Birthday: Day 16: Untitled Smallville ficlet
Untitled Smallville ficlet based in this 'verse: Mariposa
Pairings: Whit/Clark
Rating:PG
Word Count: 929
Summary: Whit is kind of a numbskull, but Clark is forgiving.
Notes/Warnings: it's an itty-bitty ficlet set before bad times in the Mariposa story. Totally not going to understand this without having read the story. But it's a pretty interesting story, so give it a chance. :) (le pimp)
"I'm not kidding Clark; it would be a good thing coming out to this club with me-it's an under twenty-one club, perfectly safe, I promise. I mean, I'm not pushing you and you don’t have to say yes, but it could be fun." Whit threw himself down on the couch, getting a side-eye look from Buddy, along with a lifted lip and some pointed grumbling. Whit shoved Buddy off the couch and wonder of wonders, Buddy allowed it-circled himself and settled on the rug with a heavy sigh.
"Traitor," Clark muttered. Buddy was unmoved, he rolled over onto Whit's foot and Whit was pretty sure he farted….
Clark was talking and Whit gave him all of his attention, difficult as it was. Could Clark not smell that-it was-"Whit," Clark said, louder and more forcefully. "Whit…you know what it's like for me-it's not like, like school or something. I don't like crowds of strangers. And loud music, and-and crowds."
"Okay, but…you do all right at the movies, and it's not like you know all the people there, Clark. Hardly any of them. It's not like you’re, what does Chloe call it, a social butterfly."
Clark stopped, turned to Whit with tight lips and what was surely meant to be an angry glare but was just so…Clark. "Thanks Whit. Thanks for reminding me."
A tangled knot made of hurt for Clark and fondness for him and a tiny bit of amusement too, tugged Whit's heart. Whit was a supportive…boyfriend, whatever this thing with Kent was called…he was, really, it was just; angry Clark just wasn't threatening-it was like watching a huge annoyed kitten.
Whit bit his lip to keep from smiling-Clark would never forgive him if…too late. Clark huffed and scooted further down the couch, away from Whit. "Don’t think I don’t know you're laughing at me, Whitney. I'm glad you think I'm so darn funny."
Shit! Whit's heart twinged harder and he slid off the couch, knee'd his way in front of Clark. "Clark, I don't think you're funny, I don’t think this thing-" he gestured at Clark "-is funny. It's not and I get it, I try to get it. You're uncomfortable with strangers and you should be. You don’t feel as safe away from familiar places and I get that. And I'd rather spend all our time here, just you and me, than anyplace at all. Ever. You know? I really (love) uh…care about you Clark and how you feel."
Clark turned pinker and pinker as Whit spoke and his shy smile grew and grew until it was that heart-stopping, brain-killing, rival of the sun that had melted Whit in his tracks that day he came to apologize.
"I know," Clark said. "I know you do…'care'," and Whit winced internally at the easily heard quotes Clark threw around the word and knew that even if they hadn't said (love), it was there. Clark's smile eased into something soft and sweet. "I care too, so I do want to do those things with you. I just…can't. Not yet."
Clark's smile dissolved, and Whit couldn't have that. He jumped up and grabbed Clark's hand, tried to pull him off the couch. "Hey, c'mon, Kent. I know a place where they're keeping the best hotdogs in the world captive and we should go set them free. And then eat them."
"Whit, you're…kind of weird."
"Yes, but you're not so we balance each other out. Ying-yang, force of nature, something like that."
"Come here," Clark said and tugged gently on whit's hand, pulled him back down next to Clark. When Whit came close, Clark kissed him. Whit closed his eyes and inhaled, catching a whiff of Clark's sunshine and cutgrass scent, reveling in the smooth warm slide of Clark's lips against his. Tender and sweet, tentative touches, just like his Clark to be unsure even now, even after all this time…Whit cupped the back of Clark's head, lightly, carefully, and when Clark didn’t wince he opened the kiss-just a little, a secret little lick along Clark's bottom lip, asking, waiting…Clark let Whit in, let the slide of his tongue along Whit's be his answer. Whit fell into it, for long minutes all there was in the world was the feel of his lips against Clark's, his teeth tugging gently on the plush cushion of Clark's lip. All he heard was the soft, breathy groan Clark let go when Whit tugged just right-
A very loud doggish huff of annoyance brought them back to earth. Clark's eyes were dark and hot and trained on Whit. He licked his lips slowly and Whit shuddered. "Okay," Clark said. "Let's go liberate those ultimately doomed hot dogs…and their friends the ice-cream."
"Yeah, yeah…ice-cream…" Whit blinked, trying to silence the sound of Clark's moan, and ignore what it did to him. Buddy helped that by jumping up and narrowly missing Whit's balls with his evil little paws. His face said he clearly understood there was ice-cream to be had; Whit swept him off his lap and stood. He eyed Clark, who was smirking in a way as evil as his little dog.
Whit sighed. So much for the good times. "God, yes, you animated mop. You can come, too."
Clark laughed, a sound sweet and higher than such a big guy should produce and as always it made Whit feel like he'd finally found his place in the world. Dog hair all over the inside of his truck? It was more than worth it.
