Fic Post:Mariposa
12/10/06 02:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyAh! The story has stopped fighting me--or at least we're now in hand to hand combat, and no longer using edged weapons--huzzah! Would you like some tasty fic, freah from the oven?
Title:Mariposa
Fandom: SV
Pairing: Clark/Whit…
Rating: 2
Summary: I love the smell of shmoop in the morning….
The Previous Parts are here, wondering if you really can base a life on the immortal lyrics of Morris Day and The Time.
“I told my parents about me.” Clark figured he should probably have waited until they were off the steps--Whitney stumbled to the bottom of the stairs leading out of the school, and whirled around to stare open-mouthed at Clark.
“You—fuck! Why?” Whit choked. Clark walked past him, trying to think of something to say that would wipe the panicked look from his face. The bell was still jangling as kids raced away from the building, and Whit grabbed his arm and pulled him through the press of people.
“Shit…don’t stop--,” Whit hissed as Clark tried to slow Whit’s head long plunge through the crowds. They jogged to the back of the building, the side that faced the ball field and tennis courts, wended their way through the last of the crowds milling around the school grounds, and made their way down to the track. They walked along in silence on the unused track, and when Clark decided that Whit had calmed down enough to listen, told him what he’d told his parents.
“All right--what did you say about me?” Whit asked, when Clark wound down into silence.
“That maybe you like me. That’s about it.” Silence fell again, no sound except the crunch of the cinders underfoot, the sound of cars leaving the school; and diesel engines laboring up the driveway. They walked on and slowly, as they rounded the track, walked closer and closer until their shoulders bumped.
Whit inhaled deeply, and let it out in a long huff of breath. “Okay. Okay. Damn, Kent--do you think you can keep this to yourself a little better? I mean, Pete, Chloe, they know…and now your mom and dad. Shit.”
“Well, fuck Whit, it’s not like I planned on posting our business on the church announcement board, or anything.” Clark shouldered his backpack, turned on his heel and stalked off.
“Clark,” Whit yelled, “wait!”
He trotted up next to Clark, and grabbed his arm again. For a moment, Clark resisted, and then sagged. Whit let go, his hands wavered about, as if unsure of where to be, and he settled on wrapping them around himself. “It’s not just about wanting to be secret. It’s…it’s like a private thing, too. Like I’m the only one who really knows you, and I don’t want to give that up. You belong to me and I like it.” He stopped and sighed. “I’m sorry. I feel like I’m always saying the wrong thing. Can I come over tonight? We can talk more about this--we need to, I know.”
Clark lifted his head, and felt like his heart was breaking. What Whit said meant so much to him, but looking into Whit’s eyes, Clark knew what they had was never going to be what he hoped… “Yeah. Sure. I’ll ask my folks if it’s okay. And don’t worry, they won’t say anything…if you want, I can tell them I was mistaken about you. I can do that.”
“Don’t do anything until I come over tonight.”
******
After dinner, Clark excused himself to wait on the porch for Whit, tried not to think too much about what he planned to say. He could hear the rough sound of Whit’s truck in the distance, and not too long after he was rolling into the driveway.
He got out of the truck, with a bouquet of flowers, and Clark’s jaw dropped. He grinned from ear to ear, and laughed. “Oh, no—these aren’t for you.” He stopped and patted Clark’s cheek with his free hand, then reached up and ruffled his hair wildly. “Come on, kid, let’s go inside.”
Clark followed Whit, confused, wondering just what the heck Whitney was up to.
Whit walked into the kitchen, Clark right on his heels. He looked over Whit’s shoulder and saw that Dad was still sitting at the table with the newspaper, drinking his coffee, and idly chatting with his mom. She was putting the dinner dishes in the sink, and turned to the entranceway with a little frown. “Don’t forget, Clark, it’s your turn to wash tonight. Oh! Hello, Whitney.”
His dad smiled, and tilted his mug at Whit. “Whitney. Congratulations on the scholarship. Good work, son.”
Whitney swallowed, glanced at Clark and shoved the flowers at his mom. “These are for you,” his voice rising almost to a squeak. Clark snorted quietly. *That was smooth.*
“Uh, thank you…” Mom glanced at his dad, eyebrows raised.
“Can I sit?”
They nodded and Whit sat, took a couple of breaths, and Clark dropped his hand on his arm, “You don’t have to,” Clark said softly. Whit shook his head, took a deep breath and said, “Clark and I…Clark and I. I really care for him.” His parent’s faces flushed, and for a moment silence filled the kitchen uncomfortably. “And, I wanted you to hear it from me.”
