Summary: Lex never backs down from a challenge.

Warnings: Rated PG. m/m

The thing about Lex was that he took the weirdest things as challenges. Clark rarely, if ever, saw it coming. One minute, he'd be talking about something perfectly innocuous, his paper for World History or the widely acknowledged fact that Doritos were the snack food of choice, something like that, and suddenly Lex would get this gleam in his eye, as if Clark had unknowingly thrown down the gauntlet.

Such was the case with the silly pumpkin-carving contest. Clark had only brought it up in the first place because he'd wanted someone to commiserate with him about it.

"My dad makes me enter it every year. Says it's a matter of Kent family honor. They give prizes in all these goofy categories, like 'Most architectural' and 'Best use of non-candle illumination.' It's seriously dorky."

Lex had leaned back in his chair, looking bemused. "The modern mangling of Pagan traditions, I am familiar with it."

Clark had laughed, because...well, Lex. "Yeah, right."

Lex's expression turned sharp. "You doubt my pumpkin-carving abilities?"

"No! I just meant--"

Lex pulled out his Blackberry. "What day did you say that was?"

"The 26th?"

He made a note of it and smiled. "See you there."

Any notion Clark had that this was just a joke or merely for fun was put to rest when Lex showed up in the town square on the day of the contest with his own set of cutlery in a silver carrying case. They took their places at tables side by side, and Lex proceeded to sharpen his knives with unnerving precision while the pumpkins were being passed out.

"Um, you do know that the big prize is a free ticket to the hay ride, right?" Clark asked.

Lex regarded him with a half smile. "What say we make it more interesting then?"

"What do you mean?"

"A head-to-head contest. Whoever does better gets one wish. And the other person has to grant it, within reason of course."

"Well," Clark hesitated, "I guess."

"Good." Lex tilted his pumpkin, wielded his knife. "May the best man win."

Clark had entertained some vague ideas on the way over about what to carve--maybe a Smurf, maybe some kind of fangy thing, for lack of a better description for it--but he was finding it hard to concentrate. Lex's hands moved deftly over his pumpkin, a lightning flash of the knife here and there, fingers trailing over the orange skin as if feeling for the shape he wanted, his touch sensitive and sure.

It was rather distracting.

"There is a time limit, I believe," Lex commented as he worked.

Clark stared down at his unformed lump. "Uh, yeah."

Lex paused just long enough to flash him a smile, all sharp teeth and triumph. "You'd better get busy then."

Clark planted his feet and squared his shoulders, went at his pumpkin with renewed determination. Lex wasn't the only one who wouldn't back down from a challenge.

They worked fiercely, bits of pumpkin flying in the air.

"Time's up!" Mrs. Hamilton, the contest organizer, called all too soon.

Everyone laid down their knives and stepped back from the table. The judging committee, clipboards in hand, began their slow procession down the line. Clark's jack-o-lantern looked something like a Smurf, if you tilted your head just right and squinted a little and imagined it blue, and besides, "Most Cartoon-like" was one of the less competitive categories. He felt almost smug about his chances until he caught sight of Lex's entry.

The wild mane of hair. Smirking mouth. The way the candle inside put a maniacal gleam in its eyes. "Lex, that's--"

"Rather a remarkable resemblance, don't you think?"

"But how'd you--"

Lex's lips twisted into a smile that was not so very different from the one worn by his jack-o-lantern. "Did I ever tell you about the annual LuthorCorp Halloween celebration? My father would close the office early, have all the employees invite their children for candy and games, and the high point was always the pumpkin carving. I was dragged along for the show, to prove what a dedicated family man dear old Dad was. Until the year, I carved this. I guess he didn't think a giant tuber was a noble enough medium for his portrait."

"Lex, that's really--"

Clark wasn't sure how to finish that sentence--"fucked up" maybe or "too funny, I wish I'd been there." Mrs. Hamilton interrupted before he could decide.

"Well, Clark, let's see what we have here." She pursed her lips as she looked his entry over, and then gave him the kind of encouraging smile people bestowed on well-meaning children. "That's a nice effort."

"It's supposed to be a Smurf," he offered lamely, but she'd already gone on to Lex.

