serafina20 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
serafina20) wrote2005-12-11 10:41 pm
serafina20) wrote2005-12-11 10:41 pm
Entry tags:
COTW 51
Short part.
Question: Do people like the tags, or should I link back to the previous parts (or at least put them in memories and link to that?)
The day had been one of the longest Mark had gone through in a long time. It'd been about on par with the day Lionel had outted him, and very close to his first day back teaching after that event. The beginning of the day had been slow simply because knowing Whitney was so close by had distracted Mark to know end. His skin had tingled, his lips remembered the feel of Whitney's on his, and his mouth had held the taste of him all day.
Then Clark had broken. Well, erupted was more like it. He'd managed to hold himself together until Dr. Carvey had arrived, but Mark had heard Clark was in with her for over two hours and had been out of it the rest of the day. He'd left before Mark had been able to talk with him.
And, of course, there was the whole Whitney thing. Gossip spread like wildfire in Smallville, and Smallville High was nothing but kindling. Mark didn't think his class had gotten out before news of his and Whitney's relationship had spread through the school. Fourth period English had been the only tension-free class, at least on the Whitney front, and that had been because of Clark. After that, though, it had been three periods of whispers and giggles and averted eyes and cleared throats.
And Roger Hartman giving an impassioned speech to an embarrassed senior lit class that had a lot to do with how homophobes were the scum of the earth, but little to do with the issue of kids being embarrassed to learn that their teacher was boffing Smallville's favorite football star cum hero.
Angie had tried to corner Mark after school, but Mark knew six shortcuts from his room to the parking lot. She only knew three, and Mark was pulling out of his parking space by the time she made.
"Mark! Mark, you get back here!" she'd shouted.
Mark had simply smiled like an idiot and waved before tearing out of the lot, feeling like he'd escaped the Inquisition.
Helen had been gone when Mark had gotten home. He'd immediately showered and collapsed in his bed. The sheets had been changed the previous night, before he and Whitney had actually slept, but they still smelled of Whitney and sweat and sex. His dreams were filled with Whitney, and Mark could feel the hollow space against his body where Whitney belonged. Hugging a pillow wasn't the same.
Insanity wasn't as frightening as Mark had always thought it would be. Maybe it was just love, but Mark had never been in love like this before. This was out of control, flying with happiness, spiraling wildly, can't-think-straight love.
He'd be terrified if it wasn't so right.
A soft knock at his bedroom door woke him. He rubbed his eyes and checked the time; it was about five-fifteen. Forty-five minutes until he could see Whitney again.
"Mark?" Helen called through the door.
"Come in."
The door opened. "You alone?" Her voice was gently teasing.
He smiled at her dopily. "You are an angel."
She snorted, walking into the room. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she said, "I didn't bring him here. I just let him in."
"And made yourself scarce. Where were you?"
"I stayed with a friend from the hospital. It was my pleasure, actually. Janice and I have been meaning to hang out for awhile anyway."
He sat up, pulling his pillow against him. "I thought you had a date. I was jealous because I thought you were going to have sex."
"Ah, no. All my prospects for sexual partners in this town have been outted as pedophiles."
Mark tried not to let her words put a damper on his mood. He was going to get to see Whitney today; Helen's disparaging remark about his friend wasn't going to ruin that. "Lex isn't a pedophile."
"I know. I know I shouldn't say that, either, I won't again, I promise. And I see the attraction. Clark Kent is beautiful, and definitely doesn't look like a teenager. But it's still a little weird." She pulled her legs under her. "Do you know if it's true? I'm just asking because, if he was going to tell anyone, it'd be you. You are his friend."
"Yes," he said levelly, meeting her eyes. "I am Lex's friend." He thought about adding that he was Clark's teacher and that he'd never betray either of their confidences, but he didn't. This was about Lex.
"All right, forget I asked. Although, if it is true, you might want to talk to Lex about it. It's illegal after all."
"So is my relationship with Whitney."
She rolled her eyes. "At least Whitney is over eighteen. Clark is, what? Fifteen?"
"Sixteen which, according to Kansas state law, makes him old enough to consent to a sexual relationship."
"I didn't realize that. I moved from state where it was eighteen and never realized there was a difference. Which I suppose I should have. I'm a legal reporting agency, and if I thought something illegal was going on, I'm obligated to report it."
"I'm legally obligated to report to social services, too. Don't you think the fact I haven't should tell you something?"
Helen smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. Very insincere, in fact. "Lex is your friend."
