Title: Sleep Deprived

Author: easlydstracted

Rating/Disclaimer: PG/ The boys aren’t mine, but one can dream.

Pairing: Superman/Clark and Lex genfic

Summary: AU, futurefic; Mostly Lex’s POV but some Supes/Clark in their too

Can’t say much without killing it, so I’ll say this--> One needs sleep, the other is there, and drama ensues (sorry, but really it’s a short one.)  

Notes: This one is a weird one in the sense that the ending kind of leaves you wondering what the hell is wrong with the author. It’s not a deathfic! And it’s not a bad or happy ending. It’s just uhhh, there. This is something I wrote a while back and was gonna give up on but I pulled it out and took a look, and had my beta take a look, and then vylit said it was her LJversary, an- well, here it is.

Constructive criticism and comments=much much love.

Thanks to bwolsah for the read-through.

Let me know if you want a part two and we’ll see where this goes!

Oh! And the switching from Clark to Superman to Clark is deliberate, just read it. You’ll understand.
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Sleep Deprived

It's been so long since he's slept that he can't quite remember when it last happened. It hadn’t bothered him at first; he’s used to not getting much sleep. But it's finally catching up with him.

It may have been days. But no, he's gone days without any adverse effects before. Maybe weeks. Or months. Superman doesn’t need sleep. Not the way others do. But he still needs to rest once in a while. Only lately, “once in awhile” has been getting further and further apart, to the point where he could no longer remember when he’d last shut his eyes.  

However long it has been, it's been too long. Way too long since he felt that soft pillow against his cheek. Unshaven cheek. When was the last time he shaved, or even saw his apartment? There’s the sudden urge to sniff his underarms, but he's too tired to lift his arm. Besides, he’d showered everyday, a quick and cold shower, but a shower none the less. And he doesn’t really need to shave too often, but there’s a definite shadow that he’s sure must be noticeable.

He rubs his cheek absently and tries again to remember just how long it's been since he's gotten a full night’s sleep.

Or more importantly, how he’s ended up at Lex’s.

Lex has a bed. It's somewhere in one of the many rooms, up those many flights of stairs. Too many stairs, and it really has been too long if he's thinking about sleeping in Lex's bed.

Especially when Lex is now standing in the room, no more than a few feet away.

Lex, who he hasn’t spoken to in… well, it’s been quite some time actually. Not that they’re the best of friends. Not anymore anyway. But Clark still tries to keep in touch. Persistently tries to salvage what he can of the friendship. Lex made it hard, making sure Superman always had a mess to clean up. But Clark keeps on trying.  

Only lately, he’s been so busy.

The whole world seems to be in constant need.

And then there’s Lex. Lex who is always getting into one scrape or another, always lying and saying it isn’t his fault; that he had nothing to do with the latest catastrophe, yet in the same breath cursing Superman for ruining his plans, and leaving him to pick up the pieces.

The same Lex who’s just standing there, looking at him as if it’s everyday that you find a superhero just standing around in your living quarters.

It really has been too long since he's slept. So when he gets spooked and there's suddenly a Clark-shaped hole in Lex's living room wall, there's really not much he can think of saying except,

"Oops."

Lex is now leaning casually against the door, looking for all the world like this was a daily occurrence at the Luthor mansion. One eyebrow raised and there's this burning in Lex's eyes that he knows he should be afraid of considering his current state of mind, but there's also a slightly concerned look in those eyes, and it makes Clark careless. He just put a hole in the wall and Lex actually looks somewhat worried.

Unless he was just worried about the wall.

"I can fix that," Clark says realizing that the wrong words are coming out of his mouth, and coming out blurry. When did he start slurring? Or was it his hearing?

"Or  pay or ..." Not sure what he meant to say, just that Lex hasn't moved, and now there's a look of amusement mixed in with everything else his eyes are communicating. But he's simply too tired to try and read Lex now.

"Say something, Lex." He's pretty sure he meant to say Luthor.

A slight twitch touches Lex's lips before he answers.

"I'm not worried about the wall, Clark."

All kinds of bells and whistles are going off in his head, but all Clark can think of is that Lex probably has a lot of fluffy white pillows on his bed. No, silky white pillows…

"Clark?"

Lex is now crouched in front of him, and when he forces his eyes to focus, he can see that everything but concern has been wiped away.

"I'm alright." Didn't mean to say that either, but he can’t seem to let Lex worry.

"I don't think you are,” Lex says frowning, He’s still talking but Clark's zoned out, dreaming about Lex's pillows, and how they must feel a million times better than his pillows, because Lex must have paid a small fortune for each one of them, and how many pillows does Lex have anyway? At least t—

"Clark. Snap out of it." Lex slaps him lightly and Clark’s not sure whether it should have hurt or not.

"Oww." He's rubbing his cheek, brow furrowed; automatic responses have kicked in a little too late, and he feels kind of foolish after it’s said, but hell. Too late to take it back now.  

Lex has this incredulous look on his face, and Clark could probably spend days watching Lex go through all these expressions.

"’Oww?’ You just expanded my living room with your body, but I slap you and that hurts?"

Of course Lex is right, but Clark can’t think of anything to say so he just continues to rub his cheek some more, feeling the days, months? old stubble and once again his thoughts return to try and figure out just how long it’s been since he’d last slept.

