Summer Story part 11
1/1/05 05:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyAck. you don't even want to know. I'm just going to go forward and hope for the best.
The Previous Parts are here, swearing to god they'll never do *that* again. Until they forget and do it next time, tsk.
Summer Story
Summer—officially summer: school out, hot, humid, days are long, I need a job and did I mention it’s hot? summer was here again, Pete sighed to himself—and the reality of the end of high school life was staring them in the face. The next big step was ahead of them—a major life change loomed over them and it was exciting and it was scaring the shit out of him, too.
In fact it was on each of the friend's minds—they were coming to an end of one part of their lives, and about to take a new independent step into another.
Pete and Lana approached it as the next step in their relationship—they’d be going to college together, and as far as they were concerned it was the first step in a lifetime commitment.
Clark knew that going to college was going to be a major step for him in a lot of ways. He was nearly certain that once he left Smallville he wasn’t coming back to stay. He was sure that his parents understood that farm life was not for him—He was going to Met U to take the first step in a journey that would take him away from that type of life forever—and taking Lex with him.
Lex would be eighteen soon and he knew what he wanted. He wanted to be with Clark, go where Clark was going because he was never going to be apart from him again. So—Met U for him too.
Of course how he was going to do that was quite another story—he didn’t come into his money for another three years—it’d be clear sailing when he did but until then…the Kent’s had made it clear they were willing to help, but that was absolutely out of the question, it was hard enough on them to pay for Clark—and even with grants and scholarships, Clark was preparing himself for the inevitability of student loan payments.
He might have a chance guilting his dad into helping—he had an idea in mind.
He'd been thinking of his plan of attack for some time now. He had a feeling he might have an ally, however unwilling—if he presented it in just the right way, he might have a chance.
**********************
Sam came home a week after school let out, and took Pete with him to Metropolis for the weekend. It was a weekend that had been handcrafted in hell or so Pete claimed.
They’d left on Friday and were home Saturday night. Pete stormed into the house and went straight to Whit’s room and slammed the door. He kicked the door shut, threw himself on Whit’s bed and slammed his fist against the mattress.
“Well, hello to you too, Pete. Glad to see you back-- a whole day early aren’t you?” Whit asked in a puzzled tone. Pete frowned at the ceiling and cursed low and steadily. Whit leaned up and stared at Pete in amazement. He had no idea Pete knew so many creative ways to use fuck in a sentence. “Damn, Pete--what the heck went on this weekend, boy?”
“That bitch! I hate that bitch!" Pete yelled and kicked at the footboard. “She whined and cried the whole time I was there—if I tried to spend even one minute alone with him, she had a fit. Goddamn it! Fucking bitch!” Pete kicked again at the footboard as hard as he could, and both of them jumped when a crack rang out. "Oh, shit Pete, you’re screwed! I’m not taking the fall for that!” Whit yelped.
“Daaamn,” Pete nearly groaned. “She’s gonna have a fit—crap.” All sign of the rage that possessed him a few moments ago drained as he stared in horror at the broken footboard. Whit stared also, and looked up at Pete. He had the feeling his face mirrored the horror on Pete’s and Pete looked at him the moment the thought rose. They stared at each other—and Pete giggled. “Your face—"
Whit giggled, “Your face!” and in a moment both boys were caught up in a laughing fit.
Whit was the first one to calm down, asked Pete again about the weekend, and if he was okay.
“Yeah, I’m okay really, and I guess that Sam understood how crappy I felt,too--man, they went in the bedroom, shut the door and all hell broke loose. I was afraid they were gonna kill each other—no, no, not that way,” he quickly assured Whit at his look of fear. “No, just—there was stuff flying through the air I’m willing to bet. Sure sounded like it.” Pete shook his head. “Sam took me home after right that. He’s got a bag with him,” he said solemnly.
Whit lay on the floor with his hands behind his head and a speculative look on his face. “Oh yeah? Big bag or small bag?” he grinned a little and Pete laughed back. “Small bag, damn it.”
Whit nodded. “Yeah. Weekend. Hope we all survive it,” he said.
Pete sighed heartily, "Amen to that, brother—amen to that.
