Leftovers

Clark mixes the wasabi into his soy sauce and then inspects the tray again. Things haven't gotten any better since the last time he looked. The shrimp heads seem to agree with him. He looks over at Lex, who's using his fingers to tip a roll of flying-fish eggs into his mouth.

Clark knows he's staring because Lex scowls at him while he chews.

"It's perfectly acceptable to eat sushi with your fingers," Lex says when he finishes.

"Okay," Clark says easily, setting his chopsticks down.

Lex might come from a world where lunch requires five different forks and a string quartet, but Clark grew up on fried chicken and corn on the cob and eating with your fingers was never a big deal. Clark was staring because he wanted to and he wonders how long it'll take Lex to figure that out.

Knowing it's too much to ask for the shrimp to actually be cooked, Clark doesn't bother asking, just picks one up, dips it in the lumpy soy sauce and bites into it.

"Oh," Clark says, the inside of his head suddenly feeling remarkably clean.

"Better?" Lex drinks some tea.

Clark nods, eating the rest of the shrimp and licking some stray sauce off his thumb. He's got Lex's full attention now, which only makes him realize he didn't have it before. He used to be so much better at reading Lex, at knowing whether he was angry or distracted or amused.

"Clark." Lex is focused, interested in that laser-like way that used to scare Clark and probably still should.

Clark smiles. "Yeah?"

"What would it take to get you to eat the rest of that shrimp?"

"I, did?" Clark says, holding his hands out in case Lex thought he might have palmed the last bit.

Lex just waits, turning his teacup in a little circle.

Clark glances at the plate for a hint and accidentally makes eye contact with the shrimp heads.