Disclaimer: I don't own any of this.

Brush

Lex stepped out onto the tarmac with striking purpose. The warm breeze stirred the hem of his dark coat and he adjusted his ridiculously expensive sunglasses against the mid-afternoon glare. He'd paused for a moment at the bottom of the jetway stairs, swinging his titanium briefcase from one hand to the other with almost careless ease; but then he was off.

The stewardess watched his retreating form with a pang of regret. It was highly unusual for someone like Lex Luthor to fly a commercial airline; but he'd bought out the entire flight. Apparently his own private jet had been held up in Brussels and he'd been unwilling to wait for it.

She'd read in some dirt rag or another – she couldn't remember which – that Mr. Luthor was an impatient man. But he'd been so gracious during the transatlantic flight, even insisted the cabin crew share the seven-hundred-dollar bottle of Cristal he'd produced as if by magic from his hand luggage. "I'd never get it past customs anyway," he'd quipped with a languid smile. "We can't let it go to waste."

For much of the trip he'd kept to himself, though, sitting alone in First Class with the shades drawn and Borodin playing softly over the entertainment system. She'd spoken to him only a few times, to offer him some refreshments or to tell him about incoming Airphone calls – all of which he'd declined with elegant manners. None of this seemed to resonate with the picture of a spoiled playboy.

So could the tabloids have gotten it wrong, too, when they'd painted him as a shameless womanizer? He'd barely looked at her … and it couldn't have been that her blouse wasn't low cut enough, or her skirt short enough. She'd hiked them down and up respectively in the galley after she'd won the argument with the four other flight attendants as to who would get to see to Mr. Luthor during the flight. She didn't do this sort of thing normally – in fact she'd gossiped about those who did enough to make her blush at her own hypocrisy. But it wasn't every day you got a chance to join the Mile-High Club with the handsome, if strangely bald, world's youngest billionaire.

She hadn't expected romance or anything foolish like that. But it certainly would have made the nine-hour trip a little more exciting. Without the usual number of passengers there'd been nothing else to do. The other crew members had entertained themselves by teasing her; that had made the time pass even more slowly.

She peeked at him once more out a First-Class window as he made his way towards his waiting car. She'd fended off other male passengers before, ones who were far more handsome or intoxicated. So it couldn't be that she wasn't attractive enough.

She could only conclude that whoever waited at home for Mr. Luthor was someone very special.

-

Sunset was still a little while off when Lex steered the Porsche smoothly down the dirt driveway to Kent Farm. He'd been travelling for over twelve hours now and he was feeling worn and weary; but the mansion hadn't held any appeal for him. So he'd folded himself into yet another vehicle and set off towards his true homecoming.

Clark wasn't in the barn, but Lex spotted a tendril of smoke rising from one of the distant fields; he left his car parked in the yard and continued on foot towards it. It felt simple and wonderful to stretch his legs and let the weight of thousands of miles fall from him as he walked through the golden pastures. His fingertips skimmed the tall grass, and he smiled to himself; he'd been in Europe just this morning. How could it be that paradise was really in Kansas?

Kansas had one thing that Europe didn't.

-

Clark stood at the edge of the wooded area that bounded the east pasture, where he'd spent most of the day clearing brush. He needed to repair the fence back here, but it had been a while since this spot had had any attention and the undergrowth had started to encroach. He could have sped through it, of course; but it was a warm, lazy sort of Saturday and he'd had nothing else to do, so he'd taken his time. It felt good, occasionally, to assume a human pace.

As the pile of cleared material had increased he'd decided it would just be easier to burn it off when he was finished. He was tending the fire now, standing back with his arms folded over the handle of his shovel and watching the smoke curl into the sky. Sunset was coming, but it would still be light a little while longer. Clark was thinking of a quick dip in Crater Lake; he was sticky with sweat, bracken and soot.

Movement caught his attention from across the field and he turned, lifting his hand in front of his brow to shield his eyes from the intense late afternoon sun. Someone was coming across the pasture from the direction of the house; Clark wondered who it could be. Mom and Dad had taken one of their date-night drives into Metropolis and wouldn't be back until tomorrow; Pete was on a fishing trip with his dad and uncles for the weekend. He wasn't sure what Chloe was up to today, but whoever this was seemed too tall to be Chloe. If Lex weren't in London negotiating a takeover, he would almost think it was him.

As the figure grew closer, Clark squinted hard against the glare. It wasn't possible; even Lex couldn't be two places at once.

But then Lex was shouting out his name in greeting, and Clark suspended disbelief with a grin.

"What are you doing here?" he called, dropping his shovel and removing his thick leather work gloves. "You're supposed to be halfway around the world!"

"I came back," Lex said as he drew nearer, "for this." He never paused until they met; and then his hand was at the back of Clark's neck, pulling their mouths together, and his journey was over.

