AN: The full title of this chapter is 'The End and the Beginning of a Beautiful... Well, They're Not Enemies Anymore at Least (Probably)'

Clark woke up confused for the second time that day, this time overtaken by a weird sense of not quite déjà vu. There was someone else in bed with him. He knew this because his arm had reached over to touch them; it was the same sort of comforting point of contact that had been Clark and Lois's compromise between Clark's desire for casual physical closeness during the night and Lois's desire to not feel crushed in her sleep. But Clark was pretty well familiar with Lois's body, and the hip beneath his hand definitely wasn't hers.

Slowly memories of his conversation with Lex late last night, or early this morning, depending on your perspective, trickled back in. But even that failed to illuminate Clark as to who was in his bed, because Clark's foot bumping up against his mystery bed partner's ankle proved that he –it felt like a guy hip at any rate – was just about as tall as Clark, much taller than Lex was trapped in his five year old body.

…Oh.

Clark opened his eyes (which, in all honesty, was probably what he should have done in the first place) and, sure enough, there was a full-grow Lex Luthor. The two of them had shifted some in their sleep, so now they were lying face-to-face, close enough that, had they been opened, Clark likely could have counted the lines in Lex's eyes. It was, without a doubt, the most intimate feeling moment that Clark had experienced in a long time, since before he and Lois broke up at the very least.

So maybe Clark could see why Conner and Lex had thought this was such a strange and inappropriate suggestion.

Clark went to pull away and get out of bed, trying to be careful not to wake Lex. He wasn't sure why he was so convinced that Lex would react badly if he woke up and saw Clark right there, but he was going to trust his gut on this one. Because while, some slight awkwardness aside, Clark was handling it pretty okay, Clark also wasn't the one known to break out the lasers just because his arch-nemesis asked him a question he didn't like. Unfortunately, Lex wasn't as deeply asleep as Clark might have hoped because a soon as Clark started to move, Lex's eyes flew open. (And Clark had been totally right, he could count the lines in Lex's eyes. Not that he would, because it would be weird for him to know that Lex has 316 lines in his left eye and 309 in his right. Um, yeah.)

The play of emotions across Lex's face as he went from just barely awake to full alertness was fascinating to watch, and not only because Clark had always had this mental image of Lex as the kind of person who could go from zero to fully aware and ready to go in less than a millisecond. The confusion was, while not expected, not in any way unusual, but the expressions bookending it caught Clark by surprise. There was the moment when Lex first opened his eyes, when he smiled at Clark (for sure this time) and looked supremely contented, like waking up with Clark's face mere inches from his was a good thing. And then there was after Lex had gotten through the confusion and apparently come to a mental answer as to why he was waking up with Clark's face mere inches from him, when Clark thought Lex looked nothing so much as exasperated. An impression that was cemented when Lex made an annoyed sort of noise and said, "Not this again."

"Not what again?" Clark asked, certain now he was officially missing something. Lex couldn't possibly be referring to the two of them waking up in bed together because Clark was sure he would have remembered it if something like that had happened before. (Well, reasonably sure, since amnesia did make its rounds through their group with alarming frequency.) But, at the same time, Clark didn't know what else Lex could be referring to.

Lex considered Clark with a thoughtful sort of expression before sitting up and, very deliberately, pinching himself. Which would imply that Lex had thought he was dreaming he had woken up in bed with Clark. Which would imply that Lex dreamed he woke up in bed with Clark a lot. Which would imply… well, Clark wasn't sure what that would imply, but it definitely meant something. Something that Clark would very much like to hear more about, please and thank you.

"Never mind," Lex said dismissively. "I thought my mother was playing matchmaker again, but obviously not."

"Umm…" Last Clark checked Lex's mom was dead. Then again, Jor-El, Lara, and Jonathan Kent were also all dead, and all three of them had been significantly more invasive in Clark's life since their passing than just messing with his dreams some, so maybe Clark shouldn't judge. "Okay. Have you tried telling her that you're straight?" Clark suggested. It had worked on Jor-El's schemes, after a fashion at any rate. He hadn't much cared when Clark had told him that he was straight, though whether that was because the Jor-El AI considered humans so far beneath Kryptonians that considerations of gender shouldn't matter to Clark, or because Jor-El just didn't believe Clark wasn't also into guys, Clark wasn't sure. But when Clark had told him that Lex, Bruce, and Victor were all straight and thereby uninterested in becoming Clark's consort in Clark's bid to take over the world (because apparently Jor-El was on that again) and added on that Diana, Oliver, and Arthur were all already married, Jor-El had backed off. Apparently Jor-El wasn't big on rape, reassuring and, in all honesty a tiny bit surprising, and he was big on monogamy, very surprising given that one of Clark's first sexual experiences was psychometrically experiencing Jor-El sleeping with Lana's married great-aunt, Louise.

