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serafina20I'm going to need someone who knows how to drive a stick to help me rewrite this part. I think the Kents' trucks are sticks, right?
Anyway. Enjoy.
Lex rinsed off the last dish and set it carefully into the dish drainer. Reaching underneath the sink, he grabbed the cleanser. Sprinkled it on the white porcelain and picked up the cleaning sponge. Set about making Martha Kent's already sparkling kitchen shine.
They'd been home for almost an hour. Clark had fixed the sink before heading out to tend to the animals. That left Lex to entertain himself. It'd be easier for Clark to finish the chores on his own, even if he had to go normal speed for the most part. And although Lex had been doing this for a few weeks now, he still wasn't good enough to do it in a hurry.
He was better at indoor things, anyway. So, he packed Martha a bag. Put in her robe, her slippers, a nightgown, even if she wasn't going to get to wear it. Packed a picture of Clark and Jonathan together, smiling at the camera. The book she was reading, and a book of poems she kept on her nightstand, obviously her favorite.
Then he went back to the scene of the crime: the kitchen. He swept and mopped the floor. Cleaned the table. Washed the dishes left over from lunch. Rearranged the items underneath the sink. Anything to make himself feel useful and take his mind off Martha.
It didn't work. At all.
Done with the sink, he put the cleanser away. Took the gloves off his hands.
"Damn," he whispered, caressing his hands. They were so rough. Calluses lined the insides of his fingers. His palms. His nails were ragged and cuticles needed to be tended to.
He was letting himself go. Maybe he should stop by the store and buy a manicure kit. On the pretense, of course, of taking it to Martha. Everyone knew he was the queerest queer ever to flit around Smallville, but he didn't need to give them anymore fodder, after all. Besides. Maybe he would give her a manicure. She'd enjoy it, and it'd give him something to do while sitting at her bedside.
Because he needed something to do. Desperately. Right now, his stomach was tied in knots and his head ached. There was a sort of fluttery, unsettled feeling running through him. The type of feeling he got when things were going badly. The type of feeling he always got rid of with as many drugs as possible, rather than put up with it.
But he couldn't take anything. Which meant he needed activity. Anything.
He went upstairs and got the laundry baskets. He took them into his bedroom and poured the laundry out on the bed so he could sort.
"Lex?"
"I'm up here, Clark."
Clark popped his head into the room. Looked at what Lex was doing. "Okay, this is officially really weird."
Lex smiled. "I know."
"I just... it's weird." He came in and sat on the bed. Started sorting through the clothes.
"You're eloquence astounds me, Clark. You have the true makings of a writer."
"Fuck you."
Lex leaned over and licked Clark's chin.
Clark laughed and pushed him away. "It's very domestic, you know? Me doing the chores outside. You taking care of the house."
"So I'm the woman in this situation?"
"Only if you're sexist and assume only women do housework."
"Your mother is a woman. She does the housework. Ergo..."
"She also does all the business stuff. Which means, I guess you're right," Clark said.
"So I am the woman in this situation."
Clark kissed him on the nose. "Just the mommy."
He groaned.
"What? You'd make a good mommy. Look at you, expertly sorting laundry like you were born to it."
"It's not like it's hard."
Clark bit his lip. "Running that through the Lex-to-Clark translator, I'm guessing that when you were living on your own, you ruined a lot of outfits before figuring out how to sort, right?"
His cheeks warmed.
"Figured as such." Clark smiled. Then, the smile melted away and he sighed. Hugged his mother's nightgown to his chest. "I'm worried. About Mom."
"Me too." Lex took Clark's hand.
"What if they can't figure out what's wrong with her?"
"Then they're not doing their job." Lex moved until he was almost in Clark's lap. "Clark, things like this happen all the time. People get sick. Doctors do tests. They figure it out and the patients get better. And maybe they're not sure what's wrong right now, but they'll figure it out. And she'll get better."
Clark wrapped his arms around Lex. Buried his face in his neck. "I hope so."
Lex held him tightly. He didn't say anything because there really wasn't anything he could say to make it better. For all his talk, it was possible that they wouldn't be able to figure it out. Or, worse, they would, but it wouldn't matter. Martha could have something fatal, making it impossible for the doctors to help.
He didn't want to think about it. He'd already lost two mothers. No way was he ready to lose a third.
His phone rang.
"It's your father," he said, pulling it from the holder on his waist. "Hello?"
"Lex, you need to get Clark's ship off the farm now. There are men coming from the Disease Control Agency. They need to search the whole farm and we can't risk..."
"Why? What's wrong with Martha?"
