SV fic post: East of the Sun part 28
5/8/08 02:13 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, eventually clex of course
Rating:PG
Word Count:1026
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 expert hand holder, brilliant beta and super patient person.
This is a tiny little bit, just to remind you of the story, *g* the next two chapters are ready to go!
Part Four
Clark felt his whole world flip and wobble. He heard Alex's heart speed up like a horse at the gallop and the tiny noise of shock he managed to swallow. Alex's pupils swelled and then shrank, while heated blood flushed his face and then swiftly rushed away, leaving his skin pale. There was so much happening that Clark was distracted by it all and then…it hit him, excitement swept over him like a prairie fire. He was kissing Alex. Alex was letting it happen. Alex *wanted* to kiss him. Clark gasped with the shock of it. *Alex* wanted to kiss him. And now Alex was balling a hand in his jacket…and now he was…pushing away. No!
Alex looked frightened—no, horrified. He was shaking his head, and nothing was coming out of his mouth and Clark couldn't imagine why he looked so upset and than it hit him—Pete. They'd both forgotten Alex's lover. Clark could feel the horror in his expression, the instant guilt he felt was reflected on Alex's face, and then Alex was suddenly so calm, his face still and smooth as an ice carving. Clark started to babble. "I'm so sorry, I—I am so sorry."
Alex smiled and nodded. "It's fine, Clark, It's okay—it was a mistake. It's nothing to panic over."
Clark nodded too, and was surprised how much it hurt when Alex stepped away and waved good-bye so…damn cheerfully, smiling like nothing had happened, like he had no idea that this *should* have been the most perfect moment of their lives. Instead, the only time worse than this was when he'd been hanging in that field....
It felt more like Alex had torn his heart out, instead of Alex having done the right thing.
"All right then," Alex practically sang, disgustingly, stupidly cheerful. "See you the day after tomorrow—and you have a Merry Christmas, Clark."
Clark dropped his head to hide rapidly filling eyes. He mumbled something appropriate and shut the door practically in Alex's face. He felt a moment's twinge about being so rude, but hell…. He leaned against the doorframe and listened to Alex's even paces away down the hall—precise clicks, heel, toe, heel, toe. He counted them all the way out to the street, until Alex flagged down a hack and was gone.
Clark fell back onto the bed. He burned in a fire of embarrassment, anger and arousal. It was confusing and awful and he only knew one thing to do to end it. He worked open his pants, shoved them to his hips and jerked off--hard, so fast and so brutal, it would have been too dangerous for a human.
Just perfect for a freak.
@@@@@
Hannah came out to the porch, excited by the sight of dozens of fireflies dancing at the rear of the yard. It wasn't full-dark, but that thick velvety-blue that came out right after sunset, and the little dancing lights looked like stars tumbling over the grass. His sister sat between his knees and together they sang all the songs they knew about stars.
After a bit, Mom came out from the kitchen, carrying bowls piled high with ice cream and Hannah crowed happily, "Peach! I love peach, you do too, Clark." He nodded and let the heaping spoonful she fed him melt on his tongue, and then chewed on the little chunks of frozen fruit.
Mom sat next to him, her long legs stretched out, fanning herself lazily with one of the gingham kitchen towels still damp from drying dishes. She pushed a heat-loosened curl behind her ear and smiled, watching Hannah run out on the lawn to chase fireflies. She started to sing, softly, "They asked me how I knew, my true love was true--" and Clark closed his eyes and sang with her, "I, of course replied, something here inside can not be denied--" thinking of…wild blond hair, wicked, laughing, crystal-blue eyes…his heart soared with the notes.
A creak behind him made him turn, and Dad was letting the screen door close behind him, a big smile creasing his face, smelling of Ivory soap and wearing a clean shirt and, for a moment, he had eyes only for his wife. Clark smiled and looked towards Hannah dashing about on the lawn.
Dad walked past him, squeezed his shoulder before hopping off the porch to catch up with Hannah. He swung her up in the air and held her high as they danced to the rhythm of the song Mom was singing.
Hannah led Dad back to the porch, and they sat together, Mom and Dad talking quietly as the night darkened and Hannah fell asleep in Mom's lap….
@@@@@@
Christmas morning found him waking late, his pillow creased and wet beneath his cheek. He rubbed knuckles over his eyes and, for the first time in a long time, thought seriously about going home. The dream had been, oh, had been so very nice. It used to be like that—how had he forgotten the good that Smallville held? All the wonderful summer evenings, all the love…his family had cared—still cared, he was sure. He'd just forgotten how to see it. He sighed. Not that life here wasn't good too, it was. He was just letting his feelings for Alex tarnish the brightness of it a bit. He'd get over it--after all, hadn't he gotten over Whitney? He'd gotten over Reggie leaving him in the lurch, and he'd get over Alex, too.
He rolled out of bed, grabbed up the blanket and tossed it over his shoulders. From the table, he took a paper bag that held chestnuts and went up to the roof. He sat atop the wall blocking the edge and let his feet dangle over the side. He shook some chestnuts into his hand, scored them with a fingernail, and heated them up with his fire vision. He peeled and ate roasted chestnuts, and watched the sun rise over the silent tenement roof tops. "Merry Christmas," he whispered, and his breath puffed out like smoke in the frozen air.
TBC!
