(no subject)
3/9/05 10:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxySo, I'm working on my Stand By Me epilogue, which is coming along...strangely. I keep having to direct it back to a happy ending. Crap, crap brain! Why do you want to cause me pain! no angst--happy!! Bastard.
In the mean time, Summer Story is nosing around my ankles again and I'm glad.
the Previous Parts are thrilled they're working again--no more back alleys and wet knees for them!
“Hey, Lex,” Clark called out, dumped his book bag on the floor next to Lex’s desk and dropped onto his bed. “What are you doing?”
“Mmm. Nothing important Clark, just messing around.” He stopped what he was working at, closed the laptop and smiled at Clark. “What took you so long? I’ve been home a half hour already.” He swiveled the chair so that he faced Clark and stretched out to rest his feet on Clark’s lap.
“Oh, I stopped after school to talk to Whit.” Clark stroked his thumbs over Lex’s instep and frowned a little. “He looked a little lost today. I guess he kind of got attached to Charlie. He’s missing him. Me too—he was a nice guy.”
“I thought they were just friends. Is he that upset?” Lex said, and groaned a little as tense muscles relaxed—wiggled his feet just to make Clark laugh. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, Whit I mean…”
“Well, yeah, sure but even so, he misses him. Personally I think something else is bothering him too, but he won’t say.” Clark patted Lex’s feet and moved them to the side.
Lex nodded, he knew Whit would talk it all out when he was ready and no point in badgering him until he was. Lex sighed a little and glanced at the laptop.
Clark stood and told him he was going to the kitchen for a snack.
“Join you in a minute, Clark,” Lex replied and waited until Clark left the room before taking a folder out of the bottom drawer of his desk.
So, he thought. Closer and closer to absolute freedom. He tapped the folder against his lip and thought about possible courses of action but every action led back to one overpowering fact—his dad was by no means an idiot and Clark had left himself open to danger when he’d saved him…. Lex felt he’d accomplished the smallest part of his goal when he was able to pay for University--now he had to make sure somehow that Clark was protected from Lionel.
And when he’d accomplished that, he need never deal with his father again.
He’d be finished forever with being a Luthor. He wanted none of it. He wanted a quiet life, as normal a life as possible, with Clark by his side and his friends--his real family-- next to him.
He stroked the folder and put it back in his drawer under a pile of papers. With what he had here and what he could get, he’d make sure Clark was safe.
That night when everyone was asleep, he went again to the computer and opened the site he’d visited earlier that day. Lex bit at his lip—he thought he might be on to something here, but what he wasn’t sure. Some instinct told him what he wanted was right there, right in the open. The blue light of the screen changed, washed his skin with purple shadows as he brought up the Luthorcorp site. Lex snorted. Purple. Let’s be just a bit more subtle, shall we, dad. Pretentious bastard.
The Luthorcorp site, chockfull of pictures of Lionel Luthor, philanthropist. Here were pictures of Lionel in war-torn or disaster struck areas around the world, looking appropriately heroic and visibly moved by the suffering, heading a coalition of concerned business men world wide who joined to bring relief and assistance to the people of these stricken nations, or so the copy read. Lex snorted again. Yeah, completely out of the kindness of his heart and the mountains of favorable publicity it brought.
Here--a picture of his dad standing in a muddy field in his shirtsleeves, patting some anonymous little kid on the head—sure. Here was a picture of his dad holding some photogenic little girl in some Slavic nation, looked like—Lex scrolled down and saw that his father’s help in these different places included arranging adoptions and in some cases re-uniting families that had been separated because of war…and he’d been doing that since the early eighties, starting in Asia…That was…interesting.
The agencies his father worked with had little information about them available on-line…lots of fluff pieces about how great Luthorcorp was but not much else—some of the agencies didn’t exist anymore. There was a tangle of dead ends that Lex was sifting through to get to facts.
Lex shifted in his chair and winced at the too loud squeak of wheels on the bare floor.
Damn.
He froze, relaxed when Clark didn’t come to check on him. He concentrated on the screen again, and moved through the site. His dad had ties to a number of resorts—he owned quite a few. Resorts, hotels...interesting.
No resorts in the US, though. He was starting to get a little drowsy. He sat with one hand holding up his head and tried to keep from nodding off. He hummed low and tuneless under his breath. He’d had no idea how truly boring his father was….
He flicked back idly to the site with ‘hero dad’ pictures, dad patting the kid on the head, being nicer to some random…urchin then he was to his own kid. Smiling, making nice--he huffed. Smiling like a hungry shark, more like...
