(no subject)
4/14/07 04:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle:Mariposa
Fandom: SV
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Rating:2
Summary:We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty. ~Maya Angelou
The Previous Parts are here, removing spangles...it's not a pretty sight....
He stacked hay bales against one wall in the barn, smiling a little when he thought back to doing this last year, and how he grumbled and sweated--it took forever to do. Now, it was almost ridiculously easy. He worked, the rhythm of grab-toss filling him, relaxing him, and as he worked, he listened to Kala and his mom talking in the kitchen. They were making cookies, and the low murmur of his mom’s voice made him smile, the high, light tinkle of Kala’s laughter made him laugh a little too. Grinning, he turned his attention outwards towards the farm and heard his dad humming as he drove the tractor out to the far field, concentrated and saw him, the sun flaring off his blonde hair, the old John Deere cap clutched in his hand as he ran the back of his arm over his sweating forehead….
Clark tossed bales, stacked them, humming the same song his dad had been and finally…finally looked at the stairs that went up to the loft.
His folks had told him a few times since he’d been back home, that the loft was still his, just like he’d left it. Somehow the idea creeped him out. He wasn’t sure that he could bring himself to go up those stairs, he was pretty sure he couldn’t do it alone, anyway.
“The way you’re staring at ‘em, I guess you pretty much intimidated the hell out of those stairs, Clark.”
He jumped—he’d been so wrapped up in memories he didn’t hear Pete come in behind him. “Hey. What are you doing here?” He rubbed the back of his neck, and smiled. “Been a long time since you’ve been here, Pete.”
“Yeah…you don’t know sometimes that you miss something until you have it again—so—upstairs?”
He jerked his chin up and Clark hesitated, nodded. “Sure.”
They walked up to the loft, and Clark let Pete go first…mostly because he was a little unsure about actually climbing the stairs and stepping into the loft…and maybe just a little bit to look at Pete’s ass…
“You are checking out my ass, aren’t you?”
“Of course not—okay, a little.”
Clark waited, and Pete said, “And many people have said it’s worth checking out, my friend. Can’t fault your taste.”
Clark was startled into laughing out loud—this was certainly a new Pete—and apparently very secure in himself. Good. It was a nice change. They were in the loft and Clark stopped, turned….stared.
It looked the same. Just the same, the models were still there, his books, the desk…he swallowed. The mirror was still on the desk. The trade blanket, the same one, was draped over the back of the couch. He turned back to Pete. “Hunh. I haven’t been up here in a while. It feels…kind of weird.”
Pete hesitated, and nodded. “Clark…I came up here to talk to you about…what’s been happening. I can see you’re having a hard time fitting back in. In school and all. I know this last year hasn’t been easy for you. You look…not like you used to. You know, I used to watch you and--and Whit together and you used to look so—I don’t know—bright? Happy, anyway.” Pete shifted, looked uncomfortable for a moment and looked up into Clark’s eyes. “This guy, this Luthor guy…I hope he makes you as happy. He better know how lucky he is.” He walked around Clark and sat on the couch, and Clark sat too and noticed how dust free the place was. His mom really, really needed to learn to relax…
Clark sat still, his head down a little, watching his fingers twist back and forth over each other. “So Pete, don’t take this the wrong way but, what do you want?”
“Nothing Clark. I just want to be your friend, that’s all.”
“I do appreciate that, Pete. And we are friends.” Clark stared a moment longer before looking towards the closed loft doors. “It’s just…are you sure that you just don’t want to know what exactly happened to the geek while he was in the city?”
Pete looked back at Clark, not with the anger Clark had expected, not denying Clark’s statement…he just gazed at him, studied him…calmly. Like he was trying to decide something…and then Pete smiled at him. “Clark, will your parents let you go off for a bit?”
“I guess.”
“Then let’s go tell them you’re going somewhere with me.”
Clark shrugged. “Okay.”
Pete gaped. “Just like that? Don’t you want to know where we’re going?”
Clark grinned and shrugged again. “It’s Smallville--how far can we go? What does it matter?”
“I hope this matters,” Pete mumbled.
******
A very short drive later, they were driving along the wall circling the Smallville Cemetery.
He shook his head when he realized where they were. He didn’t get angry—it was obvious Pete meant well. “I don’t think so Pete,” he said gently. “I know you want to help, but this has nothing to do with how I feel now, and…I don’t want to see. I know he’s dead, I know he’s gone. And those people don’t want me screwing with their idea of who he was.”
