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Summer Story
Well dear ones. I typed away like mad, my tiny claw like T-rex fingers flying (well maybe not so much flying) over the keyboard in a frenzy of creativity. Ach, such wittiness--such prose-- but I lost it.
I know what you're saying, "But Mizz Rose, everytime you lose something, it's the funniest, wittiest, most world-saving piece of literature evah."
And I say, "Your mom called and she want you to play on the white line in the road."
So, here are the previous parts, shoplifting at the 7-11 'cause Whit wanted a coke.
“Whitney, everything all right, you’ve been looking out there a while.”
“I thought I saw –nothing.”
Whit jumped onto the bed, and lay back. He felt better than he’d felt all day. Full, clean and sleeping on a mattress instead of a horse blanket like he figured he’d be doing tonight. “So, Red--”
Lex turned on his side and shoved his hand under his head. He smiled, but looked so tired.
“ Oh, sorry Red,am I keeping you up?”
“No, it was just a crappy tiring day. I had to go to the city with my dad, and sit through some boring meetings with him. He wants me to know how a business works. God, he’ s such an ass.”
Whit noticed Lex had a faint English accent, kind of cute.
“He’s been keeping me busy, I think he’ trying to keep me away from you guys—I don’t know. He barely lets me out of his sight. It’s driving me crazy.”
Whit sighed, “It never gets better hunh, Red--you and me, and the shit we have to deal with.”
Lex’s eyes drooped lower and lower as he replied. “Yep. We few, we proud, we screwed.”
Whit snorted, and Lex grinned briefly before his eyelids shut and his breathing slowed and Whit watched him drift into sleep and loved him very much, just for that moment. He slowly reached out his hand, smoothed his hair back from his forehead, and ran a finger softly, lightly over his lips. Lex slept on, but his lips quirked into a brief smile and he breathed a name before sinker deeper into sleep.
Whitney sighed and had to smile a little. Red was constant, that’s for sure. Clark. Guess that wasn’t going to change. He felt a stirring, a fluttering low in his belly and rolled away from Lex.
Not going to admit the thought of Red and Clark was kind of…hot. Whit’s bruises reminded him that he hadn’t had a decent rest since that stupid girl thing, and he let himself relax completely.
No one was going to drag him out of bed, and shout in his face, or throw him against a wall or…sleep reached up and dragged him out of the world for a little while.
********
Whitney was gone when Lex woke up; sweatpants he’d worn neatly folded on the end of the bed the only sign he’d been there.
Lex smiled, and reached into his pocket. The note with Clark’s number was creased and wrinkled from being in his pocket all night, and looking at it again, he was pretty sure that it was Whit’s handwriting and not Clarks, but—he punched in the number and waited.
“Hey! Clark, it’s –yeah it’s me. Would you like to come over later, yeah, cool. They can come, of course, but I’d really like it if just you came first, yeah—unh, catch up on stuff—great! See you in a little bit, then. Bye.”
All right then, let’s see, shower, eat, and bring out those comics…Clark will like those… he grinned to himself thinking of the excitement in Clark’s voice—it made him feel good. After all this time, Clark was still his friend.
JUNE
Clark walked around to the back of the school, headed out to where the bleachers were. He hoped his dad was going to let him play football this year.
It was the beginning of high school, the beginning of a whole new life. It’d be nice if for once, he got to fit in. Not that he wasn’t happy with his friends and all, they were the greatest. He’d just like to do what Lana had managed to do. Find a niche—not always be the odd man out. He was going to talk to his dad, after all, his dad played football, why couldn’t he?
He looked out over the field, squinting his eyes a little against the bright sun glaring off metal from the bleachers, and felt content, warm. Nothing like a bright sunny day to make him feel terrific, well, except for the heat—he grinned to himself and started to walk back to the side of the school when he heard a low cry of pain, and coughing. He frowned, he hadn’t seen anyone else—maybe a grounds keeper, they worked straight through the year…
He heard a curse, and a voice—Whitney? And walked rapidly over to the bleachers, and saw figures in the shade under them. Two older boys, maybe seniors, had Whitney by the arms, and another boy held him by the bunched up ball of fabric that was his t-shirt. Clark broke into a run when he saw the boy shake Whit hard, and smack him.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” the boy yelled, and smacked Whit again.
“Hey!” Clark shouted and dashed under the bleachers. One of the guys holding Whitney’s arm startled and quick as a snake Whit turned and kicked him in the crotch--the boy holding his other arm was surprised by the move, thinking they had Whitney totally intimidated, and before he could tighten his grip Clark was there, bowling him over, and knocking down the boy who had Whit’s t-shirt in his fist. The shirt tore, and Whit was nearly pulled off his feet when the guy refused to let go, he slipped out of the torn fragments and pulled his foot back, planning to kick the crap out of the kid, kick until his leg was tired, but Clark stopped him. “Whit! Don’t! Let’s just go, ok?”
