SV fic post: East of the Sun part 8
2/26/08 12:15 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle: East of the Sun
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Lex/people, eventually clex
Rating:PG
Word Count:1909
Summary: Lex learns about trust and love from an unlikely source.
Notes/Warnings: this is me putting the boys in my version of the swing era, just to see how pretty they look.
Many, many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
danceswithgary for beta duty, and the beautiful cover!
Hannah sat on the top fence railing running along the drive and watched Clark attempt to toss a basket ball through an old bottomless bushel basket that he'd nailed over the closed barn doors. Over and over he threw it and sweat was making his hair curl around his ears, his forehead. He shuffled, bounced the ball on the asphalt apron in front of the barn doors, grabbed it, and spun—and dropped the ball. "Oh! Whit, hi," he grinned.
"Clark. Working up a sweat, hunh? Not too bad. I can give you some pointers, if you like—"
"He knows what he's doing," an offended Hannah shouted. "He's good."
Clark groaned and dropped his head. "Hannah…"
Whit smiled. "Well, Short Stuff, he is good, but he could be better." She scowled and leaned against the fence posts, kicking her heel into the dirt.
Clark grinned and shrugged at Whit, dismissing Hannah's outburst. "I do it for fun. It's just a game that's easy to play by yourself," he said and winced inwardly. Did that sound like a play for sympathy? Whit knew as well as anyone Clark had no other close friends, but Whit didn't respond to what he said—he just grabbed the ball and with a smirk at Clark, whisked it though the basket one, two, three, like it was nothing.
For the next few hours, he worked with Clark…he was by turns patient, teasing, bullying—he was so much fun, Clark forgot this was the guy who stood between him and Lana. Whit wasn't The Guy In The Way; he was a friend.
Whit sat on the ground and used his shirt to wipe sweat from his face, called out pointers from the side line. Once he jumped up, and manhandled Clark into what he considered was the correct stance, and he smelled of sweat and bayberry and pomade, and it seemed it was all Clark could smell... "You okay? Got it?" Whit asked.
Clark pulled away, and smiled…"Yeah—I—think I have it."
They fought back and forth over the asphalt, and neither noticed when Hannah left....
After a bit Whit called time. "Where's your well, Kent? I'm about to die of thirst."
"Oh yeah," Clark said quickly. "Me too." He'd barely noticed the heat, but he was quick to agree with Whit it was something awful, and they were certainly in dire need of lots of cold, clean, water. At the pump, Whit held the bucket, the muscles in his arm tensing and relaxing as he shifted his grip to accommodate the growing weight in the tin bucket and Clark didn't want to watch but it was like a rhythm he couldn't ignore…Whit set the bucket down, and urged Clark to take the first drink. Clark closed his eyes, drank until he thought it should be enough. With a sigh, he opened his eyes and wiped his mouth. Poor Whit looked flushed with the heat, so dry he was licking his lips and Clark figured he'd waited long enough. "Drink up, Whit, before you drop."
He smiled, took the ladle and tilted his head back, drank, great non stop swallows that made his Adam's apple move in the thick column of his throat and there it was again, that fascinating rhythm….
"Clark! Where are you!"
Clark felt a deep dash of unease, and exhaled gratefully when Hannah's blonde curls bounced around the corner.
Whit grinned at her, and settled on the edge of the pump's platform. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a dented pack of cigarettes. He tapped it on the wooden edge and a single cigarette popped out. "Want one?" he asked Clark and held the pack out. Clark looked at Hannah and said, "sure."
He watched Whit light his cigarette, watched him inhale and thought that he really was like a movie star. He took a tentative puff of his own, a quick in and out of breath and Hannah gasped. "Clark! Mom and dad will have a fit!"
Whit smiled at her. "But you aren't going to tell are you? You don’t want your big brother getting in trouble do you?"