“Do it for me, than, Clark. Let me be the friend I was supposed to be, okay? Besides, I want to show you something I think you’ll appreciate. ”
Pete led Clark on a walk through the cemetery; they strolled past headstones, and mausoleums, and great big over-blown Victorian memorials--weeping angels and grief stricken cherubs--that looked at odds with the country graveyard, final resting place of the descendents of no-nonsense German farmers. Pete led him to a newer section, so new there were no trees and even the bushes were spindly and young. He pointed out a white headstone. Fresh flowers sat at the base, roses and lilies and white lilac…Clark remembered that Lana’s aunt had a florist’s shop. He took a deep breath, and let the impulse to burn the plants leach away. “Pete…”
“Clark. Come on.” The headstone was engraved only with his name, his date of birth and death. There was a picture of him—a graduation picture--in a little weather proof Plexiglas frame. Clark stared, remembering the day Whit brought the envelope with his senior pictures, remembered pretending to steal one. He’d lost that picture with the jacket… “Look down, Cee.” In the flowers sat a laminated picture of Clark. Pete looked down at it fondly. “I figured it’d still be here. Every time I come I leave a picture and every time they bring flowers they throw it away. And I bring a new one. Yay for printers and a home laminator.” Pete’s smile faded as he stared at the picture. A sharp jolt rocked Clark and it hit him—Pete had never expected him to come home…
Clark folded him into a hug, and kindly ignored the catch of breath in Pete’s throat. After a moment he stepped back, and gave Clark a watery smile. “I kind of think Whit would have liked this.”
Clark nodded, and a little laughed bubbled up and broke free. “God! They’re *still* trying to rewrite him, poor bastard.” He shouted up to the sky, “He was gay, get over it already!”
Pete rubbed his eyes, and laughed with Clark.
Clark dropped to his knees and plucked a few stray weeds trying to grow up on the grave. He stroked the white marble of the stone, and whispered, “I miss you. But I don’t need to come here to talk to you—you’re everywhere I am, you’re part of me.” He stood and dusted off his knees. “Pete, I love you for this. Just the thought of me haunting those people—it’s pretty darn funny. And a fucking nice thing to do.”
Pete laid his hand on his shoulder, squeezed lightly. “We better get back, Cee. I know you still have chores to do. ” They walked on a bit in silence and then Pete asked, “Say, if I help you do your chores, you think I might invite myself to dinner?”
Clark laughed and pushed him a little. “Pete—you’re always welcome at my house, you know that. Mom and Dad wouldn’t ever refuse you.”
They were almost at the gate when Pete said, “Hey, you remember that friend of Whit’s, Fred? Graduated the same year-- went into the Marines? He’s here too. He got killed in a training accident. That was fucked up, too--he was a good guy…”
Shock pierced him through—so strong it made him stagger. Greif washed over him, Fred didn’t deserve that. Pete was right; he’d been a damn good guy. And he was someone else he’d hurt just by knowing him---because he’d cared for Clark…
“Oh shit Cee, are you okay? I’m so sorry. That was a stupid way to tell you. Sometimes I’m just a—a clod.”
Clark nodded. He felt hurt--hollow. He felt like…he needed Lex.
Pete grabbed his arm. “Clark Kent, listen. You’ve got friends in this town, people who care, not just me and Chloe. Open up your eyes, your—heart, and let people in.”
He shook his head, “People who love me die, Pete. Fred...Whitney…”
“I’m sorry, but that’s stupid, Cee.” Pete said, “What about me, Chloe, Lex…your friends are here, and strong. Strong enough to lean on, strong enough to help hold you up. All you have to do is…let us.”
*****
“Chloe’s been looking into something she says is interesting—her and her new best friend—Molly, Maggie? No. No I’m not jealous—no I’m not! It’s good she has friends who share her interests.” He listened for a moment and started laughing. “Oh, shut up! Chloe and I worked out those issues long ago—she was the first—well, the second--person to know I was gay. Now who’s jealous?” He chuckled. “Let’s change the subject, okay….guess what I’m wearing? No, I’m serious. Really. Oh my god, you buzz-kill, just guess. Haven’t you ever heard of phone sex? There—yes, I’m wearing boxers, black ones, yes, silk…” Clark stretched out on the couch in the loft, dressed in thread bare sweat pants and an ancient paint smeared Smallville Crow’s sweatshirt… “just boxers and a smile, and I’m thinking of you, thinking of you hard…”
He fell asleep on the couch with a smile on his face.