Clark yanked on his arm, and Whit let himself be lead away.
“I’ll get you, you little cocksucker! Just wait! No one does that to my sister and gets away with it!”
Clark practically marched Whitney back around to the front of the school.
Whitney let himself be pulled along and laughed, feeling a little light headed with relief—he really hadn’t been in the mood to have the crap kicked out of him.
He rocked a bit on his heels when Clark let him go and stood glaring at him. “Ok, Whit. What the hell did you do now? Those guy’s are in high school, why would they want to beat up an eighth grader—or are they hazing early this year?” He folded his arms and looked sincerely pissed off. Whit wondered how he managed to look even bigger and not very Clark-like when he did that arms folded thing.
“Clark. Why do you think it’s my fault every time something happens? Trust me a little, Kent, would you…”
Clark’s face softened and for a moment Whit thought he’d pulled it off, and then Clark snorted.
“ Good try, Fordman. No dice. What did you do this time?”
Whit chuckled and spit. A glob of mucus and blood barely missed Clark’s foot as he hopped back just in time and glared at Whit’s grin. “Nothing, I didn’t do anything, well, not really,” he amended at Clark’s skeptical look. “ I—he caught me and his sister making out, is all. That’s it.”
Clark looked suspicious. “And for that, he beat you up, got two guys to hold you so he could smack you around? Whit, it looked to me like he planned on beating you…bad—I don’t--”
Whitney’s reply was offhand. “ Ah, really, it’s nothing, no big deal.I might have lifted a little bag of dope off of him, but I figure he owed me that—oh, and I blew him a couple of times, and now he thinks he’s got exclusive rights or something--”
Clark was shocked, so shocked that he could only stutter, “ What-what-what--”
He reached out and grabbed Whit’s arm and Whit winced under the grip. Damn, Clark was even stronger than he looked. When did he get so strong, he thought as he tried fruitlessly to get out of Clark’s grasp.
“Whitney! That’s –that’s dangerous, and wrong! Why would you do that?” Clark was nearly vibrating with the intensity of his feeling, and Whitney couldn’t help responding in the mocking way he always did to Clark—
“What, Kent, the dope or the bj’s? Or both?”
“Both! But sex—with a guy?” He blushed so red that Whit got a little worried, and he gasped out, “You’re gay!” and then almost covered his mouth before he recovered. “ I-- sorry, I—you know it doesn’t make a difference to me, right?”
Whit rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks for that Clark, I’m really worried about what you think of my sex life, and bi, by the way.”
Clark looked hurt at what he thought was Whit’s complete dismissal of him, until he realized he mean bi-sexual—a word that had been just part of a boring test in boring health class till just now. And he remembered something else from that class—“ Were you safe, Whit? You have to be careful, if you’re, you know, sexually active….”
Whit grimaced, “Please. Sometimes talking to you is like talking to my mother, if my mom and me talked. And yes, I’m careful, most of the time anyway. It’s no big deal.”
Clark got angry, “You keep saying that, but it is a big deal. You could mess up your life! Stop that!” he shouted at Whit’s bark of laughter “At least think of your friends!”
Whitney sobered when Clark yelled. “ I do, Clark, I do every day, that’s why I’m still here. This stuff—I’m not kidding—it’s not a big deal. It’s not some shiny new thing like it would be for you, ok? Listen, can we talk about this later? Red and I are supposed to hit the movies tonight, I gottta get cleaned up a bit. Ok?”
Clark reluctantly pulled back from the subject, but he had to know one thing. “Whit, does Red know about,” he made a vague gesture with his hand and blushed, ended up brushing his hair off his forehead. Whitney smiled a little. “Yeah, Clark he knows. I asked him not to talk about it.” With you went unspoken.
Clark nodded—Lex knew a lot of things he couldn’t talk about. It wasn’t fair to him. Did Whitney understand that?
He looked up at him and wondered-- did Whitney have to carry a bunch of secrets around for Red, the way Red carried secrets for him? Why wouldn’t Lex come talk to him? Weren’t they supposed to be best friends—or did Whit and Lex have more in common?
A miserable little wave of sensation swept through him— well, he'd have to talk to Red, let him know he could trust him as well as Whit. Blue-eyed blonde haired lots of muscles Whit, a thought he ruthlessly repressed almost as quickly as it surfaced in his mind.
To Be Continued
I know what you're saying, "But Mizz Rose, everytime you lose something, it's the funniest, wittiest, most world-saving piece of literature evah."
And I say, "Your mom called and she want you to play on the white line in the road."