“Ohh--kay,” his dad said “And…”
“And, I’m not out…nobody knows. Nobody *can* know. But it’s not because I’m ashamed of Clark. It’s just.” He looked at Dad. “You understand how it is, don’t you? Plus, my folks…they don’t know. But… Soon. Maybe.”
Clark gaped at Whit, and slowly, a grin stole over his face. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I--I’m hoping for the best, Clark. Mr. And Mrs. Kent, I don’t think my folks will react the same as you. My dad…” he sighed. “He would never accept it like this, you know?”
Clark’s dad nodded. “Yeah, I can’t see George taking that lightly. But this is our house, and my rules, so…” he stood, and stretched. “Well, four o’clock comes early, so I’m off. Clark, don’t stay up too late—five comes pretty early too, right?”
His mom kissed him on the forehead, and pat Whit’s shoulder as they left the kitchen. “Don’t leave the TV on all night again Clark.”
Whitney looked at Clark in shock. “That’s it? It’s okay?”
“Whitney, I told you, they were fine with it.” He grinned at Whit. “Besides, you’re quite a catch, you know.” He leaned closer to Whit and kissed the tip of his nose. “I got quite a catch,” he murmured.
Whit’s eyes closed, and he inhaled sharply. “Clark, Clark.” He opened his eyes again. “You really have no idea do you? You have no concept of how amazing, how…incredible you are.”
“I’m not; I’m just Clark, that’s all.”
Whit laughed, “Sure, sure you are.”
******
His parent’s anniversary was a couple of days away, and all during the week, they’d been discussing plans for the weekend. Clark wasn’t sure what those plans were, but it involved a little too much giggling and snapping butts with tea towels for his comfort. A couple of times they’d stopped talking a little too quickly when he came in the room and he so didn’t want to be a part of those conversations. He guessed it was okay that they could still get silly and it was kind of nice to know that they still loved each other. He grimaced. And that was all he wanted to know, he thought, watching his parents giggle and tease each other. They were his parents and he loved them, so he’d just have to be patient.
By Thursday, they decided that they were going to have a weekend in Metropolis—see a show, stay in a hotel—pamper themselves a bit and they’d be back home Sunday night.
Clark grinned. Cool. Freedom, two whole days of freedom…what could he do in two days? He grinned even wider. Yeah, what could he do?
Friday afternoon, he got the lecture from his mom, no parties, no staying out past curfew, no unplanned visitors-- and the information; what to eat, where it was, telephone numbers, street names, the hotel and its location and landmarks and….
“Mom! It’s not like I’m gonna run to the city, okay? I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”
His dad strolled into the kitchen, shrugging on a sports jacket that Clark had never seen before. “Wow, Dad, you guys look good.”
His dad grinned at him, “Yeah? Your mom looks great, I know that.” His mom smoothed down the front of the soft beige sweater she was wearing, and blushed a little. Clark thought it was cute. They acted like they were going on their first date—heck, it practically was. His parents worked non-stop to make sure he got what he needed, and Clark couldn’t remember a single time they splurged on themselves. Extra money usually went to him—a TV, a CD player…that leather jacket he’d wanted so bad one year…he could see how happy they were at this moment and he felt guilty that they had to spend so much on him. If he wasn’t in the picture….
They grinned at each other so long that Clark knew they’d forgotten all about him. He coughed. “Um, I got you a card. For your anniversary. I hope you have a good time.” *Oh, geez, I did not just say that*. He kept on smiling.
“Hey, thanks son.” His dad pulled Clark into a hug, and his mom squeezed him, and they grabbed suitcases, his dad complaining that no one needed two suitcases for three days and the hotel had towels and soap, you know, and his mom breezed out the door with a laugh. His dad looked over his shoulder and said, “John’s going to be here with the new guys on Saturday, they’ll do most of the work. As long as you take care of the calves, the rest of the day is yours.”
“I appreciate that, Dad. How’s Mr. John working out, anyway?” John had been hired to replace Earl Jenkins, after he quit to work at the fertilizer plant.
“He’s not bad. Not as good as Earl, but few are. Earl was a heck of a good supervisor. If Gabe’s not an idiot, he’s got Earl doing the same for him.”
“Well, I hope he’s doing well at the plant. He deserves to.”
His dad held the car door for his mom while Clark put the suitcases in the trunk of their old car, freshly washed for the occasion. They walked around to the driver’s side, his dad started to get in but Clark stopped him and adjusted his skewed jacket collar for him. “Thanks, son.”
Clark nodded, “You have to be sharp for Mom,” he grinned.