Hannah folded her arms over her chest and glared at Whit. "You know, ever since you and Clark have been friends, he's always this close—" she held her thumb and forefinger a scant inch apart—"to getting in trouble. You're a bad influence, and I don't like it." She stomped off and Whit snorted.
"Wow. What do you think about that, Kent?"
"I'm…I'm sorry. She. She looks out for me, that's all. We used to be each other's only friend and now…" He blushed. Whit had never said they were friends, but…he hoped.
"You gotta explain to her just because me and you are friends doesn’t mean Short Stuff still isn't your best buddy," Whit said casually and made Clark's heart swell.
"Yeah," he said. As long as she was, she probably wouldn’t tell Mom and Dad he'd ditched school with Whit a couple of times, and stood look-out once or twice when he lifted things from the five and dime…which wasn't as bad as it seemed because it was only small cheap stuff and he didn’t do it much. Clark tried not to wonder why a rich kid would do that. He took another quick shallow puff and butt out the cigarette, handed it back to Whit. Whit tossed the end of his own away and lit the butt Clark gave him. His lips were pressed around the end and he stared at Clark. He lifted fingers to his mouth and peeled a bit of tobacco away…he looked like a movie star. Handsome as Gary Cooper, Clark thought.
@@@@@
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.
The sound of the piano faded away, and they sat, Clark sandwiched between Hannah and his mom, and the pastor talked about honesty, and how the devil wasn't hideous, he was far from ugly and when he tried to talk to you, his voice was like honey and his touch was like that of a friend, and seriously, Clark had to fight to keep from kicking Hannah in the shins, because his were sure taking a beating from her. His mom even scolded her for fidgeting and Clark was very grateful when the younger kids left for Sunday school. Whit wasn't like the devil for cryin' out loud. He was just…feisty. Full of thoughts and ideas and sometimes Smallville was just a little too small for him. Clark huffed. Besides, what was Hannah worried about? He wasn't stupid—he knew when enough was enough.
@@@@@@
Summer stretched on, and it was like no other he'd ever had before. This summer was a summer full of changes, the world shifted so casually, so slowly it was almost without his notice and gradually, his feeling towards Lana and Whitney both changed. As he and Whitney became better and better friends, he found himself putting Lana in that box labeled 'sister.' Lana was beautiful and special and always would be. He loved her, just not like he did as a child. He gave her little trinkets, brought her things he thought she'd enjoy, like a four leaf clover he found on the way to school, or a shard of robin's egg because he knew she liked that shade of blue, or a little bouquet of wildflowers. He did this because it made her smile, just like he did it to make Hannah smile, or make his mom smile.
Lana transformed into someone he loved like family, and Whit became more and more mysterious. Being near Whit could be a terrible aggravation sometimes, like an itch under the skin he couldn't reach. Sometimes, he'd leave after a few hours with Lana and Whit, and be angry, or sad, or—or—some way he didn’t understand. Often, Whit made him angry; he could be so sarcastic, thoughtless. And sure, sometimes he thought what Whit needed was one good solid punch in the snoot, and then he'd feel rotten for feeling that way. They got mad at each other a lot. But they laughed a lot too, and Clark found no one made him laugh quite so much as Whit, or pleased him quite so much with a compliment, or a pat on the back…he'd do anything to get Whit to say, 'hey, hell of a good job, Kent. Good sport, Kent.'
It became a magical summer, the best he'd ever had….
@@@@
"Clark, I need your help. Lana's been looking forward to going to the Founder's Day dance, you know? Well, I've got to go to Granville with my dad…can you do me a solid and take her? "
The Founders Day dance was the event that'd become the unofficial end of summer, it was the last fun thing to do before school started. "I don’t want her to miss out; she's really excited about it. Bought a dress and she's getting her hair done and stuff," he said, his forehead wrinkled as if the idea of being that excited about a dance was just madness.
Clark grinned at him, shook his head. How was it Lana and Whit managed to be such a great couple? Whit obviously did not understand women. Of course, he might have an unfair advantage over Whit when it came to women —"Sure, I don’t mind." How big a deal could it be? Just a nice evening with one of his best friends.
