roxy. fic post:Mariposa

Title:Mariposa
Fandom: SV
Pairing: Clark/Whit…
Rating: 2
Summary: This is an AU version of Smallville. Please keep behind the yellow line, and do not stand while the story is in motion.

The Previous Parts are here, wondering if some day, some how, Michael will ever let them back within fifty feet of him…le sigh.

/// I’m walking, I’ve been walking forever, can’t remember anything else but desert, walking in the desert…there’s red sand everywhere, in every direction for miles, and a red sun sets the sky on fire. Sweating…it runs down my body, every crease and fold on my body is slick slimy with it. Sweat drips into my mouth, coppery salt and bitter and oh my God, I want water more than I’ve ever wanted anything. Suddenly I notice up ahead a road, an ordinary two lane blacktop striped by a yellow line, so normal it’s scary and there’s a coyote sitting on the edge, watching me stagger closer. It licks thin black lips and smiles. “Go on ahead boy, I’m waiting for a friend of yours,” It says. Okay, that should have—something—shocked me, scared me, at least made me laugh--but it’s just one more thing on the road….
I keep walking, after a while, I turn around. Coyote’s still sitting there, and watching me. I think It winks at me. I stumble on the sand, and strong hands catch me, soft and warm, they hold me upright.
“Kal, you’re going to have to get over this.” Love is looking at me, beautiful, Mine. “I miss you so much, why won’t you stay with me?” I ask, and my heart is breaking, I need him, oh, like breathing. We’re stopped now and looking over a wide expanse of ice flecked tundra, a breeze bending long grasses and making them sing. Far off, the pink sun is rising, clouds go gold and bronze and I know this is home. The Boy throws his arm around me, and leans his round warm cheek against mine and I see he hasn’t aged at all, he’s still a boy with a boy’s smile and the clearest ocean-green eyes. The Boy says, be prepared, it’s going to hurt, and gives me something that’s warm on my palm, maybe metal, maybe plastic and it’s humming, buzzing… “It’s yours Kal”…it’s buzzing, louder, louder, and I’m getting scared…///

A loud and persistent buzzing penetrated his sleep. Barely awake, Clark reached out, slapped the alarm clock to the floor. It skidded under his bed and was still ringing and finally he managed to wake enough to realize that it was the phone, not the clock. He fumbled it to his ear, still half asleep. ‘Lex must have gotten his number from—okay…what?’ The world wasn’t fitting right for a moment, and then a voice he knew broke through his confused fog. “Clark, I need a ride.”

Clark blinked and blinked—awake now, he was in bed at home and-- what time was it? Who was on the phone—“Whit! You need a ride. Oh…sure. Give me a few minutes. It’s kind of late, isn’t it?” He rolled out of bed and grabbed his jeans from the floor, and wiggled into them. “What time is it?” He swirled his hand around under his bed, and pulled out a pair of sneakers, swept his wallet off the night stand and into his pocket.

“I don’t know--” the line was silent and then, “It’s twelve.”

“Twelve!” Clark pulled a sweatshirt over his head. “Your folks…how did the talk go? You never called and…”

“Um, well, you’re picking me up downtown, not at home—what does that tell you?”

Clark thought he heard a sniff. “Tells me it went really not well. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you all when you come. I’m at the Value Mart. Hurry up; some guy from Deliverance is checking me out.”

*****
Clark pulled into the lot and saw Whit leaning against the wall of the Value Mart. Clark grinned a little. He was sure Whit had no idea what he looked like; one foot up, leaning against the bricks, thumbs tucked into his pockets and his jacket slid back over his shoulders…a hot shiver grew low in his gut, he wanted to pick Whit up and run away with him and do...things to him. Good things. ‘God, you’re a perv. Your boyfriend’s more than likely in deep shit, and all you can think about is…’ He jumped out of the truck and jogged towards Whit, his ears burning.

“Whit, hey, how—man, what the *hell* happened to you?” He fought his instinct to grab Whit, hug him and check him out all over—a purple bruise almost covered one cheek, and he was covered with scratches—he looked like he’d been thrown into a bag of cats and rolled down hill. He limped toward Clark, his hand clutching one leg. His jacket was shoved back because the collar was ripped almost through. Clark gasped. “Oh fuck—did you get jumped here? Did you call the police--” He was already reaching for his phone when Whit stopped him.

“No—no—my dad sucker punched me.”

Shock froze Clark in place. He gaped at Whit. “Oh my God--does he—does he do things like that?” Clark straightened. “Because we can go right over there and show him why he shouldn’t hit my boyfriend…”

Whit smacked him in the chest. “Stop it; you’re doing it again, treating me like a girl. No, he doesn’t hit me--before today, he’s never hit me.”

Clark rubbed his chest and frowned. “What happened than, why are you limping—did he try to break your leg, too?”

Whit stopped and blushed bright red. “Well, I wanted to leave, get out of the house, but they, unh…they locked me in my room…more or less. Sort of.”

Clark tilted his head, staring at Whit. “…they sent you to your room, without any supper…”

“Stop, you asshole, it’s really not funny.” Whit’s eyes shimmered, and Clark felt like ten kinds of asshole, and led him into the truck.

“Get in. I’m sorry. I’m a jerk. Oh gosh--A huge fucking jerk,” he cried out when tears rolled down Whit’s cheeks.

