Smallville fic hurrah?
Title: Symphony, Part I
Summary: "The point of the symphony, Lex learned at an early age, is not to listen to the music."
Fandom: Smallville
Word Count: 392
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, future AU (takes into account series up to Lexmas)
Pairing: Lex/Lana
A/N: The companion piece is forthcoming, and after it's done, I'm going to post it on the LexandLana Yahoo group. Damn, is this ever angsty. Oh well.
The point of the symphony, Lex learned at an early age, is not to listen to the music. Listening to music is something you do at home. The point of the symphony is to let other people know that you are the type of person who goes to the symphony.
And so he keeps a box, and he keeps Lana in it. He is always early; he always stops to talk to the old women whose names he is constantly forgetting who run the Symphony League. They always say soothing things about his dead father and give him big checks when elections roll around.
It’s Mozart tonight. He doesn’t like Mozart. Mozart sounds like everything else; well, that’s not true. Everything else sounds like Mozart. Lex would rather be in his study with a bottle of scotch and Schubert.
They take their seats. The violinist comes out almost as soon as they sit down. During the opening sonata, her hand comes to rest on his. It’s cold; it seems she’s always cold. He takes it into his to warm it. It might be mistaken for affection by anyone else, but he knows this game.
During intermission, they go to the bar. He puts down his money and gets two glasses of less than adequate white wine. When Lana drinks hers off in two loud gulps, he’s not even fazed. He scans the room; no one has noticed. He gets her another. His eyes are an admonishment, but she rolls hers in response. From over his shoulder, someone calls for the senator. They both turn, faces lit with false smiles.
They come back early from intermission. In one of the boxes across from them, Pete Ross comes in late with his girlfriend. They give every appearance of being completely in love. He starts to lean over and tell her, but she’s lost in the music. It was always easy for her to lose herself, he thinks bitterly, first to Clark, then to him. The thought brings up an old, sharp pain, one that he hoped he had lost.
Suddenly, he’s tired of all this. He gets up, collects his coat, and walks out of the box. A moment later, Lana follows. He stops, offering his arm to her. She takes it, and they go.
They won’t talk about it. They don’t talk anymore.
Summary: "The point of the symphony, Lex learned at an early age, is not to listen to the music."
Fandom: Smallville
Word Count: 392
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, future AU (takes into account series up to Lexmas)
Pairing: Lex/Lana
A/N: The companion piece is forthcoming, and after it's done, I'm going to post it on the LexandLana Yahoo group. Damn, is this ever angsty. Oh well.
The point of the symphony, Lex learned at an early age, is not to listen to the music. Listening to music is something you do at home. The point of the symphony is to let other people know that you are the type of person who goes to the symphony.
And so he keeps a box, and he keeps Lana in it. He is always early; he always stops to talk to the old women whose names he is constantly forgetting who run the Symphony League. They always say soothing things about his dead father and give him big checks when elections roll around.
It’s Mozart tonight. He doesn’t like Mozart. Mozart sounds like everything else; well, that’s not true. Everything else sounds like Mozart. Lex would rather be in his study with a bottle of scotch and Schubert.
They take their seats. The violinist comes out almost as soon as they sit down. During the opening sonata, her hand comes to rest on his. It’s cold; it seems she’s always cold. He takes it into his to warm it. It might be mistaken for affection by anyone else, but he knows this game.
During intermission, they go to the bar. He puts down his money and gets two glasses of less than adequate white wine. When Lana drinks hers off in two loud gulps, he’s not even fazed. He scans the room; no one has noticed. He gets her another. His eyes are an admonishment, but she rolls hers in response. From over his shoulder, someone calls for the senator. They both turn, faces lit with false smiles.
They come back early from intermission. In one of the boxes across from them, Pete Ross comes in late with his girlfriend. They give every appearance of being completely in love. He starts to lean over and tell her, but she’s lost in the music. It was always easy for her to lose herself, he thinks bitterly, first to Clark, then to him. The thought brings up an old, sharp pain, one that he hoped he had lost.
Suddenly, he’s tired of all this. He gets up, collects his coat, and walks out of the box. A moment later, Lana follows. He stops, offering his arm to her. She takes it, and they go.
They won’t talk about it. They don’t talk anymore.