SV fic post: East of the Sun part 22
4/9/08 12:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle: East of the Sun
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Lex/quite a few people, pretty darn soon, clex
Rating:G
Word Count:2089
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 who works so hard to help make this readable, and for the beautiful cover!
Beeb's warning came back to him in full force not long after.
It was a good night—one of the best, and it was due to Clark--Clark and Chloe together. The first night Clark sang with the band, Alex knew Walt had done a very good thing. Magic was happening and the crowd knew it. Instead of dancing, they swarmed around the stage, egging them on—"Get hot! Swing out! "—and the band took it in and gave right it back. That night swung, they jammed and jived until the last set, when they slowed it down and Clark crooned 'Where or When', like Walt rehearsed with him.
Alex remembered it like a dream. It was as if time had stopped--the dames had fluttered and swooned like sick doves and hell, he was pretty sure a guy or two in that crowd who'd been dreaming of the blonde, went home that night dreaming of a tall, dark, crooner. He'd tried not to be jealous that Clark sang the song to Chloe, not to harbor any wild dreams of Clark singing that song only to him. Yeah. He'd finished with those sorts of dreams before he grew up.
At any rate, that night the crowd went wild, crazy for the sound Chloe and Clark made. Chloe and Clark—even saying their names together sounded like a song.
This night was no different—eyes locked, hand in hand and pretty as a dream, they were making the song they sang into something new, something that belonged to the two of them alone. Alex sighed. It was almost like eavesdropping on something precious, intimate--Chloe glowed when she sang with Clark and Clark seemed to be head over heels. They were young and they were in love…and then Walt was staring at him pointedly and Alex paled. Jesus—almost missed his cue. He felt a deep flare of anger and disgust—at himself. He licked his lips, put the clarinet to his mouth and began to blow, his fingers pressing, releasing, caressing the clarinet, making it sing. His eyes were closed. Now, he was in a world that belonged to him…he created it, he ruled it. It was his. He dropped the gob stick and looked around, frowning. He'd sounded…passable. He was pretty sure it was okay. The crowd was applauding but…. He glanced at Walt, who nodded. Good. He looked towards the piano, and happened to catch Clark staring at him as if he'd never seen him before. Clark smiled a little, and it was ridiculous how it made him feel.
Pete smiled, tickled the ivories and eased it in, a nice sweet piece to send the club's patrons home smiling. They were building to a solid send-off, Pete working his own brand of magic as usual. Alex looked around the club, watching spooning couples, bright laughter edging into brittleness this time of night, sugar daddies shepherding their little gold diggers, young wolves herding their conquests closer to the door, dipping and sliding across the polished black floor.
A tier of snowy-white tables surrounded the black lake of the floor, drapes led the eye around the tier and up another level to the VIP seats and, in one of several small pools of light cast by black and white shaded wall sconces, Alex caught sight of the new manager. He was at a private corner table, along with some frails and a couple of goons doing duty as bodyguards. There were quite a few bottles in front of them, but Alex noticed only the skirts were sucking it up. The muscle lounged around, laughing, talking, but their eyes were flat and dark—they were like lizards in hundred dollar suits--cold-blooded lizards packing heat. The head man wasn't even looking his way, and still, Alex felt an ice-cold wave sweep over him. Wade Mahaney….
Mahaney stared at the stage, eyes like ice chips locked on the singers. He licked thin lips slowly, never once taking his eyes away, leaned over to one of the bodyguards and whispered something. The guy nodded. Alex caught Walt's attention, made a slight movement of his chin, and Walt glanced in the direction Alex was looking. He knew Walt saw it the same time Alex did—one of the bodyguards was coming towards them, like a mobile brick wall. Shit..
The dancers were thinning out, returning to their tables, collecting wraps and bags, ready to drift out into the night. Mahaney's man was in front of them, and signaled to Walt to come to the edge of the low stage.
