SV fic post: East of the Sun part 29
5/9/08 03:22 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:1625
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.
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It was dawn on Christmas morning…he aimlessly walked the nearly empty streets, but his traitorous feet took him right to Alex's street. He didn't see him but, of course, he didn't expect to. It was early, and folks were still at church or opening gifts. It was nice and quiet. *Awfully* quiet. He wished it was a little noisier.
He walked on, past Alex's building, walked until he was standing outside of Pete's boarding house. He swallowed hard, crossed his fingers, and went up to his room. Dark eyes followed him as he went up the stairs, tracked his progress through the dilapidated, cabbage-scented halls. He could hear whispering behind him, outraged, amused, bemused...his was the only pale face in sight, had been for a few blocks. It wasn't that big a deal—in Pete's neighborhood, his difference was just more apparent. He tuned out the whispering and giggles, and tapped on Pete's door.
It was quiet inside the room, and Clark suddenly realized Pete was probably at church. He was about to go but the door opened, and a sleep-befuddled Pete stared out. "C.C., what the heck are you doing here? Come in." He nearly yanked Clark inside, and Clark quickly flowed with the force of the pull on him. "What are you doing here?" he asked again. "I don't mind, I just…I'm getting ready to go to Ma's…Clark?"
Clark looked around the little room, neat and spare and so much like his own. Everything was in its place, an empty crate in one corner doing duty as a book case. Pete's notebooks were stacked in them, and his table was covered with lined paper, pencils, pen nibs and ink blotters, instead of a cloth. Clark noticed two empty glasses at the table and an ashtray with a few butts crushed in it, and he knew Pete didn't smoke. Clark felt small and cold. "Pete," he sighed. "I have to confess something to you."
Pete's eyes opened wide. "To me? Saint Clark wants to confess something? Sing out, cat, I'm dying to know." He grinned, swung a chair from the table, straddled it backwards, and said, "Flap 'em son, and make it good!" He looked comically expectant. Clark just felt worse.
"I—I kissed Alex," he said, and hung his head. "I'm sorry."
Pete's elbows slid off the chair back and he gaped at Clark. "Alex? But I thought…you and Chloe…Alex? Wow…" He looked a little less stunned and began to smile…"Well, all reet. Hot damn." He was grinning from ear to ear, and Clark was…surprised. And startled and very much confused. Pete leapt up and slapped Clark's shoulder. "C.C., good for you. That's great…but don’t lose your head, y'hear?"
"You don’t mind? Aren't you—you two—"
"Who—us? No! No…" his expression held a wisp of regret, but his voice was light. "Not Alex. He's not the kind of guy who does steady. Once he been with you, it's done." Pete shrugged. "It's just the way he is. He's not nasty about it, it's just Alex. That's why I'm tellin' you, don't lose your head over him. He's a great guy, yeah, but…" He shrugged again.
Clark felt like he'd stepped into a cold shower. For one second, he'd felt on top of the world and the very next, he was at the bottom again. "Not ever?"
Pete shook his head, sympathy made him reach out and squeeze Clark's hand. "Not ever."
Clark slumped into a chair, his long legs tangled with the table legs. Not ever…. He supposed he should feel devastated but he didn't, he felt…angry. Alex sleeps around, hunh? Never with the same guy twice. Clark sat a little higher. "Not ever, hunh?" That itchy, burning feeling started up behind his eyes—he blinked a few times before it died. He glared at Pete. "Well, that's because he's never--never--met *me*, just you wait, Pete. There'll be some changes soon," Clark growled.
"C.C.?" Pete took a step back. "Say man…are you cool? You need a drink? Split a spliff?" He tilted his head at Clark. "Aaah, you poor dope—but dig, I'm laying odds on you. If anyone can hook him, I gotta believe it's you. I don’t think you'll even have to work very hard to reel that catfish in."
Clark looked up at Pete and grinned, held his hand out, palm up. "Damn right, I won't. Skin me, Jackson."
Pete looked Clark up and down, wide-eyed with surprise, and slowly his grin widened until he was laughing hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. He slapped Clark's outstretched hand and crowed, "Sure enough, hep-cat, sure enough!"
