sv fic post: How I Spent My Summer Vacation part six
Title: How I Spent My Summer Vacation
Fandom: SV
Pairing: Clark/ Whit, Jason/Whit
Rating: R
Summary: All about what Clark learns on his summer job.
I promise, this one is not going to be a year long never-ending WIP. I'm pretty sure.
The previous parts are here, writing a tell-all that's gonna name names, you bet. First chapter features Chaim B. Mousenamel, a semi-well known genre actor…
Of course, the Universe laughed brightly, took out Its Daybook and reordered his plans. Instead of pointedly ignoring Whit's lying, cheating, cowardly ass happily ever after like he'd fully intended to do, Clark ended up spending the rest of the night hanging with him outside the Med Center while Jason was inside getting looked at. He'd gotten jumped on a beer run to Granville. He apologized over and over to Whit for being stupid, and to Clark, and to the nurses, the police…he described the guys to the police, but admitted the descriptions were vague, since at the time of the incident, he was busy getting the shit kicked out of himself. The cops sympathized, told him they'd try their best which meant that he was shit out of luck, and scolded him about underage drinking. His blood alcohol level was nil, he hadn't had a drop all night and that worked in his favor. Clark was surprised. He thought Jason was matching Whit beer for beer, but now that he thought about it, no, he hadn't been drinking. So why leave a party where there was plenty booze and all for free and go to Granville where he'd have to pay? Not to mention, find someone to buy it for him....
His mother stood by him in the ER waiting room, her hand wrapped around his wrist, worry creasing her brow. Clark couldn't help staring at her…she was a mom but wow…she was beautiful, as beautiful as her son, and looked fragile as a china doll, staring at Jason with wide, stricken eyes.
At the moment, poor Jason was a little less than beautiful. Dried blood was caked over his face, a cut over his eye gaped open, his lower lip was split, it looked raw and puffy and painful. His wrist was swollen, round as a baseball, and he hissed every time his mother bumped it. Clark watched her and felt oddly uncomfortable. She obviously doted on him-she hovered, she patted him, cooed and tutted over him. And at first look, she'd seemed so fragile, breakable…but Jason seemed to be even more so. He looked small and drained next to her, the way he curled in over himself, trying to protect what looked like a broken hand.
Clark felt uncomfortable enough to leave the waiting room-guilt pushed him out, sent him out to look for Whit and tell him to go back inside and sit with Jason and his mother. He found Whit stalking around and around in the parking lot, pacing like a grumpy tiger from his car to the curb and back again. He'd been the one Jason called to come pick him up, the one to take Jason to the hospital, sat with him until his mother came and then for some reason had called Clark and begged him to come, and then sent *him* inside to sit with Jason.
Clark pulled Whit to sit down with him on the benches in front of the Med Center. "So. Tell me what really happened because that story he told is so full of bullshit, I could spread it on the fields."
"Country mother fucker," Whit smiled, and shook his head. "He got jumped and beat. That's the truth."
8
The morning's first stop on the list was one of the funeral homes of which the SV had strangely many for a town its size. Whit dropped them off with instructions. "Prune the myrtles on the drive, mow, and water those hanging baskets. There's like a million of those fuckers. And don't forget to edge the drive in back of the place-look out for hearses."
So now they were piling pruned branches onto a tarp, just him and Pete. Clark was still thinking about what happened to Jason-in fact, he was still out, the third time since they'd started working for Gabe that Jason was out of work with some kind of injury. He piled branches without looking, his mind playing the Jason thing from all different angles…what if Jason was in a gang? Though honestly he couldn't imagine what the hell kind of gang Jason would be in…his gang would do what--drive-by blowjobs? And wear pink bandanas and slap people until they cried-and instantly felt like an asshole. Well, fuck what's the point in being catty, Kent, if you're gonna wither up with guilt? Man up-- "-hunh-what?"
"I said, you're building the fuckin' Great Wall of China here, what the hell are you thinking about, since you're obviously not here on planet Earth with me?"
Pete listened intently while Clark told him what happened while he'd been sleeping the sleep of the innocent, leaving off any kind of speculation about Jason lying about the mugging somehow. Pete nodded, looked very serious. He stopped and seemed to be mulling over what to say as he wiped sweat from his brow, and while he was doing that, Clark was mulling over how God was really,* really* good to Pete. Smooth brown skin rolled over tight muscle, gleamed like glossy melted chocolate in the sun…a fat bead of sweat rolled around a dark peaked nipple, slowly…lovingly…like it was sad to leave its happy home and…Clark vowed he was going to stuff his face with the green rock and gouge out his eyes and salt and burn his mind-for God's sake it was Pete! Could he be more of a perv? It was like-like perving on his brother. Geez…"--what?"
