Clark's Prom
Feb. 15th, 2015 07:24 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
katleeptTitle: Clark's Prom
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Smallville
Character/Pairing: Clex (Clark/Lex)
Rating: PG-13/T
Challenge: This is for a challenge at the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
writerverse land comm. If you join, be sure to tell them Kat Lee of Team Poetry sent you!
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 1,278
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
This wasn't how their night was supposed to go. They aren't where they should be, and both men are becoming swiftly aware that they will not be arriving at their destination this night. Clark's radio crackles again, and once more, he hits the dash. Lex notes that this time it's with a closed fist rather than an open hand. He knows even his boyfriend is losing his usually seemingly endless patience, but he still doesn't speak when Clark apologizes, "I'm sorry, Lex."
Those words seem almost prophetic as, moments later, the truck gives a great, gasping, and rattling sound, and then, for the second time that night, its engine dies. "I'm sorry, Lex," Clark says again. Lex is growing tired of hearing those words, but he's even more tired of something else. "You were right. We should've taken your limo."
Lex can't help smirking at Clark's guilty admission. Only Clark Kent would not want to arrive at a formal dance in a limousine. He had his reasons, Lex knew. He didn't want to make his prom night all about himself or Lex coming out of the closet, not that any amount of fanfare or misdirection would have managed to get the newspaper reporters, including Clark's friend, Chloe Sullivan, to look anywhere else that night except at them.
Lex had warned Clark not just about the benefits of the limousine's smooth and clean ride but also about the media. Every reporter he had ever known was a vulture, eagerly waiting to prey on the next person to make a headline. They would rip any one apart for the sake of a dollar or two. Normally, Lex could pay almost any one off, but an offer to pay the media to stay away from the graduating class' prom night at Smallville High would have only made them look closer to the activities and, especially, the participants. Chloe would get an exclusive, of course, and Lex knew that guaranteed the girl's budding career would become full fledged overnight, but he didn't mind helping a friend of Clark's. Still, he'd been prepared and had tried to prepare Clark for the inevitable outcome of the two of them going out in public together.
But they are not going to make it to his dance tonight, not unless Clark flies. Lex has never seen him do so, but he is quite convinced that Clark can fly. It goes completely against physics, of course, but then so do the DNA samples he's procured from Clark over the years they've known each other. He knows Clark isn't of this earth, and he would suspect even if he had not met the boy alive when he knew for a fact he had hit him with his car and should, by all rights, have killed him.
Lex's smirk grows at his brief trip down memory lane. He should have killed Clark that night, but thank God he didn't. Even if he hadn't, however, surely by now, he would have guessed the truth. Clark can not be from this world, because there is nothing else in their entire planet that can equate to his wonder or the way he makes Lex feel with simply a whispered word or a brush of his hand.
Clark has taken Lex's silence for anger and has been trying steadily, since his last apology to his billionaire boyfriend for stranding him in the middle of a country road, to get his old truck to crank. The engine has been trying to start but keeps failing. The radio comes and goes with the engine. Lex's ears catch the mangled tune of "Tiny Dancer". He blinks, coming out of his reverie, and says simply, "Get out of the truck, Clark," while doing the same himself.
Clark looks up with fear in his blue eyes, but he has nothing to fear from Lex, as his lover will one day teach him to accept. He has killed already to protect Clark, and he will do so again gladly whenever the need arises. After all, nothing in the world -- not his money, not his company, not his desire for the truth, nothing means as much to Lex as Clark does.
Still, it is with great hesitation that Clark dismounts from his truck, and when he goes to stand with Lex before its hood, his eyes are still downcast. "I'm sorry, Lex," he says again, his bottom lip trembling. "I screwed up everything." He does screw up everything, the country boy thinks. He's amazed Lex hasn't left him by now for something bigger and better, for some one more knowledgeable and fancier than he.
Lex reaches out and takes Clark's hand in his. His other hand gently tilts the boy's head up and then caresses his cheek. He feels a muscle twitch underneath his feather light touch. "Come closer," he commands. At the confusion that flits through Clark's baby blues, Lex amends, his new tone almost as gentle as his touch, "Hold me closer."
