Smallville, All in Good Taste

Title: All In Good Taste [Lex/Clark]
Fandom: Smallville
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 for non-specific cornfield action
Summary: Lex is convinced that too much time in Kansas has damaged his tastes.
AN: Mousapelli’s Birthday Theme 23: Pinstripes/Red Plaid

All in Good Taste

Lex is convinced that too much time in Kansas has damaged his tastes. He has sneaking suspicions when the waving of the amber grain makes him shift in the Ferrari’s leather seats, and much deeper ones when the wind catching the clothes of a random scarecrow makes him press his foot down harder on the accelerator.

Lex has always been very in touch with himself, and accordingly he decides that a trip to Metropolis is exactly what the doctor ordered, and maybe if he takes the brand new prototype helicopter he can leave his brain behind in Smallville, where it can happily contemplate the aesthetic draping of denim all on its own.

There’s work to be done there anyhow; for instance, as soon as he gets within range of his publicist’s tracking devices, she calls to inform him that they are holding modeling auditions for the new Lexcorp billboards, and he really might want to drop by to see the new face of the company.

“My face is the face of the company!” he snaps into the phone, and she retorts dryly that he might have been if the FAA hadn’t sent them a court order saying the glare off Lex’s head from the last set of billboards was confusing their instruments.

“One plane was in a holding pattern for 9 hours before they found a contractor with enough paint to slap a hat on the Fifth Avenue sign,” she finishes, then hangs up before Lex can inform her that she’s being transferred to Asscrack, Montana.

Which probably doesn’t have as much denim as Smallville. Lex groans and shifts in the leather seats.

Upon arrival, the new face of Lexcorp has dark hair, bright blue eyes, and a very kissable pout.

“Well?” his publicist asks.

He should be wearing red flannel and be surrounded by waving cornstalks, some traitorous bastard inside Lex’s head supplies, and what comes out of his mouth is a harsh, “fuck.”

“Is that the ‘hire him’ fuck,” his publicist inquires evenly, “or the ‘you’re being transferred to Asscrack, Montana’ fuck? Sir.”

Lexcorp personified tosses his hair out of his eyes a little, and Lex suddenly notices he’s wearing cowboy boots, and then things go blank until Lex is back on the helicopter, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“Smallville High School,” he tells the pilot, and it is because Lex is paying him a ridiculous salary plus dental that he doesn’t ask “Again, sir?”


When the unmarked helicopter sets down like a visitor from another planet in the field visible from the Physics lab, Clark sighs and gets to his feet.

“I’ll take care of it!” he yells over the roar of the motor, snatching at his papers as they try and flutter away and jamming them into his backpack. The teacher is yelling something, probably about minimum attendance, but Clark bobs his head and smiles on his way out the door like his super hearing can’t pick up every single word, flashing the ‘take notes for me please kthanx’ thumbs up at Chloe.

In the hallway, he puts on a minor burst of super speed and is almost at the bottom of the stairs when he hears the motor of the helicopter cut.

“Lex, this is the third time in two weeks,” Clark says reasonably when he is standing in front of the billionaire in the settling dust. “You do want me to graduate, right? ‘Cause if so, I may have to attend eighth period several times between now and then.”

“This suit’s nice, right?” Lex asks, flicking dirt off his tie and tugging at the cuffs. “I mean, pinstripe is always in, isn’t it?”

“Sure, Lex,” Clark sighs, and wonders why Lex is staring at his red, flannel shirt like that. “Should we just retire to the cornfield now, or did you actually want my fashion advice? Not that that wouldn’t be interesting for a change of pace.”

“You sweet talker you.” Lex raises an eyebrow and finally lets go of his suit to drape artfully on its own. “Get your ass in that cornfield.”

“Yes, sir.” Clark grins, because exasperation and graduation requirements aside, Lex does look pretty damned good in pinstripes, and he might be the only person on the planet whose eyes are strong enough to withstand the dazzle of Lex’s head in the midday Kansas sun.


They are in the Talon by the time school actually lets out, Clark drinking a very large and very cold iced tea, and Lex’s sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His jacket is thrown over the back of Clark’s chair to hide the damage it took while shielding Clark’s ass from the ground, and his tie is long gone, having met with an unfortunate accident.

“Yes, Clark,” Lex soothes, stealing a sip of Clark’s iced tea despite his own perfectly civilized latte. “I’m sure the corn was just sharper than usual, which explains why my tie very clearly gave all in one spot at once.”

“Kansas corn is serious business.” Clark steals a sip of Lex’s latte in revenge, then makes a disgusted face and shoves it back at Lex, as far away from him as it will go.

“There you are!” Chloe shouts from the doorway. “Clark Kent, do you not know the meaning of the word subtle? Ask your sugar daddy here if he really wants his jailbait to need a GED.”

“Clark was helping me out with a few business contacts who needed a touch of rural finesse,” Lex replies smoothly, picking up his cup and meeting Clark’s eyes as he drinks from the same spot Clark has. Clark’s cheeks turn a very charming pink and he drops his eyes.

“I just bet that’s what needed a touch,” Chloe scoffs, then reaches over and plucks a strip of cornstalk from Clark’s hair. “I hope they enjoyed their tour of the cornfield.”

“So, Chloe!” Clark clears his throat. “How about those Physics notes?”

“As if I’d take notes for you,” Chloe sniffs as she flops down into the chair next to Clark. “Every time you skip out I end up being partnered with Lydia Kyle, and the fumes from her hairspray make the Bunsen burner spark.”

“What?” Clark’s jaw drops. “I gave you the ‘take notes for me kthanx’ thumbs up, you traitor!”

“That was very clearly the ‘I am about to ruin Lex’s fabulous two thousand dollar suit in a cornfield’ thumbs up,” Chloe retorts.

“It’s the same thing!” Clark protests, but Lex lights up.

“You like it?” he asks, looking relieved. “I was starting to think that too much time in Smallville was diminishing my fashion sense.”

“I think if you replace ‘Smallville’ in that sentence with ‘Clark’ you might be closer to the truth,” Chloe says sweetly, and Clark snorts iced tea up his nose.

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