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Sun made the snow, at least what wasn't grimed over with coal dust or yellowed or muddy, sparkle in the bright sunlight. Clark leaned elbows on the deep sill of the barred rehearsal room window and gazed out on the street. He felt good—felt like if he wanted to, he could jump straight up into the air and touch the sun. It was a good day all around. Rehearsal was going great, Chloe was so in tune with him that it was scary, and the guys were ripping it up like nobody's business. Christmas might have been a letdown, but today--today was great. Since talking to Pete the day before, Clark felt like he had the world by the tail. He didn’t have Alex yet, but he knew it was just a matter of time. And he planned to tell Chloe, as soon as he could figure out how to let her down in a way that would let them go on being friends…in other words, he was hoping for a miracle....
He glanced over at Alex leaning against the stage and talking to Chloe, the two of them quietly laughing about something and, for a split second, Clark felt cold. Look at them, he thought—they look so happy, so comfortable with each other. Would Alex ever look that comfortable with him? Laugh like that with him? What if it never--
"Hey, C.C.—how about joining the rest of us on planet Earth, hunh? Jeez—yer girl's waiting over here—come warble!" Walt briskly motioned him over, and Chloe came up off her perch on the edge of the stage, grabbed Clark by the arm, and dragged him to the center of the stage.
"We're ready to go, Boss." She looked at Clark hard, and he grinned sheepishly. "Yep, ready Mr. Walt, sorry…."
The band settled down and, after a few seconds, the melody of Where or When filled the air. "Okay," Walt said, "Let's do it—ready, Clark, Chloe?"
Clark folded his arms and shook his head. "Nope." The band played on for a few minutes, but when it became apparent Clark was serious, it stuttered and wheezed to a discordant stop. All eyes were on Clark and Walt. Alex stared at him like he'd lost his mind. Clark took a deep breath and said, "I've got an idea for another closer. I'm—I'm not singing that one anymore."
Chloe looked at him like he was crazy, and Walt was open mouthed in shock. "What—you gotta—you nuts? That's our—folks expect it!"
Clark stood his ground. "No, I don’t want to sing it." Not to Chloe…not to anyone. Yet.
Walt was gearing up to let Clark have it when Alex dropped a hand on Walt's arm. "Let it go, okay? Let's see what the kid wants to sing instead."
Clark looked to Alex to thank him, but Alex wouldn’t meet his eyes. He had that odd too-pleasant smile on his face again, the smile that made Clark think about high school and Whitney….
Walt snorted. "All right--seems you're the big cheese all of a damn sudden--what do you want, Mr. Kent?"
Clark licked his lips and watched Alex walk away. "Um. Green Eyes. I uh…talked to Pete; he's got the music.…"
"Oh, do he…." Walt narrowed his eyes at Pete, who looked skyward, whistling innocently, and ignored Walt's growl of "Rat." Walt tapped his fingers on a music stand in thought, and after a moment, nodded. "Yeah, yeah—you two—yeah, okay."
There was a noise from the front of the club. Everyone looked to the door as a couple of bruisers walked in. Behind them strolled the club manager, hands in his pocket, a toothpick in the corner of his mouth and a too-casual air of indifference on his face. He looked around, and his eyes landed on Alex. He jerked his head to the door.
Alex froze for a long minute before he turned to Walt. "I'm sorry. I'll be back in a second."
With a concerned frown, Walt watched Alex walk out with Mahaney. Clark heard Pete say, "What the hell was that about?" Walt just looked worried.
Alex came back in with his coat on, spoke quietly to Walt, and then left quickly. Clark jumped off the stage and hurried over to the band leader. "What's going on? Is there trouble with the club?"
Walt looked helpless, shrugged his shoulders, and said, "I'm not sure…no, no trouble with the club…." His eyes were on the open doorway, and he didn’t speak again. Clark walked quickly to the open door and overheard Alex and Mr. Mahaney talking. Alex said, "You said my time was my own." Mahaney answered him, "Until I call you, it is."
