SV fic post: East of the Sun part 19
3/25/08 01:17 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:1831
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!
Part Three
Alex walked out into the lobby of the hotel, whistling, feeling strangely on top of the world, considering he'd slept alone last night. He wondered if Pete had sent the new arrangements to Walt---maybe he should call him and see. He stuck his hand in his pants pocket, looking for a dime. He found matches from his favorite club, a wrinkled piece of paper with a number he couldn't read from a night he couldn’t remember. He almost pulled out a crinkled square of foil before he remembered what it was. Finally, he found a dime.
He headed across the lobby floor, his heels scuffing over the Persian rug that helped to keep the noise of traffic on the lobby's marble floor muffled. He skirted around the comfortable old leather couch that faced the light pouring in from the un-shuttered front windows. He'd be back later with coffee and a paper to stake out his favorite corner of the couch.
Behind the big columns marching down the center of the lobby were a few writing tables, each with a pad of paper and envelopes with the hotel name. A couple of rubber tree plants provided a little bit of privacy for the public phones against the wall. He was just about to feed a dime to the phone when he glanced over to the shoeshine stand, letting his eyes roam—you never knew what talent might be hanging around. And luck was on his side…the young man leaning against the stand chatting to the old guy there was more than good-looking—he was incredible. He was a work of art come to life. Alex heard him laugh and it lodged in his chest and made his heart skip a beat. God, he was…the kid laughed again, throwing his head back as he did, glanced around with an embarrassed little smile on his face, and Alex felt an—an electric shock strike him—flow from the top of his head down to his toes—felt his eyes widen. From all the way across the lobby, he could see the kid's glowing green eyes looking into his—the whole world was reduced to a pair of warm green eyes….
The kid smiled just a little less. His eyelashes swept down, fluttered against his cheek, and rose a little. A blush of red spread over his cheekbones, and when their eyes met again, the smile was soft and shy, and Alex was so hard….
He jerked his attention away, realized the operator had been asking "Hello, your party, please?"
It took him a moment to remember a number he knew as well as his own name.
@@@@@@
It started snowing fitfully that afternoon—it had been threatening something since the morning sun had hidden behind the clouds. It seemed the heavens couldn't quite decide between spitting rain or spitting flakes. It was nearly night now and, at the moment, snow had given way to rain again. He figured this year they were in for a wet, grey Christmas—not that he gave a damn. He hated snow anyway. Hell, he hated Christmas. He wished that fat conman would try to get into his place. He had a bat under the bed with his name on it. Lex snorted. Yeah, sure. He kind of missed the fuss Jules would go through, dragging him from store to store, looking for something for Mom, for Dad…Jules. He had a big heart, that kid….
The sleet-slicked pavement mirrored the neon signs, streetlights, the roving lights of taxis and automobiles, changing streets that were dreary by daylight into picture postcard perception—a Hollywood stage set. People rushed back and forth, the night side was alive and about their business, whatever it might be. Alex stopped under the dripping canopy of the Luxor to light a cigarette. A few steps over, the maroon-and-gold canopy of the Al-Kazr provided a bit of shelter to early party-goers. He inhaled deeply and held it just a beat or two past comfort, blew hot smoke to collect under the canopy. He watched it thin and break up, thinking about nothing much.
Walt would be showing up any minute now—and there was Pete.
Pete hurried towards him out of the freezing night. His hat brim was glittering with ice and, even before he was under the canopy, he was complaining bitterly of the cold and wet. He stood next to Lex, hands shoved deep into his overcoat pockets and eyes tracking the movement of people on the street. Alex watched him. Pete never was still, really. He was always on the edge of alert, eyes always moving, watching…always a little tense. Always waiting for that moment he'd have to fight for his life….
Alex inhaled and exhaled again, realized the only time Pete was totally relaxed was at home, or in Alex's room. Or the time he'd been in his bed. Pete had been beautiful then…Lex sighed. He had his rule, and he didn't change it for anyone. . Unmovable, unchangeable…save for one person. He dropped the butt, and it died with a hiss on the wet pavement. Alex ground it into the concrete anyway.
Pete nudged him. "Say, man, you're thinking so hard I can feel it. What gives? You all right?"
"Right as rain, my friend, right as rain." Cabs disgorged passengers, subways gave up their riders and the boys in the band collected on the sidewalk. There was fast talk, snappy comebacks, lies of conquests exchanged as they came strolling in, headed for the basement rehearsal room.
