Teenage Wasteland - Prologue (+ Commentary)
Disclaimer: "Smallville" and certain characters belong to Miller-Gough et. al. No profit is gained from this writing-only, hopefully, enjoyment.
It was a complete accident, in no way intentional at all. Not even subconsciously, he told himself. He was just a klutz, through and through, and if he spilled something on someone it wasn't meant as an insult or a snub, or anything like that.
It just meant he was clumsy, and more often than not, was the proverbial bull in the china shop.
He really hadn't intended to spill hot coffee right in Coach Teague's lap. Really.
I had to start this off exactly here and in this precise way, with Clark being a dork and not making a very good impression. It was crucial to Jason's opinion of him. Jay needed to view Clark initially not as some demigod or obstacle in his way, but as a somewhat floundering young man to whom he, Jason, felt a strange sort of attachment-half protective, half admiring.
I also deliberately left the timeframe kind of nebulous with regard to Lana and Jason's relationship. In fact, everything Lana in this (and virtually every other SV) story is vague and "off-camera." I don't and will never bash characters, or make them OOC villains when they're never presented that way in the show, but I have no problem sidelining one I don't want to work into the story. That's Lana, and often the Kents, Pete, and Chloe. Chloe's hard for me to write, so I don't use her very often (even though I'd like to), and with the stories I tend to write, AUs, Pete and the Kents a lot of the time don't come into play. Here, I'm thinking of the Colin Luthor 'Verse stories, Lost Souls, and Ghost In Me, just to name a few. Some of the time this is deliberate, but most of the time it's just contingent upon the plot.
"Jesus Christ!"
"Oh, Gosh! I'm so sorry! Here," he said, scrambling for a bunch of napkins out of the dispenser. "Oh, man."
Teague grabbed the napkins from Clark's hand, using them to gently mop at his. . . er, crotch area.
I confess, I love a shy bumbling Clark who's like a big awkward puppy. He's not dumb, mind you, just socially inept. So "crotch area" is a personal favorite of mine, as it demonstrates right away how inexperienced and, uh, "romantically" challenged Clark is. I always get a good cackle out of imagining Jonathan giving Clark "The Talk" too, as no doubt both of them would be blushing and stammering within an inch of their lives. That's another big transformation Clark undergoes in this story-from a bumbling, blushing virgin who didn't even know himself really, to a man in a complex, fulfilling, and healthy relationship. Clark really grows up in Teenage Wasteland. He comes into his own, both in terms of finding his way power-wise and in his personal life.
"Oooh, that smarts," he muttered. Then, looking back up at Clark he forced a pained smile and said, "Don't worry about it, Clark. You hang around in a coffee shop, it's gonna happen sooner or later. Guess it was my turn today."
Clark just winced sympathetically, casting another glance down at. . . the area, and shrugging his shoulders uncomfortably.
"Really, I'm sorry," he said again. "That's got to be like the worst thing someone can do to a guy in here." He looked around The Talon. He was actually becoming used to the closed-in, claustrophobic feeling he always got while in the shop.
Cos, Christ, was I the only one who continually winced at The Talon's décor?
"Like I said, it's really not that big a deal. I'll be fine in a few minutes." He grimaced then, shifting slightly on the stool before stilling. "Make that an hour."
"Um, well, since I've embarrassed myself, and caused you bodily harm, the least I can do is pay for a drink while you wait. Something cold, maybe?" Clark asked, with a quick smile.
"Oh, something cold sounds good. Real cold. Damn cold."
Anyone who watches Supernatural would be able to easily spot my somewhat suspect characterization of Jason. I don't deny it. He's got more than a little Dean in him, Jason here does, but I don't write him the same as Dean. I don't envision Dean with Clark and Lex in this story. Jason in the show could be goofy and charming and sarcastic, and I decided that those were the man's actual traits, him making the best of a shitty situation (because, honestly, who wants to be ordered by one's psycho and abusive mom to fall in love with some random, albeit pretty, girl from Smallville fucking Kansas or else). In short, Jason's Jason, and while I'm sure he and Dean would get on pretty well, Dean would nonetheless react completely differently in this situation.