So, here are the previous parts, shoplifting at the 7-11 'cause Whit wanted a coke.
“Whitney, everything all right, you’ve been looking out there a while.”
“I thought I saw –nothing.”
Whit jumped onto the bed, and lay back. He felt better than he’d felt all day. Full, clean and sleeping on a mattress instead of a horse blanket like he figured he’d be doing tonight. “So, Red--”
Lex turned on his side and shoved his hand under his head. He smiled, but looked so tired.
“ Oh, sorry Red,am I keeping you up?”
“No, it was just a crappy tiring day. I had to go to the city with my dad, and sit through some boring meetings with him. He wants me to know how a business works. God, he’ s such an ass.”
Whit noticed Lex had a faint English accent, kind of cute.
“He’s been keeping me busy, I think he’ trying to keep me away from you guys—I don’t know. He barely lets me out of his sight. It’s driving me crazy.”
Whit sighed, “It never gets better hunh, Red--you and me, and the shit we have to deal with.”
Lex’s eyes drooped lower and lower as he replied. “Yep. We few, we proud, we screwed.”
Whit snorted, and Lex grinned briefly before his eyelids shut and his breathing slowed and Whit watched him drift into sleep and loved him very much, just for that moment. He slowly reached out his hand, smoothed his hair back from his forehead, and ran a finger softly, lightly over his lips. Lex slept on, but his lips quirked into a brief smile and he breathed a name before sinker deeper into sleep.
Whitney sighed and had to smile a little. Red was constant, that’s for sure. Clark. Guess that wasn’t going to change. He felt a stirring, a fluttering low in his belly and rolled away from Lex.
Not going to admit the thought of Red and Clark was kind of…hot. Whit’s bruises reminded him that he hadn’t had a decent rest since that stupid girl thing, and he let himself relax completely.
No one was going to drag him out of bed, and shout in his face, or throw him against a wall or…sleep reached up and dragged him out of the world for a little while.
********
Whitney was gone when Lex woke up; sweatpants he’d worn neatly folded on the end of the bed the only sign he’d been there.
Lex smiled, and reached into his pocket. The note with Clark’s number was creased and wrinkled from being in his pocket all night, and looking at it again, he was pretty sure that it was Whit’s handwriting and not Clarks, but—he punched in the number and waited.
“Hey! Clark, it’s –yeah it’s me. Would you like to come over later, yeah, cool. They can come, of course, but I’d really like it if just you came first, yeah—unh, catch up on stuff—great! See you in a little bit, then. Bye.”
All right then, let’s see, shower, eat, and bring out those comics…Clark will like those… he grinned to himself thinking of the excitement in Clark’s voice—it made him feel good. After all this time, Clark was still his friend.
JUNE
Clark walked around to the back of the school, headed out to where the bleachers were. He hoped his dad was going to let him play football this year.
It was the beginning of high school, the beginning of a whole new life. It’d be nice if for once, he got to fit in. Not that he wasn’t happy with his friends and all, they were the greatest. He’d just like to do what Lana had managed to do. Find a niche—not always be the odd man out. He was going to talk to his dad, after all, his dad played football, why couldn’t he?
He looked out over the field, squinting his eyes a little against the bright sun glaring off metal from the bleachers, and felt content, warm. Nothing like a bright sunny day to make him feel terrific, well, except for the heat—he grinned to himself and started to walk back to the side of the school when he heard a low cry of pain, and coughing. He frowned, he hadn’t seen anyone else—maybe a grounds keeper, they worked straight through the year…
He heard a curse, and a voice—Whitney? And walked rapidly over to the bleachers, and saw figures in the shade under them. Two older boys, maybe seniors, had Whitney by the arms, and another boy held him by the bunched up ball of fabric that was his t-shirt. Clark broke into a run when he saw the boy shake Whit hard, and smack him.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” the boy yelled, and smacked Whit again.
“Hey!” Clark shouted and dashed under the bleachers. One of the guys holding Whitney’s arm startled and quick as a snake Whit turned and kicked him in the crotch--the boy holding his other arm was surprised by the move, thinking they had Whitney totally intimidated, and before he could tighten his grip Clark was there, bowling him over, and knocking down the boy who had Whit’s t-shirt in his fist. The shirt tore, and Whit was nearly pulled off his feet when the guy refused to let go, he slipped out of the torn fragments and pulled his foot back, planning to kick the crap out of the kid, kick until his leg was tired, but Clark stopped him. “Whit! Don’t! Let’s just go, ok?”
Clark yanked on his arm, and Whit let himself be lead away.
“I’ll get you, you little cocksucker! Just wait! No one does that to my sister and gets away with it!”
Clark practically marched Whitney back around to the front of the school.