They lingered for a while close together in the golden haze, holding each other well past the kiss's dissolution. Clark leaned his cheek against Lex's scalp, savoring the unexpected sensation of having him close again. Lex let his fingers play idly against the sun-warmed fabric of Clark's t-shirt and felt home at last.

Finally Clark spoke. "How come you're back so soon? I thought you'd be another few days at least."

"We made quick work of it," Lex explained. "Once we got a look at their financials, they lost all their bargaining power; they needed to be bought out, and badly."

"Wow … I guess I just didn't think you'd be finished so fast."

"Well, we aren't really," Lex answered, disengaging himself reluctantly from Clark's sturdy embrace. "There are still a lot of logistics to work out, and I wanted to push ahead and get it done … but my father decided he'd rather wine and dine their stakeholders and treat them to the symphony in Brussels. That kind of good will in an acquisition isn't his style … frankly, I think he only insisted because I seemed so anxious to get back." He glanced significantly at Clark. "He's petty like that."

Clark bit back the urge to take a shot at Lionel. "So what happened?"

"He actually took the jet without even telling me first. I woke up this morning to a message that they'd be back in London in a few days – as if he actually expected me to sit on my hands and wait around for him." Lex shook his head. "So I decided he could handle the finalization by himself, and found my own way home."

"Don't tell me you flew commercial," Clark teased.

"Not exactly."

"What then, did Richard Branson just happen by and offer you a lift?"

"No." Lex was grinning now. "I bought out a flight."

Clark gaped at him. "A whole flight."

"Yes." He stepped closer again and slid his hands back around Clark's shoulders.

"That must have been …" Clark trailed off, feeling foolish.

"Expensive?" Lex finished, a laugh rippling just below the surface of his silky voice. God, how much more would he pay if it meant being able to touch Clark whenever he wanted. He pressed a kiss to the underside of that strong jaw. "Yes. Very."

"You're insane," Clark sighed, closing his eyes and leaning into him.

"I must confess a certain lack of sensible judgment where you're concerned." Lex reached the neck of Clark's shirt and nudged it aside to bestow one last kiss upon his clavicle. "But enough mergers and acquisitions; I'm off the clock. What have you been up to?"

"Nothing half as intriguing. Here's the work I did today, going up in smoke."

"Kind of hot to be tending a fire." Lex wrinkled his nose. "You're rather …"

"Smelly?" Clark offered.

"I was going to say filthy, actually," he laughed, stepping back and brushing at his own clothes. "What have you gotten all over me?"

"You're too polished," Clark teased back. "You could use a little honest dirt."

"You're more than a little dirty. We'll have to get you cleaned up if I'm going to take you out tonight."

"Did you want to?"

"Clark, I practically hijacked a jetliner because I couldn't stand not being able to touch you. Of course I want to spend the evening with you."

Clark warmed at his words, and had an idea. "Let's spend it then – but let's not go out."

"No?"

"No. You've been traveling all day and I've been out working in the sun; let's just take it easy and stay in. My folks are in Metropolis all night anyway."

Lex's ears perked up. "Really."

Clark looked at him with eyes that rivaled the smoldering brushfire. "Really."

"Okay, twist my arm," Lex said, turning back towards the house. "That still doesn't solve the conundrum of how utterly disgusting you are, though. Maybe there's a hose in the barn I can turn on you?"

"I've got a better idea."

"Do tell."

"Just before you came along I was thinking how nice a dip in Crater Lake might be."

"But Clark," Lex grinned with badly feigned innocence, "I left my bathing suit at home."

Clark returned the grin and began to shovel dirt over the last embers of his fire. "We'll figure something out."

Lex admired each motion of his body as he worked, and felt his pulse quicken at the thought of Clark's skin slick with fresh water. "Sounds fantastic," he murmured blissfully.

-

It was dusk by the time they reached the lake; all the picnicking families and shrieking teenagers had gone home for the day and a quiet peace abounded. Clark threw the pickup into Park and they dashed to the end of the pier, shedding clothes and shoving each other playfully the whole way.

They swam in silence for a while, enjoying the cool relief from the still-steamy air. Then Clark dove deep and resurfaced at Lex's elbow, surprising him. "Sure beats Europe, doesn't it?"

"I don't think that's a fair comparison," Lex replied, treading water. "It's wonderful here, yes … but Europe has plenty of things that Kansas doesn't."

"Like what?"

"I'll take you with me someday ... show you."

Clark leaned back and gazed up at the sky. The dark trees formed a ring between the lake edge and the emerging heavens, encircling as much of the world as he really wanted to see. "I'm not as much of a globetrotter as you are."

"I think you'd follow me anywhere if I beckoned," Lex teased.

