DISCLAIMER - No matter how many times I close my eyes and make a wish I still don't own these beautiful boys... more's the pity. This is purely a work of fiction, not intended to imply anything about these guys or their lives.

Author's notes - Many thanks to Astrea for betaing. Completed April 2003.

Tom followed Michael into his living room, taking a quick mouthful from his bottle of beer as he dropped onto the couch. He sprawled across it, stretching his legs out in front of him, grateful for the chance to really relax at last. It had been a long day, with filming running several hours over schedule. Not that a late finish was anything unusual these days.

As they'd been getting ready to leave, Michael had stopped at his trailer with a casual invitation to come by his place for beer and take out. Tom hadn't thought twice before saying yes.

In fact, there hadn't been any real reason for Tom to still be on the set. His scenes had been completed earlier but, as he often did, he'd stuck around to watch Michael work. Tom liked to think that he'd learned quite a lot that way and the crew had got used to him being there. The bonus was that he got to hang with Michael between takes, which was always a good thing.

Frankly, it fascinated him, seeing Michael snap into his Lex persona the second the director called for action and then switching back to being himself, just as fast, the moment the cameras stopped rolling. Tom wondered if he'd ever be able to manage the same trick, it never seemed that easy to him. But the last scene Michael had been working on tonight had made the contrast especially vivid.

Tom was curious how Michael had felt about it. Looking up, he asked, "So what do you think of this whole thing with Lex having a shrine for his Clark Kent memorabilia?" It seemed pretty creepy to Tom.

Dropping his script on the table, Michael turned and headed back to the couch. He gave Tom a friendly shove until he made room for him, then sat down and leaned his head back, staring up at the ceiling.

"Aside from the fact I think the writers must be on something right now?" he said wryly. He ignored Tom's indelicate snort before adding, "Well, it seems Lex has a certifiable Clark obsession. How fucked up is that?"

"I know. All that stuff with the locked room... What do you think he does when he's alone in there anyway?" Tom glanced over at Michael.

When Michael turned to lock gazes with Tom a sudden, wicked grin flashed across his face. "Oh, I can think of a few possibilities," he said, a suggestive tone colouring his voice.

Tom cracked up as Michael leered at him, abandoning any pretence of a serious discussion. "What, you think he stops by and... kisses his larger than life Clark pin up before he goes to bed with Helen every night? Just to remind himself what he's missing out on."

Michael's thoughts on the development of that particular storyline weren't exactly a secret round the set. Though it was one battle with the writers he hadn't managed to win, much to his irritation.

"Well, it was that or resort to Viagra to get it up for the dreadfully dull doctor," Michael shot back with a sly smile.

They both laughed before settling down and drinking their beers in companionable silence for a while.

Eventually, Michael spoke up again. "You know, I wonder if the props guys would notice if that picture went missing after we finish filming."

Tom raised his eyebrows, staring at Michael. "The Clark one, why? Do you want it to hang on the ceiling over your bed or something?" he teased.

"Damn right!" Michael chuckled softly. "I need something pretty to look at before I drop off at night."

The leer was back in place as Michael turned, his eyes travelling slowly from Tom's face to his crotch, then back again.

Tom licked his lips lazily. "What, are you saying that your imagination isn't good enough on its own to give you wet dreams about me? I'm disappointed."

Caught in the act of drinking, Michael very nearly snorted beer all over Tom and the couch. "Who said anything about wet dreams?" he said when he eventually managed to stop choking. "My ceiling needs painting and I'm sick of looking at the same old cracks every night."

"Hey!" Tom protested indignantly, nudging Michael's shoulder with his own.

Another quick grin and Michael reached across to pat Tom's leg soothingly. "Well, all right, if you ever feel like posing for some... inspirational photos just let me know." The strong fingers slid further up Tom's thigh, stroking firmly. "And I'll dig out my digital camera. I'm sure I could do better than the Clark Kent mug shot."

"Really?" Tom tried not to sound too interested by the idea, but the obvious bulge in the front of his jeans spoiled the effect somewhat. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

Michael sat back, looking thoughtful. "You're the one who was a model. You must know all about posing."

"I suppose so..." Tom tended to get a little embarrassed when he was reminded about his previous occupation. Some of the photos really had been pretty terrible.

Suddenly, Michael was on his feet and heading for the door, leaving Tom blinking after him in surprise.

"Why don't you show me," Michael suggested. He paused in the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder. "Just lose your clothes first," he added with a smirk.

Tom was close on his heels before Michael had reached the stairs. He was already working on the buttons of his shirt as he followed Michael up them.

"Um, so are you any good at action photography?" Tom inquired innocently as Michael pushed open the bedroom door.