He and Whit were sitting on a thick tree branch that grew low over the river that outlined Smallville's boundary. It was quiet; no one else was out swimming that afternoon and Clark could clearly hear water foaming around rocks and plants in the river. He liked the sound, it was soothing. He felt so relaxed, so…happy. It was nice to sit here quietly with his friend just enjoying the day, doing nothing special. He was so grateful to have this that he'd do anything Whit wanted and this was such a little thing he wanted.
Whit squeezed his shoulder. "Thanks, Kent. She'd really have her nose out of joint if she couldn’t wear her new dress, boy." He shuddered dramatically, hip and ribs rubbing up against Clark and they laughed.
"Gosh, Whit, she's as big as a minute. I don’t think a big football hero like you needs to be afraid."
"Hunh. Wait until you see her mad. Size don't count for nothin' then." He shook his head, and stood, carefully toed along the branch back to the river bank. He crouched over his pants and shirt, rummaging in his pockets, and the sun shining on him made his water soaked union suit translucent. Little white snaps marched down the center of his chest and lower, and Clark counted and recounted them.
"Um…have you told her yet I'm pinch-hitting?" His throat felt a little dry, he felt nervous and he guessed it was just the thought of explaining to Lana why it was *him* at the door and not her boyfriend.
"You're safe Kent. She likes you." Clark smiled and looked down…when he looked up again, Whit was smiling at him. He held out the cigarette he'd been searching his pockets for. "Drag?"
Clark blushed, and nodded, and Whit just chuckled. "You'll do fine, buddy."
Songs in this section
Amazing Grace by John Newton
part 9
TBC
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Lex/people, eventually clex
Rating:PG
Word Count:1909
Summary: Lex learns about trust and love from an unlikely source.
Notes/Warnings: this is me putting the boys in my version of the swing era, just to see how pretty they look.
Many, many thanks to
danceswithgary for beta duty, and the beautiful cover!Hannah sat on the top fence railing running along the drive and watched Clark attempt to toss a basket ball through an old bottomless bushel basket that he'd nailed over the closed barn doors. Over and over he threw it and sweat was making his hair curl around his ears, his forehead. He shuffled, bounced the ball on the asphalt apron in front of the barn doors, grabbed it, and spun—and dropped the ball. "Oh! Whit, hi," he grinned.
"Clark. Working up a sweat, hunh? Not too bad. I can give you some pointers, if you like—"
"He knows what he's doing," an offended Hannah shouted. "He's good."
Clark groaned and dropped his head. "Hannah…"
Whit smiled. "Well, Short Stuff, he is good, but he could be better." She scowled and leaned against the fence posts, kicking her heel into the dirt.
Clark grinned and shrugged at Whit, dismissing Hannah's outburst. "I do it for fun. It's just a game that's easy to play by yourself," he said and winced inwardly. Did that sound like a play for sympathy? Whit knew as well as anyone Clark had no other close friends, but Whit didn't respond to what he said—he just grabbed the ball and with a smirk at Clark, whisked it though the basket one, two, three, like it was nothing.
For the next few hours, he worked with Clark…he was by turns patient, teasing, bullying—he was so much fun, Clark forgot this was the guy who stood between him and Lana. Whit wasn't The Guy In The Way; he was a friend.
Whit sat on the ground and used his shirt to wipe sweat from his face, called out pointers from the side line. Once he jumped up, and manhandled Clark into what he considered was the correct stance, and he smelled of sweat and bayberry and pomade, and it seemed it was all Clark could smell... "You okay? Got it?" Whit asked.
Clark pulled away, and smiled…"Yeah—I—think I have it."
They fought back and forth over the asphalt, and neither noticed when Hannah left....
After a bit Whit called time. "Where's your well, Kent? I'm about to die of thirst."