@@@@@@
Walt paced back and forth between them, suspenders up or hanging down as he snapped and pulled at them. Alex watched them rise and fall and laughed to himself—those suspenders were the barometer of his temper. He was nudging a guy here, poking another there. "Come on, cats—clean up this clambake—we gotta work together, boys, work together. Alex, get up here. What's this supposed to be?" He pointed at the music Pete had sent him the night before.
Alex shrugged and glanced at Pete at the piano. "Ready to swing, gate?" He snapped his fingers--Pete nodded, once twice, his fingers started to skip over the keys. Alex licked his lips, set the mouthpiece and began to blow. After a moment, the others joined in and jammed. Drums grabbed the beat and ran with it, sharp and quick, Bass matching it and good together, and Alex--Clarinet, slipping and sliding through the melody, taking the lead, and then dropping back as the brass stepped up. Piano grounded them—Drums took it, and Alex played with him, looping swooping notes blending with the drums, seducing the audience and, just at the point it seemed that it might get too much, too full and too much to bear—he made the clarinet laugh, giggle, skip and twirl. The top hats rang, Drums took center stage back and beat it up-- the brass jumped back in, shouted, laughed, said oh, we got something, too—stomped out the beat, pointed out that hey, cats and chicks, it's swing time. The clarinet stilled and Sax took it home and Piano had the last lingering word….
Walt wiped his head, waved the sheets, and said, "Okay...okay."
"Yeah," Pete said, "and this part here," he hummed the section, "With Chloe scatting, this thing will be killer." Chloe was the new singer Walt had hired---a pretty blonde with a big voice and a bigger personality who fit the band like a hand-in-glove. Alex liked her, so did Pete. She caught Alex looking and grinned at him, eyes sparkling. What Pete suggested put her front and center, obviously an idea she dug. She gave him a thumbs up and did a little bump-and-grind move. They started in again and, this time, Chloe jumped in, followed Alex, chased him through the music and swung out—Alex felt like they were flying. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he hit what he was trying for...hard.
Walt didn't look all that convinced—he wasn't partial to scatting, he liked a by-the-books kind of sound, controlled, and flexible only when it came to Alex's or Pete's solos. "Hmm. We'll see. Okay, from the top—Pete, lead out on your Metro Jump. Chloe, words, sing, smile, vamp, got it? Let's go guys--and this time, try to play like you're all in the same room--?"
Walt bullied, babied, and coaxed the band along, settling disagreements and smoothing ruffled feathers, as Alex sat on a table and watched. The sleet had given way to straight rain again, dripped and ran down the barred basement windows, the swish and hiss of it on the streets above, the blare of taxis, buses…the usual sounds of night...usually rather soothing but somehow tonight…it felt off. He felt jumpy, like something was going to happen...good or bad he didn't know yet.
They took a break, and Walt joined him at the table. "Coffee's coming—listen, that canary can wail and—wow, she's—umm, but I'm thinking I want—there should be--more sound. More punch. You know, like the guy—crooner--that Bink—Bing—with a big voice, that guy—smooth...."
"Walt. Jesus." Alex stopped him. "Breathe. I got you, we need a guy's voice, like a Bing Crosby, you mean."
Walt grinned. "Yeah. We need a different kind of sound. A gimmick that's gonna pull--hey! Glims on the boss!"
"What…" Alex rocked under the prod of Walt's finger. "Who—me?"
"Yeah, you, buckaroo, roll up that tongue, Romeo."
Alex cursed Walt under his breath but he was right about his eyes not being focused on him. Instead, he had focused on the kid coming towards him, balancing a tray of coffee—Alex felt a wave of heat and cold flash through him. That kid…the Eyes….
The Eyes were currently focused intensely on the cups and the carafe on the tray in his hands. The kid set it down with the hyper-careful moves of someone not familiar enough with the movement, the weight, to make the move graceful, not yet. "Your coffee, sirs." He straightened again, glanced at Alex, and at that moment, the guys in the band started jamming, and Chloe played along with them, scatting and dancing, they were all being silly and free, and the kid turned to the stage with a rapt look. "Wow," he breathed, full of admiration, and Alex felt a ridiculous stab of jealousy. "She's…really good."
Walt nodded, "She sure is. And when we get our crooner—it will really make the band—am I right Alex?"
