Clex WIP Update - Parallel
Nov. 30th, 2004 08:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
arysteiaSo so so so so tired it's not funny. Note to self: New Zealand may seem small, but it is *far* too big to see all, or even half, of in two weeks. I did my very best to show ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sparktastic the North Island, and having now put her safely on a plane, I am about ready to collapse and sleep for a year. I wish *I* was reclining in an airline seat being fed and watered and offered hot towels while movies play constantly.
Anyway. Part of my exhaustion is due to the fact that I stayed up all night editing this:
Parallel
Lex/Clark, futurefic, mostly R rated. A paean for Denial. "All the ways it could have gone wrong, and one way it didn't."
Pete’s fifteen minutes late to the restaurant, and when he arrives, looking harried, he orders scotch, neat, throwing it back in a single mouthful. It’s like any night that he’s in town and they meet up for old time’s sake – rushed dinners where Pete doesn’t ask about Lex, Clark doesn’t ask about Lana, and they both talk a lot about the old days, and how great it is that true friendships last forever. Clark knows all about the partners at McLaren Wentworth, and how hard they work the associates, and how boring corporate law can be, and nothing about Pete’s personal life beyond what Chloe includes in email. Pete gets the air freighted edition of the Daily Planet delivered to the house in Wichita, and knows even less about Clark. Beyond the big thing, that is, the thing he’s known longer than anyone else. The thing he never mentions any more, even as a joke. Clark wonders sometimes if Pete’s disappointed in him, disappointed that he never followed through on their childish dreams to save the world.
“You didn’t have to wait till I was in Metropolis,” Pete says suddenly, diverting from the script. “You could have called me at home. If you needed to talk.”
Clark sighs. He never calls the house. It’s ridiculous, but eight years down the road he still can’t speak to Lana with anything approaching equilibrium. The cards she sends are always addressed to him as well as Lex, but when she’s in town on business she meets Lex at his office. They go out sometimes, too, to fancy restaurants and foreign movies Clark would only sleep through. She’s Lex’s friend, not his.
He doesn’t blame her for being pissed at him. Not really. It can’t be easy for the Prom Queen to walk in on her King making out with the host at their graduation party. Funny how Lex gets none of the blame for that, but such is life. She’d actually been pretty classy, all things considered, going through with the toasts and not saying a word to anyone. It’s sad, though, how scattered they are, for five best friends who swore they’d be together forever. They haven’t all been in the same room in three years. Chloe’s New Year’s party was meant to change that, and Clark grits his teeth as he realises he forgot to call her again, and this is going to be one more entry on the long list of special occasions where he just didn’t show up.
The part of him that climbed trees, and built forts, and skinny-dipped with Pete wants to tell him how much he needs him now, how much it means that he was always there for him. That despite everything, despite romantic troubles, and differences of opinion, and the strain of a long distance friendship, Clark *knows* that he can trust him. Has *never* worried, not once in eleven years, about the fact that Pete knows his secret. The part of him that remembers they didn't speak for a year when he first started seeing Lex is afraid to. The part that knows Pete and Chloe are better friends to each other than he ever was to either of them is embarrassed to.
He blurts it out before he can change his mind and condemn himself to another miserable night on a too-short fold out couch, counting cracks in Jimmy’s water stained ceiling. “It’s not that. I need your help. Professionally.”
Pete laughs. “I’m not a divorce lawyer, Clark.”
It hurts more than the time Pete hit him with a meteor rock in his clenched fist. At least then his intentions were good. Clark stands up so fast he knocks his chair over. “Don’t call next time you’re in town,” he spits, and turns to walk away.
Pete stands up just as fast, and tries to grab his arm. “Clark wait. Clark, for God’s sake!” He misses, and flings a twenty onto the table, racing to catch Clark at the door. “Clark, wait! I was only kidding.”
“It’s not funny!” Clark yells, oblivious to the parking attendant’s curious stare. “I don’t joke about Lana.”
“You never deign to *mention* Lana,” Pete yells back. “She’s like the secret in the storm cellar all over again.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Not fair? You want to talk about not fair? How’s not being able to talk about my *wife* with my oldest friend because he dated her for five minutes nine years ago?”