Clark chuckled nervously, and waved the girl at the counter over.
"Uh, a-- " He looked to Coach Teague.
"Mocha frappucino." He gave Clark a quick look, then went on to say, "Make that two. Here," and handed over a ten dollar bill. The waitress scooted away to make the drinks, and Clark stared at Coach Teague in confusion.
"But, I was gonna-- "
Teague just waved his hand, negligibly. "You're on an allowance, right?" he asked.
"Well, yeah."
"There you go," he replied, with a smile. It still wavered a little around the edges, but Clark had to give the guy points for trying. And for being so damn nice about the whole thing.
Ah, enter: rich!boy mentality, and my first real comparison of Jason to Lex.
"So, let me get this straight. I spill my hot coffee on your lap, and you buy me another drink?"
"Well, if you say it like that, it doesn't seem so noble. I was going for self-sacrificing and stoic, but that just makes me sound like a tool."
Clark gave a short, loud laugh. It was abrupt and totally unplanned, hugely booming like all his spontaneous laughs were. He gave a quick look-around, then felt his lips twitch again at the memory of one of the school's football coaches saying, 'tool.'
Coach Teague just kept on smiling, his eyes squinting as he looked at Clark.
Jason's thoughts here would be of the "So this is what Mom meant by 'potential complications'? Dude doesn't seem all that problematic to me" variety. At this point, poor Jason has no clue what he's in for.
"Here you are," Dana, the waitress said. She set down two drinks, dropped Coach Teague's change into his hand and walked back over to the other end of the long counter.
Clark reached over and pushed the dispenser for the straws, snagging two of them and holding one out for Teague.
"You don't play any sports, do you, Kent?" Coach asked him. He wasn't looking at Clark, eyes on his drink as he opened the straw paper and stuck it in. But Clark could tell when he was being baited.
"Not competitively." He shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. It was. . . okay. Clark preferred just plain black coffee, but this was better than those weird things Chloe always ordered for him when he wasn't paying attention. He'd learned the hard way that letting her make the runs for coffee was a very bad idea.
"Why is that?" Giving up any pretense of distraction, Coach Teague set his drink down and leaned over the counter. He and Clark were up at the front -- Teague sitting on one of the bar stools in front of the counter, and Clark leaning on a hip and facing him sideways.
Clark shrugged again, looking towards the doors at the people going in and out. That's one of the main reasons he came to The Talon, these days. He'd always liked people-watching, and ever since 'the big reveal,' as he called it in his head, he found it even more comforting. To just see regular people going about their lives, stopping in for some coffee and chatting to neighbors and acquaintances, made him feel just a bit more. . . involved, somehow. He was separate, always, but somehow when he was out in public he felt better than when he stayed on the farm all day.
Like he'd done last year. After Metropolis and. . . Lex being put away. . . Clark had spent almost all his spare time doing things around the farm. He'd avoided everyone but Pete, and had been so lonely that it'd been hard to breathe sometimes.
Aha! First outright mention of the third main character in this prologue (and story). Lex isn't in this scene, but he's right fucking there, if you know what I mean. Plus, this serves as background for Clark's state of mind here at the start. He's not a happy camper, still feeling guilty and ashamed and like he has to work to gain back everybody's trust-well, everybody's that is but Lex's. With Lex, he's ambivalent, scared primarily because this is only a few months after his exposure to Lex's Clark-Shrine, but he's also desperately lonely because at the start of season four there's no Pete, Chloe (still presumed dead in that ridiculous safe-house explosion), or Lana friendship. All he's got is Lois hanging around, and we know how much those two liked each other in the beginning, and his parents, towards whom he still feels indebted and on shaky ground (I think).
So it's not out of the realm of possibility that Clark would sort of latch onto the first new positive male influence in his life. Jason's an outsider to Smallville, so he doesn't know the score (or at least Clark thinks that, and it's mostly true anyway), and he's also expressed an interest in Clark, however polite and seemingly benign. All that combined gets you: Clark playing football because he's always wanted to, and Clark understandably being extra nice to Asst. Coach Teague (who then interprets those toothy grins Clark sends his way as flirting). Thus, PLOT (and porn)!