This is a dream…I know it’s a dream. I’m in the barn. I look up the loft stairs and see a familiar face over the railing, it’s my invisible playmate. I feel a little jolt of surprise, why I don’t know. Is he not supposed to be there? I go up the stairs and no one’s there when I get to the top. But something important is waiting for me here. I look around, turning in circles but I’m not sure what it is I’m supposed to find. Lex is sitting on the couch, and I’m thrilled—he’s home. He’s smiling, so I know he was successful. A new home for the mutants—a purpose in life.
He says,” Every living being needs a purpose Clark.” I wonder if he’s developed the power to read minds, I can feel the smile on my face. “Every being needs to serve a greater purpose. I believe that we have a duty to bring light to the world. I believe we can. But in order to achieve it, the world needs a leader it can love, and trust. You are that leader. But first we have to find the key.”
I nod. What he says makes sense—except I’m not. I’m the partner, not the leader. Lex and I will do it. We balance each other. I want to tell him that but he’s not there. A stranger, a little boy with dark messy curls and a big smile is looking at me. Where did you come from little guy, I ask, and he just smiles, a boy’s smile and I notice he has the clearest ocean-green eyes. He holds his hand out to me and gives me something that’s warm on my palm, maybe metal, maybe plastic and it’s humming, buzzing… and he speaks, startling me—I didn’t think he could speak. He says, “It’s yours Kal” and he’s gone, leaving me with the thing…it’s buzzing, louder, louder, and I’m getting scared…
Clark woke up with a start—the alarm on the cell phone Lex had given him was buzzing, and the phone was rotating on the slick surface of the old trunk. He’d had the weirdest dream—he thought. It was oddly familiar but that was all he had—that the dream was familiar, and he thought maybe Lex was in it—he smiled—no surprise there, Lex had been on his mind when he feel asleep. He felt a tug in his gut, and ran the palm of his hand slowly down the front of his sweatpants. He probably dreamed about sex with him...sex with Lex…he stiffened slightly, and gave some thought to jerking off. He yawned. Maybe he should go back into the house, to his bed. He checked the time, and saw that it was a little after two in the AM. He stretched and suddenly a memory popped into his head—him holding a piece of metal in his hand. Symbols were carved into the piece. He heard his mother say “Whenever you want to talk Clark, about anything, you know we’re here for you. Don’t be afraid to talk to us son, we love you.” He saw himself wrap the metal piece up, and hide it in the rafters. Remembered thinking he’d look at it, some other day when he felt braver.
Clark looked up, and concentrated his vision-he saw the wrapped bundle in a basket in the rafters. He lay there for long minutes, thinking…thinking.
The time was close. The time was now.
TBC...
Fandom: SV
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Rating:2
Summary:We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty. ~Maya Angelou
The Previous Parts are here, removing spangles...it's not a pretty sight....
He stacked hay bales against one wall in the barn, smiling a little when he thought back to doing this last year, and how he grumbled and sweated--it took forever to do. Now, it was almost ridiculously easy. He worked, the rhythm of grab-toss filling him, relaxing him, and as he worked, he listened to Kala and his mom talking in the kitchen. They were making cookies, and the low murmur of his mom’s voice made him smile, the high, light tinkle of Kala’s laughter made him laugh a little too. Grinning, he turned his attention outwards towards the farm and heard his dad humming as he drove the tractor out to the far field, concentrated and saw him, the sun flaring off his blonde hair, the old John Deere cap clutched in his hand as he ran the back of his arm over his sweating forehead….
Clark tossed bales, stacked them, humming the same song his dad had been and finally…finally looked at the stairs that went up to the loft.
His folks had told him a few times since he’d been back home, that the loft was still his, just like he’d left it. Somehow the idea creeped him out. He wasn’t sure that he could bring himself to go up those stairs, he was pretty sure he couldn’t do it alone, anyway.
“The way you’re staring at ‘em, I guess you pretty much intimidated the hell out of those stairs, Clark.”
He jumped—he’d been so wrapped up in memories he didn’t hear Pete come in behind him. “Hey. What are you doing here?” He rubbed the back of his neck, and smiled. “Been a long time since you’ve been here, Pete.”