"Lex?" Clark queries uncertainly.
Lex smiles at him. "Sh," he whispers. He steps closer, closing the distance that has separated them all night until now. Briefly, he touches his lips to his. Clark's eyes are now shining, and his confusion has entirely replaced his fear in his eyes. "It's time to dance, sir," Lex explains, and then underneath the velvety black sky as full of stars and moonshine as the sky can only be far out in the country, he begins to turn his lover.
They dance together, and slowly, Lex draws Clark closer. Their bodies move smoothly against each other out here in the open where there are no reporters or peers from whom to have to hide. There are no cameras snapping, only stars and Clark's smile shining. They dance together to the music they hear beating between their hearts with no orchestra, band, or radio playing. They dance together until Lex pulls Clark as close to him as a second skin and whispers softly in his ear, "I love you, Clark Kent."
He kisses him again; only this time, he lets his full passion pour into their lips' embrace. With his lips massaging Clark's and his tongue sliding between the younger man's teeth and against his tongue, he shows him all his love. He pours all the love and passion he will always feel only for him into their sweet kiss. His hands raise to cup Clark's handsome face. His fingers caress his skin.
He would kiss him forever, but his mere, mortal lungs will not allow for it. He also doesn't want to frighten him away, so eventually, gradually, Lex lifts his mouth from Clark's. His eyes still gaze into his, and he leans his forehead against his. Quietly, in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, he whispers again, "I love you, Clark Kent."
Clark's lips are full, plump, and shining from Lex's tender treatment. His face is flushed, and his breath is ragged. Still, when he whispers back to him, he feels like shouting instead. "I love you, too, Lex Luthor!"
Then, hand in hand, Lex leads Clark back to his old, beat up truck. Whatever he wants, he will give him not just this night but throughout their life together. They won't make it to Clark's prom, but this night is already more magical for both than any prom or celebration could be. Indeed, it's the most magical night in their lives except, of course, for their wedding night many years later where again, they will dance cheek to cheek and whisper softly, "I love you, Clark Kent," and, "I love you too, Lex Luthor".
The End
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Smallville
Character/Pairing: Clex (Clark/Lex)
Rating: PG-13/T
Challenge: This is for a challenge at the
writerverse land comm. If you join, be sure to tell them Kat Lee of Team Poetry sent you!Warning(s): None
Word Count: 1,278
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
This wasn't how their night was supposed to go. They aren't where they should be, and both men are becoming swiftly aware that they will not be arriving at their destination this night. Clark's radio crackles again, and once more, he hits the dash. Lex notes that this time it's with a closed fist rather than an open hand. He knows even his boyfriend is losing his usually seemingly endless patience, but he still doesn't speak when Clark apologizes, "I'm sorry, Lex."
Those words seem almost prophetic as, moments later, the truck gives a great, gasping, and rattling sound, and then, for the second time that night, its engine dies. "I'm sorry, Lex," Clark says again. Lex is growing tired of hearing those words, but he's even more tired of something else. "You were right. We should've taken your limo."
Lex can't help smirking at Clark's guilty admission. Only Clark Kent would not want to arrive at a formal dance in a limousine. He had his reasons, Lex knew. He didn't want to make his prom night all about himself or Lex coming out of the closet, not that any amount of fanfare or misdirection would have managed to get the newspaper reporters, including Clark's friend, Chloe Sullivan, to look anywhere else that night except at them.
Lex had warned Clark not just about the benefits of the limousine's smooth and clean ride but also about the media. Every reporter he had ever known was a vulture, eagerly waiting to prey on the next person to make a headline. They would rip any one apart for the sake of a dollar or two. Normally, Lex could pay almost any one off, but an offer to pay the media to stay away from the graduating class' prom night at Smallville High would have only made them look closer to the activities and, especially, the participants. Chloe would get an exclusive, of course, and Lex knew that guaranteed the girl's budding career would become full fledged overnight, but he didn't mind helping a friend of Clark's. Still, he'd been prepared and had tried to prepare Clark for the inevitable outcome of the two of them going out in public together.