So now here he was, out and about in Smallville, stopping in to The Talon for some coffee and people-watching, and what happened? He ended up spilling his hot java all over the new Crows Assistant Coach. Well, to be fair, it wasn't all over. . . just all over his crotch, but that was still pretty bad.
Oh, my God! I'd forgotten about the "hot java" line! Another quirk of mine is having Clark be incapable of understanding or saying dirty talk. I'd even wager that down the road a few years, whilst in the company of his two guys, Clark actually says "hot java" at one point in reference to actual coffee, and said guys then proceed to mock him endlessly about that word choice. Clark is clueless, oblivious, naïve, whatever you want to call it, a lot of the time, but I also hope I manage to convey that he's not a fool, and he's definitely not stupid or malicious.
And now, in retaliation, the guy was questioning him about why he didn't play sports.
Hmm, I wonder, he thought. Better not tell him that, though. Wouldn't want the guy's head to explode. Probably better to stick with the oldie-but-goody. . .
I also have this vision of all three Kents sitting down one night and formulating excuses for Clark for when he inevitably winds up blowing his cover. Adrenaline would be one such example maybe, along with the over-protective line, and Clark's excuse here of being clumsy (which in crowded areas around this time in his life I kind of think would in fact be a genuine cause for concern).
"I'm just not coordinated," Clark replied, "at all, as evidenced by the earlier episode with my coffee-spillage. Again, I apologize for-- "
"Oh, for God's sake, Clark! Would you quit it already? You're sounding like a broken record. Really." He looked Clark in the eye and said, "You're forgiven, okay? No permanent injury, and we all live to drink another over-priced coffee another day."
Clark chuckled, blushing and dropping his eyes from Coach Teague's. The man had a stare that went right through him, and it uncomfortably reminded him of Lex.
Another one! Oh, Clark, can't you see you've been in love with that guy for more than, what, three years already? Silly alien.
Shaking his head to push away those thoughts, he took another sip of his frappy-thingy and shifted off the counter. He gave Coach Teague a nod and a smile before moving away. Teague had fallen silent, and Clark was taking that as his cue to vamoose.
"Clark?"
He turned around, eyebrows raised.
Teague waved his hand, gesturing for him to come back.
"Yeah?"
"I was just gonna say that try-outs are in two days." He gave Clark a steady, serious look and said, "Don't let being somewhat uncoordinated keep you from doing something you really want. If you want to at all, that is." He patted Clark on the shoulder, then, swiveling his stool back around to face the counter, said without looking at him, "Just thought you'd like to know."
Clark stood there for a second, blinking, before he felt a little smile tug at his lips. Giving in to it, he said to the side of Coach Teague's face,
"I'll think about it."
Teague nodded and took another pull on the straw in his drink. Clark was looking closely, so he saw when the man's lips twitched ever so slightly. But the smile never appeared, suppressed for some reason.
Teague trying to be stoic again?
"Well, be careful driving home," Coach said. "Crazy people behind the wheels, these days."
. . . like (bald) billionaires with histories of mental illness, abuse, abandonment issues, and/or potential or possibly preexisting grudges against either of these two guys. So, really, we're talking Lex, Bruce, and Oliver here. XD
Clark gave a little breathy snort at that, barely a push of air through his nose. He took one last look at Teague then left.
Hours later in the barn loft, staring up at the sky like he always seemed to do these days, Clark whispered aloud the thought that had been repeating itself in his head since this afternoon.
How can two completely different people make me feel the exact same way?
But, honey, they're not completely different. They're not even really that different at all, except Lex won't suffer being caged, and Jason's exceedingly familiar with the bars of his cell by now.
He went to sleep that night, and dreamed of sea-eyes -- half-lidded green ones, and those familiar grey-blues that haunted him mercilessly.
