Title: My Closet Is (Not) Your Closet
Fandom: Smallville, Clark/Lex
Rating: Teen
Length: 462 words
Content notes: No spoilers. No warnings.
Summary: It's not like he needs the space.



"Lex, come on!" Clark shouted from his closet. "How is it possible that ALL of your shoes end up in my closet? We live in a castle, for godssake."

Lex lay on top of the rumpled sheets, one forearm tucked behind his head, waiting impatiently for Clark to come out of the walk-in. Clark still had his bath towel wrapped around his waist, and Lex had plenty of reason to believe that if Clark would just hurry his ass up they could have one more quick... something before Clark had to go. (Lex wasn't feeling picky.)

"You're fucking adorable when you're being hyperbolic," Lex drawled.

"What? We don't live in a castle?" Clark quipped.

"Very funny. Those are not ALL of my shoes. And anyway, you only have a pair of work boots, one pair of oxfords, and a pair of crime-fighting booties. It's not like you need the space."

"That's not the point! I can't find my shoes or my BOOTS when they're buried under— oh, no way! What the heck?"

A blur of blue and white flew toward the center of the room.

"Whoa! Those are two-hundred-dollar espadrilles you're tossing around!"

That got Clark out of the closet.

"Okay, for one thing," he started, one hand pointing at the shoes in the same way a person might gesture at a dog's accident, "those look like something my mom would've made in her basket-weaving class. And for another, I've never even seen you wear them, and yet they're somehow in my closet."

Lex slowly moved down the bed toward Clark.

"You've never seen me wear them because you pulled me out of them too fast to notice." Lex's gaze traveled up Clark's body in concert with his rise to his knees on the bed. He reached out for Clark, and Clark willingly stepped into his arms. "Frieda probably puts my stuff in there because she gets tired of schlepping everything you tear off me down the hall where it belongs." (Lex had an enormous, separate, custom-built closet that was the size of the average child's bedroom. He regretted nothing.)

Clark gave a conceding little tilt of his head. "Fair point. But those are still really ugly and you should probably burn them. In fact... " He pointed a familiar focused glare at them.

"Hey!" Lex laughed, turning Clark's head back toward him. "Please refrain from turning my footwear into a very expensive pile of ash."

Clark pretended to ponder this, as Lex went to work on his neck. "Only if you promise to never, EVER, wear those things in my presence."

Lex sank down to a seated position on the side of the bed, then slowly peeled the towel from Clark's hips and tossed it over the shoes. "Scout's honor," he smirked, leaning in.