The music in this part is Smoke Gets In Your Eyes
I prefer the version by the Platters, but I figured this is the way Martha would have sung it. :)
part 29
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Lex/quite a few people, eventually clex of course
Rating:PG
Word Count:1026
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 expert hand holder, brilliant beta and super patient person. This is a tiny little bit, just to remind you of the story, *g* the next two chapters are ready to go!
Part Four
Clark felt his whole world flip and wobble. He heard Alex's heart speed up like a horse at the gallop and the tiny noise of shock he managed to swallow. Alex's pupils swelled and then shrank, while heated blood flushed his face and then swiftly rushed away, leaving his skin pale. There was so much happening that Clark was distracted by it all and then…it hit him, excitement swept over him like a prairie fire. He was kissing Alex. Alex was letting it happen. Alex *wanted* to kiss him. Clark gasped with the shock of it. *Alex* wanted to kiss him. And now Alex was balling a hand in his jacket…and now he was…pushing away. No!
Alex looked frightened—no, horrified. He was shaking his head, and nothing was coming out of his mouth and Clark couldn't imagine why he looked so upset and than it hit him—Pete. They'd both forgotten Alex's lover. Clark could feel the horror in his expression, the instant guilt he felt was reflected on Alex's face, and then Alex was suddenly so calm, his face still and smooth as an ice carving. Clark started to babble. "I'm so sorry, I—I am so sorry."
Alex smiled and nodded. "It's fine, Clark, It's okay—it was a mistake. It's nothing to panic over."
Clark nodded too, and was surprised how much it hurt when Alex stepped away and waved good-bye so…damn cheerfully, smiling like nothing had happened, like he had no idea that this *should* have been the most perfect moment of their lives. Instead, the only time worse than this was when he'd been hanging in that field....
It felt more like Alex had torn his heart out, instead of Alex having done the right thing.
"All right then," Alex practically sang, disgustingly, stupidly cheerful. "See you the day after tomorrow—and you have a Merry Christmas, Clark."
Clark dropped his head to hide rapidly filling eyes. He mumbled something appropriate and shut the door practically in Alex's face. He felt a moment's twinge about being so rude, but hell…. He leaned against the doorframe and listened to Alex's even paces away down the hall—precise clicks, heel, toe, heel, toe. He counted them all the way out to the street, until Alex flagged down a hack and was gone.
Clark fell back onto the bed. He burned in a fire of embarrassment, anger and arousal. It was confusing and awful and he only knew one thing to do to end it. He worked open his pants, shoved them to his hips and jerked off--hard, so fast and so brutal, it would have been too dangerous for a human.
Just perfect for a freak.
@@@@@
Hannah came out to the porch, excited by the sight of dozens of fireflies dancing at the rear of the yard. It wasn't full-dark, but that thick velvety-blue that came out right after sunset, and the little dancing lights looked like stars tumbling over the grass. His sister sat between his knees and together they sang all the songs they knew about stars.
After a bit, Mom came out from the kitchen, carrying bowls piled high with ice cream and Hannah crowed happily, "Peach! I love peach, you do too, Clark." He nodded and let the heaping spoonful she fed him melt on his tongue, and then chewed on the little chunks of frozen fruit.
Mom sat next to him, her long legs stretched out, fanning herself lazily with one of the gingham kitchen towels still damp from drying dishes. She pushed a heat-loosened curl behind her ear and smiled, watching Hannah run out on the lawn to chase fireflies. She started to sing, softly, "They asked me how I knew, my true love was true--" and Clark closed his eyes and sang with her, "I, of course replied, something here inside can not be denied--" thinking of…wild blond hair, wicked, laughing, crystal-blue eyes…his heart soared with the notes.
A creak behind him made him turn, and Dad was letting the screen door close behind him, a big smile creasing his face, smelling of Ivory soap and wearing a clean shirt and, for a moment, he had eyes only for his wife. Clark smiled and looked towards Hannah dashing about on the lawn.
Dad walked past him, squeezed his shoulder before hopping off the porch to catch up with Hannah. He swung her up in the air and held her high as they danced to the rhythm of the song Mom was singing.
Hannah led Dad back to the porch, and they sat together, Mom and Dad talking quietly as the night darkened and Hannah fell asleep in Mom's lap….
@@@@@@
Christmas morning found him waking late, his pillow creased and wet beneath his cheek. He rubbed knuckles over his eyes and, for the first time in a long time, thought seriously about going home. The dream had been, oh, had been so very nice. It used to be like that—how had he forgotten the good that Smallville held? All the wonderful summer evenings, all the love…his family had cared—still cared, he was sure. He'd just forgotten how to see it. He sighed. Not that life here wasn't good too, it was. He was just letting his feelings for Alex tarnish the brightness of it a bit. He'd get over it--after all, hadn't he gotten over Whitney? He'd gotten over Reggie leaving him in the lurch, and he'd get over Alex, too.
He rolled out of bed, grabbed up the blanket and tossed it over his shoulders. From the table, he took a paper bag that held chestnuts and went up to the roof. He sat atop the wall blocking the edge and let his feet dangle over the side. He shook some chestnuts into his hand, scored them with a fingernail, and heated them up with his fire vision. He peeled and ate roasted chestnuts, and watched the sun rise over the silent tenement roof tops. "Merry Christmas," he whispered, and his breath puffed out like smoke in the frozen air.
TBC!
The music in this part is Smoke Gets In Your Eyes
I prefer the version by the Platters, but I figured this is the way Martha would have sung it. :)
part 29
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