Oh, kid, you're already gone and you don't even know it. Best buckle your seatbelt, Dorothy, cos you're in for one helluva ride! (*dirty, lecherous chortle*)
***
It was a complete accident, in no way intentional at all. Not even subconsciously, he told himself. He was just a klutz, through and through, and if he spilled something on someone it wasn't meant as an insult or a snub, or anything like that.
It just meant he was clumsy, and more often than not, was the proverbial bull in the china shop.
He really hadn't intended to spill hot coffee right in Coach Teague's lap. Really.
I had to start this off exactly here and in this precise way, with Clark being a dork and not making a very good impression. It was crucial to Jason's opinion of him. Jay needed to view Clark initially not as some demigod or obstacle in his way, but as a somewhat floundering young man to whom he, Jason, felt a strange sort of attachment-half protective, half admiring.
I also deliberately left the timeframe kind of nebulous with regard to Lana and Jason's relationship. In fact, everything Lana in this (and virtually every other SV) story is vague and "off-camera." I don't and will never bash characters, or make them OOC villains when they're never presented that way in the show, but I have no problem sidelining one I don't want to work into the story. That's Lana, and often the Kents, Pete, and Chloe. Chloe's hard for me to write, so I don't use her very often (even though I'd like to), and with the stories I tend to write, AUs, Pete and the Kents a lot of the time don't come into play. Here, I'm thinking of the Colin Luthor 'Verse stories, Lost Souls, and Ghost In Me, just to name a few. Some of the time this is deliberate, but most of the time it's just contingent upon the plot.
"Jesus Christ!"
"Oh, Gosh! I'm so sorry! Here," he said, scrambling for a bunch of napkins out of the dispenser. "Oh, man."
Teague grabbed the napkins from Clark's hand, using them to gently mop at his. . . er, crotch area.
I confess, I love a shy bumbling Clark who's like a big awkward puppy. He's not dumb, mind you, just socially inept. So "crotch area" is a personal favorite of mine, as it demonstrates right away how inexperienced and, uh, "romantically" challenged Clark is. I always get a good cackle out of imagining Jonathan giving Clark "The Talk" too, as no doubt both of them would be blushing and stammering within an inch of their lives. That's another big transformation Clark undergoes in this story-from a bumbling, blushing virgin who didn't even know himself really, to a man in a complex, fulfilling, and healthy relationship. Clark really grows up in Teenage Wasteland. He comes into his own, both in terms of finding his way power-wise and in his personal life.
"Oooh, that smarts," he muttered. Then, looking back up at Clark he forced a pained smile and said, "Don't worry about it, Clark. You hang around in a coffee shop, it's gonna happen sooner or later. Guess it was my turn today."
Clark just winced sympathetically, casting another glance down at. . . the area, and shrugging his shoulders uncomfortably.
"Really, I'm sorry," he said again. "That's got to be like the worst thing someone can do to a guy in here." He looked around The Talon. He was actually becoming used to the closed-in, claustrophobic feeling he always got while in the shop.
Cos, Christ, was I the only one who continually winced at The Talon's décor?
"Like I said, it's really not that big a deal. I'll be fine in a few minutes." He grimaced then, shifting slightly on the stool before stilling. "Make that an hour."
"Um, well, since I've embarrassed myself, and caused you bodily harm, the least I can do is pay for a drink while you wait. Something cold, maybe?" Clark asked, with a quick smile.
"Oh, something cold sounds good. Real cold. Damn cold."
Anyone who watches Supernatural would be able to easily spot my somewhat suspect characterization of Jason. I don't deny it. He's got more than a little Dean in him, Jason here does, but I don't write him the same as Dean. I don't envision Dean with Clark and Lex in this story. Jason in the show could be goofy and charming and sarcastic, and I decided that those were the man's actual traits, him making the best of a shitty situation (because, honestly, who wants to be ordered by one's psycho and abusive mom to fall in love with some random, albeit pretty, girl from Smallville fucking Kansas or else). In short, Jason's Jason, and while I'm sure he and Dean would get on pretty well, Dean would nonetheless react completely differently in this situation.