“How’s not being able to talk about *my* partner with *my* oldest friend because their fathers fought over a fucking factory about a *million* years ago?”
Pete laughs again, but it sounds infinitely sad. “Do you really think that still bothers me?” He shakes his head in wonder. “I got over that years ago, Clark. If you weren’t so caught up in your own grand drama you’d have noticed.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you got so used to defending Lex, to it being the two of you against the world, that you stopped giving the rest of us a chance to come round. It means you *like* being the only person that knows or understands him. It means from the moment you met him there’s never been room in your life for anyone else. I don’t dislike Lex, I never have. I was mad at *you*.”
“Pete...”
“You were my best friend and you dumped me overnight when he breezed into town. It really hurt. And it wasn’t just me. You had two great girls who thought you walked on water, and you barely knew one of them was alive. I had a massive crush on Chloe when we were in school, did you know that? And all she ever talked about was you. It sucks to be the shoulder girls cry on, Clark. It really sucks. And Lana... *You* cheated on her. Don’t worry, she didn’t tell me. She keeps your secrets, just like we all do. She still pretends you told her about Lex when you told me. But it was obvious. You cheated on her, but you flinch when her name is mentioned like *she* broke *your* heart.”
“I don’t do that!”
“You do. I’d say I’ve never met anyone so self absorbed, except that somehow you manage to make it selfless at the same time. It’s all about Lex, and I can’t stay mad at you for loving him that much. It’s part of what I love about *you*. I just wish you could see that he’s not the only person in the world who cares about you. And you don’t have to be the only person that cares about him.”
Clark’s ingrained impulse to angry denial withers in the face of guilty recognition. He knows if he’s honest – why is it so hard to be honest? His parents were honest. Famous for it. Salt of the earth, honest as the day is long. Except that they *weren’t* – that it’s easier to be angry at people you love than to admit that you’ve treated them badly. He knows that *he* avoids Lana, not the other way round, and that the Lex moratorium in conversation is largely self-imposed. He sits down on the edge of the window box, and struggles to find the words he should have said long ago.
“I couldn’t risk you hurting him. I’m sorry. I wanted so much for you to like him, and you didn’t, and I couldn’t handle it. I hurt you, and I really am sorry for that, but you had Lana and Chloe and the guys on the team, and everyone else. He never had anyone but me. You can say what you like but I don’t get off on that. It’s not what I want. I love the fact that Lana cares about him. I always have. But you have no idea how many people over the years have tried to get close to him. Or tried to get close to *me* to get close to him. And they always want something, and they always hurt him. He doesn’t get beaten up like he used to in Smallville, but it’s just as bad. Worse even.”
Pete sits down beside him. “You could have trusted *me*,” he says quietly. “You never gave me a chance.”
“I did.” Clark swallows past the ache in his throat. All the time in the world and it still feels like yesterday. “It was just like the spaceship again, and you reacted just as badly. Worse. I told you *first*. Lana knew because she saw us, and we told Mom and Dad together because we wanted to do it right. But I told you about us before anyone else. Before Lex was ready to tell anyone at all. I told you because you were my friend and I wanted you to know. I wanted you to know how happy I was. And all you could say was that if I let him fuck me he’d be on the road to Metropolis before I could get my pants back on.”
Pete’s dark skin pales. “I didn’t say that.”
“You did.” Clark’s voice is rising despite himself. “You went back to Wichita without returning any of my calls, and I didn’t see you for a year.”
Pete looks as sick as Clark feels. “I can’t believe I forgot that. I was an asshole. Jesus. But I was nineteen. I’ve changed a lot since then.” He sighs heavily. “Or not so much. I really was joking before. I don’t know why I thought it was funny. Just the idea of you needing *my* help, with all the fleets of fancy lawyers Lex must have on retainer...”
“I don’t trust any of them. You say I should trust you, and I do. I know that I can. I know if you do this for me you’ll do it for *me*.”