"Don't worry about it," Lex said, which wasn't exactly a yes, but it wasn't exactly a no either. Maybe Lillian didn't believe Lex was straight either? Or, oh God, what if Lex's mom was the one that put the idea in Lex's head that Clark was a girl? Stupid Lillian Luthor; lately the more Clark heard about her, the less he liked her.

While Clark was busy trying not to freak out about his masculinity – Jor-El would have… okay, maybe not Jor-El, but Lara or Kara or one of the Kandorian clones would have mentioned if he was a girl, right? Plus Faora, who was definitely the opposite gender of Clark, had gotten pregnant; that was totally a girl thing! – Lex was going through Clark's closet, unerringly pulling out Clark's best clothes and pulling them on, since neither of them had thought to bring a spare set for Lex from his penthouse. By the time Clark was done with his mental reassurances, Lex was completely dressed in slightly too baggy clothes that he somehow managed to make look like a fashion statement, and had fully engaged in his public, politely distant mask. "If you could hand me my cell phone," said Lex, gesturing to bedside table next to Clark, where Lex had left it the night before, "then I can go ahead and call my driver."

"You're leaving?" Clark asked. Maybe it was a stupid question because Lex was only ever supposed to stay until he got big again, but Clark had gotten used to having him around. Not that Clark expected, or even wanted, Lex to hang out in Clark's apartment for the rest of his life, but this wasn't a 'I've got things to do and places to be, so I'll see you around' kind of leaving. This was a 'I'm going back to my normal life now and, if you're lucky, I'll call on you for a question at my next press conference' kind of leaving. And after the progress Clark thought had been made in the last 24 hours, that didn't sit well with him at all.

"The limo should be able to make it here in about ten minutes" – Lex glanced at the clock and grimaced – "make that twenty. Slower than the flight over here, but I don't want to risk someone noticing Superman leaving my home early in the morning two days in a row," he said to answer Clark's question. Clark winced a little in response; he didn't care what people in general thought about him (well, not too much), but if even just one gossip rag wrote just one sentence of insinuation in just one article, the Fortress AI would read it, and then Jor-El would be right back to demanding that Clark secure the economic power of the House of Luthor for the House of El by making Lex his consort, amongst pointed comments about 'how important a stable family life is for Kon-El.' Not that Clark disagreed on the later sentiment, but the only person Clark wanted to get parenting advice from less than Jor-El was Lionel. And maybe those moms from that Toddlers in Tiaras show Lois watched sometimes. "I'll have your clothes cleaned and give them to Conner to give to you when I see him this weekend," Lex added after a moment of thought.

"Or you could return them tonight," Clark suggested, inspiration striking him with a brilliant…ly stupid idea, but his brain didn't seem interested in stopping his mouth from going for it.

"No, I know it's Wednesday, but Conner and I discussed it, and we decided it was better to wait until this Friday to have him stay over for the first time. That way Conner has the whole weekend to settle in, rather than just the evening." Lex said, apparently completely missing what Clark had been trying to get at. Which was understandable, given how very not articulate Clark had been about his suggestion.

"What I meant was, Conner should be back from meeting with the Titans by dinner, and Syfy is having a Warehouse 13 marathon tonight, and since we all enjoyed Eureka so much…" Clark trailed off, his brain finally deciding, a little too late in the game, to tell his mouth to shut up, you sound like an idiot, and didn't you decide yesterday that you were going to leave this up to Conner?

"Just to be clear," Lex said after a few seconds of silence, "you're inviting me to come have dinner with you and Conner tonight, and then to watch TV with the two of you afterwards." Lex looked quietly shocked, and maybe a bit confused, at Clark's suggestion, which Clark supposed was still a big improvement on the disgust and/or rage he had been half-expecting.

"Pretty much, yeah. If you want to," Clark said. The words hung in the air for a long time, as Clark waited for Lex to say something. Long enough time that Clark started desperately trying to think of a way to take his offer back without making things even worse. There was the Kiss of Lethe, but that was ethically questionable even if Clark had gotten full control over it. As it was, there was the distinct possibility that Clark would erase a whole lot more of Lex's memories than he intended to, all of them even, or maybe he wouldn't erase anything at all. Then Clark would be stuck trying to explain why he had kissed Lex, which would mean either lying, another skill that Clark still hadn't mastered, or telling the truth, which –

"The TV in the penthouse is a good deal larger than the one you have here," said Lex, snapping Clark out of his mental flailing. Lex looked utterly casual as he said it, his body language a study in nonchalance, as though he didn't care what Clark's answer was one way or the other. And Clark knew, from long years of experience, that that meant Lex did care, a lot.

The grin that overtook Clark's face felt bigger and more enthusiastic than it had been in a while. "The marathon starts at seven, so we'll be there by six-thirty," he said. Sure, Lex wasn't offering a declaration of undying friendship, or a promise to mend all his ways, or anything over-the-top dramatic like that, but it was a start. And Clark, with copious amounts of help from Conner, could definitely work with that.