Clark laughed and splashed him. "You're not so irresistible, Mr. Luthor."

Lex shook the water out of his eyes and laughed too. "I don't know about that. One of the stewardesses today was trying awfully hard to get my attention."

"Oh, really?"

"Definitely," Lex said slyly, sliding closer. "She was very attentive, and her skirt was shockingly short. If I'd have known you felt that way, I might not have snubbed her so rudely."

"Hmm," Clark mumbled, and reached through the dark water to pull Lex to him. "Are you trying to make me jealous?"

"Why, is it working?"

Clark answered him with a crushing kiss.

"Don't worry, Clark," Lex smiled against his lips. "My Mile-High Club membership is long inactive. Though of course, if you wanted to join, my father should have the jet back soon enough."

"You're unbelievable," Clark retorted.

"What?"

"The Mile-High Club."

"Don't be coy, Clark. I think you'd enjoy it."

"Mmm," Clark responded noncommittally. "Is there a similar club for, say, in the middle of a lake?"

"I don't know," Lex replied, suddenly all searching hands and searing mouth. "If not, we should start one."

-

Smallville's late-night pizzeria closed at 8pm. Clark's sneakers skidded on the floor in front of the counter just in time; as he exited with his two large pies, they flipped the sign behind him.

The moon hung huge, silver and low in the sky over the back forty on Kent Farm. Beneath its tender light Lex and Clark lounged on old blankets in the bed of the pickup, eating pizza straight from the box and gazing up into the clear night.

"This town goes to bed too early," Lex complained. "What if you get hungry at ten o'clock?"

"Well, if I get hungry at ten o'clock, I go into the kitchen and make myself a sandwich," Clark offered. "Though I don't suppose you know how to do that."

"What, make a sandwich?" Lex sounded affronted.

"You don't, do you?"

"Of course I do. … At least, in theory."

"In theory?!"

"Joking, Clark." He smirked and let his eyes twinkle with amusement. "But what if you don't want a sandwich? What if you're in the mood for foie gras and a glass of Pinot Noir?"

"If that ever happens," Clark retorted, lifting his eyebrows, "I'll let you know."

"Oh, Clark," Lex said, popping the last bite of his pizza into his mouth and leaning back on his elbows, "you don't know what you're missing."

"Sometimes I have no idea what you want with me," he responded unexpectedly.

Lex sat up again. "What do you mean?"

"I just mean – you with your private jets and your haute couture and your multi-million dollar deals. That's nothing like me at all."

"Those things aren't really any fun, actually," Lex said with unusual candor. "But I think I'd enjoy them much more with you there beside me."

"I wouldn't fit into that world," said Clark dismissively. "I'd just make a fool of myself."

"Maybe not now," Lex conceded with a smile. "But in a few years – after you finish your MBA and you finally let my tailor at you – you might feel less out of place."

"Business?" Clark chuckled. "Yeah, right, Lex. You know there's no future for me that doesn't involve this farm."

"Hmm." It was Lex's turn to grow meditative. "So even if you had the choice – to go anywhere you wanted, be anything you could imagine – you'd still stay here forever, milking the cows and tending the soil?"

"Absolutely," he answered without a moment's hesitation.

Clark's unequivocal certainty filled Lex with the strangest sensation of comfort. "Then I'd tend it with you."

"You?" Clark was all astonishment. "Don't tell me you want to give up the jet set and come be a farmer. You'd get dirty, and blisters on your hands."

Lex shifted closer and took Clark's hand in his, running his fingertips over the upturned palm. "Your hands aren't blistered."

Clark tried not to pull away too quickly. "Well, I wear gloves."

"You think I'm afraid of hard work? I'd hoped you knew me better than that."

"I do. But I guess I never thought you could settle for a life like this."

"It wouldn't be settling," Lex replied with unexpected tenderness, "if it meant I'd be with you."

Clark stopped arguing and leaned back against the cab, pulling Lex with him to lean against his chest. They looked up at the stars for a while in silence, night falling like a cloak around their intertwining arms.

"I think," Clark said finally, "that our being so different isn't necessarily a bad thing."

"No," Lex agreed. "And you're right, I do rather enjoy being an international playboy."

Clark jostled him playfully. "Right, with a supermodel on each arm."

"My tastes in that respect have changed recently."

"Well, good. Because you can take me off the farm, but you'll never take the farm boy out of me."

Lex twisted in his arms and gazed at him appraisingly. "Your humility amazes me, Clark. I feel potential radiating off you like energy; I look at you and feel quite sure that you could change the world if you only took it into your head."

"I'd rather just … nurture it," he said. "It just seems like the right thing for me to do."

"Clark Kent, keeper of the earth," Lex purred against his lips. "I like the sound of that."