Lex jerked back, wide awake now, nerves vibrating. Oh no. He couldn’t—he wouldn’t-—could he?
That weekend found him in Metropolis. He’d managed to slip away from the farm with the barley acceptable excuse of checking out campus—it’d been hard to keep Clark from coming with him and he’d just have to add that to the ton of lies he’d told Clark since he started this thing but in the end it’d be worth it, it would mean everything to the two of them, Clark would see that, he was sure.
He drove around the city for a while until it was time to make the meeting he’d arranged. He grimaced in distaste. He hoped he wouldn’t ever have to do this again either.
He parked at a lot not too distant from the restaurant he’d arranged his meeting at and walked the short distance. His gaze roamed over the buildings and the street. Due to coming into the city with his dad, it was all so familiar to him and at same time, exciting and brand new. He enjoyed the warmth of the sun on his shoulders, and how bright and brilliant everything looked—when he and Clark lived here, they were going to go in every store and eat in every restaurant, and everyone was going to wonder at how lucky he was to be with such a beautiful person…
He approached a side walk café separated from foot traffic by a low iron railing surrounding a collection of linen draped tables and wire chairs and draped over one of the chairs was George, the person he’d arranged to meet. He slouched carelessly over his chair, his legs crossed in front of him and one arm thrown across the back of another chair. A cigarette smoldered in that hand, his fingers wrapped around the gold tipped end. His shirt blazed white in the sunlight, it’s whiteness accented by the dark brown jacket he wore. His other hand touched a glass of something gold and sparkling in front of him—when he caught sight of Lex, he sneered faintly.
Before that moment, if anyone had asked Lex to describe George he would have said he had slanted green eyes, a beaky nose, a too wide mouth, and a pointed fox face.
Looking at George now, glowing amber and gold in the sunlight, fat black curls framing his face, the green of his almond eyes accented by black lashes so thick his eyes looked like they’d been lined with kohl—taking in the arch of his cheekbones, his full rose mouth and the delicate wing of his nostrils, all set in an elfin mask--Lex knew what he suspected must be true. George must have been unearthly beautiful fifteen years ago…. eighteen years ago.
George laughed and the spell broke and it was just that fucking bastard George again—thank god.
TBC
In the mean time, Summer Story is nosing around my ankles again and I'm glad.
the Previous Parts are thrilled they're working again--no more back alleys and wet knees for them!
“Hey, Lex,” Clark called out, dumped his book bag on the floor next to Lex’s desk and dropped onto his bed. “What are you doing?”
“Mmm. Nothing important Clark, just messing around.” He stopped what he was working at, closed the laptop and smiled at Clark. “What took you so long? I’ve been home a half hour already.” He swiveled the chair so that he faced Clark and stretched out to rest his feet on Clark’s lap.
“Oh, I stopped after school to talk to Whit.” Clark stroked his thumbs over Lex’s instep and frowned a little. “He looked a little lost today. I guess he kind of got attached to Charlie. He’s missing him. Me too—he was a nice guy.”
“I thought they were just friends. Is he that upset?” Lex said, and groaned a little as tense muscles relaxed—wiggled his feet just to make Clark laugh. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, Whit I mean…”
“Well, yeah, sure but even so, he misses him. Personally I think something else is bothering him too, but he won’t say.” Clark patted Lex’s feet and moved them to the side.
Lex nodded, he knew Whit would talk it all out when he was ready and no point in badgering him until he was. Lex sighed a little and glanced at the laptop.
Clark stood and told him he was going to the kitchen for a snack.
“Join you in a minute, Clark,” Lex replied and waited until Clark left the room before taking a folder out of the bottom drawer of his desk.
So, he thought. Closer and closer to absolute freedom. He tapped the folder against his lip and thought about possible courses of action but every action led back to one overpowering fact—his dad was by no means an idiot and Clark had left himself open to danger when he’d saved him…. Lex felt he’d accomplished the smallest part of his goal when he was able to pay for University--now he had to make sure somehow that Clark was protected from Lionel.
And when he’d accomplished that, he need never deal with his father again.
He’d be finished forever with being a Luthor. He wanted none of it. He wanted a quiet life, as normal a life as possible, with Clark by his side and his friends--his real family-- next to him.
He stroked the folder and put it back in his drawer under a pile of papers. With what he had here and what he could get, he’d make sure Clark was safe.