*******************
Monday morning wasn’t as humid as the weekend had been, it was almost cool in fact and Sam stood next to the fridge and drank orange juice from the bottle and stared out into the back yard, his eyes focused on the hoop over the garage. He wished he could turn back time all the way to the days that hoop had been the only thing that mattered- whether he could beat Matt and Mike and how good could he get his game…it seemed like eons ago. He remembered when the boys thought he was a great guy; someone they looked up to—instead of this—this jerk that Whit could barely stand to talk to.
Fuck—. He felt as if everything he’d gained, he’d lost in one moment—hadn’t he done what Mom wanted? Good job, a wife---a normal life? What else did she want, to hand pick his wife?
And Dad—god, he was so fucking understanding—sometimes he wished he’d just haul off and paste him one, for screwing up their lives all the time--- Matt, Mike, Kathy, Pete, they were all good kids—never any trouble, the Ross kids they’re so good, and no body had to say out loud, “Well, there is Sam…”
Fuckin’ church ladies offering to help his mom pray over him—like he was some kind of—
He shook his head. That was past. What happened now was the important part. He hoped Pete could forgive him for this weekend-he was damn sure Mom wouldn’t.
Whit walked into the kitchen and saw him. "Oh, sorry,” he said and turned to walk out.
“Wait, sorry for what? It’s your kitchen too- hell, more yours than mine- I don’t live here any more.” He smiled and shrugged and felt a little crestfallen when Whit didn’t smile back. He shoved the bottle back in the fridge and turned back to Whit, a smile firmly pasted on. “I’m thinking of running up to the city for the afternoon—no, not going home,” he said at Whit’s look. “I’ve got some things to pick up and well; I don’t know what else to do here…do you want to come? How about you, Pete, want to come too?” He asked, looking over Whit’s shoulder at Pete in the doorway.
Pete grimaced and shook his head. "Sam, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t need to go to the city again for a good long time.”
Sam blushed. “Yeah, I can imagine-- sorry Pete I really am. I – I don’t know what else to say about it.” He rubbed at a spot on the counter top and it was quiet for a minute in the kitchen, and then Pete spoke again.
“Hey, you apologized a million times—I get it, and I don’t blame you.” But his look said only for what happened this weekend, and Sam felt the weight of a thousand unspoken words.
Sam sighed, "Well, I guess I’ll go. Tell Mom I’ll be home later.”
He moved past the boys and gave them a sickly little smile and Whit groaned inside, I’m such an idiot, “Wait, Sam, I’ll go.”
He looked at Pete and raised his eyebrows and Pete shook his head. “You guys go,” he told Sam, "Mom’ll be glad you took Whit with you.” and he smiled and Whit nodded and ducked his head.
Sam felt like he was missing something, but when he looked at Whit he looked back steadily. Sam moved on out to the foyer and grabbed his jacket.
“You—you coming Whit?” and hated how close to begging he sounded. Whit nodded.
“Yeah, I’m coming. Say, this is your treat right?”
Sam laughed feeling some of the tension of the moment drain out. “So what is this, a…” he coughed a bit and slid his jacket on, "Yeah, my treat, you cheap little bastard!”
Whit laughed and for a moment, it was pretty good again.
tbc
The Previous Parts are here, swearing to god they'll never do *that* again. Until they forget and do it next time, tsk.
Summer Story
Summer—officially summer: school out, hot, humid, days are long, I need a job and did I mention it’s hot? summer was here again, Pete sighed to himself—and the reality of the end of high school life was staring them in the face. The next big step was ahead of them—a major life change loomed over them and it was exciting and it was scaring the shit out of him, too.
In fact it was on each of the friend's minds—they were coming to an end of one part of their lives, and about to take a new independent step into another.
Pete and Lana approached it as the next step in their relationship—they’d be going to college together, and as far as they were concerned it was the first step in a lifetime commitment.
Clark knew that going to college was going to be a major step for him in a lot of ways. He was nearly certain that once he left Smallville he wasn’t coming back to stay. He was sure that his parents understood that farm life was not for him—He was going to Met U to take the first step in a journey that would take him away from that type of life forever—and taking Lex with him.