"Oh, my." She stopped in her tracks. "Mr. Luthor, that's really quite--"

Apparently, she couldn't find the right adjective, either.

"Call me Lex," he told her, with a smile. "I prefer to keep the honorifics for my subject."

Her eyes snapped up to meet his, clearly startled. "Well, it's...very original. And most lifelike. Most lifelike, indeed." She made a notation on her clipboard, and the judges moved on.

When the results were finally announced, Lex had placed first in two categories: "Best Likeness of a Smallville Resident" and "Most Likely to Scare Small Children." Clark had received an honorable mention in the "Sprit of the Season" category, which was the pumpkin-carving equivalent of being crowned "Miss Congeniality."

Lex offered him a ride home and managed not to look too smug as they walked to the car.

"So," Clark said, wiping his palms on his jeans, "about that wish you have coming."

Lex shook his head. "Forget it. Having my father officially declared the town's boogey man really is reward enough."

Clark laughed. "Yeah, I'm sure you enjoyed that. But still, a bet's a bet." He waited by the side of the car while Lex unlocked the door for him. "What, um, did you want?"

Lex cocked his head and gave him a look, one that said Clark really should think twice before making offers. Clark didn't glance away, and Lex smiled at last. "You should tell me if this crosses the line into the unreasonable."

Clark wasn't sure what he was expecting Lex to do--ask for his secret or dare him to run naked through the town square the way Pete would have. Kissing never came to mind until Lex's mouth was actually on his, and then he wasn't sure why he hadn't considered the possibility a long time ago. Lex felt warm against him, solid, and Clark brought his hand up to cup the back of Lex's head, his thumb moving in circles over soft skin. Lex licked at his lips, and Clark sighed, the sound a lot like an invitation, which was exactly how Lex interpreted it.

When he let go at last and stepped back, all Clark could manage was, "Wha--"

Lex pulled out his keys and walked around to the driver's side. "I really should be getting you home."

Clark folded himself into the Porsche, and they drove off. There was a feeling in Clark's chest that reminded him of stepping on the gas when you had your car in neutral, all revved up, nowhere to go. Lex, on the other hand, seemed perfectly undisturbed. He kept his eyes on the road, piloting around potholes, without so much as a flicker in Clark's direction. And suddenly Clark could see things through the prism of Lex-logic, where a bet was just a bet, and a kiss didn't have to mean anything.

With each passing landmark, Clark's panic rose like floodwater.

They rounded the curve down by the Kelsey's farm, and he blurted out, "I bet you there'll be four of Mr. Kelsey's cows lined up by the fence just over the rise."

Lex shot him a speculative look. "All right, Clark. You're on."

They crested the hill, and there were the cows, in a row, as they always were.

"I won," Clark declared. "Pull over. I want my wish now."

"Clark--"

"A bet's a bet," he insisted.

Lex let out a sigh, but he did stop the car. "I really don't think--"

But Clark didn't give him a chance to finish. He was messy and too eager, on Lex in an instant, and if he hadn't been so terrified that Lex was going to go all responsible adult on him, he probably would have been embarrassed by that.

He kissed Lex until he could feel him gasping. Even when he pulled away to let Lex breathe, he didn't take his hands off him.

"Don't say this is a bad idea," Clark cut him off before he could start. "Not when we both want it."

Lex gave him a look, mixed tenderness and exasperation, and tucked a curl behind his ear. "I just-- I shouldn't have started this with you today."

Clark laughed. "Lex, you've been starting this with me since we met." He moved his hand to Lex's waist, a proprietary gesture, and felt the heat rush to his cheeks as he imagined touching him other places. "And the thing is-- I like it."

He could feel the hitch in Lex's breath, and everything just seemed to stop while he waited for the answer. Finally, Lex closed his eyes and kissed him. "Okay."

He put the car into gear and took off with a splash of gravel.

"Okay? That's it?" Clark asked, not quite trusting.

"That's it."

It was only when Lex turned down the road that led to the mansion that Clark really believed him.

"I bet you can't get us there in under two minutes."

The light sparked in Lex's eyes, and he stepped down on the gas. Clark grinned. He was beginning to see how handy it could be that Lex never backed down from a challenge.