fic post: Mariposa

[roxy]

Title:Mariposa
Fandom: SV
Pairing: Clark/Lex soon…pretty much
Rating: 3
Summary: This is an AU version of Smallville. Wait a minute--Smallville is an AU version of Smallville

Previous Parts are here, weaving macramé plant hangers. Erm…maybe not plant hangers….



Caroline Says


Clark didn’t call home then, he didn’t call in October.

He bought too much candy to drop in bags on Halloween night. He stood on the step, gave out candy and commented on every costume and Eric grouched about it in the background. The little kids at the door, all bright eyed and dressed in their dreams made Clark think of himself and Pete, dressed alike and absolutely certain no one could tell them apart…he watched mothers pushing their bundled up and costumed babies in their strollers and thought about Smallville—

He stacked red and yellow and acid green apples in their green cases, misted them, smelled them and thought about his mom making apple pies to sell at the Harvest Fest. His dad standing around with his buddies, at the classic car tent, swapping lies and laughing, taking a rare break to just have a little fun. Thought about how much he missed his dad’s laugh and his mom’s hug….

Eric watched him, and looked unhappy. Clark tried to tell him that he was fine, and that he was happy. Eric just looked grumpy and unconvinced. Clark shrugged and gave him the rent for October.

In November, he called just to hear their voices. He held the phone and listened to his mother answer. “Hello? Hello?” silence and then, a small hopeless sound. “Clark…?” He held his breath and after a long moment, the phone disconnected. Afterward he sat in his room, and tried not to cry.

November, Eric brought home a turkey, and complained bitterly that they didn’t make small birds and why not? “What the hell, right? What have they got against bachelors, Clark? I’m asking—not everyone wants to eat turkey for the rest of their goddamn lives, right?” He bent over to put the bird in the fridge, his long thin frame bending like he had a hinge at his waist. Clark smiled, he looked like a crane. A cute crane.

Eric dug through a sack on the kitchen table, and pulled out a can. He asked tentatively, “I bought cranberries, y’know, the not solid kind? Do you—would you eat them?”

Clark nodded and smiled, “Sure, I really like them that way,” and Eric looked so happy Clark felt horrible.

Thanksgiving dinner was great, and he brought the leftovers to the laudromat, and had dinner again with his friends.

Clark thanked Eric, hugged him and gave him the rent for November.

At the end of November, he made a friend. A guy, who was cute, and fun, and Clark shocked himself by admitting he liked him. Quite a bit. Jake came around from time to time, and always bought oranges. Always, with whatever else he bought, he always got a half dozen oranges, and after a while, Clark automatically added the six oranges to whatever order Jake had. He liked looking at him, and the way Jake smiled at him made him blush, and then Jake would laugh—quietly, almost under his breath, like it was a private joke between the two of them. One day, he surprised Clark by buying seven oranges…that was the day Clark learned his name—when he tossed the orange to Clark and said, “I’m Jake, hello.”

Clark had plucked the orange out of the air with a smile and said thank you. Watched Jake walk all the way down the block.

Jake was like a tornado. Whenever he came into the shop, Clark felt a little breathless, he couldn’t help but watch him, eyes wide, and mouth parted, trying to breathe, trying not to be swept up and failing…Clark envied him—he was every thing Clark wasn’t, cheerful, outgoing, so funny. He was blonde like Whit, but small, like a reed. He always stopped for Clark, spent a few minutes talking to him, giving him attention that Clark felt was his alone.

“Clark, honey, oh my gosh, eat something sometime, why don’t you? Gosh, have you heard of button downs—get this—they’re shirts you *don’t* pull over your head—shocking!” But when Jake said it, it was kidding teasing; Clark liked to pretend it meant he really cared. “You know, you’re a very pretty boy—he is, isn’t he?” He asked whoever happened to be close and nod when they agreed as if they had to. Clark felt full whenever Jake was around; being near him was like having the best meal ever. Jake was--amazing.