Clark heard nothing else, but he went out after them, and watched Alex get in a car with Mr. Mahaney. What he saw made him furious. The man seemed to run his hand over Alex's butt as he got into the car. Pete had it right--what the hell *was* that?
part 30
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Lex/quite a few people, eventually clex of course
Rating:PG
Word Count:1625
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. @@@@@@
It was dawn on Christmas morning…he aimlessly walked the nearly empty streets, but his traitorous feet took him right to Alex's street. He didn't see him but, of course, he didn't expect to. It was early, and folks were still at church or opening gifts. It was nice and quiet. *Awfully* quiet. He wished it was a little noisier.
He walked on, past Alex's building, walked until he was standing outside of Pete's boarding house. He swallowed hard, crossed his fingers, and went up to his room. Dark eyes followed him as he went up the stairs, tracked his progress through the dilapidated, cabbage-scented halls. He could hear whispering behind him, outraged, amused, bemused...his was the only pale face in sight, had been for a few blocks. It wasn't that big a deal—in Pete's neighborhood, his difference was just more apparent. He tuned out the whispering and giggles, and tapped on Pete's door.
It was quiet inside the room, and Clark suddenly realized Pete was probably at church. He was about to go but the door opened, and a sleep-befuddled Pete stared out. "C.C., what the heck are you doing here? Come in." He nearly yanked Clark inside, and Clark quickly flowed with the force of the pull on him. "What are you doing here?" he asked again. "I don't mind, I just…I'm getting ready to go to Ma's…Clark?"
Clark looked around the little room, neat and spare and so much like his own. Everything was in its place, an empty crate in one corner doing duty as a book case. Pete's notebooks were stacked in them, and his table was covered with lined paper, pencils, pen nibs and ink blotters, instead of a cloth. Clark noticed two empty glasses at the table and an ashtray with a few butts crushed in it, and he knew Pete didn't smoke. Clark felt small and cold. "Pete," he sighed. "I have to confess something to you."
Pete's eyes opened wide. "To me? Saint Clark wants to confess something? Sing out, cat, I'm dying to know." He grinned, swung a chair from the table, straddled it backwards, and said, "Flap 'em son, and make it good!" He looked comically expectant. Clark just felt worse.
"I—I kissed Alex," he said, and hung his head. "I'm sorry."
Pete's elbows slid off the chair back and he gaped at Clark. "Alex? But I thought…you and Chloe…Alex? Wow…" He looked a little less stunned and began to smile…"Well, all reet. Hot damn." He was grinning from ear to ear, and Clark was…surprised. And startled and very much confused. Pete leapt up and slapped Clark's shoulder. "C.C., good for you. That's great…but don’t lose your head, y'hear?"
"You don’t mind? Aren't you—you two—"
"Who—us? No! No…" his expression held a wisp of regret, but his voice was light. "Not Alex. He's not the kind of guy who does steady. Once he been with you, it's done." Pete shrugged. "It's just the way he is. He's not nasty about it, it's just Alex. That's why I'm tellin' you, don't lose your head over him. He's a great guy, yeah, but…" He shrugged again.
Clark felt like he'd stepped into a cold shower. For one second, he'd felt on top of the world and the very next, he was at the bottom again. "Not ever?"
Pete shook his head, sympathy made him reach out and squeeze Clark's hand. "Not ever."
Clark slumped into a chair, his long legs tangled with the table legs. Not ever…. He supposed he should feel devastated but he didn't, he felt…angry. Alex sleeps around, hunh? Never with the same guy twice. Clark sat a little higher. "Not ever, hunh?" That itchy, burning feeling started up behind his eyes—he blinked a few times before it died. He glared at Pete. "Well, that's because he's never--never--met *me*, just you wait, Pete. There'll be some changes soon," Clark growled.
"C.C.?" Pete took a step back. "Say man…are you cool? You need a drink? Split a spliff?" He tilted his head at Clark. "Aaah, you poor dope—but dig, I'm laying odds on you. If anyone can hook him, I gotta believe it's you. I don’t think you'll even have to work very hard to reel that catfish in."
Clark looked up at Pete and grinned, held his hand out, palm up. "Damn right, I won't. Skin me, Jackson."
Pete looked Clark up and down, wide-eyed with surprise, and slowly his grin widened until he was laughing hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. He slapped Clark's outstretched hand and crowed, "Sure enough, hep-cat, sure enough!"
