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buggeryThe lovely LaT issued this spiffy cool Isn't It Iconic? challenge last month (see here for the original challenge) and, having fallen into a bit of a monofannish rut after the "While We Tell of ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
yuletide Treasure" rareslash challenge, I decided an excuse to stretch my writing muscles would be a good thing.
I couldn't pick just two of my own icons to have a story written for, so I signed up to write two stories. (I'd say, foolishly, but I got them both done and they seem to have turned out all right.) Both my stories ran over the 750-word mark, but I did at least keep them under 1000.
Though the Spike/Giles icon![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kelex offered as an alternate icon for the challenge was intriguing, I didn't feel up to tackling that image. Instead, the story I wrote for Kelex was inspired by this icon:
Smallville fandom, contains content some readers may find disturbing. PG-13 rating.
And here's the story.
Filial Attentions
The Kent farmhouse was mostly dark; the porch lights were on, but only a faint glow came from the kitchen, and a dimmer flickering from elsewhere in the house. Several cars were parked by the barn, including Chloe's red Beetle and one he thought Pete Ross might be driving now -- sometimes it seemed that boy went through more vehicles than the Kents. The Kents' own truck was nowhere to be seen.
Clark had mentioned that his parents would be out, and that he might have a few friends over. He'd hastened to reassure Lex that he was still welcome to stop by, and when he'd teased, "'A few friends' doesn't mean another party, I hope," he'd almost been able to hear Clark's blush over the phone.
Inside, only the light over the kitchen island was on, spotlighting several plates containing a few cookies and lots of crumbs. Knowing Martha had probably baked them, he was tempted to take one for himself, but the mix of laughing voices from the living room reminded him of Clark's other company, and he left the plates untouched.
In the living room, Clark, Pete and another boy were sprawled between the television and the couch, where Chloe and a couple of other girls were sitting.
On the screen was a late-night cartoon Clark liked to watch. Lex suspected the Kents didn't approve of it, and he wasn't sure he particularly did, either. From what he'd seen, its deliberately crude animation matched the show's crude idea of humour.
A snatch of dialogue caught his attention: "--sexual abuse, Dad!"
Clark and his friends seemed riveted to the television. He watched a moment, himself.
One of the characters was saying, "I have to know why! Right here and now! We're gonna talk about this!" He was balding and grey-haired; the other character looked even older.
"What the hell are you talking about?! I never sexually abused you," the older character protested. The father, presumably.
"I know!" his son answered. "I want to know why not!"
Clark and his friends all burst out laughing, the girls giggling incredulously in their higher register and Pete letting out a long, low groan as he put his face to the floor and covered his head.
"I wasn't good enough for you! Was that it, Dad?"
Lex set his face with the faint smirk he used for situations beneath his sense of humour. It wasn't difficult; the joke wasn't so much funny as it provoked laughter as a defence mechanism, though Clark's friends were laughing raucously, punctuated with "Whoa! and "Dude!" -- perhaps more at the unusual twist on a taboo subject. They still laughed at manure jokes, too.
The cartoon continued. Lex caught "--when it came to your own son, you were just too busy!" before the son character began sobbing.
He entered the doorway enough to lean against the doorjamb, folding his arms. Clark half-turned his head and noticed him there, but Lex gestured with a wink and a wave for him not to interrupt the screening. Clark just grinned and faced the television.
Clark seemed so normal at times like these, even to Lex, who knew more than Clark realised about just how normal Clark wasn't. Hanging out with friends, doing something naughty but effectively harmless while his parents were away.
The whining cartoon voice rose again, complaining, "Dad never sexually molested me!"
Lex kept his gaze on Clark, but the voices intruded on his thoughts. "That can't be," protested another charater, possibly the worst-impersonated female voice he'd heard since Monty Python. They argued back and forth, while the high-schoolers gasped and giggled. Clark cast him another discreet glance, and frowned a little; he'd let the mask slip. He covered by pursing his lips as if thoughtfully, and gave Clark a nod before retreating to the kitchen. Clark would come find him at the next commercial.
"If I knew," the woman character's voice said, audible into the hallway, "I would've made him do it!"
"You stood by and let it happen! You saw him come home drunk and then just go right to sleep!"