After dinner one night, while washing dishes together, Eric asked him if Jake had ‘made a move’. “Here,” he said, and handed Clark a dripping plate. “You need some kind of social life, Clark. All these old ladies, and the crazy—I mean the eccentric people at the laundromat—these are not the kind of friends you need at your age.…Mrs. Smith says you need to date. And she knows a nice boy…” Clark grabbed the plate and wiped vigorously. Blushed bright red from hairline to collarbone. “I—no, Jake hasn’t said anything, and no, I don’t want Mrs. Smith to pick my dates.”

“Well. Listen, I know you like Jake, but...I’m telling you, watch yourself with him. Oh, he’s a cute kid and all, but…just be careful. All I’m sayin’.”

Clark felt a quick flash of rage that startled and scared him. A voice in his head shouted who does he think he is? How dare he—and Clark swallowed hard, and stared at his plate. “Sure, I hear you,” he mumbled, embarrassed by his reaction to Eric’s well-meant warning.

When Jake asked him to the movies one evening, Clark felt that again, a little bit of good had fallen into his life, at a point where he was drowning in his darkness. Movies, concerts, even the museums, bit by bit, Jake filled a little of the pit in his soul.


Clark was jittering by the phone, bouncing the howling baby against his shoulder and wondering if he should call his mom, but Cara suddenly stopped crying, and was trying to pull his hair instead. Okay, you little pooping eating machine, is everything better now?

She grinned, and popped a milky bubble at him. He laughed back; she looked so pleased with herself. Her bright blue eyes danced, her red hair sparkled in the afternoon light and she was all together the prettiest baby in the world and he told her so. Good thing I’m so big--I’ll have to protect you from all the boys that are going to try to get next to you.

He joggled her on his shoulder, and looked for the little pink urpie cloth to wipe her mouth and a sound at the door stopped him and made Buddy launch himself from under the kitchen table and fly at the back door.

Hey, crazy mutt.

Clark looked up as a duffle bag flew in and landed in the entrance way, and the screen door banged as Whit stepped through, still in uniform and looking pretty darn good. Cara let out an excited little laugh and waved her arms, Clark grinned. Of course she thought Whit looked good too.

Hey. How my favorite baby, Whit called out, arms open, and Clark lifted an eyebrow.
Favorite baby?

Oh wow, you’re right; I don’t want Cara getting jealous. He took the baby, and kissed Clark. Clark closed his eyes, let his lips part and Whit tipped his chin up. Clark sighed and…

Remembered. “Oh, oh no, Whitney…”

He woke up drowning in tears, thrashing in the tight hold of his twisted sheets, his heart hammering in his chest. It hurt, it hurt so much, and it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fucking fair. He didn’t do anything; it wasn’t his fault so why was he getting punished?

“Clark--”

Clark froze—who was calling him?

Eric burst into the room, hair wild, expression wild “—what’s wrong? What are you yelling at?”

He saw Clark’s wet face and calmed a little. “What happened? He asked softly. Clark noticed he had a bat in his hand, and for some reason, it made him giggle. The laughter veered out of control and he was hunched over on the side of his bed, crying—

“Hey, kid.” Eric dropped the bat and sat on the bedside, threw an arm around Clark. “What’s the matter kid, you had a bad dream?” Clark nodded and Eric sighed. “Yeah, I get them too sometimes. “They stink. You want some water, or some…tea or something?”

Clark shook his head again, and leaned a little against Eric, let his knees drop open and touch his leg. Sighed, and turned just enough that his head was pressed against Eric’s neck. Tilted until his mouth was there, resting against a thudding pulse under the soft skin, his hand was pressed against his chest and he felt Eric’s heartbeat thunder.

“Unh…Clark, what the fuck are you doing…” he stuttered, but he didn’t move so Clark slipped his hand between Eric’s legs, felt the unmistakable evidence that his presence was having an effect. He pressed his palm over his dick, and squeezed. Eric groaned and pushed into it—moaned and it sounded so loud in his ears. Clark felt him swell under his palm, felt him twitch when his fingers slid into the gap in Eric’s pajama bottoms. Eric jerked, gasped—and grabbed Clark’s wrist, hard, hard enough to hurt. “What the fuck are you doing,” he rasped, and the uncomfortable grip on Clark’s wrist shook. “Fuck—stop that.”