"Jesus, can you stay with me for more than half a minute? I said if you grab the hose, we can water all those baskets and chill until those guys come back to pick us up…and…" he sighed and looked uncomfortable. "I might have an idea about what's happening to Jason."
"You-okay-" he grabbed the hose and hooked it up to the spigot, and Pete moved along the funeral home's porch, watering hanging baskets of petunias.
"It could be, there was no ass-kicking by some random dudes. The way he hurts himself all the time…could be it's happening at home."
"What? How so? The only ones at home are Jason and his mother." He glanced around to make sure that they were alone-he didn't want crazy talk to be spread.
Pete said nothing, just raised an eyebrow.
"Hunh-don't be ridiculous!" Clark insisted, "She can't beat him up. Look at him-he's solid muscle, and he's bigger than her and--"
"What would you do if your mom hauled off and smacked the shit out of you? Smack her back?" At Clark's automatic outraged no, Pete said, "See? You wouldn't hit her and Jason isn't going to hit his mom either. He won't hit back-Cee, it happens. I know from my mom…she gets cases like this from time to time."
"But why doesn't he tell someone? Why didn’t he ever go to the school counselor-that's what they're supposed to help with."
Pete shrugged. "Bunch of reasons. He doesn't want to look stupid maybe? You know, getting beat up by a woman-'specially his mom? Or still protecting her even though…" He unscrewed the watering attachment from the hose. "I don’t know."
Whit came around the far end of the building, yelling at them to get a move on and Pete and Clark finished up their part of the job. As usual, the day left Clark thinking hard. Thinking about Jason, and him not being able to protect himself, thinking about Whit and how he told the truth without telling the truth and….about a lot of things. Whit knows everything and it's eating him up. No wonder he won’t leave Jason. Clark figured this whole thing was out of his league, and he was probably just causing trouble for Whit and as much as he wanted to-to have him, it wasn't possible… he just had to step aside and let those two handle their business.
part 7
TBC
Fandom: SV
Pairing: Clark/ Whit, Jason/Whit
Rating: R
Summary: All about what Clark learns on his summer job.
I promise, this one is not going to be a year long never-ending WIP. I'm pretty sure.
The previous parts are here, writing a tell-all that's gonna name names, you bet. First chapter features Chaim B. Mousenamel, a semi-well known genre actor…
Of course, the Universe laughed brightly, took out Its Daybook and reordered his plans. Instead of pointedly ignoring Whit's lying, cheating, cowardly ass happily ever after like he'd fully intended to do, Clark ended up spending the rest of the night hanging with him outside the Med Center while Jason was inside getting looked at. He'd gotten jumped on a beer run to Granville. He apologized over and over to Whit for being stupid, and to Clark, and to the nurses, the police…he described the guys to the police, but admitted the descriptions were vague, since at the time of the incident, he was busy getting the shit kicked out of himself. The cops sympathized, told him they'd try their best which meant that he was shit out of luck, and scolded him about underage drinking. His blood alcohol level was nil, he hadn't had a drop all night and that worked in his favor. Clark was surprised. He thought Jason was matching Whit beer for beer, but now that he thought about it, no, he hadn't been drinking. So why leave a party where there was plenty booze and all for free and go to Granville where he'd have to pay? Not to mention, find someone to buy it for him....
His mother stood by him in the ER waiting room, her hand wrapped around his wrist, worry creasing her brow. Clark couldn't help staring at her…she was a mom but wow…she was beautiful, as beautiful as her son, and looked fragile as a china doll, staring at Jason with wide, stricken eyes.
At the moment, poor Jason was a little less than beautiful. Dried blood was caked over his face, a cut over his eye gaped open, his lower lip was split, it looked raw and puffy and painful. His wrist was swollen, round as a baseball, and he hissed every time his mother bumped it. Clark watched her and felt oddly uncomfortable. She obviously doted on him-she hovered, she patted him, cooed and tutted over him. And at first look, she'd seemed so fragile, breakable…but Jason seemed to be even more so. He looked small and drained next to her, the way he curled in over himself, trying to protect what looked like a broken hand.