A few more good-byes later, Clark watched his parents drive off and felt awful that he didn’t feel worse. It was exciting, the idea of being on his own, alone. Tomorrow, he’d call Whit, and ask him to come over, watch some movies or something. He shivered. And maybe, he was ready for a little more.
tbc
Title:Mariposa
Fandom: SV
Pairing: Clark/Whit…
Rating: 2
Summary: I love the smell of shmoop in the morning….
The Previous Parts are here, wondering if you really can base a life on the immortal lyrics of Morris Day and The Time.
“I told my parents about me.” Clark figured he should probably have waited until they were off the steps--Whitney stumbled to the bottom of the stairs leading out of the school, and whirled around to stare open-mouthed at Clark.
“You—fuck! Why?” Whit choked. Clark walked past him, trying to think of something to say that would wipe the panicked look from his face. The bell was still jangling as kids raced away from the building, and Whit grabbed his arm and pulled him through the press of people.
“Shit…don’t stop--,” Whit hissed as Clark tried to slow Whit’s head long plunge through the crowds. They jogged to the back of the building, the side that faced the ball field and tennis courts, wended their way through the last of the crowds milling around the school grounds, and made their way down to the track. They walked along in silence on the unused track, and when Clark decided that Whit had calmed down enough to listen, told him what he’d told his parents.
“All right--what did you say about me?” Whit asked, when Clark wound down into silence.
“That maybe you like me. That’s about it.” Silence fell again, no sound except the crunch of the cinders underfoot, the sound of cars leaving the school; and diesel engines laboring up the driveway. They walked on and slowly, as they rounded the track, walked closer and closer until their shoulders bumped.
Whit inhaled deeply, and let it out in a long huff of breath. “Okay. Okay. Damn, Kent--do you think you can keep this to yourself a little better? I mean, Pete, Chloe, they know…and now your mom and dad. Shit.”
“Well, fuck Whit, it’s not like I planned on posting our business on the church announcement board, or anything.” Clark shouldered his backpack, turned on his heel and stalked off.
“Clark,” Whit yelled, “wait!”
He trotted up next to Clark, and grabbed his arm again. For a moment, Clark resisted, and then sagged. Whit let go, his hands wavered about, as if unsure of where to be, and he settled on wrapping them around himself. “It’s not just about wanting to be secret. It’s…it’s like a private thing, too. Like I’m the only one who really knows you, and I don’t want to give that up. You belong to me and I like it.” He stopped and sighed. “I’m sorry. I feel like I’m always saying the wrong thing. Can I come over tonight? We can talk more about this--we need to, I know.”
Clark lifted his head, and felt like his heart was breaking. What Whit said meant so much to him, but looking into Whit’s eyes, Clark knew what they had was never going to be what he hoped… “Yeah. Sure. I’ll ask my folks if it’s okay. And don’t worry, they won’t say anything…if you want, I can tell them I was mistaken about you. I can do that.”
“Don’t do anything until I come over tonight.”
******
After dinner, Clark excused himself to wait on the porch for Whit, tried not to think too much about what he planned to say. He could hear the rough sound of Whit’s truck in the distance, and not too long after he was rolling into the driveway.
He got out of the truck, with a bouquet of flowers, and Clark’s jaw dropped. He grinned from ear to ear, and laughed. “Oh, no—these aren’t for you.” He stopped and patted Clark’s cheek with his free hand, then reached up and ruffled his hair wildly. “Come on, kid, let’s go inside.”
Clark followed Whit, confused, wondering just what the heck Whitney was up to.
Whit walked into the kitchen, Clark right on his heels. He looked over Whit’s shoulder and saw that Dad was still sitting at the table with the newspaper, drinking his coffee, and idly chatting with his mom. She was putting the dinner dishes in the sink, and turned to the entranceway with a little frown. “Don’t forget, Clark, it’s your turn to wash tonight. Oh! Hello, Whitney.”
His dad smiled, and tilted his mug at Whit. “Whitney. Congratulations on the scholarship. Good work, son.”
Whitney swallowed, glanced at Clark and shoved the flowers at his mom. “These are for you,” his voice rising almost to a squeak. Clark snorted quietly. *That was smooth.*
“Uh, thank you…” Mom glanced at his dad, eyebrows raised.
“Can I sit?”
They nodded and Whit sat, took a couple of breaths, and Clark dropped his hand on his arm, “You don’t have to,” Clark said softly. Whit shook his head, took a deep breath and said, “Clark and I…Clark and I. I really care for him.” His parent’s faces flushed, and for a moment silence filled the kitchen uncomfortably. “And, I wanted you to hear it from me.”
“Ohh--kay,” his dad said “And…”
“And, I’m not out…nobody knows. Nobody *can* know. But it’s not because I’m ashamed of Clark. It’s just.” He looked at Dad. “You understand how it is, don’t you? Plus, my folks…they don’t know. But… Soon. Maybe.”