"Oh yeah," Clark said quickly. "Me too." He'd barely noticed the heat, but he was quick to agree with Whit it was something awful, and they were certainly in dire need of lots of cold, clean, water. At the pump, Whit held the bucket, the muscles in his arm tensing and relaxing as he shifted his grip to accommodate the growing weight in the tin bucket and Clark didn't want to watch but it was like a rhythm he couldn't ignore…Whit set the bucket down, and urged Clark to take the first drink. Clark closed his eyes, drank until he thought it should be enough. With a sigh, he opened his eyes and wiped his mouth. Poor Whit looked flushed with the heat, so dry he was licking his lips and Clark figured he'd waited long enough. "Drink up, Whit, before you drop."
He smiled, took the ladle and tilted his head back, drank, great non stop swallows that made his Adam's apple move in the thick column of his throat and there it was again, that fascinating rhythm….
"Clark! Where are you!"
Clark felt a deep dash of unease, and exhaled gratefully when Hannah's blonde curls bounced around the corner.
Whit grinned at her, and settled on the edge of the pump's platform. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a dented pack of cigarettes. He tapped it on the wooden edge and a single cigarette popped out. "Want one?" he asked Clark and held the pack out. Clark looked at Hannah and said, "sure."
He watched Whit light his cigarette, watched him inhale and thought that he really was like a movie star. He took a tentative puff of his own, a quick in and out of breath and Hannah gasped. "Clark! Mom and dad will have a fit!"
Whit smiled at her. "But you aren't going to tell are you? You don’t want your big brother getting in trouble do you?"
Hannah folded her arms over her chest and glared at Whit. "You know, ever since you and Clark have been friends, he's always this close—" she held her thumb and forefinger a scant inch apart—"to getting in trouble. You're a bad influence, and I don't like it." She stomped off and Whit snorted.
"Wow. What do you think about that, Kent?"
"I'm…I'm sorry. She. She looks out for me, that's all. We used to be each other's only friend and now…" He blushed. Whit had never said they were friends, but…he hoped.
"You gotta explain to her just because me and you are friends doesn’t mean Short Stuff still isn't your best buddy," Whit said casually and made Clark's heart swell.
"Yeah," he said. As long as she was, she probably wouldn’t tell Mom and Dad he'd ditched school with Whit a couple of times, and stood look-out once or twice when he lifted things from the five and dime…which wasn't as bad as it seemed because it was only small cheap stuff and he didn’t do it much. Clark tried not to wonder why a rich kid would do that. He took another quick shallow puff and butt out the cigarette, handed it back to Whit. Whit tossed the end of his own away and lit the butt Clark gave him. His lips were pressed around the end and he stared at Clark. He lifted fingers to his mouth and peeled a bit of tobacco away…he looked like a movie star. Handsome as Gary Cooper, Clark thought.
@@@@@
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.
The sound of the piano faded away, and they sat, Clark sandwiched between Hannah and his mom, and the pastor talked about honesty, and how the devil wasn't hideous, he was far from ugly and when he tried to talk to you, his voice was like honey and his touch was like that of a friend, and seriously, Clark had to fight to keep from kicking Hannah in the shins, because his were sure taking a beating from her. His mom even scolded her for fidgeting and Clark was very grateful when the younger kids left for Sunday school. Whit wasn't like the devil for cryin' out loud. He was just…feisty. Full of thoughts and ideas and sometimes Smallville was just a little too small for him. Clark huffed. Besides, what was Hannah worried about? He wasn't stupid—he knew when enough was enough.
@@@@@@
Summer stretched on, and it was like no other he'd ever had before. This summer was a summer full of changes, the world shifted so casually, so slowly it was almost without his notice and gradually, his feeling towards Lana and Whitney both changed. As he and Whitney became better and better friends, he found himself putting Lana in that box labeled 'sister.' Lana was beautiful and special and always would be. He loved her, just not like he did as a child. He gave her little trinkets, brought her things he thought she'd enjoy, like a four leaf clover he found on the way to school, or a shard of robin's egg because he knew she liked that shade of blue, or a little bouquet of wildflowers. He did this because it made her smile, just like he did it to make Hannah smile, or make his mom smile.
