Jimmy kept drinking his coffee, small slow sips, hoping Clark would say something else. Hoping he'd offer another topic of conversation. But Clark just sat there, watching him, one big hand almost swallowing his mug of coffee.

Finally he mumbled. "I dunno. I've just been... out of sorts lately."

"Jimmy," it was hard to believe such a big man could sound so gentle. "something has been making you very uncomfortable. You're not like yourself. You're jumpy all the time. If I come up behind you and tap your shoulder or your arm, you almost jump out of your skin, and you didn't used to be so skittish. Whatever it is, you don't have to deal with it by yourself. I'm your friend, am I not?"

Jimmy smiled at the quaint phrasing. "Yeah, Mr. Kent. Probably my best friend."

The blue eyes behind the hornrims were kind, and pleased. "Then you should call me Clark, and friends help each other. Tell me what's wrong."

Jimmy fidgetted again. "I need some more coffee." He started to stand up, but Clark took hold of his wrist. The grip was non- threatening, but firm, and he held Jimmy in place.

"Jimmy, talk to me." The tone said he was willing to sit here for a long time.

Jimmy Olsen rubbed his face with his free hand, then sighed. "It... it's kind of silly, I guess. I mean, I ought to be flattered, right? I know guys who'd give a year off their life to have someone like... some... you know, pursueing them."

"Someone like?" The prompt was not to be denied.

He looked down an the tabletop, at Clark's fingers curving around his wrist. "Miss Lane." he whispered. "She's been teasing me lately. And not just, you know, 'Let's get the kid' teasing. Heck, I 'm used to that. It's part of being the youngest one at work."

"You mean she's been teasing you sexually?"

*Here comes that damn blush again.* "Yessir."

"Clark. And it makes you uncomfortable."

"Yeah. I mean, it's just all of a sudden, out of the blue. One day she's grousing at me for not keeping her paper supply up, the next she's... she's... well, kind of rubbing on me, like a cat."

Clark let go of his wrist--very carefully, Jimmy thought. Jimmy absently rubbed the warm place where Clark's hand had braceletted him. He didn't notice how Kent's eyes followed that subtle gesture. "Clark, this is so weird. I keep thinking that I should like it. I mean, don't most guys? Shouldn't I be all excited because she keeps trying to touch me, and talk dirty to me? What's wrong with me?"

Clark sat back and crossed his arms, tucking his hands under. Almost, Jimmy thought, like someone trying to keep control of their actions. "I think that's why I'm angry at Lois. It would be one thing if you were open to her advances. Heaven knows, I don't approve of having relations with underage young people. Things are confusing enough for you youngsters as it is without being pressured by a more experienced adult. But from what I've seen, you haven't given Lois any encouragement." Jimmy shook his head decisively. "Then she should leave you alone. If she persists, I want you to report this to Perry."

Jimmy was horrified. "I couldn't! It's not like I'm twelve or thirteen, and she's a child molester. Perry... the authorities would wonder why I didn't just shut up and enjoy it. I've wondered that a couple of times myself."

"And your conclusions?"

"I don't know." he said helplessly. "Maybe there's something wrong with me. Lois was teasing me about the fact that I don't really date. She says it isn't healthy for a kid my age not to be...well, trying to... you know... with whoever I can. But I've never really had that kind of interest in any of the girls I know."

"What about any of the boys?"

That floored Jimmy, because he'd thought about that a little himself, and it shocked him to realized that it might occure to someone else. At last he managed to choke out, "N-no. Not really." He paused, his face heating. He whispered, "Not anything... clear, anyway." He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the reaction. He wasn't sure if it would be hot anger or cold disgust, but either way, he was pretty sure he'd lost his friend.

He had to wonder if maybe Clark was psychic. He felt Clark's arm on his shoulder. "Look at me, Jimmy." Jimmy dared a look. Oh, God, he looked stern. "Do you distrust me to the point that you think that would make any difference in our friendship?"

The young man felt relief flood him. Clark didn't hate him. "No. I'm sorry. It's just that I never said that out loud before. I've hardly even thought it. How can I be so mixed up?"

A wry smile. "You're seventeen, and you think you should have it all figured out by now? My God, son, it's no shame to be a little confused. There are people twice your age and more who still haven't figured out their sexuality. It isn't always a black-and-white, either-or thing."

"It isn't?"

"No, it isn't. I suppose you think that someone has to be either rabidly straight, or screamingly gay?"

"Well... that's what I've heard."

Clark shook his head almost sady, and murmured something like, "God, this backward, benighted world." Then he spoke louder. "There are places, Jimmy, where same sex couples aren't considered all that unusual. These places have just progressed to the point where it isn't men loving women, or men loving men, or women loving women-- it's people loving people."

"That sounds nice," Jimmy said wistfully. "I don't guess any of those places are nearby?"

"Sadly, no. But this world may eventually reach that point. If people are brave enough to follow their hearts."

*Brave enough.* Clark's hand was resting on the table. Jimmy reached over and laid his on top of it. Just let it lie there for a moment. Then he tentatively stroked. Clark's fingers curled slightly, but he didn't pull away. Jimmy straightened his cuff, adjusting the twisted link carefully, and smoothed the sleeve up to the elbow.

It was very quiet in the break room. Jimmy kept his eyes on his hand as he traced his way up Clark's arm, pressing just enough to feel the firm outline of the bicep. Then he let his hand drift back down. He picked up Clark's hand, and moved it till the palm was against his own cheek, and just held it there, waiting to see what would happen.

After a moment, the fingers splayed wide, the tips sliding up just into the edge of his hair. The hand curved, moling itself to him, the holding melting into a caress. Then Jimmy finally looked into Clark's eyes.

He'd seen those eyes mild and amused, sharp with inquirely, sparking with indignation and anger. He'd never seen thim like this before. They were as brilliant as a blue gas flame. He gasped softly in surprise.

Clark shuddered slightly. His hand slid farther back into Jimmy's hair, curving around the back of his skull, holding him. Jimmy unconsciously licked his lips, and Clark made a low, almost desperate sound, then let go of him abruptly.

Feeling even more bewildered, Jimmy said, "Clark? I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"You're seventeen, Jimmy." His voice was rough. "You're only seventeen, and I'm getting out of here." He stood up abruptly and went to the door. Once there, he paused, and looked back at the boy. Jimmy looked so dejected. Clark said quietly, "I'm still your friend, but I think for a while it might be better if we didn't talk to each other privately."

Jimmy said plaintively, "What did I do?" Clark's face softened. "It's not you, son. I still don't approve of what Lois is doing, but..." Jimmy could almost feel the look that swept over him like a physical touch. "Now I understand why."

He left, leaving Jimmy more confused than ever, but somehow... hopeful.