Lex would be eighteen soon and he knew what he wanted. He wanted to be with Clark, go where Clark was going because he was never going to be apart from him again. So—Met U for him too.
Of course how he was going to do that was quite another story—he didn’t come into his money for another three years—it’d be clear sailing when he did but until then…the Kent’s had made it clear they were willing to help, but that was absolutely out of the question, it was hard enough on them to pay for Clark—and even with grants and scholarships, Clark was preparing himself for the inevitability of student loan payments.
He might have a chance guilting his dad into helping—he had an idea in mind.
He'd been thinking of his plan of attack for some time now. He had a feeling he might have an ally, however unwilling—if he presented it in just the right way, he might have a chance.
**********************
Sam came home a week after school let out, and took Pete with him to Metropolis for the weekend. It was a weekend that had been handcrafted in hell or so Pete claimed.
They’d left on Friday and were home Saturday night. Pete stormed into the house and went straight to Whit’s room and slammed the door. He kicked the door shut, threw himself on Whit’s bed and slammed his fist against the mattress.
“Well, hello to you too, Pete. Glad to see you back-- a whole day early aren’t you?” Whit asked in a puzzled tone. Pete frowned at the ceiling and cursed low and steadily. Whit leaned up and stared at Pete in amazement. He had no idea Pete knew so many creative ways to use fuck in a sentence. “Damn, Pete--what the heck went on this weekend, boy?”
“That bitch! I hate that bitch!" Pete yelled and kicked at the footboard. “She whined and cried the whole time I was there—if I tried to spend even one minute alone with him, she had a fit. Goddamn it! Fucking bitch!” Pete kicked again at the footboard as hard as he could, and both of them jumped when a crack rang out. "Oh, shit Pete, you’re screwed! I’m not taking the fall for that!” Whit yelped.
“Daaamn,” Pete nearly groaned. “She’s gonna have a fit—crap.” All sign of the rage that possessed him a few moments ago drained as he stared in horror at the broken footboard. Whit stared also, and looked up at Pete. He had the feeling his face mirrored the horror on Pete’s and Pete looked at him the moment the thought rose. They stared at each other—and Pete giggled. “Your face—"
Whit giggled, “Your face!” and in a moment both boys were caught up in a laughing fit.
Whit was the first one to calm down, asked Pete again about the weekend, and if he was okay.
“Yeah, I’m okay really, and I guess that Sam understood how crappy I felt,too--man, they went in the bedroom, shut the door and all hell broke loose. I was afraid they were gonna kill each other—no, no, not that way,” he quickly assured Whit at his look of fear. “No, just—there was stuff flying through the air I’m willing to bet. Sure sounded like it.” Pete shook his head. “Sam took me home after right that. He’s got a bag with him,” he said solemnly.
Whit lay on the floor with his hands behind his head and a speculative look on his face. “Oh yeah? Big bag or small bag?” he grinned a little and Pete laughed back. “Small bag, damn it.”
Whit nodded. “Yeah. Weekend. Hope we all survive it,” he said.
Pete sighed heartily, "Amen to that, brother—amen to that.
*******************
Monday morning wasn’t as humid as the weekend had been, it was almost cool in fact and Sam stood next to the fridge and drank orange juice from the bottle and stared out into the back yard, his eyes focused on the hoop over the garage. He wished he could turn back time all the way to the days that hoop had been the only thing that mattered- whether he could beat Matt and Mike and how good could he get his game…it seemed like eons ago. He remembered when the boys thought he was a great guy; someone they looked up to—instead of this—this jerk that Whit could barely stand to talk to.
Fuck—. He felt as if everything he’d gained, he’d lost in one moment—hadn’t he done what Mom wanted? Good job, a wife---a normal life? What else did she want, to hand pick his wife?
And Dad—god, he was so fucking understanding—sometimes he wished he’d just haul off and paste him one, for screwing up their lives all the time--- Matt, Mike, Kathy, Pete, they were all good kids—never any trouble, the Ross kids they’re so good, and no body had to say out loud, “Well, there is Sam…”
Fuckin’ church ladies offering to help his mom pray over him—like he was some kind of—
He shook his head. That was past. What happened now was the important part. He hoped Pete could forgive him for this weekend-he was damn sure Mom wouldn’t.