8-2013
Pairings: Whit/Clark
Rating:PG
Word Count: 929
Summary: Whit is kind of a numbskull, but Clark is forgiving.
Notes/Warnings: it's an itty-bitty ficlet set before bad times in the Mariposa story. Totally not going to understand this without having read the story. But it's a pretty interesting story, so give it a chance. :) (le pimp)
"I'm not kidding Clark; it would be a good thing coming out to this club with me-it's an under twenty-one club, perfectly safe, I promise. I mean, I'm not pushing you and you don’t have to say yes, but it could be fun." Whit threw himself down on the couch, getting a side-eye look from Buddy, along with a lifted lip and some pointed grumbling. Whit shoved Buddy off the couch and wonder of wonders, Buddy allowed it-circled himself and settled on the rug with a heavy sigh.
"Traitor," Clark muttered. Buddy was unmoved, he rolled over onto Whit's foot and Whit was pretty sure he farted….
Clark was talking and Whit gave him all of his attention, difficult as it was. Could Clark not smell that-it was-"Whit," Clark said, louder and more forcefully. "Whit…you know what it's like for me-it's not like, like school or something. I don't like crowds of strangers. And loud music, and-and crowds."
"Okay, but…you do all right at the movies, and it's not like you know all the people there, Clark. Hardly any of them. It's not like you’re, what does Chloe call it, a social butterfly."
Clark stopped, turned to Whit with tight lips and what was surely meant to be an angry glare but was just so…Clark. "Thanks Whit. Thanks for reminding me."
A tangled knot made of hurt for Clark and fondness for him and a tiny bit of amusement too, tugged Whit's heart. Whit was a supportive…boyfriend, whatever this thing with Kent was called…he was, really, it was just; angry Clark just wasn't threatening-it was like watching a huge annoyed kitten.
Whit bit his lip to keep from smiling-Clark would never forgive him if…too late. Clark huffed and scooted further down the couch, away from Whit. "Don’t think I don’t know you're laughing at me, Whitney. I'm glad you think I'm so darn funny."
Shit! Whit's heart twinged harder and he slid off the couch, knee'd his way in front of Clark. "Clark, I don't think you're funny, I don’t think this thing-" he gestured at Clark "-is funny. It's not and I get it, I try to get it. You're uncomfortable with strangers and you should be. You don’t feel as safe away from familiar places and I get that. And I'd rather spend all our time here, just you and me, than anyplace at all. Ever. You know? I really (love) uh…care about you Clark and how you feel."
Clark turned pinker and pinker as Whit spoke and his shy smile grew and grew until it was that heart-stopping, brain-killing, rival of the sun that had melted Whit in his tracks that day he came to apologize.
"I know," Clark said. "I know you do…'care'," and Whit winced internally at the easily heard quotes Clark threw around the word and knew that even if they hadn't said (love), it was there. Clark's smile eased into something soft and sweet. "I care too, so I do want to do those things with you. I just…can't. Not yet."
Clark's smile dissolved, and Whit couldn't have that. He jumped up and grabbed Clark's hand, tried to pull him off the couch. "Hey, c'mon, Kent. I know a place where they're keeping the best hotdogs in the world captive and we should go set them free. And then eat them."
"Whit, you're…kind of weird."
"Yes, but you're not so we balance each other out. Ying-yang, force of nature, something like that."
"Come here," Clark said and tugged gently on whit's hand, pulled him back down next to Clark. When Whit came close, Clark kissed him. Whit closed his eyes and inhaled, catching a whiff of Clark's sunshine and cutgrass scent, reveling in the smooth warm slide of Clark's lips against his. Tender and sweet, tentative touches, just like his Clark to be unsure even now, even after all this time…Whit cupped the back of Clark's head, lightly, carefully, and when Clark didn’t wince he opened the kiss-just a little, a secret little lick along Clark's bottom lip, asking, waiting…Clark let Whit in, let the slide of his tongue along Whit's be his answer. Whit fell into it, for long minutes all there was in the world was the feel of his lips against Clark's, his teeth tugging gently on the plush cushion of Clark's lip. All he heard was the soft, breathy groan Clark let go when Whit tugged just right-
A very loud doggish huff of annoyance brought them back to earth. Clark's eyes were dark and hot and trained on Whit. He licked his lips slowly and Whit shuddered. "Okay," Clark said. "Let's go liberate those ultimately doomed hot dogs…and their friends the ice-cream."
"Yeah, yeah…ice-cream…" Whit blinked, trying to silence the sound of Clark's moan, and ignore what it did to him. Buddy helped that by jumping up and narrowly missing Whit's balls with his evil little paws. His face said he clearly understood there was ice-cream to be had; Whit swept him off his lap and stood. He eyed Clark, who was smirking in a way as evil as his little dog.
Whit sighed. So much for the good times. "God, yes, you animated mop. You can come, too."
Clark laughed, a sound sweet and higher than such a big guy should produce and as always it made Whit feel like he'd finally found his place in the world. Dog hair all over the inside of his truck? It was more than worth it.
8-2013