That night when everyone was asleep, he went again to the computer and opened the site he’d visited earlier that day. Lex bit at his lip—he thought he might be on to something here, but what he wasn’t sure. Some instinct told him what he wanted was right there, right in the open. The blue light of the screen changed, washed his skin with purple shadows as he brought up the Luthorcorp site. Lex snorted. Purple. Let’s be just a bit more subtle, shall we, dad. Pretentious bastard.
The Luthorcorp site, chockfull of pictures of Lionel Luthor, philanthropist. Here were pictures of Lionel in war-torn or disaster struck areas around the world, looking appropriately heroic and visibly moved by the suffering, heading a coalition of concerned business men world wide who joined to bring relief and assistance to the people of these stricken nations, or so the copy read. Lex snorted again. Yeah, completely out of the kindness of his heart and the mountains of favorable publicity it brought.
Here--a picture of his dad standing in a muddy field in his shirtsleeves, patting some anonymous little kid on the head—sure. Here was a picture of his dad holding some photogenic little girl in some Slavic nation, looked like—Lex scrolled down and saw that his father’s help in these different places included arranging adoptions and in some cases re-uniting families that had been separated because of war…and he’d been doing that since the early eighties, starting in Asia…That was…interesting.
The agencies his father worked with had little information about them available on-line…lots of fluff pieces about how great Luthorcorp was but not much else—some of the agencies didn’t exist anymore. There was a tangle of dead ends that Lex was sifting through to get to facts.
Lex shifted in his chair and winced at the too loud squeak of wheels on the bare floor.
Damn.
He froze, relaxed when Clark didn’t come to check on him. He concentrated on the screen again, and moved through the site. His dad had ties to a number of resorts—he owned quite a few. Resorts, hotels...interesting.
No resorts in the US, though. He was starting to get a little drowsy. He sat with one hand holding up his head and tried to keep from nodding off. He hummed low and tuneless under his breath. He’d had no idea how truly boring his father was….
He flicked back idly to the site with ‘hero dad’ pictures, dad patting the kid on the head, being nicer to some random…urchin then he was to his own kid. Smiling, making nice--he huffed. Smiling like a hungry shark, more like...
Lex jerked back, wide awake now, nerves vibrating. Oh no. He couldn’t—he wouldn’t-—could he?
That weekend found him in Metropolis. He’d managed to slip away from the farm with the barley acceptable excuse of checking out campus—it’d been hard to keep Clark from coming with him and he’d just have to add that to the ton of lies he’d told Clark since he started this thing but in the end it’d be worth it, it would mean everything to the two of them, Clark would see that, he was sure.
He drove around the city for a while until it was time to make the meeting he’d arranged. He grimaced in distaste. He hoped he wouldn’t ever have to do this again either.
He parked at a lot not too distant from the restaurant he’d arranged his meeting at and walked the short distance. His gaze roamed over the buildings and the street. Due to coming into the city with his dad, it was all so familiar to him and at same time, exciting and brand new. He enjoyed the warmth of the sun on his shoulders, and how bright and brilliant everything looked—when he and Clark lived here, they were going to go in every store and eat in every restaurant, and everyone was going to wonder at how lucky he was to be with such a beautiful person…
He approached a side walk café separated from foot traffic by a low iron railing surrounding a collection of linen draped tables and wire chairs and draped over one of the chairs was George, the person he’d arranged to meet. He slouched carelessly over his chair, his legs crossed in front of him and one arm thrown across the back of another chair. A cigarette smoldered in that hand, his fingers wrapped around the gold tipped end. His shirt blazed white in the sunlight, it’s whiteness accented by the dark brown jacket he wore. His other hand touched a glass of something gold and sparkling in front of him—when he caught sight of Lex, he sneered faintly.
Before that moment, if anyone had asked Lex to describe George he would have said he had slanted green eyes, a beaky nose, a too wide mouth, and a pointed fox face.
Looking at George now, glowing amber and gold in the sunlight, fat black curls framing his face, the green of his almond eyes accented by black lashes so thick his eyes looked like they’d been lined with kohl—taking in the arch of his cheekbones, his full rose mouth and the delicate wing of his nostrils, all set in an elfin mask--Lex knew what he suspected must be true. George must have been unearthly beautiful fifteen years ago…. eighteen years ago.
George laughed and the spell broke and it was just that fucking bastard George again—thank god.
TBC
(no subject)
3/10/05 05:56 pm (UTC)Go you!!
:)