"Mr. Mahaney would like to extend an invitation to your singer to join his table." He rolled his massive shoulders, and his lips thinned. "Ten minutes. Tell her he don’t like waiting." He turned away without waiting for an answer. In the Gentlemen's world, there was only one possible answer.
Walt looked like he'd been stabbed. He swallowed and said, "This is not a good thing."
Alex knew that feeling. "Hey, Maybe it's nothing." Walt looked at him like he was ten kinds of stupid. "Maybe--maybe he just wants to talk to her, and it'll be fine. Yeah, fuck, and I'm Peter Pan."
"Peter who?" Pete came up behind them, looked over their shoulders. "What's the story, cats? We digging something hot—oh shit." He saw Mahaney and his crew sprawled in the VIP section and stiffened. "Shit—I knew this was coming. You're going to unload me, aren't you? No, it's okay, I heard stories about him. You do what you have to—"
"Pete," Walt said.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck, I'm a dead man. If I'm lucky, he'll just break my hands—"
"Pete," Alex said.
Pete whipped around to face the back of the stage and the exit. "Yeah, fuck that ofay too, I got friends. My brothers know folks who—"
"PETE!"
"*WHAT*, God damn it?"
"He's not interested in you—it's Chloe he wants."
Pete gaped at Walt and Alex for a second, a dozen different emotions flashing over his face. He wiped at his lips, "Okay, good, thank Go—what? Oh shit. That's not good."
"Oh! Oh fer…" Walt walked away.
Alex glanced over at Mahaney. Thick slick hair parted on the side, pushed back from his forehead, big diamond stickpin, silk tie and a pinstriped charcoal suit made to fit him like a glove. His face looked smooth as marble and as pale. His mouth was thin and hard…his eyes were harder. What he'd do to Chloe…the band. Not even Mr. Louis could win against Edge's lapdog. And if Clark found out about Mahaney's interest in Chloe…that could be trouble. He'd better see if he could take care of this himself.
@@@@@@@
"Mr. Mahaney."
Wade looked past him, frowning. "Where's the blonde trim? I told her to come to the table."
"Could I talk to you in private…about that?" He looked into Wade's eyes, and watched the little wheels start to turn. "I'd really like to talk to you, for a few minutes." Wade was making some kind of connection, figuring some angle. He jerked his chin once, and everyone left the table, save the tall broad man who'd come to the stage. He looked like he'd give Clark or Beebs a run for the money.
"Sit. Talk."
Alex sat, leaned his elbows on the table and said, "Me for Chloe." He leaned closer, and hidden by the floor-length tablecloth he dropped his hand down, slid a finger along the curve of Wade's kneecap. "Chloe is a little girl. Sure that could be…fun." He slid his finger over, stopping at the inside of Wade's knee. "But it won't last. Someone like her can’t last." Mahaney pursed his lips, looked down at the table. "I can make it good—better than that, I can keep up with you."
Wade glanced at him, a strange shy smile that made Alex's stomach flip. "She must be something special for you to offer to give yourself away. Maybe I want to get to know her even more now. Maybe I'm not interested in anything you have to offer. Maybe, a guy could get killed for trying to pull some queer shit.…" Mahaney glanced back towards the human wall behind them. The guy unbuttoned his jacket with a stony glare, and Alex swallowed. He knew he wasn’t wrong about Mahaney. He knew it. Beebs said it was so.
Mahaney sneered. "Okay. Let's go."
Alex felt his blood drain to his feet. His chest ached for breath briefly, and then air ran back into him like a blessing. He went for his coat, and passed Chloe and Clark. They were smiling, and holding hands, deep in a conversation that shut out the world. Walt was looking at him from across the club--he looked a little sick and worried, and Alex turned away. It really wasn't that big a deal, not for him, not like it would be for a kid still young enough to believe the world was fair.
He was almost at the door when he felt an odd warmth behind him, a big solid presence that he knew could only be Clark. It didn’t matter where the guy was—if Clark was looking his way, he felt it, if Clark was standing next to him, it was like a warm ghost hand stroking all over him. Alex swallowed and shifted—that big hand landed on his shoulder, real this time--even as lightly as it touched. He felt pinned in place.