“Gaah—shit, sorry, sorry. I guess I am a girl,” he muttered. He scrubbed hard at his face and told Clark what happened from the moment he entered the house, to the moment when he opened the window—“And it seemed like a good idea at the time,” he sighed.

“What the hell—did you think you were Peter Pan? You’re so damn lucky you didn’t break every bone in your body.”

He was leaning against the window, chewing on his thumb, and looked at Clark, and Clark had to drag his own eyes away from the brilliant blue looking deep into him.

“Aaah, does it count if I broke every branch on the way down? He winced, reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a twig, dried leaf still clinging to it. “Here.”

Clark glanced at the twig, glanced at Whit, and huffed. Bit his lip. Whit’s lips trembled, than Clark’s and in the next moment, both of them were howling, Whit describing again looking up at his dad from the floor--for some reason now, hysterically funny. They hung off each other, cursing each other, cursing Whit’s dad, laughing until tears ran, until they cried….

He drove them out to the Smallville sign, because Whit didn’t want to deal with parents yet, and Clark was fine with that. He felt an overwhelming need to keep Whit in his sight, to know that he was okay.

Clark pulled off and back into the fields, out of sight of the road. They sat in the bed of Clark’s dad’s truck, Whit leaned against the tool box, and Clark sat between his knees, looking up at the stars. “Okay,” Clark said, “Okay, now we have to come up with a plan. Because you can’t go back there, right? It’s not like he knocked the gay out and now, everything’s okay.”

Whit shook his head. “No, you’re right. I know my dad. He’s not going to let me ever forget I screwed up, and he’s not going to let the fact I’m gay alone. If I stay there, he’ll…he’ll…well, I don’t know, but it’ll be bad.”

“He’s not going to hit you again, damn it--”

“He’s not going to hit me again. He doesn’t do things like that.” He pulled Clark to his chest, and rested his chin on his shoulder. “He didn’t mean to. It was just—a shock, on top of more shocks. He had a heart attack, Clark. He must be as freaked out and as scared as I am. I guess. I’m… he loves me.” He shifted and Clark pulled his arms around his waist, laced their fingers together. “My mom tells me all the time.”

“Yeah.” Clark sighed. “Okay, listen. I’m thinking, this is what we should do—I’ll talk to my folks. You’re going to stay with us. No, wait;” he said when Whit wanted to protest. “There’s not much of the school year left, you’re going to be eighteen real soon, and then they can’t say anything about what you do. You move in with us, my parents will talk to your parents and everything will be fine. We can be together, my parents love you, and it’ll be so good, Whitney. I know with my help, and Chloe’s, you can get back on track grade wise—and go to Hamilton community, and maybe get loans and go to Kansas or MetU in two years. And after I graduate, we can move in together in Metropolis—I can get a job or--”

“Clark, I think we better handle one thing at a time. It would be great though, us on our own, nobody interfering…” Clark smiled as Whit kissed the back of his head.

“Really, think about it.” He leaned back into Whit’s warmth and smiled. “We can have our own place, one of those townhouses, maybe with a little garden, and a dog—Buddy would love being a city dog--and we could go out to eat every Friday, and on weekends do whatever we want, and it’ll all be good, because it’s me, and it’s you, together.”

Whit was silent for a long beat and then he said, “…ah…been thinking about it some?” and Clark blushed.

“Okay, yes, shut up. I’ve given it some thought, sometimes, late at night when I’ve got nothing else to think about…”

“Wow, really? I just jerk off thinking about Johnny Depp and—oof! Wow, beat up guy here, remember?”

Clark hugged his arms. “Ha. You got beat up by a tree…” and suddenly whatever comfort they’d managed to build collapsed, and he felt a sinking sensation in his chest. “Your dad hit you. Please don’t go home tonight. Please stay with us, with me?”

Whit sighed, and squeezed Clark’s hand. “Okay. I guess I have to call them. Geez, I hope my mom answers.”

Whit stood and hopped off the truck, walked a little way into the field. From what Clark could see, a quiet, rapid, and as far as he could tell, horribly strained conversation went on. Whit hung up, shoved the phone jerkily in his pocket and walked back to Clark. Clark felt the sting of excitement. This was the beginning of a new chapter for them, the start of something really big, he could feel it. It felt like—flying—jumping out into space, him and Whit together—exciting and a little scary. Since he’d been with Whit, his life changed so drastically, from feeling lost and afraid so much of the time, to feeling protected, loved, and loved enough that he could be brave for Whit too. Whitney opened doors he thought had been slammed shut since he was a kid.

Whit came close again, and Clark reached out for him. He’d never thought he was worthy of love—especially not from some one like Whit. Whit, who told him plainly, openly ‘I love you.’ and who was brave enough to risk everything for him.

“You’ll see, Whitney. Your life will be so different. You’ll finally be able to be just who you are. You’ll never have to try and fit yourself into someone else’s idea of who you are, or worry if you’re good enough for them.”
Whit leaned into him, and kissed his cheek, his mouth, his forehead, and Clark sighed happily. “It’s going to be great.”

******
tbc

Tags:

clex,
sv: mariposa

Flat. Top-Level Comments Only

Posted by

arianstarr.livejournal.com

The bright side of not being able to sleep is that I got to read your update now, instead of in 16 hours when I get home from work! :D

Poor Whit, he's really getting the short end of the stick. Clark's dream was vividly written, wonderful imagery.

Posted by

fic post:Mariposa

Page Summary

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags