sv fic post: East of the Sun part 15
3/12/08 01:58 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:1378
Summary: Lex learns about trust and love from an unlikely source.
Notes/Warnings: my version of the swing era. Sure, it's weird—it's me!
Many, many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
danceswithgary for beta duty, and the beautiful cover!
The city was a constant source of amazement to Clark. It was nothing like Smallville, nothing like Granville…it was…amazing. He walked along the streets grinning and gawking, his head swiveling this way and that, and refused to worry about feeling like a hick. Heck, as grimy and wrinkled as he was, folks were going to stare at him anyway. He strolled along, hands in his pockets and with his chin in the air, looking up at the tall buildings, amazed by the racket in the streets—squealing tires, the blat-blat of car horns, the growl of truck engines--there were more cars right now on the streets than he'd see in a week in Smallville. Voices echoed back and forth in the canyon of buildings, and Clark was finding out that people in the city yelled a *lot*—at each other, and from behind bright-colored pushcarts selling food, or newspapers, or gloves. In fact, it seemed any sort of thing you might want could be had rolling along the street.
In the middle of all that bright, loud, strange-smelling oddness, the sight of the mounted policemen atop their horses was almost a comfort. As they clopped along the streets, picking their way carefully where the road sprouted cobblestones, Clark caught their horsy smell, and their long faces and deep brown eyes said home to Clark. Their warm breath snorted out grey plumes of smoke into the cool air, and he laughed. When Reggie turned to him with an inquisitive smile, he blushed. "I'm such a farmer," he mourned, "I'm getting all sappy over the horses." Clark blushed harder under Reggie's gaze. His mother's eyes seemed to shine out of the man's face, such fond amusement, such…caring. He smiled back and said, "Hey now, what are we going to do about breakfast?"
Reggie grinned. "You shall see, young prince, you shall see."
On instructions from Reggie, Clark burst into song in front of a well-stacked cart selling fruit and cakes—and while everyone was distracted, Reggie flipped a few apples and some pears into his pockets, along with a small loaf of bread.
He signaled to Clark to walk fast, and they met up again at the next street corner.
Clark juggled the fruit in his hand and sighed. "Reggie…I don't mind doing this—just not a lot… "
Reggie looked at him sadly. "I know, Clark, that's why you can't live like this. But I have decided—you are getting a proper job."
Clark laughed sadly and held out his arms. His jacket was missing buttons, his shirt had a rip through it, his pants were held on by a rope belt he'd cobbled together, and there was dirt in every crease of his skin…"Reggie—no one will hire me. I look like I just crawled out of a trash can."
"Not for long, my darling boy." They wandered into a subway station, and in the public toilet there, Reggie cleaned Clark up as best he could. Clark bent over a sink, shirt folded up on his bag, and his hair wet from washing. He ran a wet rag over his arms, under his arms, and tried to work up a lather with the cheap block of laundry soap they'd bought. "You look…." Reggie reddened a little, and Clark glanced at him curiously. For the first time since he'd come to know him, Reggie seemed at a loss for words.
"Oh, gosh," Clark groaned. He combed his wet hair back from his face and scowled at himself in the streaky mirror. "Do I look that bad?"
Reggie laughed incredulously. "Clark—one thing you never can look is bad. Now, follow me, my stalwart friend, we seek gainful employment for you."
"For us both, right?" Clark asked, and Reggie smiled. "But of course, old thing, of course!"
They walked a neighborhood that was filled with restaurants, hotels, and bars that Reggie called night clubs. Night clubs—just like in the movies. Clark imagined the beautiful people that had to populate them, he wanted to be near them, see them, maybe even *be* them. It seemed like they walked for hours, inquiring about work, being sent from one place to another with no luck. Clark wanted to stop—mostly he was worried Reggie looked so grey and exhausted. He'd decided that this last place would be their last stop for the day. It wasn't like they had any particular place to be—ever.
They were in the back alley between streets. Steam from an exhaust vent filled the air with warm smells of cooking…Clark wrinkled his nose…and not so good smells of rotten food. They could hear loud conversation, and the banging of pots. A screen door flew open with a sharp crack and a young man dragging a huge can filled with food scraps staggered out to the curb. Reggie walked up to the flapping door quickly, signaling Clark to follow. A brusque man yelled at them, "No food—we have no food--," and then seemed to deflate a little. He peered out through the screen-door barrier. "--no food now, you come back, later."
Reggie shook his head and said, "Not a handout, my friend. We're looking for work."
"Work…" the man looked doubtfully at Reggie, seeing a shabby, gaunt, grey-faced man but when he caught sight of Clark, his eyes widened."Hunh. You one big sombitch," he marveled. "Sure, for big strong guy, we have work. You come in the morning, and be ready for work, wash dishes, sweep floor—peel potatoes. Clean out stove. Hard work." He glared at Clark, challenging him.