His expression hardened. "Clark is my student."
"I'm being a bitch, aren't I?"
"Let's just say that you're letting your opinion of Lex be swayed by people who don't know him. And it's not like Clark or Lex are your patients, so, unless you have absolute proof that Clark is being harmed somehow, I think you should back out. Especially if you're letting jealousy get in the way."
"I know you're right." She sighed. "And I really don't want Lex or anything. Not really. He's just so... sexy."
Mark smiled. "Yeah, he is."
Helen looked at him, a little smirk on her face. "Whitney's not bad either."
"Whitney is more sexy than Lex Luthor could ever be," Mark said. He could feel the stupid, sappy smile spread across his face, and he hugged the pillow to him. "God, he's so fantastic."
"You're really smitten, aren't you?" She stretched sideways across the bed, propping her head on her elbow.
"I'm in love."
Helen smiled, but she looked away, eyes downcast. "So. Am I going to have to start looking for another roommate?"
God, talking about getting ahead of everything. Whitney had only just got back home. He was going to be going through physical therapy for his legs, maybe another surgery or two, as well. He'd just gotten back from war; despite his optimistic demeanor, he was probably going to need some kind of therapy. And even though Whitney seemed perfectly willing and eager to throw himself into a relationship with Mark, the fact remained that Whitney was newly out, young, and inexperienced.
Moving in together would be a bad idea.
"I wouldn't worry about it," he finally decided on. "We're probably going to take things slowly at first. So I'm not going anywhere for awhile." He took her hand and squeezed.
"I'm glad. Not just because I don't like living alone. I'd feel like I'm losing my best friend." She pouted at him, batting her eyelashes at him.
Best friend. Mark liked her a lot, but he wouldn't consider her his best friend. There were things about her he just didn't trust. He didn't quite know what it was. Sometimes he thought that maybe he was influence too much by Lex's paranoia, but Helen hid so much and played so delicately with her words, it just rubbed him the wrong way. Like, the way she acted about Lex, vacillating from attraction to disdain with barely a pause. Or the way she'd start talking about her research, only to clam up suddenly and look guilty, as if she were hiding something. It was just... odd.
"So you going to see him again soon?" she asked.
Mark went to his closet and opened, wondering what he should wear. "Actually, yeah. I'm going over for dinner tonight." Blue shirt? No, maybe his green turtleneck and black jacket and black slacks.
"Tonight? Doesn't he want time with his family?"
Green turtleneck. And the slacks that hugged him just right in the ass. Those were his lucky pants. Grant had cruised him while he'd been wearing those pants. He'd even caught Lex checking him out when Mark had worn these pants; at least, Mark liked to tell himself Lex had been checking him out.
"He said he wants me there." He pulled the shirt on, and turned, slacks in hand. "Whitney wants to jump into this relationship with both feet and come out to anyone there is to come out to. Rebecca already knows about us, and she's supportive. I just want to be with him, so I'm willing to face his family, even if they see me as an outsider and an evil corruptor of innocence."
Helen laughed. "Just don't tell them what you were doing last night; I'm sure you'll be fine."
Mark smiled wryly at her and said, "I'm afraid that Whitney will say something, actually. He seems like the type of man who not only is proud of who he is, but will aggressively shove it in someone else's face when they say something about it. I'm just along for the ride."
"Maybe you should tell him that he doesn't need to fight so hard," Helen suggested, rising from the bed. "He already has you." She squeezed his shoulder and kissed him on the cheek. "Have a good night, Mark."
"Thanks," he said, thinking about her words.
Maybe she was right. He'd figured the reason Whitney was so gung-ho about everything was because it was all knew and after the horrors of war, he'd wanted to smother himself inside something exciting and romantic. He wanted to be in love and, like most young people in the first throes of love, he wanted everyone to know.
But maybe there was more than that. Maybe Whitney was afraid that if he didn't let everyone know, it wasn't real. Or he thought Mark might think Whitney didn't really care for him. Or, maybe he just thought that being gay meant letting it all out there.
Mark made a mental note to ask Lex how Clark had reacted the first few months of their relationship. Knowing Clark as Mark did, he couldn't quite see Clark wanting to let anyone know. But, then again, Clark and Lex had gotten together before Lionel had put his hands on Clark, so maybe he had gone through that joyous feeling of love.
Or not. Clark was shy on top of everything else. Whitney was... not.
Still. Mark should let Whitney know that he didn't need to fight. They could just be.