Clark gaped at Whit, and slowly, a grin stole over his face. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I--I’m hoping for the best, Clark. Mr. And Mrs. Kent, I don’t think my folks will react the same as you. My dad…” he sighed. “He would never accept it like this, you know?”
Clark’s dad nodded. “Yeah, I can’t see George taking that lightly. But this is our house, and my rules, so…” he stood, and stretched. “Well, four o’clock comes early, so I’m off. Clark, don’t stay up too late—five comes pretty early too, right?”
His mom kissed him on the forehead, and pat Whit’s shoulder as they left the kitchen. “Don’t leave the TV on all night again Clark.”
Whitney looked at Clark in shock. “That’s it? It’s okay?”
“Whitney, I told you, they were fine with it.” He grinned at Whit. “Besides, you’re quite a catch, you know.” He leaned closer to Whit and kissed the tip of his nose. “I got quite a catch,” he murmured.
Whit’s eyes closed, and he inhaled sharply. “Clark, Clark.” He opened his eyes again. “You really have no idea do you? You have no concept of how amazing, how…incredible you are.”
“I’m not; I’m just Clark, that’s all.”
Whit laughed, “Sure, sure you are.”
******
His parent’s anniversary was a couple of days away, and all during the week, they’d been discussing plans for the weekend. Clark wasn’t sure what those plans were, but it involved a little too much giggling and snapping butts with tea towels for his comfort. A couple of times they’d stopped talking a little too quickly when he came in the room and he so didn’t want to be a part of those conversations. He guessed it was okay that they could still get silly and it was kind of nice to know that they still loved each other. He grimaced. And that was all he wanted to know, he thought, watching his parents giggle and tease each other. They were his parents and he loved them, so he’d just have to be patient.
By Thursday, they decided that they were going to have a weekend in Metropolis—see a show, stay in a hotel—pamper themselves a bit and they’d be back home Sunday night.
Clark grinned. Cool. Freedom, two whole days of freedom…what could he do in two days? He grinned even wider. Yeah, what could he do?
Friday afternoon, he got the lecture from his mom, no parties, no staying out past curfew, no unplanned visitors-- and the information; what to eat, where it was, telephone numbers, street names, the hotel and its location and landmarks and….
“Mom! It’s not like I’m gonna run to the city, okay? I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”
His dad strolled into the kitchen, shrugging on a sports jacket that Clark had never seen before. “Wow, Dad, you guys look good.”
His dad grinned at him, “Yeah? Your mom looks great, I know that.” His mom smoothed down the front of the soft beige sweater she was wearing, and blushed a little. Clark thought it was cute. They acted like they were going on their first date—heck, it practically was. His parents worked non-stop to make sure he got what he needed, and Clark couldn’t remember a single time they splurged on themselves. Extra money usually went to him—a TV, a CD player…that leather jacket he’d wanted so bad one year…he could see how happy they were at this moment and he felt guilty that they had to spend so much on him. If he wasn’t in the picture….
They grinned at each other so long that Clark knew they’d forgotten all about him. He coughed. “Um, I got you a card. For your anniversary. I hope you have a good time.” *Oh, geez, I did not just say that*. He kept on smiling.
“Hey, thanks son.” His dad pulled Clark into a hug, and his mom squeezed him, and they grabbed suitcases, his dad complaining that no one needed two suitcases for three days and the hotel had towels and soap, you know, and his mom breezed out the door with a laugh. His dad looked over his shoulder and said, “John’s going to be here with the new guys on Saturday, they’ll do most of the work. As long as you take care of the calves, the rest of the day is yours.”
“I appreciate that, Dad. How’s Mr. John working out, anyway?” John had been hired to replace Earl Jenkins, after he quit to work at the fertilizer plant.
“He’s not bad. Not as good as Earl, but few are. Earl was a heck of a good supervisor. If Gabe’s not an idiot, he’s got Earl doing the same for him.”
“Well, I hope he’s doing well at the plant. He deserves to.”
His dad held the car door for his mom while Clark put the suitcases in the trunk of their old car, freshly washed for the occasion. They walked around to the driver’s side, his dad started to get in but Clark stopped him and adjusted his skewed jacket collar for him. “Thanks, son.”
Clark nodded, “You have to be sharp for Mom,” he grinned.
A few more good-byes later, Clark watched his parents drive off and felt awful that he didn’t feel worse. It was exciting, the idea of being on his own, alone. Tomorrow, he’d call Whit, and ask him to come over, watch some movies or something. He shivered. And maybe, he was ready for a little more.
tbc
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