Lex could almost smell Scotch, his father's brand. He grabbed the edge of the kitchen counter in both hands and took deep breaths until the ghost-scent was gone. Taking a cookie, he chewed it slowly and called up memories of Clark with Jonathan. Paternal shoulder-claps, held hands, hugs that were about contact and comfort rather than spectacle or manipulation.
He tried to imagine what those touches would feel like.
Lionel had never raped him, of course. The man was too cunning to leave evidence, or even run the risk of an unexpected eyewitness. So instead Lex's teens had been punctuated with touches just inappropriate enough to make him feel confused, horrified, ashamed -- but never legally actionable, always explainable as accidental, or misinterpreted.
It might have been easier to deal with if Lionel had crossed that line. He didn't exactly wish his father had done more to him, but he understood why a son might, maybe too well.
There was only one thing he wanted from his father, and he knew he'd never get it any more than the cartoon had.
At least Lex knew that being molested by your father didn't mean he loved you.
Lights swept across the yard, signalling the Kents' arrival home. He could hear the kids moving and talking in the living room, and then Clark emerged, smiling when he saw Lex with a half-eaten cookie.
Lex leant back against the counter as footsteps sounded on the porch outside, and steeled himself to watch the coming display of healthy familial affection.
kelex's original request at sign-up
more fanfic by the Jack
all icon-challenge stories submitted
yuletide Treasure" rareslash challenge, I decided an excuse to stretch my writing muscles would be a good thing.I couldn't pick just two of my own icons to have a story written for, so I signed up to write two stories. (I'd say, foolishly, but I got them both done and they seem to have turned out all right.) Both my stories ran over the 750-word mark, but I did at least keep them under 1000.
Though the Spike/Giles icon
kelex offered as an alternate icon for the challenge was intriguing, I didn't feel up to tackling that image. Instead, the story I wrote for Kelex was inspired by this icon:Smallville fandom, contains content some readers may find disturbing. PG-13 rating.
And here's the story.
Filial Attentions
The Kent farmhouse was mostly dark; the porch lights were on, but only a faint glow came from the kitchen, and a dimmer flickering from elsewhere in the house. Several cars were parked by the barn, including Chloe's red Beetle and one he thought Pete Ross might be driving now -- sometimes it seemed that boy went through more vehicles than the Kents. The Kents' own truck was nowhere to be seen.
Clark had mentioned that his parents would be out, and that he might have a few friends over. He'd hastened to reassure Lex that he was still welcome to stop by, and when he'd teased, "'A few friends' doesn't mean another party, I hope," he'd almost been able to hear Clark's blush over the phone.
Inside, only the light over the kitchen island was on, spotlighting several plates containing a few cookies and lots of crumbs. Knowing Martha had probably baked them, he was tempted to take one for himself, but the mix of laughing voices from the living room reminded him of Clark's other company, and he left the plates untouched.
In the living room, Clark, Pete and another boy were sprawled between the television and the couch, where Chloe and a couple of other girls were sitting.
On the screen was a late-night cartoon Clark liked to watch. Lex suspected the Kents didn't approve of it, and he wasn't sure he particularly did, either. From what he'd seen, its deliberately crude animation matched the show's crude idea of humour.
A snatch of dialogue caught his attention: "--sexual abuse, Dad!"
Clark and his friends seemed riveted to the television. He watched a moment, himself.
One of the characters was saying, "I have to know why! Right here and now! We're gonna talk about this!" He was balding and grey-haired; the other character looked even older.
"What the hell are you talking about?! I never sexually abused you," the older character protested. The father, presumably.
"I know!" his son answered. "I want to know why not!"
Clark and his friends all burst out laughing, the girls giggling incredulously in their higher register and Pete letting out a long, low groan as he put his face to the floor and covered his head.
"I wasn't good enough for you! Was that it, Dad?"
Lex set his face with the faint smirk he used for situations beneath his sense of humour. It wasn't difficult; the joke wasn't so much funny as it provoked laughter as a defence mechanism, though Clark's friends were laughing raucously, punctuated with "Whoa! and "Dude!" -- perhaps more at the unusual twist on a taboo subject. They still laughed at manure jokes, too.
The cartoon continued. Lex caught "--when it came to your own son, you were just too busy!" before the son character began sobbing.