Question: Do people like the tags, or should I link back to the previous parts (or at least put them in memories and link to that?)
The day had been one of the longest Mark had gone through in a long time. It'd been about on par with the day Lionel had outted him, and very close to his first day back teaching after that event. The beginning of the day had been slow simply because knowing Whitney was so close by had distracted Mark to know end. His skin had tingled, his lips remembered the feel of Whitney's on his, and his mouth had held the taste of him all day.
Then Clark had broken. Well, erupted was more like it. He'd managed to hold himself together until Dr. Carvey had arrived, but Mark had heard Clark was in with her for over two hours and had been out of it the rest of the day. He'd left before Mark had been able to talk with him.
And, of course, there was the whole Whitney thing. Gossip spread like wildfire in Smallville, and Smallville High was nothing but kindling. Mark didn't think his class had gotten out before news of his and Whitney's relationship had spread through the school. Fourth period English had been the only tension-free class, at least on the Whitney front, and that had been because of Clark. After that, though, it had been three periods of whispers and giggles and averted eyes and cleared throats.
And Roger Hartman giving an impassioned speech to an embarrassed senior lit class that had a lot to do with how homophobes were the scum of the earth, but little to do with the issue of kids being embarrassed to learn that their teacher was boffing Smallville's favorite football star cum hero.
Angie had tried to corner Mark after school, but Mark knew six shortcuts from his room to the parking lot. She only knew three, and Mark was pulling out of his parking space by the time she made.
"Mark! Mark, you get back here!" she'd shouted.
Mark had simply smiled like an idiot and waved before tearing out of the lot, feeling like he'd escaped the Inquisition.
Helen had been gone when Mark had gotten home. He'd immediately showered and collapsed in his bed. The sheets had been changed the previous night, before he and Whitney had actually slept, but they still smelled of Whitney and sweat and sex. His dreams were filled with Whitney, and Mark could feel the hollow space against his body where Whitney belonged. Hugging a pillow wasn't the same.
Insanity wasn't as frightening as Mark had always thought it would be. Maybe it was just love, but Mark had never been in love like this before. This was out of control, flying with happiness, spiraling wildly, can't-think-straight love.
He'd be terrified if it wasn't so right.
A soft knock at his bedroom door woke him. He rubbed his eyes and checked the time; it was about five-fifteen. Forty-five minutes until he could see Whitney again.
"Mark?" Helen called through the door.
"Come in."
The door opened. "You alone?" Her voice was gently teasing.
He smiled at her dopily. "You are an angel."
She snorted, walking into the room. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she said, "I didn't bring him here. I just let him in."
"And made yourself scarce. Where were you?"
"I stayed with a friend from the hospital. It was my pleasure, actually. Janice and I have been meaning to hang out for awhile anyway."
He sat up, pulling his pillow against him. "I thought you had a date. I was jealous because I thought you were going to have sex."
"Ah, no. All my prospects for sexual partners in this town have been outted as pedophiles."
Mark tried not to let her words put a damper on his mood. He was going to get to see Whitney today; Helen's disparaging remark about his friend wasn't going to ruin that. "Lex isn't a pedophile."
"I know. I know I shouldn't say that, either, I won't again, I promise. And I see the attraction. Clark Kent is beautiful, and definitely doesn't look like a teenager. But it's still a little weird." She pulled her legs under her. "Do you know if it's true? I'm just asking because, if he was going to tell anyone, it'd be you. You are his friend."
"Yes," he said levelly, meeting her eyes. "I am Lex's friend." He thought about adding that he was Clark's teacher and that he'd never betray either of their confidences, but he didn't. This was about Lex.
"All right, forget I asked. Although, if it is true, you might want to talk to Lex about it. It's illegal after all."
"So is my relationship with Whitney."
She rolled her eyes. "At least Whitney is over eighteen. Clark is, what? Fifteen?"
"Sixteen which, according to Kansas state law, makes him old enough to consent to a sexual relationship."
"I didn't realize that. I moved from state where it was eighteen and never realized there was a difference. Which I suppose I should have. I'm a legal reporting agency, and if I thought something illegal was going on, I'm obligated to report it."
"I'm legally obligated to report to social services, too. Don't you think the fact I haven't should tell you something?"
Helen smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. Very insincere, in fact. "Lex is your friend."
His expression hardened. "Clark is my student."
"I'm being a bitch, aren't I?"
