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Title:Mariposa
Fandom: SV
Pairing: Clark/Whit…
Rating: 1
Summary: This is an AU version of Smallville that does not feature Clark as a pizza delivery boy.
Previous Parts are rat cheer.
Whitney didn’t call that day, or the next day, or the next. He passed Clark in the hall with a wave and a grunt, and not much more. Sometimes he left school early, or didn’t show up at all; he didn’t show up for practices. He worked at his dad’s store, a lot, and Clark stopped coming in on the days Whit was working—Whit made it plain he didn’t want to see him there. He stopped trying to call Whit, because whenever he did call, he wasn’t home, or wasn’t taking calls…
Clark wondered if he was angry about Chloe, worried that maybe it was just over between the two of them—that Whit was bored by him, and he thought he’d already experienced the worst pain imaginable—but he hadn’t. Nothing had ever hurt like this.
A day or two later, he heard around school that Whitney’s dad had had a heart attack—and the fact that Whit himself hadn’t told him was devastating. And then of course he felt guilty that he was upset for himself, when Whit was the one suffering.
Lana walked around the school looking as stunned and lost as he felt and he did his best to keep out of her way. Whitney was avoiding her too, and that should have made him feel better, but it didn’t.
******
Clark sat on a low sofa tucked into a corner of the Beanery, feet propped up on his book bag, watching traffic through the big front windows. He was nursing a cooling café au lait, and thinking about Whitney… he hadn’t seen him at all in school today. Again. He was going to mess up his scholarship--mess up everything if he didn’t stop…it was all about his dad, and there was nothing he could do because Whit wouldn’t let him do anything. Whit wasn’t talking to him; he wasn’t talking to Lana—
Lana…God forbid he try to talk to her about Whit. Clark grimaced. He didn’t like her. And he understood quite clearly she didn’t like him—and of course, she didn’t have a reason to. They walked around each other like gunslingers, watching to see whose hand dropped first…she had to know that Whit wasn’t very much hers, not like he was Clark’s. Clark sighed and turned to people watching. He watched couples smile at each other, laugh and hold hands, kiss. A wave of anger-sadness-frustration swept over him, and again he sighed deeply, and told himself to let it go…
The shop door opened and in walked the Princess, and Clark groaned inwardly. Of all people he’d *pay* not to see…she hadn’t seen him yet, and Clark wondered if he could get up and leave without looking obvious.
She stopped, looked at him, looked away. Took a hesitant step away, before she straightened and walked over. “Clark.” And sat down. Clark stared back, and gulped.
“Yes…?”
“What’s wrong with Whitney? What’s going on?”
“Why are you asking me? If you don’t know, than what makes you think I--”
She waved him to silence. “Spare me. You *know* why I’m asking you. If you don’t,” and she fixed him with an icy glare, “you’re the only one in the damn town who *doesn’t* know.”
Clark felt ill—how in the hell was he supposed to handle this situation? “Lana, I—I...” He wound down into silence. What could he do? Apologize? Demand she leave?
She pushed back against her side of the thankfully long couch. Nervously, he reached for his cup, and jogged it—liquid splashed over the low table. Her smile warmed a little as he tried to mop up the mess with handfuls of napkins. The harder he wiped, the worse he smeared milky coffee about. She stopped his frantic efforts with a feather light touch of her hand. Clark looked and thought foggily that she had beautiful hands, perfectly shaped, tiny. The way she moved them, they were as expressive and delicate as butterflies…he pictured them moving across Whit’s skin—it seemed right. He looked away from her, her hands, and blushed.
“He’s going to lose everything if he doesn’t pull it together, Clark. Try to get him to—” She stopped. “What?”
“How can you be so…causal? So--” coldly matter-of-fact about a horrible situation, he wanted to say.
“Don’t ask Clark. You know why.” She leaned towards him a little, and said, “I’ll be the one, Clark. When it’s time for happily ever after, it’ll be me.”
“Lana…” You’re wrong; I know you’re wrong. “I think, I think…okay, I can try to talk to him,” he said and slumped on the couch. She sagged a little too, as if the weight of speaking to him was too much. He knew that feeling well. He knuckled the back of his neck, trying to loosen the tight knot of muscles, wishing she would leave.
She closed her eyes and spoke so softly Clark had to strain to hear her. “Why are you ruining my life—and Whit’s? Why can’t you just leave us alone?” She opened her eyes; they were bright, and wet. “I’ve never hated *anyone* the way I hate you.”
He inhaled sharply, the look she gave him was so full of menace that he pulled away from her, and in the next instance, hatred was gone again, and she just looked…tired. Annoyed. “Okay, I think I’ve humiliated myself enough today.” She stood abruptly, and her mouth worked—she turned and walked away.