Alex nodded, staring at the kid's perfect ass—real easy to do, the way he was centered on Chloe like she was killer-diller. The gleam in his eye was more than enough to tip Alex that the kid was straight. That was too bad—hell, it was a crime. "Yeah, Walt, make the band…"
part 20
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Lex/people, eventually clex
Rating:PG
Word Count:1831
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!Part Three
Alex walked out into the lobby of the hotel, whistling, feeling strangely on top of the world, considering he'd slept alone last night. He wondered if Pete had sent the new arrangements to Walt---maybe he should call him and see. He stuck his hand in his pants pocket, looking for a dime. He found matches from his favorite club, a wrinkled piece of paper with a number he couldn't read from a night he couldn’t remember. He almost pulled out a crinkled square of foil before he remembered what it was. Finally, he found a dime.
He headed across the lobby floor, his heels scuffing over the Persian rug that helped to keep the noise of traffic on the lobby's marble floor muffled. He skirted around the comfortable old leather couch that faced the light pouring in from the un-shuttered front windows. He'd be back later with coffee and a paper to stake out his favorite corner of the couch.
Behind the big columns marching down the center of the lobby were a few writing tables, each with a pad of paper and envelopes with the hotel name. A couple of rubber tree plants provided a little bit of privacy for the public phones against the wall. He was just about to feed a dime to the phone when he glanced over to the shoeshine stand, letting his eyes roam—you never knew what talent might be hanging around. And luck was on his side…the young man leaning against the stand chatting to the old guy there was more than good-looking—he was incredible. He was a work of art come to life. Alex heard him laugh and it lodged in his chest and made his heart skip a beat. God, he was…the kid laughed again, throwing his head back as he did, glanced around with an embarrassed little smile on his face, and Alex felt an—an electric shock strike him—flow from the top of his head down to his toes—felt his eyes widen. From all the way across the lobby, he could see the kid's glowing green eyes looking into his—the whole world was reduced to a pair of warm green eyes….
The kid smiled just a little less. His eyelashes swept down, fluttered against his cheek, and rose a little. A blush of red spread over his cheekbones, and when their eyes met again, the smile was soft and shy, and Alex was so hard….
He jerked his attention away, realized the operator had been asking "Hello, your party, please?"
It took him a moment to remember a number he knew as well as his own name.
@@@@@@
It started snowing fitfully that afternoon—it had been threatening something since the morning sun had hidden behind the clouds. It seemed the heavens couldn't quite decide between spitting rain or spitting flakes. It was nearly night now and, at the moment, snow had given way to rain again. He figured this year they were in for a wet, grey Christmas—not that he gave a damn. He hated snow anyway. Hell, he hated Christmas. He wished that fat conman would try to get into his place. He had a bat under the bed with his name on it. Lex snorted. Yeah, sure. He kind of missed the fuss Jules would go through, dragging him from store to store, looking for something for Mom, for Dad…Jules. He had a big heart, that kid….
The sleet-slicked pavement mirrored the neon signs, streetlights, the roving lights of taxis and automobiles, changing streets that were dreary by daylight into picture postcard perception—a Hollywood stage set. People rushed back and forth, the night side was alive and about their business, whatever it might be. Alex stopped under the dripping canopy of the Luxor to light a cigarette. A few steps over, the maroon-and-gold canopy of the Al-Kazr provided a bit of shelter to early party-goers. He inhaled deeply and held it just a beat or two past comfort, blew hot smoke to collect under the canopy. He watched it thin and break up, thinking about nothing much.
Walt would be showing up any minute now—and there was Pete.
Pete hurried towards him out of the freezing night. His hat brim was glittering with ice and, even before he was under the canopy, he was complaining bitterly of the cold and wet. He stood next to Lex, hands shoved deep into his overcoat pockets and eyes tracking the movement of people on the street. Alex watched him. Pete never was still, really. He was always on the edge of alert, eyes always moving, watching…always a little tense. Always waiting for that moment he'd have to fight for his life….
Alex inhaled and exhaled again, realized the only time Pete was totally relaxed was at home, or in Alex's room. Or the time he'd been in his bed. Pete had been beautiful then…Lex sighed. He had his rule, and he didn't change it for anyone. . Unmovable, unchangeable…save for one person. He dropped the butt, and it died with a hiss on the wet pavement. Alex ground it into the concrete anyway.
Pete nudged him. "Say, man, you're thinking so hard I can feel it. What gives? You all right?"
"Right as rain, my friend, right as rain." Cabs disgorged passengers, subways gave up their riders and the boys in the band collected on the sidewalk. There was fast talk, snappy comebacks, lies of conquests exchanged as they came strolling in, headed for the basement rehearsal room.