There’s a moment’s silence as Pete looks up to where the valet is finally pulling up with the car. He stands up and turns to face Clark directly. “Things are really bad, aren’t they?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay then. You need my help, you’ve got it.” He reaches out a hand and pulls Clark to his feet. “Come on. I’ll drive you home, and you can fill me in on the way.”
chapter 9
P.S. It occurs to me that Pete has more lines in this chapter than in his entire sojourn in Smallville...
sparktastic the North Island, and having now put her safely on a plane, I am about ready to collapse and sleep for a year. I wish *I* was reclining in an airline seat being fed and watered and offered hot towels while movies play constantly.Anyway. Part of my exhaustion is due to the fact that I stayed up all night editing this:
Parallel
Lex/Clark, futurefic, mostly R rated. A paean for Denial. "All the ways it could have gone wrong, and one way it didn't."
Pete’s fifteen minutes late to the restaurant, and when he arrives, looking harried, he orders scotch, neat, throwing it back in a single mouthful. It’s like any night that he’s in town and they meet up for old time’s sake – rushed dinners where Pete doesn’t ask about Lex, Clark doesn’t ask about Lana, and they both talk a lot about the old days, and how great it is that true friendships last forever. Clark knows all about the partners at McLaren Wentworth, and how hard they work the associates, and how boring corporate law can be, and nothing about Pete’s personal life beyond what Chloe includes in email. Pete gets the air freighted edition of the Daily Planet delivered to the house in Wichita, and knows even less about Clark. Beyond the big thing, that is, the thing he’s known longer than anyone else. The thing he never mentions any more, even as a joke. Clark wonders sometimes if Pete’s disappointed in him, disappointed that he never followed through on their childish dreams to save the world.
“You didn’t have to wait till I was in Metropolis,” Pete says suddenly, diverting from the script. “You could have called me at home. If you needed to talk.”
Clark sighs. He never calls the house. It’s ridiculous, but eight years down the road he still can’t speak to Lana with anything approaching equilibrium. The cards she sends are always addressed to him as well as Lex, but when she’s in town on business she meets Lex at his office. They go out sometimes, too, to fancy restaurants and foreign movies Clark would only sleep through. She’s Lex’s friend, not his.
He doesn’t blame her for being pissed at him. Not really. It can’t be easy for the Prom Queen to walk in on her King making out with the host at their graduation party. Funny how Lex gets none of the blame for that, but such is life. She’d actually been pretty classy, all things considered, going through with the toasts and not saying a word to anyone. It’s sad, though, how scattered they are, for five best friends who swore they’d be together forever. They haven’t all been in the same room in three years. Chloe’s New Year’s party was meant to change that, and Clark grits his teeth as he realises he forgot to call her again, and this is going to be one more entry on the long list of special occasions where he just didn’t show up.
The part of him that climbed trees, and built forts, and skinny-dipped with Pete wants to tell him how much he needs him now, how much it means that he was always there for him. That despite everything, despite romantic troubles, and differences of opinion, and the strain of a long distance friendship, Clark *knows* that he can trust him. Has *never* worried, not once in eleven years, about the fact that Pete knows his secret. The part of him that remembers they didn't speak for a year when he first started seeing Lex is afraid to. The part that knows Pete and Chloe are better friends to each other than he ever was to either of them is embarrassed to.
He blurts it out before he can change his mind and condemn himself to another miserable night on a too-short fold out couch, counting cracks in Jimmy’s water stained ceiling. “It’s not that. I need your help. Professionally.”
Pete laughs. “I’m not a divorce lawyer, Clark.”
It hurts more than the time Pete hit him with a meteor rock in his clenched fist. At least then his intentions were good. Clark stands up so fast he knocks his chair over. “Don’t call next time you’re in town,” he spits, and turns to walk away.
Pete stands up just as fast, and tries to grab his arm. “Clark wait. Clark, for God’s sake!” He misses, and flings a twenty onto the table, racing to catch Clark at the door. “Clark, wait! I was only kidding.”
“It’s not funny!” Clark yells, oblivious to the parking attendant’s curious stare. “I don’t joke about Lana.”
“You never deign to *mention* Lana,” Pete yells back. “She’s like the secret in the storm cellar all over again.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Not fair? You want to talk about not fair? How’s not being able to talk about my *wife* with my oldest friend because he dated her for five minutes nine years ago?”
“How’s not being able to talk about *my* partner with *my* oldest friend because their fathers fought over a fucking factory about a *million* years ago?”