Jonathan sighed, sounding pained. "She's been exposed to some kind of toxin. They can't figure out what it is and think it might be a matter of public safety. They're on their way, we don't have time."
"Okay, then we'll go. We'll call when it's off the farm." Lex hung up. "Come on. We need to get your ship off the farm. We'll take it to my place, hide it in the storm cellar."
"Is that safe?" Clark asked.
"No one will be there for another week. Even then, it'll be fine. We'll padlock it like it is here."
"What's going on?"
Lex explained as they jogged down the steps. When he was through, Clark said darkly, "So the meteors did this."
He shook his head. "We don't know that. There's never been an evidence...."
"There's tons of evidence!" Clark said wildly. "Just look at all the meteor mutants! What more evidence do you need?"
Lex grabbed Clark's hand. "I'm not saying they're not dangerous. I'm saying that they've never affected anyone like this. So we don't know for sure." He stopped on the porch and tugged Clark to a stop. "Look, we don't know anything yet. All we know for sure is some people are on their way to search the farm, and we have to get the ship off. I'll get the truck."
Clark nodded. Sighed, his lower lip trembling. "I feel like this is all my fault."
"Even if this is because of the meteors, it's not your fault." He leaned in and kissed Clark on the cheek. "Go. I'll meet you."
He nodded again, then was gone.
Clark was waiting with the ship wrapped in a tarp when Lex pulled the truck at the storm cellar. He didn't see the point in getting out to help put it in the back, so he stayed where he was, tapping the steering wheel.
Once the ship was secured, Clark climbed in. "Let's go."
Lex hit the gas. "We should have moved this a long time ago," he said as he sped down the road.
"But where? If we'd hid it at the mansion, we couldn't get to it. Lucas isn't going to let you wander around. And what if Lionel...." He trailed off, fear stealing his voice.
Lex took Clark's hand again and squeezed. "He wouldn't be able to find it. He still hasn't found the meditation room."
"Maybe. At least your collections been destroyed."
He nodded and ignored the pang when he thought about it. It'd been three weeks since Clark had snuck into the mansion and destroyed everything. While Lex knew it had been necessary, it still hurt. The car hadn't just symbolized a near fatal miss. It'd been his new lease on life. Everything in there had been so important to him, and while he knew it made Clark uncomfortable....
Everyone saved little things that reminded them of their lover. Lex's, though, had been dangerous.
"I just can't believe you want to put it in the storm cellar. You're the one always bitching about how dangerous a place that is."
He shrugged. "It's worked for your family. I guess it'll... Clark? Clark!" Lex exclaimed as Clark keeled over into his lap.
His head hit the steering wheel on the way down. The impact caused the wheel to twist. Lex tried to stop it, but Clark hit it too hard. The car spun out of control. Lex hit the breaks and turned into the spin. He bit his lip as they spun, knuckles white on the wheel. He lost count of how many times they spun before the car finally stopped.
He cut the engine immediately.
Oh God. Shit, he couldn't stop shaking. He trembled so hard, Clark's hair fluttered with the movements.
"Clark?" He couldn't get his hands to unclench. "Clark? Wake up. Clark?"
Clark stirred. Sat up. "Lex?" he said, groggy. Then, alarmed, "Lex! Are you all right?" He ran his hand down Lex's arm to his hand. Tried to get him to let go of the wheel.
"Am I all right?" Lex repeated, voice high. "You're the one that just passed out."
"I what?"
"You..." Sirens screamed behind them. "Shit!" Lex hit the gas again, seeing the DCA cars coming over the hill.
The car didn't move.
"What the hell!"
"It's off, Lex. You turned the car off." Clark turned the keys.
The engine roared to life.
Lex pressed the gas pedal.
The car leapt forward. Lex jerked with it. Almost hit his head on the wheel. Kept the pedal to the floor.
"Just get over!" Clark snapped.
"I am. I..." But he wasn't. He was on the wrong side of the road and still going towards the cars. "Fuck!" He yanked the wheel to the right. Skidded back into the correct lane. And then off the road.
"Don't fall into the ditch! They might stop!" shouted Clark.
Lex gritted his teeth. Pulled the wheel right again. Switched to the break. Slowed as he pulled back onto the road. "Clark," he said, once he was safe. "What the hell just happened?"
Clark shook his head and let out a long, shaky breath. "Lex. I really don't know."
Anyway. Enjoy.
Lex rinsed off the last dish and set it carefully into the dish drainer. Reaching underneath the sink, he grabbed the cleanser. Sprinkled it on the white porcelain and picked up the cleaning sponge. Set about making Martha Kent's already sparkling kitchen shine.