Clark grinned wide. "I can do that," he said. "I know how to do all that." The man blinked a little before smiling back.
"Okay. Good."
Clark thrust out his hand. "Clark Kent."
The man smiled, shook his hand. "Good, Clark Kent. Tomorrow, you ask for Willy--the Hotel Luxor."
Mission accomplished, they next needed to find a place to stay, or so Reggie argued. Clark was content to keep living like they had been but Reggie pointed out, so far, they'd had nothing but good luck and though Clark with his marvelous ability could weather a fierce winter with no problem, he wasn't quite so sure about going through another winter….
"It's getting colder and colder and believe me, sleeping in the great outdoors leaves much to be desired when the wind is blowing sideways and filled with snow. Besides, you can't sleep on the street—I mean, we can't. If we're joining the great herd again, we have to look like the average John Doe, right? A place to sleep, to bathe, maybe a book or two…think of it, Clark—a soft bed and no rain on your face."
Clark smiled fondly. "Okay, Reggie. That sounds nice."
They found a neighborhood not too terribly far from the restaurant. "It's very close to the restaurant, you'll be able to get to work easily, and not even need a trolley. I dare say you can be at work in the blink of an eye, hmm?" Reggie teased. Clark blushed, grinned a little uncomfortably. He still didn't want to talk about it to Reggie. He wasn't sure how to talk about it. Reggie waited patiently and when he saw that Clark had no intention of speaking, he smiled and shrugged. "Well," Reggie said. "We'll discuss it at another time, dear boy."
Further foot work and liberal applications of charm, plus five dollars that Reggie had squirreled away on his person bought them a room. Tiny, plain but clean, the room was in a building that might once have been a fine home for someone, but was now sectioned off into multiple rooms for let. They'd been lucky; there was a window in the room, so there was a chance for natural light, and a little ventilation. They were even luckier that it opened out onto a courtyard and not the wall of another apartment. Further up the street were hotels, and more boarding houses. A lot of musicians and people that looked odd and…colorful…lived there. "Actors," Reggie explained with a sniff. "Try to avoid them, Clark—they're not the right kind of company for a boy like you." Clark had to stifle an incredulous laugh.
part 16
TBC
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Lex/people, eventually clex
Rating:PG
Word Count:1378
Summary: Lex learns about trust and love from an unlikely source.
Notes/Warnings: my version of the swing era. Sure, it's weird—it's me!
Many, many thanks to
danceswithgary for beta duty, and the beautiful cover!The city was a constant source of amazement to Clark. It was nothing like Smallville, nothing like Granville…it was…amazing. He walked along the streets grinning and gawking, his head swiveling this way and that, and refused to worry about feeling like a hick. Heck, as grimy and wrinkled as he was, folks were going to stare at him anyway. He strolled along, hands in his pockets and with his chin in the air, looking up at the tall buildings, amazed by the racket in the streets—squealing tires, the blat-blat of car horns, the growl of truck engines--there were more cars right now on the streets than he'd see in a week in Smallville. Voices echoed back and forth in the canyon of buildings, and Clark was finding out that people in the city yelled a *lot*—at each other, and from behind bright-colored pushcarts selling food, or newspapers, or gloves. In fact, it seemed any sort of thing you might want could be had rolling along the street.
In the middle of all that bright, loud, strange-smelling oddness, the sight of the mounted policemen atop their horses was almost a comfort. As they clopped along the streets, picking their way carefully where the road sprouted cobblestones, Clark caught their horsy smell, and their long faces and deep brown eyes said home to Clark. Their warm breath snorted out grey plumes of smoke into the cool air, and he laughed. When Reggie turned to him with an inquisitive smile, he blushed. "I'm such a farmer," he mourned, "I'm getting all sappy over the horses." Clark blushed harder under Reggie's gaze. His mother's eyes seemed to shine out of the man's face, such fond amusement, such…caring. He smiled back and said, "Hey now, what are we going to do about breakfast?"
Reggie grinned. "You shall see, young prince, you shall see."
On instructions from Reggie, Clark burst into song in front of a well-stacked cart selling fruit and cakes—and while everyone was distracted, Reggie flipped a few apples and some pears into his pockets, along with a small loaf of bread.
He signaled to Clark to walk fast, and they met up again at the next street corner.
Clark juggled the fruit in his hand and sighed. "Reggie…I don't mind doing this—just not a lot… "
Reggie looked at him sadly. "I know, Clark, that's why you can't live like this. But I have decided—you are getting a proper job."