“Yeah…you don’t know sometimes that you miss something until you have it again—so—upstairs?”
He jerked his chin up and Clark hesitated, nodded. “Sure.”
They walked up to the loft, and Clark let Pete go first…mostly because he was a little unsure about actually climbing the stairs and stepping into the loft…and maybe just a little bit to look at Pete’s ass…
“You are checking out my ass, aren’t you?”
“Of course not—okay, a little.”
Clark waited, and Pete said, “And many people have said it’s worth checking out, my friend. Can’t fault your taste.”
Clark was startled into laughing out loud—this was certainly a new Pete—and apparently very secure in himself. Good. It was a nice change. They were in the loft and Clark stopped, turned….stared.
It looked the same. Just the same, the models were still there, his books, the desk…he swallowed. The mirror was still on the desk. The trade blanket, the same one, was draped over the back of the couch. He turned back to Pete. “Hunh. I haven’t been up here in a while. It feels…kind of weird.”
Pete hesitated, and nodded. “Clark…I came up here to talk to you about…what’s been happening. I can see you’re having a hard time fitting back in. In school and all. I know this last year hasn’t been easy for you. You look…not like you used to. You know, I used to watch you and--and Whit together and you used to look so—I don’t know—bright? Happy, anyway.” Pete shifted, looked uncomfortable for a moment and looked up into Clark’s eyes. “This guy, this Luthor guy…I hope he makes you as happy. He better know how lucky he is.” He walked around Clark and sat on the couch, and Clark sat too and noticed how dust free the place was. His mom really, really needed to learn to relax…
Clark sat still, his head down a little, watching his fingers twist back and forth over each other. “So Pete, don’t take this the wrong way but, what do you want?”
“Nothing Clark. I just want to be your friend, that’s all.”
“I do appreciate that, Pete. And we are friends.” Clark stared a moment longer before looking towards the closed loft doors. “It’s just…are you sure that you just don’t want to know what exactly happened to the geek while he was in the city?”
Pete looked back at Clark, not with the anger Clark had expected, not denying Clark’s statement…he just gazed at him, studied him…calmly. Like he was trying to decide something…and then Pete smiled at him. “Clark, will your parents let you go off for a bit?”
“I guess.”
“Then let’s go tell them you’re going somewhere with me.”
Clark shrugged. “Okay.”
Pete gaped. “Just like that? Don’t you want to know where we’re going?”
Clark grinned and shrugged again. “It’s Smallville--how far can we go? What does it matter?”
“I hope this matters,” Pete mumbled.
******
A very short drive later, they were driving along the wall circling the Smallville Cemetery.
He shook his head when he realized where they were. He didn’t get angry—it was obvious Pete meant well. “I don’t think so Pete,” he said gently. “I know you want to help, but this has nothing to do with how I feel now, and…I don’t want to see. I know he’s dead, I know he’s gone. And those people don’t want me screwing with their idea of who he was.”
“Do it for me, than, Clark. Let me be the friend I was supposed to be, okay? Besides, I want to show you something I think you’ll appreciate. ”
Pete led Clark on a walk through the cemetery; they strolled past headstones, and mausoleums, and great big over-blown Victorian memorials--weeping angels and grief stricken cherubs--that looked at odds with the country graveyard, final resting place of the descendents of no-nonsense German farmers. Pete led him to a newer section, so new there were no trees and even the bushes were spindly and young. He pointed out a white headstone. Fresh flowers sat at the base, roses and lilies and white lilac…Clark remembered that Lana’s aunt had a florist’s shop. He took a deep breath, and let the impulse to burn the plants leach away. “Pete…”
“Clark. Come on.” The headstone was engraved only with his name, his date of birth and death. There was a picture of him—a graduation picture--in a little weather proof Plexiglas frame. Clark stared, remembering the day Whit brought the envelope with his senior pictures, remembered pretending to steal one. He’d lost that picture with the jacket… “Look down, Cee.” In the flowers sat a laminated picture of Clark. Pete looked down at it fondly. “I figured it’d still be here. Every time I come I leave a picture and every time they bring flowers they throw it away. And I bring a new one. Yay for printers and a home laminator.” Pete’s smile faded as he stared at the picture. A sharp jolt rocked Clark and it hit him—Pete had never expected him to come home…
Clark folded him into a hug, and kindly ignored the catch of breath in Pete’s throat. After a moment he stepped back, and gave Clark a watery smile. “I kind of think Whit would have liked this.”