Lex watches as Clark’s eyes lose focus once more and wonders what the hell the man could be thinking about considering the circumstances. Not to mention that he had yet to show surprise at Lex’s obvious knowledge of his identity. But the sound of all too familiar footsteps nearing the doorway force Lex to temporarily abandon his musings.

“Clark. Clark! You have to get up!” Lex whispers harshly, trying to wake Clark from his trance. “Clark! My father’s coming, you have to get up!” On the last word, he slaps Clark. Hard.

Clark frowns and opens his mouth to reply, but before the words are out the doors fly open and Lex is left standing with his arms outstretched to nothing. He faintly hears a thud and takes a quick second to ponder which room Superman decided to expand for him this time, before turning around to face his father.

“Dad.”

“Is there someone here, Lex? I thought I heard you speaking to someo-“

“Superman made a surprise visit,” Lex says cutting him off. “Apparently he wasn’t pleased.” Lex doesn’t allow his father to ask the obvious.

Lionel takes in the newly decorated living room wall that now has a more direct route to the office, with a raised eyebrow.

“Apparently not.”

“Was there something you wanted, dad?”

“No, no. I was just dropping by. Was it something you did?”

“Probably,” Lex plays along, “but as you can see I’ve got my hands full at the moment,” he continues, gesturing to the wall. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a few calls to make.”

Lex doesn’t wait for his father’s response. He quickly removes his cell from his pocket to call his contractor and heads up the stairs, leaving his father to explore the newly renovated living room/office. No doubt his father wasn’t pleased about the wrecked wall, but he has to get upstairs before Clark does anymore damage.

He takes the stairs two at a time but stops short when he reaches the top. Sunlight filters through the ceiling, filling the usually soft-lit hallway with natural light. Lex looks up and snaps his jaw shut when he sees the edge of a red cape peeking through the new …skylight? Why not? It’s as good a place as any.

“Clark?” Lex calls up. “Clark,” he tries again more forcefully, but when no response comes he jumps up grabbing the cape, and pulls.

Superman’s face peers down at him, five o’clock shadow and purple bruises Lex has never seen before, and a pair of blue eyes that look somewhat haunted.

“Clark, come down,” Lex commands and, to his surprise, watches as Clark floats down to his side.

They stand like that for a moment, Clark staring down at Lex with a mixture of emotions that Lex can’t even begin to analyze but is unable to turn away from.

Caught, as if some strange force was keeping them both there against their will, they stand, the silence breaking when Clark blinks and his eyelids fail to rise again.

“What happened to you?” Lex whispers softly to himself. He grabs a hold of Clark’s shoulder expecting him to recoil. But when no protest comes forth he leads him to the closest guest room, noticing that although the caped man standing beside him has managed to open his eyes, they’re merely slits.

Clark opens his eyes fully when Lex tells him to lie down. He smiles softly when he sees a mountain of white pillows before him and is asleep before his head has a chance to fully sink in.

Lex watches him practically pass out, the steady rise and fall of the family crest on his chest the only thing keeping him from checking for a pulse. He’s not sure how long he stands there watching; only that it’s dark out when he finally shuts the door softy behind him.

When he gets in his own bed he lays awake for hours. He keeps seeing those eyes staring down at him. No menacing looks. No threats. No accusations. No disappointment. Just complete exhaustion. And… something else he’s not sure he fully understands.

When sleep does come, it comes fitfully and doesn’t last very long.

Lex opens his eyes to faint rays of sunshine slowly climbing his walls. His television turns on automatically as the news comes on, but it barely registers. He stares at the ceiling for awhile before sighing and getting up; makes his was across the hall and hesitates at the closed door. He’s pretty sure that he won’t find the man of steel lying in bed. More likely, he’s been long gone.

He first sees the empty bed, perfectly made, as if no one had slept in it. Then he notices the figure silhouetted in the window. Superman stares out the window, his body slightly turned so that Lex can just make out his profile.

A million questions flood Lex’s mouth, but he stays’ his tongue and forces his body to relax.

“Sleep well?” he asks casually, leaning his shoulder on the door frame and crossing his arms. But Superman doesn’t move, giving no sign that he’s heard anything. He simply continues to stare out the window as if all the answers to all the problems of the world are written somewhere in the sky.

Lex can hear the television in his room and hears something about a crash last night that had hundreds of people hospitalized. He wonders if Superman can hear their cries, and just how long will the two of them stand here saying nothing when,

“How long have you known?”

It’s a demand. Strangely muted and detached. Yet Lex can feel the warring of emotions, bubbling beneath the surface. He waits a beat before answering.

He’s waited for this moment for a very long time.

“Since I hit you with my car,” he responds coolly, practically daring denial.

Although he can only see a slight profile Lex can make out the forming frown and the twitch of a jaw muscle, but other then that, nothing. No response. Not a word.

When the silence seems ludicrous, Lex opens his mouth but stops when one arm reaches for the window. He watches wordlessly as its pushed open and has to clench his own jaw when Superman leans forward and stops.

Clark hesitates, turns his head to look Lex fully in the eyes, holds his gaze for one intense second and in one swift motion is gone in a blur.