He entered the doorway enough to lean against the doorjamb, folding his arms. Clark half-turned his head and noticed him there, but Lex gestured with a wink and a wave for him not to interrupt the screening. Clark just grinned and faced the television.
Clark seemed so normal at times like these, even to Lex, who knew more than Clark realised about just how normal Clark wasn't. Hanging out with friends, doing something naughty but effectively harmless while his parents were away.
The whining cartoon voice rose again, complaining, "Dad never sexually molested me!"
Lex kept his gaze on Clark, but the voices intruded on his thoughts. "That can't be," protested another charater, possibly the worst-impersonated female voice he'd heard since Monty Python. They argued back and forth, while the high-schoolers gasped and giggled. Clark cast him another discreet glance, and frowned a little; he'd let the mask slip. He covered by pursing his lips as if thoughtfully, and gave Clark a nod before retreating to the kitchen. Clark would come find him at the next commercial.
"If I knew," the woman character's voice said, audible into the hallway, "I would've made him do it!"
"You stood by and let it happen! You saw him come home drunk and then just go right to sleep!"
Lex could almost smell Scotch, his father's brand. He grabbed the edge of the kitchen counter in both hands and took deep breaths until the ghost-scent was gone. Taking a cookie, he chewed it slowly and called up memories of Clark with Jonathan. Paternal shoulder-claps, held hands, hugs that were about contact and comfort rather than spectacle or manipulation.
He tried to imagine what those touches would feel like.
Lionel had never raped him, of course. The man was too cunning to leave evidence, or even run the risk of an unexpected eyewitness. So instead Lex's teens had been punctuated with touches just inappropriate enough to make him feel confused, horrified, ashamed -- but never legally actionable, always explainable as accidental, or misinterpreted.
It might have been easier to deal with if Lionel had crossed that line. He didn't exactly wish his father had done more to him, but he understood why a son might, maybe too well.
There was only one thing he wanted from his father, and he knew he'd never get it any more than the cartoon had.
At least Lex knew that being molested by your father didn't mean he loved you.
Lights swept across the yard, signalling the Kents' arrival home. He could hear the kids moving and talking in the living room, and then Clark emerged, smiling when he saw Lex with a half-eaten cookie.
Lex leant back against the counter as footsteps sounded on the porch outside, and steeled himself to watch the coming display of healthy familial affection.
kelex's original request at sign-upmore fanfic by the Jack
all icon-challenge stories submitted
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no subject
Date: 2004-04-29 01:24 pm (UTC)This is sooooooo great. Poor Lex.
Poor, confused Lex. *hugs the woobie* I can just see Lex doing these things, too, the leaning aginst the door frame, the nibbling at the cooke so he doesn't get caught but gets caught anyway....
the only thing left now is for Clark to wrap his arms around Lex's waist, nuzzle his neck and tell him it's all okay!
*twirls happily*
no subject
Date: 2004-05-05 11:23 am (UTC)And yeah, Lex definitely needs some Clark-touches. Maybe even a hug, or just an arm slung around his shoulders, right in front of Jonathan.
/whimper/
Date: 2004-04-30 06:51 pm (UTC)Re: /whimper/
Date: 2004-05-05 11:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-02 12:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-05 11:30 am (UTC)Lex unable to watch Clark with his parents in any normal way -- that Lex actually has to brace himself to see that.
That's all right there in MR's masterful body language. It's exactly what he seems to do, that and cover it so well you almost can't tell.
no subject
Date: 2004-05-03 12:33 am (UTC)Oooh, wonderful description. I think that's a great way of classifying Lionel's actions towards Lex. Never all the way, never quite enough to make the abuse obvious, but just enough to use it as a mind game, a way of keeping a certain edge on Lex.
Very interesting, Jack and a very believable Lex-voice.
no subject
Date: 2004-05-05 11:36 am (UTC)I've been wanting to play with that moment for a long time, and even with all the other Luthorcest I've done, there hasn't been a story that this particular dynamic was quite right for, even though I think it's closest to what's actually there in the canon of the episodes.
a very believable Lex-voice
Thanks! I'm woefully out of practice with my Lex-muse, but he was gracious enough to come back to me.