"Alex…are you all right?"
He turned to him with a smile. "Sure—why do you ask?"
Clark looked a little confused, and then smiled. "I don't know—you just seemed—"
"Clark, honey, there you are—Alex!" Chloe threw her arms around Alex and kissed him soundly, and Clark looked on with a wistful smile on his face. "Say, you boys are taking me to the train tonight, right? A lady shouldn’t travel alone."
Walt squeezed by, agreeing, "Sure, we want to get you out of town as fast as we can." He tried to make it a joke, but his voice cracked, and Chloe looked at him oddly. "Maybe you two can—you'll like old man Sullivan, C. C, you tell him hi from—hey! Why'd ya stop breathing—you okay?"
"I'm not going!" Clark looked scandalized that Walt could even think such a thing, and Alex hid a smile.
Walt flushed even redder than Clark, and dug thumbs under his suspenders. He stammered a little. "O-Oh! Well…I kind of thought—you being sort of—y'know—all the flossin'...."
"Jealous, little man," she smirked, looking up into Walt's face. Alex snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. "Oh, not so little," he whispered in her ear, and she giggled.
Clark turned bright-red, and Walt skewered Alex with an evil glare. "What kinda fairy story is that pansy telling you—see what you are—you're like the low-rent Prince of Lies—"
Alex whispered even lower, "Sure...I'm a prince…and he wants my scepter."
Clark looked like he was about to faint, his gold complexion gone pale. "But…pansy…he's kidding, right?" he stuttered, and trailed off, shocked eyes on Alex. Alex dropped his arms from Chloe. He felt a deep, sharp, pain pulse under his heart. He smiled at Clark, and Clark glanced away. He thought that he'd lost all capacity for that sort of pain, but lucky him...Clark brought it back in spades.
The boy coughed and moved back from the little group, red coloring his cheeks again. "I—I have to get…water. Pop. Tea…."
Chloe looked surprised. "Hold up, sweetie, I'll go with you." She took Clark's hand, and he pulled her away through the crowd. She tossed a confused look over her shoulder, shrugging before turning to catch up with Clark.
Walt sighed. "Thank God, she's heading out of town tonight. We'll—we'll come up with something after the holidays—you—I know you--get whatever stupid thing you got planned outta your head."
"Walt, Walt. You know better than anyone, I'm not stupid. Hey—you and Clark better get Chloe to the train. Me, I've got a date."
"Alexander Roth—you—I'm telling you—. He stopped, took a deep breath and said slowly, carefully, "Alex. That boy's not worth you throwing yourself away--"
Alex stopped him with a hug, slapped him lightly on the cheek. "Ciao—see you in the morning. And don’t worry. I know what I'm doing."
TBC
part 23
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Lex/quite a few people, pretty darn soon, clex
Rating:G
Word Count:2089
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 who works so hard to help make this readable, and for the beautiful cover!Beeb's warning came back to him in full force not long after.
It was a good night—one of the best, and it was due to Clark--Clark and Chloe together. The first night Clark sang with the band, Alex knew Walt had done a very good thing. Magic was happening and the crowd knew it. Instead of dancing, they swarmed around the stage, egging them on—"Get hot! Swing out! "—and the band took it in and gave right it back. That night swung, they jammed and jived until the last set, when they slowed it down and Clark crooned 'Where or When', like Walt rehearsed with him.
Alex remembered it like a dream. It was as if time had stopped--the dames had fluttered and swooned like sick doves and hell, he was pretty sure a guy or two in that crowd who'd been dreaming of the blonde, went home that night dreaming of a tall, dark, crooner. He'd tried not to be jealous that Clark sang the song to Chloe, not to harbor any wild dreams of Clark singing that song only to him. Yeah. He'd finished with those sorts of dreams before he grew up.