They'd been home for almost an hour. Clark had fixed the sink before heading out to tend to the animals. That left Lex to entertain himself. It'd be easier for Clark to finish the chores on his own, even if he had to go normal speed for the most part. And although Lex had been doing this for a few weeks now, he still wasn't good enough to do it in a hurry.
He was better at indoor things, anyway. So, he packed Martha a bag. Put in her robe, her slippers, a nightgown, even if she wasn't going to get to wear it. Packed a picture of Clark and Jonathan together, smiling at the camera. The book she was reading, and a book of poems she kept on her nightstand, obviously her favorite.
Then he went back to the scene of the crime: the kitchen. He swept and mopped the floor. Cleaned the table. Washed the dishes left over from lunch. Rearranged the items underneath the sink. Anything to make himself feel useful and take his mind off Martha.
It didn't work. At all.
Done with the sink, he put the cleanser away. Took the gloves off his hands.
"Damn," he whispered, caressing his hands. They were so rough. Calluses lined the insides of his fingers. His palms. His nails were ragged and cuticles needed to be tended to.
He was letting himself go. Maybe he should stop by the store and buy a manicure kit. On the pretense, of course, of taking it to Martha. Everyone knew he was the queerest queer ever to flit around Smallville, but he didn't need to give them anymore fodder, after all. Besides. Maybe he would give her a manicure. She'd enjoy it, and it'd give him something to do while sitting at her bedside.
Because he needed something to do. Desperately. Right now, his stomach was tied in knots and his head ached. There was a sort of fluttery, unsettled feeling running through him. The type of feeling he got when things were going badly. The type of feeling he always got rid of with as many drugs as possible, rather than put up with it.
But he couldn't take anything. Which meant he needed activity. Anything.
He went upstairs and got the laundry baskets. He took them into his bedroom and poured the laundry out on the bed so he could sort.
"Lex?"
"I'm up here, Clark."
Clark popped his head into the room. Looked at what Lex was doing. "Okay, this is officially really weird."
Lex smiled. "I know."
"I just... it's weird." He came in and sat on the bed. Started sorting through the clothes.
"You're eloquence astounds me, Clark. You have the true makings of a writer."
"Fuck you."
Lex leaned over and licked Clark's chin.
Clark laughed and pushed him away. "It's very domestic, you know? Me doing the chores outside. You taking care of the house."
"So I'm the woman in this situation?"
"Only if you're sexist and assume only women do housework."
"Your mother is a woman. She does the housework. Ergo..."
"She also does all the business stuff. Which means, I guess you're right," Clark said.
"So I am the woman in this situation."
Clark kissed him on the nose. "Just the mommy."
He groaned.
"What? You'd make a good mommy. Look at you, expertly sorting laundry like you were born to it."
"It's not like it's hard."
Clark bit his lip. "Running that through the Lex-to-Clark translator, I'm guessing that when you were living on your own, you ruined a lot of outfits before figuring out how to sort, right?"
His cheeks warmed.
"Figured as such." Clark smiled. Then, the smile melted away and he sighed. Hugged his mother's nightgown to his chest. "I'm worried. About Mom."
"Me too." Lex took Clark's hand.
"What if they can't figure out what's wrong with her?"
"Then they're not doing their job." Lex moved until he was almost in Clark's lap. "Clark, things like this happen all the time. People get sick. Doctors do tests. They figure it out and the patients get better. And maybe they're not sure what's wrong right now, but they'll figure it out. And she'll get better."
Clark wrapped his arms around Lex. Buried his face in his neck. "I hope so."
Lex held him tightly. He didn't say anything because there really wasn't anything he could say to make it better. For all his talk, it was possible that they wouldn't be able to figure it out. Or, worse, they would, but it wouldn't matter. Martha could have something fatal, making it impossible for the doctors to help.
He didn't want to think about it. He'd already lost two mothers. No way was he ready to lose a third.
His phone rang.
"It's your father," he said, pulling it from the holder on his waist. "Hello?"
"Lex, you need to get Clark's ship off the farm now. There are men coming from the Disease Control Agency. They need to search the whole farm and we can't risk..."
"Why? What's wrong with Martha?"
Jonathan sighed, sounding pained. "She's been exposed to some kind of toxin. They can't figure out what it is and think it might be a matter of public safety. They're on their way, we don't have time."
"Okay, then we'll go. We'll call when it's off the farm." Lex hung up. "Come on. We need to get your ship off the farm. We'll take it to my place, hide it in the storm cellar."
"Is that safe?" Clark asked.
"No one will be there for another week. Even then, it'll be fine. We'll padlock it like it is here."
"What's going on?"
Lex explained as they jogged down the steps. When he was through, Clark said darkly, "So the meteors did this."