Clark laughed sadly and held out his arms. His jacket was missing buttons, his shirt had a rip through it, his pants were held on by a rope belt he'd cobbled together, and there was dirt in every crease of his skin…"Reggie—no one will hire me. I look like I just crawled out of a trash can."
"Not for long, my darling boy." They wandered into a subway station, and in the public toilet there, Reggie cleaned Clark up as best he could. Clark bent over a sink, shirt folded up on his bag, and his hair wet from washing. He ran a wet rag over his arms, under his arms, and tried to work up a lather with the cheap block of laundry soap they'd bought. "You look…." Reggie reddened a little, and Clark glanced at him curiously. For the first time since he'd come to know him, Reggie seemed at a loss for words.
"Oh, gosh," Clark groaned. He combed his wet hair back from his face and scowled at himself in the streaky mirror. "Do I look that bad?"
Reggie laughed incredulously. "Clark—one thing you never can look is bad. Now, follow me, my stalwart friend, we seek gainful employment for you."
"For us both, right?" Clark asked, and Reggie smiled. "But of course, old thing, of course!"
They walked a neighborhood that was filled with restaurants, hotels, and bars that Reggie called night clubs. Night clubs—just like in the movies. Clark imagined the beautiful people that had to populate them, he wanted to be near them, see them, maybe even *be* them. It seemed like they walked for hours, inquiring about work, being sent from one place to another with no luck. Clark wanted to stop—mostly he was worried Reggie looked so grey and exhausted. He'd decided that this last place would be their last stop for the day. It wasn't like they had any particular place to be—ever.
They were in the back alley between streets. Steam from an exhaust vent filled the air with warm smells of cooking…Clark wrinkled his nose…and not so good smells of rotten food. They could hear loud conversation, and the banging of pots. A screen door flew open with a sharp crack and a young man dragging a huge can filled with food scraps staggered out to the curb. Reggie walked up to the flapping door quickly, signaling Clark to follow. A brusque man yelled at them, "No food—we have no food--," and then seemed to deflate a little. He peered out through the screen-door barrier. "--no food now, you come back, later."
Reggie shook his head and said, "Not a handout, my friend. We're looking for work."
"Work…" the man looked doubtfully at Reggie, seeing a shabby, gaunt, grey-faced man but when he caught sight of Clark, his eyes widened."Hunh. You one big sombitch," he marveled. "Sure, for big strong guy, we have work. You come in the morning, and be ready for work, wash dishes, sweep floor—peel potatoes. Clean out stove. Hard work." He glared at Clark, challenging him.
Clark grinned wide. "I can do that," he said. "I know how to do all that." The man blinked a little before smiling back.
"Okay. Good."
Clark thrust out his hand. "Clark Kent."
The man smiled, shook his hand. "Good, Clark Kent. Tomorrow, you ask for Willy--the Hotel Luxor."
Mission accomplished, they next needed to find a place to stay, or so Reggie argued. Clark was content to keep living like they had been but Reggie pointed out, so far, they'd had nothing but good luck and though Clark with his marvelous ability could weather a fierce winter with no problem, he wasn't quite so sure about going through another winter….
"It's getting colder and colder and believe me, sleeping in the great outdoors leaves much to be desired when the wind is blowing sideways and filled with snow. Besides, you can't sleep on the street—I mean, we can't. If we're joining the great herd again, we have to look like the average John Doe, right? A place to sleep, to bathe, maybe a book or two…think of it, Clark—a soft bed and no rain on your face."
Clark smiled fondly. "Okay, Reggie. That sounds nice."
They found a neighborhood not too terribly far from the restaurant. "It's very close to the restaurant, you'll be able to get to work easily, and not even need a trolley. I dare say you can be at work in the blink of an eye, hmm?" Reggie teased. Clark blushed, grinned a little uncomfortably. He still didn't want to talk about it to Reggie. He wasn't sure how to talk about it. Reggie waited patiently and when he saw that Clark had no intention of speaking, he smiled and shrugged. "Well," Reggie said. "We'll discuss it at another time, dear boy."
Further foot work and liberal applications of charm, plus five dollars that Reggie had squirreled away on his person bought them a room. Tiny, plain but clean, the room was in a building that might once have been a fine home for someone, but was now sectioned off into multiple rooms for let. They'd been lucky; there was a window in the room, so there was a chance for natural light, and a little ventilation. They were even luckier that it opened out onto a courtyard and not the wall of another apartment. Further up the street were hotels, and more boarding houses. A lot of musicians and people that looked odd and…colorful…lived there. "Actors," Reggie explained with a sniff. "Try to avoid them, Clark—they're not the right kind of company for a boy like you." Clark had to stifle an incredulous laugh.
part 16
TBC
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