At any rate, that night the crowd went wild, crazy for the sound Chloe and Clark made. Chloe and Clark—even saying their names together sounded like a song.
This night was no different—eyes locked, hand in hand and pretty as a dream, they were making the song they sang into something new, something that belonged to the two of them alone. Alex sighed. It was almost like eavesdropping on something precious, intimate--Chloe glowed when she sang with Clark and Clark seemed to be head over heels. They were young and they were in love…and then Walt was staring at him pointedly and Alex paled. Jesus—almost missed his cue. He felt a deep flare of anger and disgust—at himself. He licked his lips, put the clarinet to his mouth and began to blow, his fingers pressing, releasing, caressing the clarinet, making it sing. His eyes were closed. Now, he was in a world that belonged to him…he created it, he ruled it. It was his. He dropped the gob stick and looked around, frowning. He'd sounded…passable. He was pretty sure it was okay. The crowd was applauding but…. He glanced at Walt, who nodded. Good. He looked towards the piano, and happened to catch Clark staring at him as if he'd never seen him before. Clark smiled a little, and it was ridiculous how it made him feel.
Pete smiled, tickled the ivories and eased it in, a nice sweet piece to send the club's patrons home smiling. They were building to a solid send-off, Pete working his own brand of magic as usual. Alex looked around the club, watching spooning couples, bright laughter edging into brittleness this time of night, sugar daddies shepherding their little gold diggers, young wolves herding their conquests closer to the door, dipping and sliding across the polished black floor.
A tier of snowy-white tables surrounded the black lake of the floor, drapes led the eye around the tier and up another level to the VIP seats and, in one of several small pools of light cast by black and white shaded wall sconces, Alex caught sight of the new manager. He was at a private corner table, along with some frails and a couple of goons doing duty as bodyguards. There were quite a few bottles in front of them, but Alex noticed only the skirts were sucking it up. The muscle lounged around, laughing, talking, but their eyes were flat and dark—they were like lizards in hundred dollar suits--cold-blooded lizards packing heat. The head man wasn't even looking his way, and still, Alex felt an ice-cold wave sweep over him. Wade Mahaney….
Mahaney stared at the stage, eyes like ice chips locked on the singers. He licked thin lips slowly, never once taking his eyes away, leaned over to one of the bodyguards and whispered something. The guy nodded. Alex caught Walt's attention, made a slight movement of his chin, and Walt glanced in the direction Alex was looking. He knew Walt saw it the same time Alex did—one of the bodyguards was coming towards them, like a mobile brick wall. Shit..
The dancers were thinning out, returning to their tables, collecting wraps and bags, ready to drift out into the night. Mahaney's man was in front of them, and signaled to Walt to come to the edge of the low stage.
"Mr. Mahaney would like to extend an invitation to your singer to join his table." He rolled his massive shoulders, and his lips thinned. "Ten minutes. Tell her he don’t like waiting." He turned away without waiting for an answer. In the Gentlemen's world, there was only one possible answer.
Walt looked like he'd been stabbed. He swallowed and said, "This is not a good thing."
Alex knew that feeling. "Hey, Maybe it's nothing." Walt looked at him like he was ten kinds of stupid. "Maybe--maybe he just wants to talk to her, and it'll be fine. Yeah, fuck, and I'm Peter Pan."
"Peter who?" Pete came up behind them, looked over their shoulders. "What's the story, cats? We digging something hot—oh shit." He saw Mahaney and his crew sprawled in the VIP section and stiffened. "Shit—I knew this was coming. You're going to unload me, aren't you? No, it's okay, I heard stories about him. You do what you have to—"
"Pete," Walt said.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck, I'm a dead man. If I'm lucky, he'll just break my hands—"
"Pete," Alex said.
Pete whipped around to face the back of the stage and the exit. "Yeah, fuck that ofay too, I got friends. My brothers know folks who—"
"PETE!"
"*WHAT*, God damn it?"