Clark fell back, yanked his hand away. “I was only trying to—to thank you—I thought you liked me.” He glared at Eric, angry, embarrassed—and hurt. And just a tiny bit relieved.

“God damn it, Clark. I do like you, but… ah fuck.” Eric jumped up and hit the wall, leaned against it. “Clark. *You* are a child. I am a grown man, old enough to be your father, and if I hadn’t stopped you…God.” He rubbed his face. “Fuck.”

Clark bit his lip and felt driven to try again. “Are you afraid of hurting me? Because you know I’ve done this before. It’s not a big deal. And I like you.”

“Kid, I like you too. And that has a not a damn thing to do with this.”

Clark fell back on the bed. “I had a dream about my boyfriend. It was so real. I even dreamt my mom had a baby—a girl…it was like being home. I was in the kitchen and he walked in, and—and hugged me, ki--kissed me…” Tears pushed out from under tightly closed lids. “I wish that I could turn back time. I wish…none of this had ever happened. Maybe, I’d be happy.” He lifted his hand to his mouth, stared at the ring, turned the stone to his palm and pressed it to his lips until it was warm as skin.

“Clark. Maybe you need a little help. Y’know, like people to talk to, right? You need to go back home, and be a kid and…shit. Be home.” Eric sighed and sat again. “Call your parents finally, why don’t you? And don’t fucking play me off this time, huh? Or if you’re that afraid to talk to them, maybe call your boyfriend’s parents…”

Clark felt as if he’d been punched in the throat.
Whit’s parents.

The thought of them was like a dash of ice water in the face. Brought him back to reality, and the realization of the ugly thing he’d almost done to Eric made his blood run cold. He jerked upright. “I’m sorry. I do understand. I put you in a bad position. I won’t do it again. Promise.” He knew…it was time to move on. He’d been lucky, luckier than he deserved. He wouldn’t hurt Eric like that again.

Eric looked so sad. “I’d be lying if I didn’t say that living with you is messing with my head. Yeah, you’re a good looking guy—fuck that, you’re fucking unbelievably beautiful. You’re like—damn. But thing is, I have a son your age, and I don’t need the law to tell me it’s wrong.”

It surprised Clark a lot to hear that Eric had family—a son. He wondered what had happened. Found it was easy for him to imagine Eric with a family. Sort of.
“You had a wife?”

“Yes, I had a wife. You don’t have to look so surprised; the friggin’ world is full of people who found out they made a mistake too damn late. No good to realize just how gay you are, after. And in case you’re wondering—she’s a bitch on wheels.” He nodded at Clark’s startled laughter. “Oh, yeah, no Lifetime movie here, no broken hearts and tragic tears. That bitch is the reason why I’m here in the buttcrack of the country instead of back in New Jersey, where people know how to act.”

Clark barked out a laugh again. “Buttcrack? Hey, this is Metropolis; we’re almost as big as New York.”

“Yeah, and nowhere as exciting. Oh well. I left Jersey because I needed as much country between my self and that bitch as I could get. And she—makes sure I can’t see my kid. I fell in love with the wrong person, met another one just as wrong and …I just needed to breathe,” he sighed. He grinned a little at Clark. “You see how that worked out. Alone, in Kansas, getting old and ugly. And forgotten by my kid. Yeah, I’m just the fucking guy that sends him cards and money…” He made a movement to shove up glasses, “Shit.” He made an aborted movement towards his nose again.

Clark smiled. “You’re not old, and you’re not ugly. You just need to let yourself…look at the world, Eric.”

“Great. Look who’s telling me how to live.”

“Screw you.”

“See," he said. “There you go—you’re almost Jersey.”

He turned to walk out of the room and Clark said quietly, “The way you are to me…if you’re even half that way with your kid, than he hasn’t forgotten you. He’ll find a way to see you. You’ll find a way.”