Clark felt like he’d run miles, his heart was pounding, he felt exposed, as if something was hanging over him, ready to drop down and rip him to shreds. He reached for his coffee with a shaky hand, grimaced. Half of it was drying on the table and what was left was scummy looking and cold. God, that’d been horrible, a truly fucking weird encounter. He stomach did a slow roll. He knew she hated him but…he didn’t have the strength to hate anyone that much. He shivered. What the hell was Whit thinking?
tbc
Fandom: SV
Pairing: Clark/Whit…
Rating: 1
Summary: This is an AU version of Smallville that does not feature Clark as a pizza delivery boy.
Previous Parts are rat cheer.
Whitney didn’t call that day, or the next day, or the next. He passed Clark in the hall with a wave and a grunt, and not much more. Sometimes he left school early, or didn’t show up at all; he didn’t show up for practices. He worked at his dad’s store, a lot, and Clark stopped coming in on the days Whit was working—Whit made it plain he didn’t want to see him there. He stopped trying to call Whit, because whenever he did call, he wasn’t home, or wasn’t taking calls…
Clark wondered if he was angry about Chloe, worried that maybe it was just over between the two of them—that Whit was bored by him, and he thought he’d already experienced the worst pain imaginable—but he hadn’t. Nothing had ever hurt like this.
A day or two later, he heard around school that Whitney’s dad had had a heart attack—and the fact that Whit himself hadn’t told him was devastating. And then of course he felt guilty that he was upset for himself, when Whit was the one suffering.
Lana walked around the school looking as stunned and lost as he felt and he did his best to keep out of her way. Whitney was avoiding her too, and that should have made him feel better, but it didn’t.
******
Clark sat on a low sofa tucked into a corner of the Beanery, feet propped up on his book bag, watching traffic through the big front windows. He was nursing a cooling café au lait, and thinking about Whitney… he hadn’t seen him at all in school today. Again. He was going to mess up his scholarship--mess up everything if he didn’t stop…it was all about his dad, and there was nothing he could do because Whit wouldn’t let him do anything. Whit wasn’t talking to him; he wasn’t talking to Lana—
Lana…God forbid he try to talk to her about Whit. Clark grimaced. He didn’t like her. And he understood quite clearly she didn’t like him—and of course, she didn’t have a reason to. They walked around each other like gunslingers, watching to see whose hand dropped first…she had to know that Whit wasn’t very much hers, not like he was Clark’s. Clark sighed and turned to people watching. He watched couples smile at each other, laugh and hold hands, kiss. A wave of anger-sadness-frustration swept over him, and again he sighed deeply, and told himself to let it go…
The shop door opened and in walked the Princess, and Clark groaned inwardly. Of all people he’d *pay* not to see…she hadn’t seen him yet, and Clark wondered if he could get up and leave without looking obvious.
She stopped, looked at him, looked away. Took a hesitant step away, before she straightened and walked over. “Clark.” And sat down. Clark stared back, and gulped.
“Yes…?”
“What’s wrong with Whitney? What’s going on?”
“Why are you asking me? If you don’t know, than what makes you think I--”
She waved him to silence. “Spare me. You *know* why I’m asking you. If you don’t,” and she fixed him with an icy glare, “you’re the only one in the damn town who *doesn’t* know.”
Clark felt ill—how in the hell was he supposed to handle this situation? “Lana, I—I...” He wound down into silence. What could he do? Apologize? Demand she leave?
She pushed back against her side of the thankfully long couch. Nervously, he reached for his cup, and jogged it—liquid splashed over the low table. Her smile warmed a little as he tried to mop up the mess with handfuls of napkins. The harder he wiped, the worse he smeared milky coffee about. She stopped his frantic efforts with a feather light touch of her hand. Clark looked and thought foggily that she had beautiful hands, perfectly shaped, tiny. The way she moved them, they were as expressive and delicate as butterflies…he pictured them moving across Whit’s skin—it seemed right. He looked away from her, her hands, and blushed.
“He’s going to lose everything if he doesn’t pull it together, Clark. Try to get him to—” She stopped. “What?”
“How can you be so…causal? So--” coldly matter-of-fact about a horrible situation, he wanted to say.
“Don’t ask Clark. You know why.” She leaned towards him a little, and said, “I’ll be the one, Clark. When it’s time for happily ever after, it’ll be me.”
“Lana…” You’re wrong; I know you’re wrong. “I think, I think…okay, I can try to talk to him,” he said and slumped on the couch. She sagged a little too, as if the weight of speaking to him was too much. He knew that feeling well. He knuckled the back of his neck, trying to loosen the tight knot of muscles, wishing she would leave.
She closed her eyes and spoke so softly Clark had to strain to hear her. “Why are you ruining my life—and Whit’s? Why can’t you just leave us alone?” She opened her eyes; they were bright, and wet. “I’ve never hated *anyone* the way I hate you.”
He inhaled sharply, the look she gave him was so full of menace that he pulled away from her, and in the next instance, hatred was gone again, and she just looked…tired. Annoyed. “Okay, I think I’ve humiliated myself enough today.” She stood abruptly, and her mouth worked—she turned and walked away.
Clark felt like he’d run miles, his heart was pounding, he felt exposed, as if something was hanging over him, ready to drop down and rip him to shreds. He reached for his coffee with a shaky hand, grimaced. Half of it was drying on the table and what was left was scummy looking and cold. God, that’d been horrible, a truly fucking weird encounter. He stomach did a slow roll. He knew she hated him but…he didn’t have the strength to hate anyone that much. He shivered. What the hell was Whit thinking?
tbc
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I love the segway you gave for a nice gradual weening (sp) of the Clitney. Being that Clark feels guilty about just about everything Lana's words are sure to make him back away from the quarterback and eventually straight into the arms of Lex.
Usually i hate Lana (no wait i still do)but if she going to leave Clark open and ready for Lex i'm all for it. Though i still think having her fall in front of a on coming car would serve the purpose also.
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Can I just say that I love the Lana/Clark rivalry, here? She's much more interesting when she's bitter. And hah, you are NOT going to get a happy ending here, Miss Princess.
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Whit really needs to get over his machoism and talk to someone! He's gonna lose Clark then he's gonna be really sorry.
Lana... Bitch, bitch, bitch! :P At least Clark's not all starry-eyed around her. YAY! I can't wait till Whitney dumps her sorry ass. *evil grins*
I agree with norwich... please don't kill Whit at least.
BTW... Yay!!! It's not dead! :D
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*whispers* 12/23/06 update not in your memories....
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Queen of eeeevol, that's you!!
*Lana! Eeep!*
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Just when I think that you were going to make me like Lana, you made me like Whitney so it was possible - she goes right through nice into bitchhood with half a sentence. Honestly I can understand and even sympathize with her plight - boyfriend's head's turned by the town "weirdo". If the town oddball was a girl it would be weird enough, but as it's a boy, the blow to Lana's ego must be huge. So I even understand the hate - and I think it's cute that she thinks she's going to win... HAHA... granted Clark and Whit aren't going to be together forever, but Whitney already thinks she's just this side of vapid, he wouldn't marry her (unless she snagged him in his extreme grief over the loss of his dad, when that happens. Oh, but wait, Whitney has Clark and the Kent's to turn to..oh well so much for that idea.)
So here's a question -- Does Whit head off to the army (or lose his scholarship?)??
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Eep! Lana is scary here. Clark needs to be careful of that one.
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And the whole town knows... ekkkk!
And where dose Lana get off hating Clark? It takes 2 to tango. I just want to slap her.
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I'm finally caught up and my heart is so heavy. Poor Clark. The whole town knows, seriously, or is Lana just being dramatic?
Whit's situation is enough to make anyone sad. But what's with that boy?! Poor Clark and to a certain extent poor Lana, though she is the queen of all that's evil here.
I'm sitting on the edge of my seat here, because this can go in so many directions.
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Ahahahaaaa--kidding!
Amd don't hate poor Whit, he's trying, really he is!
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thank you lovey, fixed it!
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I can't tell you what's going to happen! It'll spoil the surprise! I do accept bribes though....
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Right at this moment, everybody is sad. :(
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You know if I knew a good enough bribe, it would have to go towards the bring Lex to Smallville and Hook Him Up With Clark fund..... but since Clark still has a ways to go before he can handle being with Lex, I'm just going to have to let things stay the way they are and trust you.
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What you do with words always leave me sitting there, mouth agape saying "Wowwww". I love the imagery of it.
/“Why are you ruining my life—and Whit’s? Why can’t you just leave us alone?” She opened her eyes; they were bright, and wet. “I’ve never hated *anyone* the way I hate you.”//
Okay, I want to pimp slap her right now.
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BTW, I saw your list and found a couple of your stories I haven't read. Happy-happy Joy-joy!
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So you get the condensed comments because I am tarred. ;) hee!
I thought -- strangely, maybe -- that Whitney would have made a little attempt to find out what the heck was going on with Chloe and Clark, if it bothered him that much. hah. Whit could have spoken to Chloe, at least; we know he's done that before.Hm.
And then--Lana. Hah.
“I’ll be the one, Clark. When it’s time for happily ever after, it’ll be me.”
God what a wealth of imagery in that one sentence because .we. can guess that even if Clark and Whit are not together, and he's married to lana -- He's still going to be a homosexual man living a heterosexual lifestyle, and well. we know how well that works, huh ? Look at all those right-wing pastors who've been outed! Would suit Lana right if that actually happened.
And yes. what the HELL is Whit thinking for being involved with such a black widow?
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