"He's not interested in you—it's Chloe he wants."
Pete gaped at Walt and Alex for a second, a dozen different emotions flashing over his face. He wiped at his lips, "Okay, good, thank Go—what? Oh shit. That's not good."
"Oh! Oh fer…" Walt walked away.
Alex glanced over at Mahaney. Thick slick hair parted on the side, pushed back from his forehead, big diamond stickpin, silk tie and a pinstriped charcoal suit made to fit him like a glove. His face looked smooth as marble and as pale. His mouth was thin and hard…his eyes were harder. What he'd do to Chloe…the band. Not even Mr. Louis could win against Edge's lapdog. And if Clark found out about Mahaney's interest in Chloe…that could be trouble. He'd better see if he could take care of this himself.
@@@@@@@
"Mr. Mahaney."
Wade looked past him, frowning. "Where's the blonde trim? I told her to come to the table."
"Could I talk to you in private…about that?" He looked into Wade's eyes, and watched the little wheels start to turn. "I'd really like to talk to you, for a few minutes." Wade was making some kind of connection, figuring some angle. He jerked his chin once, and everyone left the table, save the tall broad man who'd come to the stage. He looked like he'd give Clark or Beebs a run for the money.
"Sit. Talk."
Alex sat, leaned his elbows on the table and said, "Me for Chloe." He leaned closer, and hidden by the floor-length tablecloth he dropped his hand down, slid a finger along the curve of Wade's kneecap. "Chloe is a little girl. Sure that could be…fun." He slid his finger over, stopping at the inside of Wade's knee. "But it won't last. Someone like her can’t last." Mahaney pursed his lips, looked down at the table. "I can make it good—better than that, I can keep up with you."
Wade glanced at him, a strange shy smile that made Alex's stomach flip. "She must be something special for you to offer to give yourself away. Maybe I want to get to know her even more now. Maybe I'm not interested in anything you have to offer. Maybe, a guy could get killed for trying to pull some queer shit.…" Mahaney glanced back towards the human wall behind them. The guy unbuttoned his jacket with a stony glare, and Alex swallowed. He knew he wasn’t wrong about Mahaney. He knew it. Beebs said it was so.
Mahaney sneered. "Okay. Let's go."
Alex felt his blood drain to his feet. His chest ached for breath briefly, and then air ran back into him like a blessing. He went for his coat, and passed Chloe and Clark. They were smiling, and holding hands, deep in a conversation that shut out the world. Walt was looking at him from across the club--he looked a little sick and worried, and Alex turned away. It really wasn't that big a deal, not for him, not like it would be for a kid still young enough to believe the world was fair.
He was almost at the door when he felt an odd warmth behind him, a big solid presence that he knew could only be Clark. It didn’t matter where the guy was—if Clark was looking his way, he felt it, if Clark was standing next to him, it was like a warm ghost hand stroking all over him. Alex swallowed and shifted—that big hand landed on his shoulder, real this time--even as lightly as it touched. He felt pinned in place.
"Alex…are you all right?"
He turned to him with a smile. "Sure—why do you ask?"
Clark looked a little confused, and then smiled. "I don't know—you just seemed—"
"Clark, honey, there you are—Alex!" Chloe threw her arms around Alex and kissed him soundly, and Clark looked on with a wistful smile on his face. "Say, you boys are taking me to the train tonight, right? A lady shouldn’t travel alone."
Walt squeezed by, agreeing, "Sure, we want to get you out of town as fast as we can." He tried to make it a joke, but his voice cracked, and Chloe looked at him oddly. "Maybe you two can—you'll like old man Sullivan, C. C, you tell him hi from—hey! Why'd ya stop breathing—you okay?"
"I'm not going!" Clark looked scandalized that Walt could even think such a thing, and Alex hid a smile.
Walt flushed even redder than Clark, and dug thumbs under his suspenders. He stammered a little. "O-Oh! Well…I kind of thought—you being sort of—y'know—all the flossin'...."