@@@@@@
Walt paced back and forth between them, suspenders up or hanging down as he snapped and pulled at them. Alex watched them rise and fall and laughed to himself—those suspenders were the barometer of his temper. He was nudging a guy here, poking another there. "Come on, cats—clean up this clambake—we gotta work together, boys, work together. Alex, get up here. What's this supposed to be?" He pointed at the music Pete had sent him the night before.
Alex shrugged and glanced at Pete at the piano. "Ready to swing, gate?" He snapped his fingers--Pete nodded, once twice, his fingers started to skip over the keys. Alex licked his lips, set the mouthpiece and began to blow. After a moment, the others joined in and jammed. Drums grabbed the beat and ran with it, sharp and quick, Bass matching it and good together, and Alex--Clarinet, slipping and sliding through the melody, taking the lead, and then dropping back as the brass stepped up. Piano grounded them—Drums took it, and Alex played with him, looping swooping notes blending with the drums, seducing the audience and, just at the point it seemed that it might get too much, too full and too much to bear—he made the clarinet laugh, giggle, skip and twirl. The top hats rang, Drums took center stage back and beat it up-- the brass jumped back in, shouted, laughed, said oh, we got something, too—stomped out the beat, pointed out that hey, cats and chicks, it's swing time. The clarinet stilled and Sax took it home and Piano had the last lingering word….
Walt wiped his head, waved the sheets, and said, "Okay...okay."
"Yeah," Pete said, "and this part here," he hummed the section, "With Chloe scatting, this thing will be killer." Chloe was the new singer Walt had hired---a pretty blonde with a big voice and a bigger personality who fit the band like a hand-in-glove. Alex liked her, so did Pete. She caught Alex looking and grinned at him, eyes sparkling. What Pete suggested put her front and center, obviously an idea she dug. She gave him a thumbs up and did a little bump-and-grind move. They started in again and, this time, Chloe jumped in, followed Alex, chased him through the music and swung out—Alex felt like they were flying. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he hit what he was trying for...hard.
Walt didn't look all that convinced—he wasn't partial to scatting, he liked a by-the-books kind of sound, controlled, and flexible only when it came to Alex's or Pete's solos. "Hmm. We'll see. Okay, from the top—Pete, lead out on your Metro Jump. Chloe, words, sing, smile, vamp, got it? Let's go guys--and this time, try to play like you're all in the same room--?"
Walt bullied, babied, and coaxed the band along, settling disagreements and smoothing ruffled feathers, as Alex sat on a table and watched. The sleet had given way to straight rain again, dripped and ran down the barred basement windows, the swish and hiss of it on the streets above, the blare of taxis, buses…the usual sounds of night...usually rather soothing but somehow tonight…it felt off. He felt jumpy, like something was going to happen...good or bad he didn't know yet.
They took a break, and Walt joined him at the table. "Coffee's coming—listen, that canary can wail and—wow, she's—umm, but I'm thinking I want—there should be--more sound. More punch. You know, like the guy—crooner--that Bink—Bing—with a big voice, that guy—smooth...."
"Walt. Jesus." Alex stopped him. "Breathe. I got you, we need a guy's voice, like a Bing Crosby, you mean."
Walt grinned. "Yeah. We need a different kind of sound. A gimmick that's gonna pull--hey! Glims on the boss!"
"What…" Alex rocked under the prod of Walt's finger. "Who—me?"
"Yeah, you, buckaroo, roll up that tongue, Romeo."
Alex cursed Walt under his breath but he was right about his eyes not being focused on him. Instead, he had focused on the kid coming towards him, balancing a tray of coffee—Alex felt a wave of heat and cold flash through him. That kid…the Eyes….
The Eyes were currently focused intensely on the cups and the carafe on the tray in his hands. The kid set it down with the hyper-careful moves of someone not familiar enough with the movement, the weight, to make the move graceful, not yet. "Your coffee, sirs." He straightened again, glanced at Alex, and at that moment, the guys in the band started jamming, and Chloe played along with them, scatting and dancing, they were all being silly and free, and the kid turned to the stage with a rapt look. "Wow," he breathed, full of admiration, and Alex felt a ridiculous stab of jealousy. "She's…really good."
Walt nodded, "She sure is. And when we get our crooner—it will really make the band—am I right Alex?"
Alex nodded, staring at the kid's perfect ass—real easy to do, the way he was centered on Chloe like she was killer-diller. The gleam in his eye was more than enough to tip Alex that the kid was straight. That was too bad—hell, it was a crime. "Yeah, Walt, make the band…"
part 20
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3/28/08 03:48 am (UTC)Oh Chloe! Don't you think her character would be amazing in screw-ball comedies or thirties musicals?