@@@@@@
Sun made the snow, at least what wasn't grimed over with coal dust or yellowed or muddy, sparkle in the bright sunlight. Clark leaned elbows on the deep sill of the barred rehearsal room window and gazed out on the street. He felt good—felt like if he wanted to, he could jump straight up into the air and touch the sun. It was a good day all around. Rehearsal was going great, Chloe was so in tune with him that it was scary, and the guys were ripping it up like nobody's business. Christmas might have been a letdown, but today--today was great. Since talking to Pete the day before, Clark felt like he had the world by the tail. He didn’t have Alex yet, but he knew it was just a matter of time. And he planned to tell Chloe, as soon as he could figure out how to let her down in a way that would let them go on being friends…in other words, he was hoping for a miracle....
He glanced over at Alex leaning against the stage and talking to Chloe, the two of them quietly laughing about something and, for a split second, Clark felt cold. Look at them, he thought—they look so happy, so comfortable with each other. Would Alex ever look that comfortable with him? Laugh like that with him? What if it never--
"Hey, C.C.—how about joining the rest of us on planet Earth, hunh? Jeez—yer girl's waiting over here—come warble!" Walt briskly motioned him over, and Chloe came up off her perch on the edge of the stage, grabbed Clark by the arm, and dragged him to the center of the stage.
"We're ready to go, Boss." She looked at Clark hard, and he grinned sheepishly. "Yep, ready Mr. Walt, sorry…."
The band settled down and, after a few seconds, the melody of Where or When filled the air. "Okay," Walt said, "Let's do it—ready, Clark, Chloe?"
Clark folded his arms and shook his head. "Nope." The band played on for a few minutes, but when it became apparent Clark was serious, it stuttered and wheezed to a discordant stop. All eyes were on Clark and Walt. Alex stared at him like he'd lost his mind. Clark took a deep breath and said, "I've got an idea for another closer. I'm—I'm not singing that one anymore."
Chloe looked at him like he was crazy, and Walt was open mouthed in shock. "What—you gotta—you nuts? That's our—folks expect it!"
Clark stood his ground. "No, I don’t want to sing it." Not to Chloe…not to anyone. Yet.
Walt was gearing up to let Clark have it when Alex dropped a hand on Walt's arm. "Let it go, okay? Let's see what the kid wants to sing instead."
Clark looked to Alex to thank him, but Alex wouldn’t meet his eyes. He had that odd too-pleasant smile on his face again, the smile that made Clark think about high school and Whitney….
Walt snorted. "All right--seems you're the big cheese all of a damn sudden--what do you want, Mr. Kent?"
Clark licked his lips and watched Alex walk away. "Um. Green Eyes. I uh…talked to Pete; he's got the music.…"
"Oh, do he…." Walt narrowed his eyes at Pete, who looked skyward, whistling innocently, and ignored Walt's growl of "Rat." Walt tapped his fingers on a music stand in thought, and after a moment, nodded. "Yeah, yeah—you two—yeah, okay."
There was a noise from the front of the club. Everyone looked to the door as a couple of bruisers walked in. Behind them strolled the club manager, hands in his pocket, a toothpick in the corner of his mouth and a too-casual air of indifference on his face. He looked around, and his eyes landed on Alex. He jerked his head to the door.
Alex froze for a long minute before he turned to Walt. "I'm sorry. I'll be back in a second."
With a concerned frown, Walt watched Alex walk out with Mahaney. Clark heard Pete say, "What the hell was that about?" Walt just looked worried.
Alex came back in with his coat on, spoke quietly to Walt, and then left quickly. Clark jumped off the stage and hurried over to the band leader. "What's going on? Is there trouble with the club?"
Walt looked helpless, shrugged his shoulders, and said, "I'm not sure…no, no trouble with the club…." His eyes were on the open doorway, and he didn’t speak again. Clark walked quickly to the open door and overheard Alex and Mr. Mahaney talking. Alex said, "You said my time was my own." Mahaney answered him, "Until I call you, it is."
Clark heard nothing else, but he went out after them, and watched Alex get in a car with Mr. Mahaney. What he saw made him furious. The man seemed to run his hand over Alex's butt as he got into the car. Pete had it right--what the hell *was* that?
part 30
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