"Jealous, little man," she smirked, looking up into Walt's face. Alex snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. "Oh, not so little," he whispered in her ear, and she giggled.
Clark turned bright-red, and Walt skewered Alex with an evil glare. "What kinda fairy story is that pansy telling you—see what you are—you're like the low-rent Prince of Lies—"
Alex whispered even lower, "Sure...I'm a prince…and he wants my scepter."
Clark looked like he was about to faint, his gold complexion gone pale. "But…pansy…he's kidding, right?" he stuttered, and trailed off, shocked eyes on Alex. Alex dropped his arms from Chloe. He felt a deep, sharp, pain pulse under his heart. He smiled at Clark, and Clark glanced away. He thought that he'd lost all capacity for that sort of pain, but lucky him...Clark brought it back in spades.
The boy coughed and moved back from the little group, red coloring his cheeks again. "I—I have to get…water. Pop. Tea…."
Chloe looked surprised. "Hold up, sweetie, I'll go with you." She took Clark's hand, and he pulled her away through the crowd. She tossed a confused look over her shoulder, shrugging before turning to catch up with Clark.
Walt sighed. "Thank God, she's heading out of town tonight. We'll—we'll come up with something after the holidays—you—I know you--get whatever stupid thing you got planned outta your head."
"Walt, Walt. You know better than anyone, I'm not stupid. Hey—you and Clark better get Chloe to the train. Me, I've got a date."
"Alexander Roth—you—I'm telling you—. He stopped, took a deep breath and said slowly, carefully, "Alex. That boy's not worth you throwing yourself away--"
Alex stopped him with a hug, slapped him lightly on the cheek. "Ciao—see you in the morning. And don’t worry. I know what I'm doing."
TBC
part 23
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![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
4/9/08 05:12 am (UTC)ahem. :) Seriously, though, towards the end here, I could literally feel the tension building. And then Clark finds out that Alex is queer, and man! that has to be rough for the kid, but Alex doesn't understand 'cause he doesn't know our boy's history back in Shitville, and--
But great update -- as always -- and I can't wait to see the next one!! Bring on the pain and suffering. :D
(no subject)
4/9/08 06:25 pm (UTC)Misunderstanding--always so entertaining, no? I'm happy you enjoyed this update, though! more soon!
(no subject)
4/9/08 05:21 am (UTC)And, and Clark! *smacks him* *smacks him again*
*stomps away*
(no subject)
4/9/08 06:26 pm (UTC)(no subject)
4/9/08 06:21 am (UTC)*sniffle*
Good stuff, Ms. Thang.
:)
(no subject)
4/9/08 06:27 pm (UTC)any wild dreams of Clark singing that song only to him
4/9/08 10:30 am (UTC)where the hell is clark with his superhearing!!!!!!!!!!!!!
if there is no rescue of Alex, i will kill them all!!!!!!
Re: any wild dreams of Clark singing that song only to him
4/9/08 06:53 pm (UTC)i dont care!
4/9/08 07:39 pm (UTC)Re: i dont care!
4/9/08 07:53 pm (UTC)Okay, there will be Alex resuce, promise--but first he's got to get into some trouble...just a little! :)
(no subject)
4/9/08 10:39 am (UTC)(no subject)
4/9/08 06:54 pm (UTC)My icon loves your icon. :)
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4/9/08 11:14 am (UTC)(no subject)
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4/9/08 07:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
4/9/08 04:21 pm (UTC)So glad to see more of the story! I read this one and then realized that I'd missed something and had to go back to read the previous, and then read this one again. That was good. That was very good! XD So loving this story and so glad to see that you're working forward on it!
(no subject)
4/9/08 07:02 pm (UTC)Oh well--I got this far! Huzzah!
(no subject)
4/9/08 08:32 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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4/10/08 11:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
4/11/08 01:41 am (UTC)I also think he really does love the things money can buy--finds it hard to believe that a person wouldn't grab luxury if possible.