Eric didn’t turn back. “Yeah, maybe kid. G’night.”

******

He asked Jake one afternoon, if he’d like to go Christmas shopping with him. Jake looked pleased.

“Let me think, do I want to be seen with the prettiest boy in Metropolis? “ He made a show of thinking, and then hit Clark. “Stupid. Where do we go first? Let me guess—looking for a present for Mr. Bossman…and I have just the thing!”

Clark found out that shopping with Jake was like swimming upstream—exhilarating, and exhausting. Jake pulled him in and out of a dozen stores, most of them way over Clark’s limited means, but Clark bought Eric a nice scarf, and managed to keep Jake from paying for that—or a dozen other things he found.

“Don’t worry, sweetie, I have an account at most of these stores. He flashed a deck of plastic, and laughed at Clark’s wide eyes. “I’m set—a least let me buy us lunch?”

The little restaurant they ate at was warm and cozy, with thick chairs and doll-size tables, and giant menus and Clark noticed, while the description of the food was paragraphs long and breathlessly excited, there were no prices. He glanced at Jake.

“Shh! Chose! Eat!” he made a complicated hand movement that ended with his fingertips pressed against Clark’s mouth. “Just enjoy it, baby,” he said again, softer, slower, and Clark blushed…right down to his toes, he was willing to bet.

******


They walked along, dodging slush and piles of grimy snow. Their breath puffed out into the chilly air. Jakes eyes looked even bluer above his bright pink cheeks. Clark thought he looked adorable. Like one of Santa’s elves, only sexier than any elf could possibly be. “Thanks for lunch, I’m so full I can hardly waddle,” he laughed. “How do you know all these places, Jake? Are your parent’s rich?”

Jake stopped and pulled Clark to face him, leaned against his thin frame. He tilted his head back and smiled. “How old do you think I am, Clark?”

Clark blushed shrugged. “My age, I guess?”

“I’m twenty two, sweet. I’m probably closer to—two? Three years older than you?” He chuckled. “I’ve been on my own a long time, babe.”

Clark thought about telling him the truth, but if he did, Jake wouldn’t want to see him again, and suddenly seeing Jake was the most important thing he could imagine in all the world.

Jake held his hand and walked briskly, their bags hitting them in the legs. “Are you hungry, Clark? We didn’t get dessert.” They passed displays of fruits and Christmas greenery out side of stores all along the sidewalk.

“A little,” he lied.

Jake said, “Okay, cool,” and grabbed two apples from a stand; he tossed Clark one, took a huge crunchy juice filled bite, chewed, swallowed and yelled, “Run! “

Clark gawked at him, frozen in place as Jake dashed up the street. A shout behind him electrified him—jolted him into taking off after Jake before running after, as fast he could. Jake ran without looking behind, laughing like crazy.
Clark ran after, followed Jake until they were blocks away—caught up with him in an alley, fallen back against a wall and gasping for breath.

“Jake! You stole!” He stole—for *fun*!

Every bit of his Jonathan Kent raised and Smallville reinforced values was outraged—every cell vibrated in horror.

“I know—it’s awful! But every once in a while, don’t you feel like being completely naughty, Clark?” He looked at Clark, and there was something in his eyes that made Clark blush and look away.

Jake laughed that soft quiet private laugh, and touched Clark’s cheek. “I can see you do…”


tbc!!

Comments

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

Goodness, as if he was a bad boy or something, tsk!

Thank you--yes! Poor Eric--Clark is just a little too confusing for him, and much as he'd like to help him, now, he feels he has to protect Clark from him.

Yes--my thought here is that the ring exaggerates the strongest emotion present when it comes in contact with a person likely to be effected by it. Say...Clark, who was terribly sad when he found it.

[amber-32random.livejournal.com]

Yes--my thought here is that the ring exaggerates the strongest emotion present when it comes in contact with a person likely to be effected by it.

Okay this makes sense. I still had an image of RedK!Clark from the show. Thanks!