roxy. sv fic post:East of the Sun part 34

Title: East of the Sun

Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: eventually clex, because there is nothing else

Rating:PG
Word Count:2535

Summary: Lex learns about trust and love from an unlikely source.
Notes/Warnings: my version of the swing era.

Fair warning, dear readers—the mistakes here are all my own.

The lights lowered, the blue spot washed the center of the stage. It was quiet for a moment and then, Walt inclined his head a little towards Clark and Chloe. They strolled up to the microphone, Chloe's hand resting on his arm. He smiled down at her and began crooning, "Green eyes, these cool and limpid green eyes…"

He sang it slowly, seriously, looking at no one but her...staring into her eyes and...she knew it was how the bit went, how Walt had staged it....but she found a tiny corner of herself wishing again, hoping again. Maybe…maybe he'd changed his mind; maybe he'd discovered he was wrong about Alex and wrong about her. When it was her turn to sing, he gave the impression that he could barely keep from sweeping her into his embrace.

Chloe felt heat race up her spine, settle in her cheeks—she drank in that transformation, the stage magic that turned a daffy, sweet farmer from Kansas into a green-eyed tall drink of water who was *every* inch a man. His eyes gleamed, and he smiled as wide as a Kansas mile, and then edged just a bit away from her. Walt cocked his head again, and Chloe dipped slightly, Clark bowed his head, and they both faded into the background. She perched on her chair, and he on his, and they turned to watch Alex blow, and Clark…Clark was transformed from her C.C. into something…primitive. Such a look of raw desire…she wondered if she should nudge him—it was obvious, too obvious that he wanted Alex.

Wanted Alex. She dropped her eyes, and felt them fill. It was true. There was no denying it—and she hated it. She felt stupid and childish for feeling that way, but for these few minutes, she felt she earned the right to indulge herself. She glanced over at Alex, and he seemed oblivious to the star-struck look on Clark's face. His grey eyes were closed anyway. She felt good about it—and felt bad about feeling good about it. Blue light flowed and shifted over Alex as he swayed in time to the music, eyes closed tight as he plucked the sweet notes from the air. He dropped his clarinet, nodded at the audience when they burst into applause, and stepped back. He looked angry. Whatever he'd aimed for, he hadn't hit it. It had to be something only he was looking for, Chloe thought, because the crowd really liked what he'd given them. She turned, and was horrified to catch Clark's eyes on her, brow furrowed with concern. He started to rise, but Walt growled at him, and he dropped back down. Chloe forced a big smile and a wink. It hurt. Not even the clanging of the bells at twelve, the confetti and balloons that fell from the ceiling eased the pain that clamped about her heart. Happy folk bellowed," Happy New Year," and she didn’t give a good goddamn, kisses and hugs were tossed out all over the dance floor, and she nursed her heartbreak through it all…until she saw Alex breeze by all of them without a word, right out of the club with that bum Mahaney's bodyguard trailing behind him.

Chloe knew that her 'heartbreak' had been pique and nothing more, because she saw the real deal. One look at Clark's face, and she knew what heartbreak really was.

@@@@@@

Clark sat back, and sighed. Blue light flowed and shifted over Alex as he swayed in time to the music, eyes closed…he dropped his clarinet, nodded at the audience when they burst into applause and stepped back. He looked like a storm cloud—whatever it was about his performance, it must have been something only Alex felt—the crowd loved it and he'd thought it was pretty darn perfect. He turned to get Chloe's eye roll, but she was staring at him…looking like she was about to cry. What happened? He started to rise, but Walt growled at him and he dropped back down and pasted a smile on his mug, exactly like the smile Chloe wore now. Guilt nibbled at him…it was because of him she looked like that. His fault. He felt a little of the thrill, the anticipation fade. He felt like a terrible louse, looking forward to the best night of his life, and here Chloe was alone, and miserable. Damn it.

@@@@@

1938 had been ushered in, and the evening was their own now…the club was drifting towards closing, most of the guests were leaving, a few were still dancing to the canned music that played while the band broke down.

Clark was vibrating—Alex. His…his…Lex. He smiled as he waited by the stage for Alex to return, trying to decide where was the best place to go, his room or Alex's apartment? Probably Alex's. His…Clark could feel the top of his ears blaze hot at the thought…his bed was bigger and…and he didn’t have to go out into the hall for the bathroom. Well, it was just…practical. Clark grinned to himself—and there, there was Alex.