Clark chuckled nervously, and waved the girl at the counter over.
"Uh, a-- " He looked to Coach Teague.
"Mocha frappucino." He gave Clark a quick look, then went on to say, "Make that two. Here," and handed over a ten dollar bill. The waitress scooted away to make the drinks, and Clark stared at Coach Teague in confusion.
"But, I was gonna-- "
Teague just waved his hand, negligibly. "You're on an allowance, right?" he asked.
"Well, yeah."
"There you go," he replied, with a smile. It still wavered a little around the edges, but Clark had to give the guy points for trying. And for being so damn nice about the whole thing.
Ah, enter: rich!boy mentality, and my first real comparison of Jason to Lex.
"So, let me get this straight. I spill my hot coffee on your lap, and you buy me another drink?"
"Well, if you say it like that, it doesn't seem so noble. I was going for self-sacrificing and stoic, but that just makes me sound like a tool."
Clark gave a short, loud laugh. It was abrupt and totally unplanned, hugely booming like all his spontaneous laughs were. He gave a quick look-around, then felt his lips twitch again at the memory of one of the school's football coaches saying, 'tool.'
Coach Teague just kept on smiling, his eyes squinting as he looked at Clark.
Jason's thoughts here would be of the "So this is what Mom meant by 'potential complications'? Dude doesn't seem all that problematic to me" variety. At this point, poor Jason has no clue what he's in for.
"Here you are," Dana, the waitress said. She set down two drinks, dropped Coach Teague's change into his hand and walked back over to the other end of the long counter.
Clark reached over and pushed the dispenser for the straws, snagging two of them and holding one out for Teague.
"You don't play any sports, do you, Kent?" Coach asked him. He wasn't looking at Clark, eyes on his drink as he opened the straw paper and stuck it in. But Clark could tell when he was being baited.
"Not competitively." He shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. It was. . . okay. Clark preferred just plain black coffee, but this was better than those weird things Chloe always ordered for him when he wasn't paying attention. He'd learned the hard way that letting her make the runs for coffee was a very bad idea.
"Why is that?" Giving up any pretense of distraction, Coach Teague set his drink down and leaned over the counter. He and Clark were up at the front -- Teague sitting on one of the bar stools in front of the counter, and Clark leaning on a hip and facing him sideways.
Clark shrugged again, looking towards the doors at the people going in and out. That's one of the main reasons he came to The Talon, these days. He'd always liked people-watching, and ever since 'the big reveal,' as he called it in his head, he found it even more comforting. To just see regular people going about their lives, stopping in for some coffee and chatting to neighbors and acquaintances, made him feel just a bit more. . . involved, somehow. He was separate, always, but somehow when he was out in public he felt better than when he stayed on the farm all day.
Like he'd done last year. After Metropolis and. . . Lex being put away. . . Clark had spent almost all his spare time doing things around the farm. He'd avoided everyone but Pete, and had been so lonely that it'd been hard to breathe sometimes.
Aha! First outright mention of the third main character in this prologue (and story). Lex isn't in this scene, but he's right fucking there, if you know what I mean. Plus, this serves as background for Clark's state of mind here at the start. He's not a happy camper, still feeling guilty and ashamed and like he has to work to gain back everybody's trust-well, everybody's that is but Lex's. With Lex, he's ambivalent, scared primarily because this is only a few months after his exposure to Lex's Clark-Shrine, but he's also desperately lonely because at the start of season four there's no Pete, Chloe (still presumed dead in that ridiculous safe-house explosion), or Lana friendship. All he's got is Lois hanging around, and we know how much those two liked each other in the beginning, and his parents, towards whom he still feels indebted and on shaky ground (I think).
So it's not out of the realm of possibility that Clark would sort of latch onto the first new positive male influence in his life. Jason's an outsider to Smallville, so he doesn't know the score (or at least Clark thinks that, and it's mostly true anyway), and he's also expressed an interest in Clark, however polite and seemingly benign. All that combined gets you: Clark playing football because he's always wanted to, and Clark understandably being extra nice to Asst. Coach Teague (who then interprets those toothy grins Clark sends his way as flirting). Thus, PLOT (and porn)!