Clark nodded, and a little laughed bubbled up and broke free. “God! They’re *still* trying to rewrite him, poor bastard.” He shouted up to the sky, “He was gay, get over it already!”
Pete rubbed his eyes, and laughed with Clark.
Clark dropped to his knees and plucked a few stray weeds trying to grow up on the grave. He stroked the white marble of the stone, and whispered, “I miss you. But I don’t need to come here to talk to you—you’re everywhere I am, you’re part of me.” He stood and dusted off his knees. “Pete, I love you for this. Just the thought of me haunting those people—it’s pretty darn funny. And a fucking nice thing to do.”
Pete laid his hand on his shoulder, squeezed lightly. “We better get back, Cee. I know you still have chores to do. ” They walked on a bit in silence and then Pete asked, “Say, if I help you do your chores, you think I might invite myself to dinner?”
Clark laughed and pushed him a little. “Pete—you’re always welcome at my house, you know that. Mom and Dad wouldn’t ever refuse you.”
They were almost at the gate when Pete said, “Hey, you remember that friend of Whit’s, Fred? Graduated the same year-- went into the Marines? He’s here too. He got killed in a training accident. That was fucked up, too--he was a good guy…”
Shock pierced him through—so strong it made him stagger. Greif washed over him, Fred didn’t deserve that. Pete was right; he’d been a damn good guy. And he was someone else he’d hurt just by knowing him---because he’d cared for Clark…
“Oh shit Cee, are you okay? I’m so sorry. That was a stupid way to tell you. Sometimes I’m just a—a clod.”
Clark nodded. He felt hurt--hollow. He felt like…he needed Lex.
Pete grabbed his arm. “Clark Kent, listen. You’ve got friends in this town, people who care, not just me and Chloe. Open up your eyes, your—heart, and let people in.”
He shook his head, “People who love me die, Pete. Fred...Whitney…”
“I’m sorry, but that’s stupid, Cee.” Pete said, “What about me, Chloe, Lex…your friends are here, and strong. Strong enough to lean on, strong enough to help hold you up. All you have to do is…let us.”
*****
“Chloe’s been looking into something she says is interesting—her and her new best friend—Molly, Maggie? No. No I’m not jealous—no I’m not! It’s good she has friends who share her interests.” He listened for a moment and started laughing. “Oh, shut up! Chloe and I worked out those issues long ago—she was the first—well, the second--person to know I was gay. Now who’s jealous?” He chuckled. “Let’s change the subject, okay….guess what I’m wearing? No, I’m serious. Really. Oh my god, you buzz-kill, just guess. Haven’t you ever heard of phone sex? There—yes, I’m wearing boxers, black ones, yes, silk…” Clark stretched out on the couch in the loft, dressed in thread bare sweat pants and an ancient paint smeared Smallville Crow’s sweatshirt… “just boxers and a smile, and I’m thinking of you, thinking of you hard…”
He fell asleep on the couch with a smile on his face.
This is a dream…I know it’s a dream. I’m in the barn. I look up the loft stairs and see a familiar face over the railing, it’s my invisible playmate. I feel a little jolt of surprise, why I don’t know. Is he not supposed to be there? I go up the stairs and no one’s there when I get to the top. But something important is waiting for me here. I look around, turning in circles but I’m not sure what it is I’m supposed to find. Lex is sitting on the couch, and I’m thrilled—he’s home. He’s smiling, so I know he was successful. A new home for the mutants—a purpose in life.
He says,” Every living being needs a purpose Clark.” I wonder if he’s developed the power to read minds, I can feel the smile on my face. “Every being needs to serve a greater purpose. I believe that we have a duty to bring light to the world. I believe we can. But in order to achieve it, the world needs a leader it can love, and trust. You are that leader. But first we have to find the key.”