Pete laughs again, but it sounds infinitely sad. “Do you really think that still bothers me?” He shakes his head in wonder. “I got over that years ago, Clark. If you weren’t so caught up in your own grand drama you’d have noticed.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you got so used to defending Lex, to it being the two of you against the world, that you stopped giving the rest of us a chance to come round. It means you *like* being the only person that knows or understands him. It means from the moment you met him there’s never been room in your life for anyone else. I don’t dislike Lex, I never have. I was mad at *you*.”
“Pete...”
“You were my best friend and you dumped me overnight when he breezed into town. It really hurt. And it wasn’t just me. You had two great girls who thought you walked on water, and you barely knew one of them was alive. I had a massive crush on Chloe when we were in school, did you know that? And all she ever talked about was you. It sucks to be the shoulder girls cry on, Clark. It really sucks. And Lana... *You* cheated on her. Don’t worry, she didn’t tell me. She keeps your secrets, just like we all do. She still pretends you told her about Lex when you told me. But it was obvious. You cheated on her, but you flinch when her name is mentioned like *she* broke *your* heart.”
“I don’t do that!”
“You do. I’d say I’ve never met anyone so self absorbed, except that somehow you manage to make it selfless at the same time. It’s all about Lex, and I can’t stay mad at you for loving him that much. It’s part of what I love about *you*. I just wish you could see that he’s not the only person in the world who cares about you. And you don’t have to be the only person that cares about him.”
Clark’s ingrained impulse to angry denial withers in the face of guilty recognition. He knows if he’s honest – why is it so hard to be honest? His parents were honest. Famous for it. Salt of the earth, honest as the day is long. Except that they *weren’t* – that it’s easier to be angry at people you love than to admit that you’ve treated them badly. He knows that *he* avoids Lana, not the other way round, and that the Lex moratorium in conversation is largely self-imposed. He sits down on the edge of the window box, and struggles to find the words he should have said long ago.
“I couldn’t risk you hurting him. I’m sorry. I wanted so much for you to like him, and you didn’t, and I couldn’t handle it. I hurt you, and I really am sorry for that, but you had Lana and Chloe and the guys on the team, and everyone else. He never had anyone but me. You can say what you like but I don’t get off on that. It’s not what I want. I love the fact that Lana cares about him. I always have. But you have no idea how many people over the years have tried to get close to him. Or tried to get close to *me* to get close to him. And they always want something, and they always hurt him. He doesn’t get beaten up like he used to in Smallville, but it’s just as bad. Worse even.”
Pete sits down beside him. “You could have trusted *me*,” he says quietly. “You never gave me a chance.”
“I did.” Clark swallows past the ache in his throat. All the time in the world and it still feels like yesterday. “It was just like the spaceship again, and you reacted just as badly. Worse. I told you *first*. Lana knew because she saw us, and we told Mom and Dad together because we wanted to do it right. But I told you about us before anyone else. Before Lex was ready to tell anyone at all. I told you because you were my friend and I wanted you to know. I wanted you to know how happy I was. And all you could say was that if I let him fuck me he’d be on the road to Metropolis before I could get my pants back on.”
Pete’s dark skin pales. “I didn’t say that.”
“You did.” Clark’s voice is rising despite himself. “You went back to Wichita without returning any of my calls, and I didn’t see you for a year.”
Pete looks as sick as Clark feels. “I can’t believe I forgot that. I was an asshole. Jesus. But I was nineteen. I’ve changed a lot since then.” He sighs heavily. “Or not so much. I really was joking before. I don’t know why I thought it was funny. Just the idea of you needing *my* help, with all the fleets of fancy lawyers Lex must have on retainer...”
“I don’t trust any of them. You say I should trust you, and I do. I know that I can. I know if you do this for me you’ll do it for *me*.”
There’s a moment’s silence as Pete looks up to where the valet is finally pulling up with the car. He stands up and turns to face Clark directly. “Things are really bad, aren’t they?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay then. You need my help, you’ve got it.” He reaches out a hand and pulls Clark to his feet. “Come on. I’ll drive you home, and you can fill me in on the way.”
chapter 9
P.S. It occurs to me that Pete has more lines in this chapter than in his entire sojourn in Smallville...
