people into this band. I don’t even think the band is into itself.”
     He laughs a short appreciative laugh and you find yourself smiling in self satisfaction. Again you just want more of it. He doesn’t have a warm demeanor but his laugh is invigorating in a strange way.
     There’s a short pause, just long enough to become fully aware of the awkwardness of the situation and the feeling of everyone still watching the encounter. Finally he nods toward the door.
     “About that ride?” he says. “I can let Chloe know I’ll be dropping you off. I’ve been helping her with some research for an article for some time now and have her in my recent contacts. And besides, I’m sure she’ll be headed that way at some point this evening. One of the staff at the mansion can find a shirt for you to use, certainly.”
     You stare at him, dumbfounded.
     “Of course, it’s entirely up to you,” he adds politely. “I just thought I could be of some help. I certainly do owe my share of favors to Chloe and her friends.”
     He wants to give me a ride to his house, which apparently has multiple maids, where he want to then lend me a shirt and give me a ride to the library… Yeah, this is totally normal when you spill shit all over someone you’ve never even met.
     You deliberate for a moment and glance over his shoulder at Lana. Her annoyance is still subtly evident and a part of you is totally enjoying it. Maybe it’s that same part of you that compels you to give Lex an affirmative answer to his request. You don’t normally do this sort of thing, but it’s rubbing Lana the wrong way, which is never a bad thing, and it will also make for quite an interesting anecdote to tell Chloe later. Also, a billionaire isn’t a bad contact for a college student. At least you tell yourself that’s why you’re doing it. Certainly it couldn’t have anything to do with his attractiveness or how anxious his gaze seems to make you feel. With a final glance at the imposing rainclouds outside, you make up your mind.
     “You know what, sure. Why not.” You shrug.
     Lex doesn’t appear outwardly thrilled by your answer, but the corners of his mouth are turned up ever so slightly with a sense of contentedness.
     Smug bastard, you think to yourself. But even you can’t deny you’re pleasantly surprised by his offer. Still, you tell yourself not to get too excited. Knowing how things work in Lana and Clark’s circle, this is probably all some scheme involving their unrequited love. Of course there is another theory in the back of your mind; perhaps Lex has some level of awareness of Clark’s strange powers and sees you as one possible avenue for finding some answers, simply a means to an end. You wouldn’t put it past any of them. Smallville is a strange little town. Normal rules of society don’t seem to apply.
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A Means to an End