So now here he was, out and about in Smallville, stopping in to The Talon for some coffee and people-watching, and what happened? He ended up spilling his hot java all over the new Crows Assistant Coach. Well, to be fair, it wasn't all over. . . just all over his crotch, but that was still pretty bad.
Oh, my God! I'd forgotten about the "hot java" line! Another quirk of mine is having Clark be incapable of understanding or saying dirty talk. I'd even wager that down the road a few years, whilst in the company of his two guys, Clark actually says "hot java" at one point in reference to actual coffee, and said guys then proceed to mock him endlessly about that word choice. Clark is clueless, oblivious, naïve, whatever you want to call it, a lot of the time, but I also hope I manage to convey that he's not a fool, and he's definitely not stupid or malicious.
And now, in retaliation, the guy was questioning him about why he didn't play sports.
Hmm, I wonder, he thought. Better not tell him that, though. Wouldn't want the guy's head to explode. Probably better to stick with the oldie-but-goody. . .
I also have this vision of all three Kents sitting down one night and formulating excuses for Clark for when he inevitably winds up blowing his cover. Adrenaline would be one such example maybe, along with the over-protective line, and Clark's excuse here of being clumsy (which in crowded areas around this time in his life I kind of think would in fact be a genuine cause for concern).
"I'm just not coordinated," Clark replied, "at all, as evidenced by the earlier episode with my coffee-spillage. Again, I apologize for-- "
"Oh, for God's sake, Clark! Would you quit it already? You're sounding like a broken record. Really." He looked Clark in the eye and said, "You're forgiven, okay? No permanent injury, and we all live to drink another over-priced coffee another day."
Clark chuckled, blushing and dropping his eyes from Coach Teague's. The man had a stare that went right through him, and it uncomfortably reminded him of Lex.
Another one! Oh, Clark, can't you see you've been in love with that guy for more than, what, three years already? Silly alien.
Shaking his head to push away those thoughts, he took another sip of his frappy-thingy and shifted off the counter. He gave Coach Teague a nod and a smile before moving away. Teague had fallen silent, and Clark was taking that as his cue to vamoose.
"Clark?"
He turned around, eyebrows raised.
Teague waved his hand, gesturing for him to come back.
"Yeah?"
"I was just gonna say that try-outs are in two days." He gave Clark a steady, serious look and said, "Don't let being somewhat uncoordinated keep you from doing something you really want. If you want to at all, that is." He patted Clark on the shoulder, then, swiveling his stool back around to face the counter, said without looking at him, "Just thought you'd like to know."
Clark stood there for a second, blinking, before he felt a little smile tug at his lips. Giving in to it, he said to the side of Coach Teague's face,
"I'll think about it."
Teague nodded and took another pull on the straw in his drink. Clark was looking closely, so he saw when the man's lips twitched ever so slightly. But the smile never appeared, suppressed for some reason.
Teague trying to be stoic again?
"Well, be careful driving home," Coach said. "Crazy people behind the wheels, these days."
. . . like (bald) billionaires with histories of mental illness, abuse, abandonment issues, and/or potential or possibly preexisting grudges against either of these two guys. So, really, we're talking Lex, Bruce, and Oliver here. XD
Clark gave a little breathy snort at that, barely a push of air through his nose. He took one last look at Teague then left.
Hours later in the barn loft, staring up at the sky like he always seemed to do these days, Clark whispered aloud the thought that had been repeating itself in his head since this afternoon.
How can two completely different people make me feel the exact same way?
But, honey, they're not completely different. They're not even really that different at all, except Lex won't suffer being caged, and Jason's exceedingly familiar with the bars of his cell by now.
He went to sleep that night, and dreamed of sea-eyes -- half-lidded green ones, and those familiar grey-blues that haunted him mercilessly.
Oh, kid, you're already gone and you don't even know it. Best buckle your seatbelt, Dorothy, cos you're in for one helluva ride! (*dirty, lecherous chortle*)
***