Whitney let himself be pulled along and laughed, feeling a little light headed with relief—he really hadn’t been in the mood to have the crap kicked out of him.
He rocked a bit on his heels when Clark let him go and stood glaring at him. “Ok, Whit. What the hell did you do now? Those guy’s are in high school, why would they want to beat up an eighth grader—or are they hazing early this year?” He folded his arms and looked sincerely pissed off. Whit wondered how he managed to look even bigger and not very Clark-like when he did that arms folded thing.
“Clark. Why do you think it’s my fault every time something happens? Trust me a little, Kent, would you…”
Clark’s face softened and for a moment Whit thought he’d pulled it off, and then Clark snorted.
“ Good try, Fordman. No dice. What did you do this time?”
Whit chuckled and spit. A glob of mucus and blood barely missed Clark’s foot as he hopped back just in time and glared at Whit’s grin. “Nothing, I didn’t do anything, well, not really,” he amended at Clark’s skeptical look. “ I—he caught me and his sister making out, is all. That’s it.”
Clark looked suspicious. “And for that, he beat you up, got two guys to hold you so he could smack you around? Whit, it looked to me like he planned on beating you…bad—I don’t--”
Whitney’s reply was offhand. “ Ah, really, it’s nothing, no big deal.I might have lifted a little bag of dope off of him, but I figure he owed me that—oh, and I blew him a couple of times, and now he thinks he’s got exclusive rights or something--”
Clark was shocked, so shocked that he could only stutter, “ What-what-what--”
He reached out and grabbed Whit’s arm and Whit winced under the grip. Damn, Clark was even stronger than he looked. When did he get so strong, he thought as he tried fruitlessly to get out of Clark’s grasp.
“Whitney! That’s –that’s dangerous, and wrong! Why would you do that?” Clark was nearly vibrating with the intensity of his feeling, and Whitney couldn’t help responding in the mocking way he always did to Clark—
“What, Kent, the dope or the bj’s? Or both?”
“Both! But sex—with a guy?” He blushed so red that Whit got a little worried, and he gasped out, “You’re gay!” and then almost covered his mouth before he recovered. “ I-- sorry, I—you know it doesn’t make a difference to me, right?”
Whit rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks for that Clark, I’m really worried about what you think of my sex life, and bi, by the way.”
Clark looked hurt at what he thought was Whit’s complete dismissal of him, until he realized he mean bi-sexual—a word that had been just part of a boring test in boring health class till just now. And he remembered something else from that class—“ Were you safe, Whit? You have to be careful, if you’re, you know, sexually active….”
Whit grimaced, “Please. Sometimes talking to you is like talking to my mother, if my mom and me talked. And yes, I’m careful, most of the time anyway. It’s no big deal.”
Clark got angry, “You keep saying that, but it is a big deal. You could mess up your life! Stop that!” he shouted at Whit’s bark of laughter “At least think of your friends!”
Whitney sobered when Clark yelled. “ I do, Clark, I do every day, that’s why I’m still here. This stuff—I’m not kidding—it’s not a big deal. It’s not some shiny new thing like it would be for you, ok? Listen, can we talk about this later? Red and I are supposed to hit the movies tonight, I gottta get cleaned up a bit. Ok?”
Clark reluctantly pulled back from the subject, but he had to know one thing. “Whit, does Red know about,” he made a vague gesture with his hand and blushed, ended up brushing his hair off his forehead. Whitney smiled a little. “Yeah, Clark he knows. I asked him not to talk about it.” With you went unspoken.
Clark nodded—Lex knew a lot of things he couldn’t talk about. It wasn’t fair to him. Did Whitney understand that?
He looked up at him and wondered-- did Whitney have to carry a bunch of secrets around for Red, the way Red carried secrets for him? Why wouldn’t Lex come talk to him? Weren’t they supposed to be best friends—or did Whit and Lex have more in common?
A miserable little wave of sensation swept through him— well, he'd have to talk to Red, let him know he could trust him as well as Whit. Blue-eyed blonde haired lots of muscles Whit, a thought he ruthlessly repressed almost as quickly as it surfaced in his mind.
To Be Continued
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Blue-eyed blonde haired lots of muscles Whit, a thought he ruthlessly repressed almost as quickly as it surfaced in his mind
Had me cracking up.
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Teh jealousy!
Teh UST!!!
*hugs you*
YOu're the best.
*pets Whit*
Poor little boi...
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Why did no one tell me about this story sooner?
From wooblets to woobies and clue bus attack number one. I just friended you, hope you don't mind. *g*
*hugs*
Re: Why did no one tell me about this story sooner?
Cookies! *Yum*
Re: Cookies! *Yum*
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Whit wondered how he managed to look even bigger and not very Clark-like when he did that arms folded thing.
LOL!!
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