He shook his head. "We don't know that. There's never been an evidence...."
"There's tons of evidence!" Clark said wildly. "Just look at all the meteor mutants! What more evidence do you need?"
Lex grabbed Clark's hand. "I'm not saying they're not dangerous. I'm saying that they've never affected anyone like this. So we don't know for sure." He stopped on the porch and tugged Clark to a stop. "Look, we don't know anything yet. All we know for sure is some people are on their way to search the farm, and we have to get the ship off. I'll get the truck."
Clark nodded. Sighed, his lower lip trembling. "I feel like this is all my fault."
"Even if this is because of the meteors, it's not your fault." He leaned in and kissed Clark on the cheek. "Go. I'll meet you."
He nodded again, then was gone.
Clark was waiting with the ship wrapped in a tarp when Lex pulled the truck at the storm cellar. He didn't see the point in getting out to help put it in the back, so he stayed where he was, tapping the steering wheel.
Once the ship was secured, Clark climbed in. "Let's go."
Lex hit the gas. "We should have moved this a long time ago," he said as he sped down the road.
"But where? If we'd hid it at the mansion, we couldn't get to it. Lucas isn't going to let you wander around. And what if Lionel...." He trailed off, fear stealing his voice.
Lex took Clark's hand again and squeezed. "He wouldn't be able to find it. He still hasn't found the meditation room."
"Maybe. At least your collections been destroyed."
He nodded and ignored the pang when he thought about it. It'd been three weeks since Clark had snuck into the mansion and destroyed everything. While Lex knew it had been necessary, it still hurt. The car hadn't just symbolized a near fatal miss. It'd been his new lease on life. Everything in there had been so important to him, and while he knew it made Clark uncomfortable....
Everyone saved little things that reminded them of their lover. Lex's, though, had been dangerous.
"I just can't believe you want to put it in the storm cellar. You're the one always bitching about how dangerous a place that is."
He shrugged. "It's worked for your family. I guess it'll... Clark? Clark!" Lex exclaimed as Clark keeled over into his lap.
His head hit the steering wheel on the way down. The impact caused the wheel to twist. Lex tried to stop it, but Clark hit it too hard. The car spun out of control. Lex hit the breaks and turned into the spin. He bit his lip as they spun, knuckles white on the wheel. He lost count of how many times they spun before the car finally stopped.
He cut the engine immediately.
Oh God. Shit, he couldn't stop shaking. He trembled so hard, Clark's hair fluttered with the movements.
"Clark?" He couldn't get his hands to unclench. "Clark? Wake up. Clark?"
Clark stirred. Sat up. "Lex?" he said, groggy. Then, alarmed, "Lex! Are you all right?" He ran his hand down Lex's arm to his hand. Tried to get him to let go of the wheel.
"Am I all right?" Lex repeated, voice high. "You're the one that just passed out."
"I what?"
"You..." Sirens screamed behind them. "Shit!" Lex hit the gas again, seeing the DCA cars coming over the hill.
The car didn't move.
"What the hell!"
"It's off, Lex. You turned the car off." Clark turned the keys.
The engine roared to life.
Lex pressed the gas pedal.
The car leapt forward. Lex jerked with it. Almost hit his head on the wheel. Kept the pedal to the floor.
"Just get over!" Clark snapped.
"I am. I..." But he wasn't. He was on the wrong side of the road and still going towards the cars. "Fuck!" He yanked the wheel to the right. Skidded back into the correct lane. And then off the road.
"Don't fall into the ditch! They might stop!" shouted Clark.
Lex gritted his teeth. Pulled the wheel right again. Switched to the break. Slowed as he pulled back onto the road. "Clark," he said, once he was safe. "What the hell just happened?"
Clark shook his head and let out a long, shaky breath. "Lex. I really don't know."
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no subject
Date: 2006-11-26 05:23 am (UTC)I remember compulsively cleaning house when my mom was in the hospital.
no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 01:49 am (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2006-11-26 01:28 pm (UTC)Great part!
no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 01:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-27 05:18 am (UTC)I see I'm not the only one who compulsively cleans when upset.
no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 01:50 am (UTC)Thanks!
no subject
Date: 2006-12-03 05:39 am (UTC)"It's off, Lex. You turned the car off." Clark turned the keys.
The engine roared to life.
Lex pressed the gas pedal.
The car leapt forward. Lex jerked with it. Almost hit his head on the wheel. Kept the pedal to the floor.
Tsukasa
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Date: 2006-12-09 11:03 pm (UTC)The cleaning bit was engaging and a little foreshadowing perhaps with the mommy conversation? :-D