"Let's just say that you're letting your opinion of Lex be swayed by people who don't know him. And it's not like Clark or Lex are your patients, so, unless you have absolute proof that Clark is being harmed somehow, I think you should back out. Especially if you're letting jealousy get in the way."
"I know you're right." She sighed. "And I really don't want Lex or anything. Not really. He's just so... sexy."
Mark smiled. "Yeah, he is."
Helen looked at him, a little smirk on her face. "Whitney's not bad either."
"Whitney is more sexy than Lex Luthor could ever be," Mark said. He could feel the stupid, sappy smile spread across his face, and he hugged the pillow to him. "God, he's so fantastic."
"You're really smitten, aren't you?" She stretched sideways across the bed, propping her head on her elbow.
"I'm in love."
Helen smiled, but she looked away, eyes downcast. "So. Am I going to have to start looking for another roommate?"
God, talking about getting ahead of everything. Whitney had only just got back home. He was going to be going through physical therapy for his legs, maybe another surgery or two, as well. He'd just gotten back from war; despite his optimistic demeanor, he was probably going to need some kind of therapy. And even though Whitney seemed perfectly willing and eager to throw himself into a relationship with Mark, the fact remained that Whitney was newly out, young, and inexperienced.
Moving in together would be a bad idea.
"I wouldn't worry about it," he finally decided on. "We're probably going to take things slowly at first. So I'm not going anywhere for awhile." He took her hand and squeezed.
"I'm glad. Not just because I don't like living alone. I'd feel like I'm losing my best friend." She pouted at him, batting her eyelashes at him.
Best friend. Mark liked her a lot, but he wouldn't consider her his best friend. There were things about her he just didn't trust. He didn't quite know what it was. Sometimes he thought that maybe he was influence too much by Lex's paranoia, but Helen hid so much and played so delicately with her words, it just rubbed him the wrong way. Like, the way she acted about Lex, vacillating from attraction to disdain with barely a pause. Or the way she'd start talking about her research, only to clam up suddenly and look guilty, as if she were hiding something. It was just... odd.
"So you going to see him again soon?" she asked.
Mark went to his closet and opened, wondering what he should wear. "Actually, yeah. I'm going over for dinner tonight." Blue shirt? No, maybe his green turtleneck and black jacket and black slacks.
"Tonight? Doesn't he want time with his family?"
Green turtleneck. And the slacks that hugged him just right in the ass. Those were his lucky pants. Grant had cruised him while he'd been wearing those pants. He'd even caught Lex checking him out when Mark had worn these pants; at least, Mark liked to tell himself Lex had been checking him out.
"He said he wants me there." He pulled the shirt on, and turned, slacks in hand. "Whitney wants to jump into this relationship with both feet and come out to anyone there is to come out to. Rebecca already knows about us, and she's supportive. I just want to be with him, so I'm willing to face his family, even if they see me as an outsider and an evil corruptor of innocence."
Helen laughed. "Just don't tell them what you were doing last night; I'm sure you'll be fine."
Mark smiled wryly at her and said, "I'm afraid that Whitney will say something, actually. He seems like the type of man who not only is proud of who he is, but will aggressively shove it in someone else's face when they say something about it. I'm just along for the ride."
"Maybe you should tell him that he doesn't need to fight so hard," Helen suggested, rising from the bed. "He already has you." She squeezed his shoulder and kissed him on the cheek. "Have a good night, Mark."
"Thanks," he said, thinking about her words.
Maybe she was right. He'd figured the reason Whitney was so gung-ho about everything was because it was all knew and after the horrors of war, he'd wanted to smother himself inside something exciting and romantic. He wanted to be in love and, like most young people in the first throes of love, he wanted everyone to know.
But maybe there was more than that. Maybe Whitney was afraid that if he didn't let everyone know, it wasn't real. Or he thought Mark might think Whitney didn't really care for him. Or, maybe he just thought that being gay meant letting it all out there.
Mark made a mental note to ask Lex how Clark had reacted the first few months of their relationship. Knowing Clark as Mark did, he couldn't quite see Clark wanting to let anyone know. But, then again, Clark and Lex had gotten together before Lionel had put his hands on Clark, so maybe he had gone through that joyous feeling of love.
Or not. Clark was shy on top of everything else. Whitney was... not.
Still. Mark should let Whitney know that he didn't need to fight. They could just be.
no subject
God, I love Mark. SO SO much. *pets him*
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Do we get to see the dinner? That should be interesting. *g*
The tags work well for me.