Clark felt uncomfortable enough to leave the waiting room-guilt pushed him out, sent him out to look for Whit and tell him to go back inside and sit with Jason and his mother. He found Whit stalking around and around in the parking lot, pacing like a grumpy tiger from his car to the curb and back again. He'd been the one Jason called to come pick him up, the one to take Jason to the hospital, sat with him until his mother came and then for some reason had called Clark and begged him to come, and then sent *him* inside to sit with Jason.
Clark pulled Whit to sit down with him on the benches in front of the Med Center. "So. Tell me what really happened because that story he told is so full of bullshit, I could spread it on the fields."
"Country mother fucker," Whit smiled, and shook his head. "He got jumped and beat. That's the truth."
8
The morning's first stop on the list was one of the funeral homes of which the SV had strangely many for a town its size. Whit dropped them off with instructions. "Prune the myrtles on the drive, mow, and water those hanging baskets. There's like a million of those fuckers. And don't forget to edge the drive in back of the place-look out for hearses."
So now they were piling pruned branches onto a tarp, just him and Pete. Clark was still thinking about what happened to Jason-in fact, he was still out, the third time since they'd started working for Gabe that Jason was out of work with some kind of injury. He piled branches without looking, his mind playing the Jason thing from all different angles…what if Jason was in a gang? Though honestly he couldn't imagine what the hell kind of gang Jason would be in…his gang would do what--drive-by blowjobs? And wear pink bandanas and slap people until they cried-and instantly felt like an asshole. Well, fuck what's the point in being catty, Kent, if you're gonna wither up with guilt? Man up-- "-hunh-what?"
"I said, you're building the fuckin' Great Wall of China here, what the hell are you thinking about, since you're obviously not here on planet Earth with me?"
Pete listened intently while Clark told him what happened while he'd been sleeping the sleep of the innocent, leaving off any kind of speculation about Jason lying about the mugging somehow. Pete nodded, looked very serious. He stopped and seemed to be mulling over what to say as he wiped sweat from his brow, and while he was doing that, Clark was mulling over how God was really,* really* good to Pete. Smooth brown skin rolled over tight muscle, gleamed like glossy melted chocolate in the sun…a fat bead of sweat rolled around a dark peaked nipple, slowly…lovingly…like it was sad to leave its happy home and…Clark vowed he was going to stuff his face with the green rock and gouge out his eyes and salt and burn his mind-for God's sake it was Pete! Could he be more of a perv? It was like-like perving on his brother. Geez…"--what?"
"Jesus, can you stay with me for more than half a minute? I said if you grab the hose, we can water all those baskets and chill until those guys come back to pick us up…and…" he sighed and looked uncomfortable. "I might have an idea about what's happening to Jason."
"You-okay-" he grabbed the hose and hooked it up to the spigot, and Pete moved along the funeral home's porch, watering hanging baskets of petunias.
"It could be, there was no ass-kicking by some random dudes. The way he hurts himself all the time…could be it's happening at home."
"What? How so? The only ones at home are Jason and his mother." He glanced around to make sure that they were alone-he didn't want crazy talk to be spread.
Pete said nothing, just raised an eyebrow.
"Hunh-don't be ridiculous!" Clark insisted, "She can't beat him up. Look at him-he's solid muscle, and he's bigger than her and--"
"What would you do if your mom hauled off and smacked the shit out of you? Smack her back?" At Clark's automatic outraged no, Pete said, "See? You wouldn't hit her and Jason isn't going to hit his mom either. He won't hit back-Cee, it happens. I know from my mom…she gets cases like this from time to time."
"But why doesn't he tell someone? Why didn’t he ever go to the school counselor-that's what they're supposed to help with."
Pete shrugged. "Bunch of reasons. He doesn't want to look stupid maybe? You know, getting beat up by a woman-'specially his mom? Or still protecting her even though…" He unscrewed the watering attachment from the hose. "I don’t know."
Whit came around the far end of the building, yelling at them to get a move on and Pete and Clark finished up their part of the job. As usual, the day left Clark thinking hard. Thinking about Jason, and him not being able to protect himself, thinking about Whit and how he told the truth without telling the truth and….about a lot of things. Whit knows everything and it's eating him up. No wonder he won’t leave Jason. Clark figured this whole thing was out of his league, and he was probably just causing trouble for Whit and as much as he wanted to-to have him, it wasn't possible… he just had to step aside and let those two handle their business.
part 7
TBC