But they are not going to make it to his dance tonight, not unless Clark flies. Lex has never seen him do so, but he is quite convinced that Clark can fly. It goes completely against physics, of course, but then so do the DNA samples he's procured from Clark over the years they've known each other. He knows Clark isn't of this earth, and he would suspect even if he had not met the boy alive when he knew for a fact he had hit him with his car and should, by all rights, have killed him.
Lex's smirk grows at his brief trip down memory lane. He should have killed Clark that night, but thank God he didn't. Even if he hadn't, however, surely by now, he would have guessed the truth. Clark can not be from this world, because there is nothing else in their entire planet that can equate to his wonder or the way he makes Lex feel with simply a whispered word or a brush of his hand.
Clark has taken Lex's silence for anger and has been trying steadily, since his last apology to his billionaire boyfriend for stranding him in the middle of a country road, to get his old truck to crank. The engine has been trying to start but keeps failing. The radio comes and goes with the engine. Lex's ears catch the mangled tune of "Tiny Dancer". He blinks, coming out of his reverie, and says simply, "Get out of the truck, Clark," while doing the same himself.
Clark looks up with fear in his blue eyes, but he has nothing to fear from Lex, as his lover will one day teach him to accept. He has killed already to protect Clark, and he will do so again gladly whenever the need arises. After all, nothing in the world -- not his money, not his company, not his desire for the truth, nothing means as much to Lex as Clark does.
Still, it is with great hesitation that Clark dismounts from his truck, and when he goes to stand with Lex before its hood, his eyes are still downcast. "I'm sorry, Lex," he says again, his bottom lip trembling. "I screwed up everything." He does screw up everything, the country boy thinks. He's amazed Lex hasn't left him by now for something bigger and better, for some one more knowledgeable and fancier than he.
Lex reaches out and takes Clark's hand in his. His other hand gently tilts the boy's head up and then caresses his cheek. He feels a muscle twitch underneath his feather light touch. "Come closer," he commands. At the confusion that flits through Clark's baby blues, Lex amends, his new tone almost as gentle as his touch, "Hold me closer."
"Lex?" Clark queries uncertainly.
Lex smiles at him. "Sh," he whispers. He steps closer, closing the distance that has separated them all night until now. Briefly, he touches his lips to his. Clark's eyes are now shining, and his confusion has entirely replaced his fear in his eyes. "It's time to dance, sir," Lex explains, and then underneath the velvety black sky as full of stars and moonshine as the sky can only be far out in the country, he begins to turn his lover.
They dance together, and slowly, Lex draws Clark closer. Their bodies move smoothly against each other out here in the open where there are no reporters or peers from whom to have to hide. There are no cameras snapping, only stars and Clark's smile shining. They dance together to the music they hear beating between their hearts with no orchestra, band, or radio playing. They dance together until Lex pulls Clark as close to him as a second skin and whispers softly in his ear, "I love you, Clark Kent."
He kisses him again; only this time, he lets his full passion pour into their lips' embrace. With his lips massaging Clark's and his tongue sliding between the younger man's teeth and against his tongue, he shows him all his love. He pours all the love and passion he will always feel only for him into their sweet kiss. His hands raise to cup Clark's handsome face. His fingers caress his skin.
He would kiss him forever, but his mere, mortal lungs will not allow for it. He also doesn't want to frighten him away, so eventually, gradually, Lex lifts his mouth from Clark's. His eyes still gaze into his, and he leans his forehead against his. Quietly, in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, he whispers again, "I love you, Clark Kent."
Clark's lips are full, plump, and shining from Lex's tender treatment. His face is flushed, and his breath is ragged. Still, when he whispers back to him, he feels like shouting instead. "I love you, too, Lex Luthor!"
Then, hand in hand, Lex leads Clark back to his old, beat up truck. Whatever he wants, he will give him not just this night but throughout their life together. They won't make it to Clark's prom, but this night is already more magical for both than any prom or celebration could be. Indeed, it's the most magical night in their lives except, of course, for their wedding night many years later where again, they will dance cheek to cheek and whisper softly, "I love you, Clark Kent," and, "I love you too, Lex Luthor".
The End
