The bright spring days were her favorites

Title: Car Wash

Summary: Lex is enjoying a sunny Saturday afternoon in Smallville

Notes: Set during late Season One

Rating: PG

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Even through sunglasses, the bright sun was unrelenting. Lex tilted his head down just a little until he at least wasn't staring directly into it. Barely a couple of hours from Metropolis and it was like another world around here. Smallville bustled underneath the cloudless blue sky. A perfect Saturday afternoon in the Heart of America. Budding trees, freshly-planted flowers. Perpetually dirt-encrusted pickup trucks volleying up and down the street, occasionally disgorging hordes of kids or their parents. It was like everyone in Smallville came in bunches. Grapes on a vine. Parents and kids, uncles and aunts, grandparents and grandkids, friends, brothers and sisters. Lex stood out here more than he ever would in Metropolis.

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"

He turned toward the voice. Martha Kent, full grocery bag in hand, stood behind him. She tossed a warm smile at him, which he recycled into one of his own.

"It is," he agreed.

"Spring is my favorite time, I think."

He looked back out at the town. Flags proudly flying in the afternoon breeze. Grandparents taking dogs for walks. Kids laughing and whispering to each other, others studiously licking ice cream from dripping cones.

"It was my mother's favorite, too."

His mother had always made it a race to finish his ice cream cone before it melted. She never bought one of her own, but always took pleasure in "helping" him eat his.

She had died in the spring. On a beautiful sunny day like this one. But he would never ruin Mrs. Kent's spring with that little piece of information.

"I see the kids are enjoying it," she said after a long moment.

She was looking down the block. The bank parking lot was alive with kids. Two teenaged girls stood on the sidewalk, holding a hand-made cardboard sign between them. They waved at the passing cars, getting a few honks in return. The honks made them giggle.

"Car wash?" he asked as he read the sign.

"Looks more like an excuse to have a water fight on a Saturday afternoon," Martha laughed.

Behind the girls, hoses snaked every which way across the bank parking lot. High school girls in bikini tops and short shorts stood in giggling packs, while guys in already-sodden t-shirts shot water at each other. Somewhere in the middle of it all, a few cars were managing to get in the way enough to be considered a washing.

"What's it for?"

"I don't know." Mrs. Kent was still smiling affectionately toward them. Lex envied the kids that. "Clark mentioned it yesterday. I'll bet all he knew was that Lana was organizing it."

Yeah, he saw them now. Standing in the bed of a big black-and-chrome Dodge Ram, Clark was diligently sudsing the cab's roof. The quarterback was giving pointers from the sidelines. Lana was rinsing off the hood, laughing and stealing occasional looks up toward where Clark was working.

"It must be for a school activity, I guess. Club, dance, trip. The never-ending search for funding." Her free hand reached up to push her hair back out of her eyes as she turned to face the sun. "In my day, it was bake sales."

Lex stuck both hands in his pockets, fingering his keys and cellphone absently. "They didn't really do fund-raisers in private schools. Money was the one thing our parents were happy to give us."

He felt, rather than saw, her look over at him. Pictured that combination of sadness and empathy that he'd discovered he didn't actually despise. Martha Kent didn't radiate pity, she radiated concern. Caring. Genuineness, something far lacking in his world.

He looked over at her and smiled reassurance. For some reason, he wanted her to understand that he wasn't going to break. It would have happened a long time ago if it were going to. But Martha Kent didn't know that. She was born to worry over kids, even if they weren't her own.

"Maybe," he said instead, "I'll go make a donation to whatever worthy cause they're all getting wet for."

"Do those kids a favor, Lex. Pay them to wash your car instead of writing them a check."

She was joking, right? No one but Hans had touched any of his cars since he'd turned sixteen. Carefully detailed, precisely waxed and touched up, always kept in perfect working order. The idea of letting a bunch of distracted teenagers with buckets and old rags get their hands on them…

"I'd rather write a check."

She leaned in closer, almost conspiratorially. "Throwing money at things is what your father does. You're better than that."

It made him smile. Most people wouldn't be able to imagine being better than Lionel Luthor at anything. But the people around here weren't exactly 'most people'. They saw things differently than 'most people'. Maybe because they saw them from sunny Saturday afternoons on Main Street USA. Or maybe it was because they saw it from a place where the sky had literally fallen down on them twelve years ago.

It wasn't a bad perspective. Because he had no intention of ever being 'most people.'

"There's Jonathan." She waved across the street to where Mr. Kent was leaving Fordman's department store. "Enjoy the nice day, Lex."

"I plan to." He pulled out his cellphone. "Say hello to Mr. Kent for me."

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The phone had beeped its way through speed dial before she had crossed the street and disappeared into the old Kent truck. One short conversation, a few instructions, an insistent tone, and it was done. Lex hung up and pulled his car keys out. Checked his watch. He'd get a quick iced coffee first. Timing was, after all, everything.

When he pulled the Spyder into the parking lot of the bank twenty minutes later, several of the kids stopped to gawk at it. Lex ignored them. He got out and walked toward Clark.

"Hey, Lex." Clark jogged toward him, wiping his hands off on already-soggy jeans.

"Clark."

"What's up?"

"You guys are washing cars, right?"

Clark nodded toward the obvious going on behind him. "Yeah. Raising money for the Spring Formal. Why? You want yours washed?"

"Yeah. It's lookin' a little dirty, don’t you think? Can't have that on the Luthor image."

Clark grinned widely. "Great. Gimme the keys and I'll move it."

Taking his sunglasses off, Lex tossed the keys left-handed across the two yards between them. Clark easily caught them mid-air and walked past Lex toward the car.

"Clark?"

"Yeah?"

"Where do you want the others?"

Clark stopped, turning back, a puzzled frown on his face. "Others?"

Lex came forward to stand next to Clark as they appeared down the street. His Porsche, the new 911, the replacement that he had yet to drive in six months. The S500 sedan, the Luthor version of 'nondescript'. The SUV, the Lexus he'd barely owned a week now. The Jaguar, always sleek under Hans' careful care. The Aston Martin, his favorite of them all, the road-hugger. The Ferrari. The brand new one, the SL55. Zero to sixty in four and a half seconds. He was itching to take that one out. And the limo, making a spectacle of itself on Smallville's two-lane street.

One by one, they pulled into the bank parking lot until there was barely room for the kids and their hoses. Hans directed the other employees with his usual complete lack of humor until all of Lex's cars were parked carefully and evenly in the small lot. The kids gaped.

"What is this?" Clark finally asked as the engines died.

"You have a dance to pay for, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, then you'd better get washing."

Clark looked over his shoulder toward where Hans was scowling at the teenagers eyeing his precious vehicles. Then back to Lex with that familiar silly grin.

"We might have to name the dance after you," he warned.

"It's a risk I'll have to take."

Lex stood back as they descended on his cars like ants. Hans looked like he was going to pop a heart valve. Lex would make it up to him. Buy him a new car to play with. Sliding his sunglasses back on, he moved into the sun to watch from a safe, dry distance.

This was definitely better than writing a check.

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~~~~~finis~~~~~~