Whit walked into the kitchen and saw him. "Oh, sorry,” he said and turned to walk out.
“Wait, sorry for what? It’s your kitchen too- hell, more yours than mine- I don’t live here any more.” He smiled and shrugged and felt a little crestfallen when Whit didn’t smile back. He shoved the bottle back in the fridge and turned back to Whit, a smile firmly pasted on. “I’m thinking of running up to the city for the afternoon—no, not going home,” he said at Whit’s look. “I’ve got some things to pick up and well; I don’t know what else to do here…do you want to come? How about you, Pete, want to come too?” He asked, looking over Whit’s shoulder at Pete in the doorway.
Pete grimaced and shook his head. "Sam, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t need to go to the city again for a good long time.”
Sam blushed. “Yeah, I can imagine-- sorry Pete I really am. I – I don’t know what else to say about it.” He rubbed at a spot on the counter top and it was quiet for a minute in the kitchen, and then Pete spoke again.
“Hey, you apologized a million times—I get it, and I don’t blame you.” But his look said only for what happened this weekend, and Sam felt the weight of a thousand unspoken words.
Sam sighed, "Well, I guess I’ll go. Tell Mom I’ll be home later.”
He moved past the boys and gave them a sickly little smile and Whit groaned inside, I’m such an idiot, “Wait, Sam, I’ll go.”
He looked at Pete and raised his eyebrows and Pete shook his head. “You guys go,” he told Sam, "Mom’ll be glad you took Whit with you.” and he smiled and Whit nodded and ducked his head.
Sam felt like he was missing something, but when he looked at Whit he looked back steadily. Sam moved on out to the foyer and grabbed his jacket.
“You—you coming Whit?” and hated how close to begging he sounded. Whit nodded.
“Yeah, I’m coming. Say, this is your treat right?”
Sam laughed feeling some of the tension of the moment drain out. “So what is this, a…” he coughed a bit and slid his jacket on, "Yeah, my treat, you cheap little bastard!”
Whit laughed and for a moment, it was pretty good again.
tbc
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
1/1/05 10:55 pm (UTC)(no subject)
1/2/05 03:43 am (UTC)Sure, 'cause he owes him, right? *G*
(no subject)
1/1/05 11:20 pm (UTC)Oh, Ms. Thang, oh, oh, oh.....
Pleeeeease be nice!
*sniffle*
I'm so mad at Sam's mom right now.
*pets him*
Ah!!
Love this!!
:)
(no subject)
1/2/05 03:44 am (UTC)And please don't beg me to be nice--it just makes me feel bad later...*tries to look innocent*
*big hug*
(no subject)
1/2/05 04:29 am (UTC)She's EEEVOL!!!
*sniffle*
HA!
You do NOT feel bad later!
*hugs you*
(no subject)
1/1/05 11:35 pm (UTC)(no subject)
1/2/05 03:45 am (UTC)Yeees-- but in a round about way...*hug*
(no subject)
1/2/05 01:43 am (UTC)(no subject)
1/2/05 03:46 am (UTC)(no subject)
1/2/05 02:40 am (UTC)*happy sigh* Lex just wants to be with Clark. That boy has his head on straight--er--so to speak.
(btw, this is part 11. Part 10 was the most important part EVER where Lex and Clark finally had sex. Also, Pete kicked the footboard, not Sam.)
(no subject)
1/2/05 03:42 am (UTC)Also, I am in love with your icon!
(no subject)
1/3/05 12:58 am (UTC)(no subject)
1/2/05 03:27 am (UTC)*bounces and twirls about*
(no subject)
1/2/05 03:47 am (UTC)(no subject)
1/2/05 07:01 am (UTC)(no subject)
1/2/05 06:18 pm (UTC)More?
1/3/05 02:44 am (UTC)Happy New Year, honey.
{{hugs}}
PS
1/3/05 03:35 am (UTC)I am very much looking forward to who Lex's ally might be and I have a few thoughts.
The top of that list has a distinct proclivity for dark nights *koff* and angst that makes this gang look sunshiney in comparsion.
I can't wait for Lex's storyline to be picked up again.
{{hugs}}