Dean was absolutely getting on Lex's last nerve.

They cleaned up from their fight with the hay in silence, and they finished loading up the bales, but Mr. Kent didn't let them stop there. As punishment for making a mess and leaving scuff marks in the truck bed, he made them continue loading hay bales for the next two hours. Lex's arms felt like they were going to fall off; he didn't have the energy to put up a real fight, so he restrained himself to occasional glares, which Dean returned.

Clark ran up to them just as they were finishing with the last load of hay. "My mom says to clean up for lunch."

Lex wiped the sweat away from his forehead. "Thanks, Clark."

Clark grinned. "I saw you guys playing with the hay, I'm so glad you're friends now!"

Lex and Dean both tripped over their words: "Uhh, well . . ."

"I told my mom you guys were getting along now, and she was so happy, she said she would make another pie for tonight!"

Both of them were the image of politeness and civility at lunchtime.

After lunch, though, they were back at it. "So, Lex, how did you end up here?" Dean asked with a slight sneer.

"Same way as you, I guess." Lex put down the pitchfork for a moment and sipped at the bottle of water Mrs. Kent had given him. "Abandoned by my deadbeat father."

The redness in Dean's face was worth the risk of getting hit. "You don't know anything about my father."

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Lex continued to take a chance. "I only know about mine. He expects me to go into his line of work, but his idea of training is to throw me into things headfirst and hope I live to tell about it. It's all in the name of making me stronger, but I know the truth—it's 'cause he's too ashamed of me as I am. Sound familiar?"

"You shut your mouth."

"Our dads are a lot alike. When it's convenient for them, they leave us alone or dump us on someone else." Lex smirked. "Bastards."

"You've got no family loyalty."

"Loyalty? That thing you do to try to earn your father's love? Let me save you some time, Dean. You can't earn love. It's not worth trying."

"My dad is a hero."

"Oh, it sure sounds like it." Lex's voice dripped with sarcasm, though on the inside he was starting to feel sick to his stomach. He had only wanted to get a rise out of Dean, but now he suspected that his words were just a little bit too close to the truth; he hadn't meant to hit so close to home. He was in too deep to back out now, though.

"You'll pay for that, Luthor."

Lex stepped up and got right up in his face. "What are you gonna do? Fight me?"

"There won't even be a fight. You're gonna be crying like a nine-year-old. Like Clark."

"Clark's stronger than he looks. He could take out Sam in a fight, easy."

Dean scoffed. "Sam could take you out."

"It's not Sam I want to fight."

Dean's voice lowered even further. "Midnight. Out on this field."

Lex's heart skipped. He had a little bit of training in self defense, but Dean was a lot bigger than he was; even if Lex won the fight, he wasn't getting out of it without taking a few nasty hits. Despite the practice he'd had from his father's beatings, he really didn't do well with pain—but it was quite worth it for a chance to pound Dean's stupid face in. "Midnight," Lex said.

Dean straightened up suddenly, and Lex turned to see where he was looking—Sam and Clark approached the truck, smiling. "Hey guys," Clark said. "Since we're all friends now, do you want to play basketball? Brothers versus brothers?"

Lex breathed in to say he didn't think it was a good idea, but Dean spoke first: "Game on."

Lex set his jaw. It was absolutely on. He had nothing against Sam, but he was not going to let Dean beat Clark.