I nod. What he says makes sense—except I’m not. I’m the partner, not the leader. Lex and I will do it. We balance each other. I want to tell him that but he’s not there. A stranger, a little boy with dark messy curls and a big smile is looking at me. Where did you come from little guy, I ask, and he just smiles, a boy’s smile and I notice he has the clearest ocean-green eyes. He holds his hand out to me and gives me something that’s warm on my palm, maybe metal, maybe plastic and it’s humming, buzzing… and he speaks, startling me—I didn’t think he could speak. He says, “It’s yours Kal” and he’s gone, leaving me with the thing…it’s buzzing, louder, louder, and I’m getting scared…
Clark woke up with a start—the alarm on the cell phone Lex had given him was buzzing, and the phone was rotating on the slick surface of the old trunk. He’d had the weirdest dream—he thought. It was oddly familiar but that was all he had—that the dream was familiar, and he thought maybe Lex was in it—he smiled—no surprise there, Lex had been on his mind when he feel asleep. He felt a tug in his gut, and ran the palm of his hand slowly down the front of his sweatpants. He probably dreamed about sex with him...sex with Lex…he stiffened slightly, and gave some thought to jerking off. He yawned. Maybe he should go back into the house, to his bed. He checked the time, and saw that it was a little after two in the AM. He stretched and suddenly a memory popped into his head—him holding a piece of metal in his hand. Symbols were carved into the piece. He heard his mother say “Whenever you want to talk Clark, about anything, you know we’re here for you. Don’t be afraid to talk to us son, we love you.” He saw himself wrap the metal piece up, and hide it in the rafters. Remembered thinking he’d look at it, some other day when he felt braver.
Clark looked up, and concentrated his vision-he saw the wrapped bundle in a basket in the rafters. He lay there for long minutes, thinking…thinking.
The time was close. The time was now.
TBC...
Tags:
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
4/14/07 11:43 am (UTC)(no subject)
4/14/07 06:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
4/14/07 12:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
4/14/07 06:44 pm (UTC)Thank you, love!
(no subject)
4/14/07 01:23 pm (UTC)>“I miss you. But I don’t need to come here to talk to you—you’re everywhere I am, you’re part of me.”
that is just the way i feel about my late husband.
(no subject)
4/14/07 06:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
4/14/07 01:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
4/14/07 06:48 pm (UTC)(no subject)
4/14/07 02:31 pm (UTC)Pete getting a brain and being such a good guy, finally...yay!
:)
*bounce*
Sweet stuff.
(no subject)
4/14/07 06:50 pm (UTC)(no subject)
4/14/07 03:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
4/14/07 06:50 pm (UTC)(no subject)
4/14/07 04:22 pm (UTC)(no subject)
4/14/07 06:52 pm (UTC)(no subject)
4/14/07 06:16 pm (UTC)Loved Clark's dream. He rememered the key! :D
(no subject)
4/14/07 06:53 pm (UTC)(no subject)
4/14/07 07:02 pm (UTC)(no subject)
4/15/07 06:39 am (UTC)(no subject)
4/15/07 06:06 am (UTC)I love that everyone is growing up - not just Clark, but Pete too. Pete really hurt Clark when parental and nurtured homophobia caused him to drop Clark as a friend. I really think that it's wonderful that Pete recognized that he was wrong and was doing what he can to make amends - and sticking it to Whitney's stupid parents is always a good thing. Moreover, I think that the poke to let people in, let people love you, and forgive yourself, has a little more weight coming from Pete for Clark - Pete isn't Clark's parents or Lex (the love him); Pete is a regained friend coming from the "outside" in. I think it's important to have that kind of positive reinforcement coming from other quarters.
Yay, curly haired little boy!!! Purpose and alien heritage plus Lex equals coolness!
(no subject)
4/15/07 06:38 am (UTC)Without you and people like you, it'd be a hell of a lot harder to do this.
Thank you for keeping my hindparts going, love!
(no subject)
4/15/07 09:12 pm (UTC)"Every time I come I leave a picture and every time they bring flowers they throw it away. And I bring a new one. Yay for printers and a home laminator.”
Oh Pete....mourning Clark like that....*Guh* **sniffles** so sweet. Lovely writing as always. You always bring a smile to my face with this tale even if the chapter is angsty or light, I just always smile when I see an update on my flist.
Thanks again.
(no subject)
4/16/07 12:12 am (UTC)*lovesloves*
(no subject)
4/18/07 07:43 am (UTC)Also, I can't remember when Clark lost Whit's jacket. Probably before he tossed the ring, but I seem to recall he got it back from the twins somehow. Guess that means I'll have to reread it. Aargh, what a chore ;)
Yeah Pete! It's nice that he's grown as a person, not like other people who shall remain nameless.
(no subject)
4/22/07 07:24 pm (UTC)(no subject)
4/22/07 07:49 pm (UTC)