Clark beamed, took a step forward, and Wade Mahaney's bodyguard was suddenly behind him. Alex gave Clark a brief look, veered away from the stage and was gone. Clark stared, open-mouthed in disbelief…he could feel the blood that had been warming his cheeks draining away, leaving him cold and weak.

Wade…Alex just left to be with that low rent version of George Raft *again*. Stood him up for that—that—thug! Why?

He stared at the doorway Alex had just walked out, wishing that he could see just where he was going, what he was doing…*why* he was doing it…he felt like he was being ripped in half. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath…when he opened his eyes again; Chloe was leaning on the edge of the stage. don’t speak, don’t speak… She sighed, and cocked a hip against him but said not a word.

Walt strolled over, and pressed a brotherly kiss to her cheek. "Happy New Year, doll face. I'm about to get so drunk I won’t remember my name, let alone it's 1938—whadya say?"

Chloe looked up at him. "Are you asking me on a…to join you?"

"Hell no, I'm asking you to ride shotgun--keep me alive—you know."

Alto sax sauntered over to them. "Walt old pal, if you don't go for that Battle of the Bands in New Orleans this summer, we're gonna have to kill you. We were so hot, the stage was smokin' Tell me we're not ready."

Drums leaned over Alto's shoulder. "Yeah, Alex has been needling you and you ain't sayin' nothin'—we gotta give it a go, man. Hell, we're shoe-ins to win!"

Pete agreed. "Walt—do it man. Stop holding yourself back. Am I right Clark?"

Pete looked a little too sympathetic, there was a hint of pity in his voice when he spoke and Clark kind of wanted to either run away, or belt Pete one. Clark knew Pete had an idea what had just happened, as did Chloe…he felt a little stupid, a bit of a joke. Ah well... "Lex knows what he's talking about Mr. Walt. He's a very smart guy. Listen to him. He—he wouldn't steer *you* wrong." Chloe squeezed his arm and Walt looked thoughtful.

I'll—yeah—I'll think about it, C.C.. Thanks."

"Hey, we're heading over to Royal's club—the guy my brother works for?" He shrugged his jacket on, and chattered away as if he was trying to distract Clark from Alex leaving. "…was a speakeasy back in the day and Royal hasn’t changed it much—it makes him money and Royal says that's all that counts, cash rules every thing. But he takes care of Simon pretty good, and we look the other way if he's not exactly…C.C.? Clark…?"

Clark wiped at his eyes and laughed shortly. "I'm all right---smoke. It bothers me sometime."

Chloe leaned on him on sympathy. Walt looked the two of them up and down, his eyes tightened a little. "Everything okay—you two—I kinda got the idea—never mind," he muttered and turned. Pete was right there, yanking him towards the door at the same time.

"We're going out together—me and Saint Clark and Chloe. You gotta go too, Walt. It's New Years Eve, bad luck to go out with an uneven amount of people. How 'bout you make us lucky?"

Chloe gave him a look and Clark leaned over and whispered to Pete, "since when?" and Pete whispered back," since someone who is your boss doesn’t have the balls to get his own girl." Clark grinned.

"What's the word, Walt? You coming with me and Saint Clark?" Pete asked

Walt glanced at Chloe, and she gave him a dazzling smile. "Well, Walt's already asked me on a date, haven't ya?"

He swallowed and grinned from ear to ear, stammered, "I—I—heck, I guess! Yeah, we're coming with!"

"Okee-doke." Pete jerked his head. "Let's beat feet, cats. The night's not getting any younger."

@@@@@@

Royal's place was like stepping into another world for Clark. He felt clumsy, stupid and really—awfully white. He glanced around nervously, waiting to be told to leave…until a beautiful coffee colored girl pulled him out on the floor. He danced—badly--but she laughed and made him laugh, and before he knew it, he was only thinking about how much fun he was having. He kept passing Pete, who was dancing with a tiny girl who seemed to have her cap set for him…poor little thing, he thought. He imagined Alex here, how beautiful he'd look dancing with the girl he was holding in his arms now. He knew Alex would find her beautiful, the way he'd found Pete to be. Why…did he not go with Pete again, if he went with Mahaney more than once? Pete was so much better looking…he swallowed hard, and blinked, and the girl he was dancing with frowned slightly and tapped his cheek. "You okay, beau?" She asked. Pete passed again, hesitated, and asked him the same.

"Copacetic, gate." Clark replied and Pete laughed along with Clark's dance partner.