Lana transformed into someone he loved like family, and Whit became more and more mysterious. Being near Whit could be a terrible aggravation sometimes, like an itch under the skin he couldn't reach. Sometimes, he'd leave after a few hours with Lana and Whit, and be angry, or sad, or—or—some way he didn’t understand. Often, Whit made him angry; he could be so sarcastic, thoughtless. And sure, sometimes he thought what Whit needed was one good solid punch in the snoot, and then he'd feel rotten for feeling that way. They got mad at each other a lot. But they laughed a lot too, and Clark found no one made him laugh quite so much as Whit, or pleased him quite so much with a compliment, or a pat on the back…he'd do anything to get Whit to say, 'hey, hell of a good job, Kent. Good sport, Kent.'
It became a magical summer, the best he'd ever had….
@@@@
"Clark, I need your help. Lana's been looking forward to going to the Founder's Day dance, you know? Well, I've got to go to Granville with my dad…can you do me a solid and take her? "
The Founders Day dance was the event that'd become the unofficial end of summer, it was the last fun thing to do before school started. "I don’t want her to miss out; she's really excited about it. Bought a dress and she's getting her hair done and stuff," he said, his forehead wrinkled as if the idea of being that excited about a dance was just madness.
Clark grinned at him, shook his head. How was it Lana and Whit managed to be such a great couple? Whit obviously did not understand women. Of course, he might have an unfair advantage over Whit when it came to women —"Sure, I don’t mind." How big a deal could it be? Just a nice evening with one of his best friends.
He and Whit were sitting on a thick tree branch that grew low over the river that outlined Smallville's boundary. It was quiet; no one else was out swimming that afternoon and Clark could clearly hear water foaming around rocks and plants in the river. He liked the sound, it was soothing. He felt so relaxed, so…happy. It was nice to sit here quietly with his friend just enjoying the day, doing nothing special. He was so grateful to have this that he'd do anything Whit wanted and this was such a little thing he wanted.
Whit squeezed his shoulder. "Thanks, Kent. She'd really have her nose out of joint if she couldn’t wear her new dress, boy." He shuddered dramatically, hip and ribs rubbing up against Clark and they laughed.
"Gosh, Whit, she's as big as a minute. I don’t think a big football hero like you needs to be afraid."
"Hunh. Wait until you see her mad. Size don't count for nothin' then." He shook his head, and stood, carefully toed along the branch back to the river bank. He crouched over his pants and shirt, rummaging in his pockets, and the sun shining on him made his water soaked union suit translucent. Little white snaps marched down the center of his chest and lower, and Clark counted and recounted them.
"Um…have you told her yet I'm pinch-hitting?" His throat felt a little dry, he felt nervous and he guessed it was just the thought of explaining to Lana why it was *him* at the door and not her boyfriend.
"You're safe Kent. She likes you." Clark smiled and looked down…when he looked up again, Whit was smiling at him. He held out the cigarette he'd been searching his pockets for. "Drag?"
Clark blushed, and nodded, and Whit just chuckled. "You'll do fine, buddy."
Songs in this section
Amazing Grace by John Newton
part 9
TBC
Tags:
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
2/26/08 05:28 am (UTC)Seriously, though, I'm totally groovin' on Hannah, man. She's awesome. An your Cluelss-Clark is just so gosh-darned keeeeeewt! Keep 'em comin' (please? :)
(no subject)
2/26/08 05:43 am (UTC)I have a horrible love for a clueless sweet Clark...not in the least like the cranky young codger gallumping all over Smallville and insulting everyone but His OneTwuWub, now.
(no subject)
2/26/08 05:45 am (UTC)*waves hand and stands on chair* AYE!