Yes, I'm still sick, but besides that.
I'm staring at this story--amandajane5 gave me a cute little current canon premise, I went *whee* and started. And it just--degenerated. I go from kind of happy ice skating to Clark having some sort of strange identity crisis to people being drunk *and* depressed. Which is silly. People in fanfic get drunk and then fuck, which is where we were going with the deliberate plying of rum hot chocolate. I mean, what else would they do? Play pinochle? Strip pinochle? Can you *play* strip pinochle?
I don't think it's too much to ask that my suspension of disbelief turn itself back on already. I accept that RedK makes Clark both a mild sociopath with serious daddy issues and also makes him want to--get married. Hmm. Yes, okay, I'm still working on that one.
You know, it's not like I'm asking for non-angsty sex. I just want them naked, that's all.
This, my friends, is a sickness. I mean, besides me being sick. It is a plague upon the land. Or me, rather. In the five or six WiPs I have at the moment--and I'm including Amnesia!Clark in this one, since I snippet at it every so often in my Guilty Pleasures Folder, where I amuse myself with Lex's machinations to remake Clark's life into something they both can live in--every one of them is drowning in angst. I mean, not even like, useful angst. I mean, random hmm-does-Lex-twitch-if-I-do-*this* kind of thing that's, frankly, just disturbing.
It's also very Lex-specific angst. Clark gets off lighter. I don't see why he should, except he tends to twitch less. Or I POV him too much. Or something.
I'm not asking that something go *happy*. Just that at the end, I don't think, Lex, why are you not on the roof of the castle, in the immortal (and misquoted) words of Sarah T, shooting at things and drinking heavily? At this point, you really don't even need the alcohol to excuse you. Drink bottled water. We'd all just keep a good five to six hundred feet back and feel angst for you.
Sometimes, those looks don't work on Lex as well as they should. Stupid red meteor rock antics.
"Clark." Lex takes the hand up, finding his balance, and apparently, his cool, trying one of those wise older friends smiles that make Clark really wish he'd just stop with that. Letting go of Clark's hand, Lex slides backward on the ice, putting that oh so necessary space between them. Cause Lex is all about the personal space.
"Don't you use the internet?"
Ooh. He wants to play *rough*. Wide eyed, Clark stares down at his skates. "Mom uses a net nanny, you know." Looking up through his bangs, he tries not to grin at the expression on Lex's face.
"And you can't disable it?"
Well, duh, a *five year old* could disable it. Clark tries a little shuffle of his feet. Even with skates, it works. "Not really, no." And if Lex buys *that*....
He looks skeptical, but these days, Lex looks skeptical if Clark says the sky is blue. It's not pleasant at all, and Clark misses the halcyon days of yore where Lex looked at him like he was a dinner entree, complete with side dishes and a dessert chaser.
It's--weird, to miss that . Or not weird, but some other word. Some word that encompasses being uncomfortable and being excited and being confused all at once. When it felt like everything was easier, when he was fifteen and Lex was so *new*, so bright, like a supernova, taking up all the space in the sky. When Clark didn't know what it meant or what to do with it, just that he wanted it. Wanted to keep it, horde it from others, never see it focused on anyone else.
He thinks of all the people Lex has looked at like that, all the ones that didn't even deserve it. Maybe Clark didn't, either, but he never--he never would have used it against him, like Victoria and Desiree and that chick that was just a one night stand. Not like Helen, to destroy him with. He just--it's--
Maybe you only get that once with Lex, though. He's got Lex's attention, Lex's fascination, Lex's suspicions, and some of Lex's secrets, but he doesn't have that anymore.
When I was fifteen, Clark wants to explain, I didn't know, do you understand, Lex? I didn't know. And when I was sixteen, I didn't know what to do about it. And then you left and came back and it's like you forgot what I was, or who I was, or something. Like you forgot everything but what I am, like that was more important than anything else. When I was seventeen, I could have, but you stopped wanting it.
I know what you wanted, and I could've handled that if I knew it wasn't everything. But it's not about me, it's about that, this thing you think I could be, and I can't--I don't want to be a thing.
It's short. It's current canon. And I will finish it. Oh yes, I will. Preferably before canon sends me looking for something to surgically remove the stick from Clark's ass. Slowly. With splinters.