"Dig this hepcat, won't you?" he said to no one in particular, but he sounded fond and Clark smiled.

Chloe came up behind him, pulling a sweat damp Walt, both of them grinning like mad. "Say Pete, don't you think old C.C. there needs another hot slice of the Metropolis pie?"

Pete looked at Clark, and smiled wryly. "I guess. Tighten up your belt, C.C.--laissez les bon temps rouler!"

@@@@@@

They took a cab to a district he'd never been before, got out before a big stone house, and into the alleyway, down a flight of stairs to a basement. The door was a throwback to the speakeasies that had flourished in the neighborhood, but the eye in the little inset door that flew back at Pete's knock was rimmed in green and purple and black, looked almost like the eye in a peacock's tail feather.

They were let in and Clark was overcome by the difference in this club…there was a little band on the stage, chugging away—an all girl's orchestra. It was dark, candles and a few weak spots the only light. He stared openly, his cheeks bright red, flushed down to his neck…Oh. Wow. Gosh. Men were dancing with men, women were dancing with women. He glanced at Pete, who looked a little worried and a little nervous. "Clark…"

Clark shook his head as he looked around. "…'m fine…" So, was this part of what it meant to be in love with Alex? There was a whole other world that he had no idea how to navigate. Even Walt and Chloe seemed more comfortable here than he did. He swallowed…okay; it was no different than Royal's place, right? He could do this too.

Walt and Chloe were gone, off in their own world, and that was great…he smiled. At least the New Year was bringing in something good for somebody…and for two people who really deserved it. He was startled out of his thoughts by warm lips pressed to his jaw.

"Happy New Year, sweet thing. Need any help bringing it in right?"

The person was short and…colorful. Very colorful. Clark smiled, and thanked…her, and backed away slightly. Okay…this was a different world, oh, yes. Pete was busy talking to other friends, Chloe and Walt were God knows where…he was about to grab his coat and leave when a guy who looked just a little like Alex, if Alex had had messy brown hair, swung around and bumped into him. "Ow. Now you owe me a dance--that hurt." He rubbed his arm with a frown, and Clark panicked, fell all over himself apologizing. The guy laughed, his blue eyes twinkled in an interesting way.

"Hey, I was only kidding…but not about the wanting to dance part. Whatya say?"

His friends were off, paying no attention to him, the man was nice, and he was good-looking and Alex was with some jerk even though he'd promised to be with him…pretty much. All the anger, all the injustice and hurt that Clark had been hugging to himself all night came to a head, and somehow, he was in a cab with the guy and headed home….

The two of them made their way up the stairs to his room, and he fished around in his pocket for keys. He tilted his head forward, and shocked himself when a tear rolled down his cheek and hit his hand.

Grant looked full of sympathy. He leaned on the wall next to the door. "Hey, the mood's taken a plunge since we got out of the cab…want to talk about it? I'm a great kisser, but I'm not bad at listening either. Really."

"No…no, I'm okay." Clark blushed and fumbled the key into the lock. He dropped it, leaned down to grab it and found himself eye level with Grant's crotch.

"Ah…say kid, don’t stay down there too long. Not out here anyway…" Clark flinched away, and stood again. His hand trembled trying to get the key into the lock, and Grant's closed over it. "Let me help. I don’t think I could take you dropping it again."

Grant's hand was warm and almost as big as his. His fingers curved around Clark's, his thumb stroked against the ball of Clark's thumb… Clark's breath hitched; his heart beat a little faster. Grant was closer, and Clark didn’t remember him moving. Suddenly the smell of him was everywhere, and it was…nice. Like hair oil, spice, and starched cotton and something else he couldn't place. Clark gasped a little—Grant had squeezed his hand, whispered, "Let me in, Clark."

Clark looked at him, not sure if he meant just what he said, or something else. Something more. Grant's eyes were wide, his pupils were huge and black, drawing him in, pulling him close…Clark felt like he was in a dream. Like he was moving through a lake of molasses. "Okay. Come in." Clark didn’t recognize his own voice; it sounded weak, strange…"Come in."

part 35
tbc

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aloneindarknes7.livejournal.com

*wibble* No, Clark, keep Grant out! Lock the door and don't open the door by your chinny-chin-chin! Alex, darn it, you'd better hurry up and find Clark before your damn half brother gets another thing that belongs to you!

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sv fic post:East of the Sun part 34

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