hackthis_archive (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hackthis_archive) wrote2002-12-10 12:09 pm
hackthis_archive) wrote2002-12-10 12:09 pm
SV Happy Fic
Caro’s birthday is coming, and I said I would give her Happy!Lex. You know, that shit’s a lot fucking harder than it sounds. Plus, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
isilya sent me this manip, and I heard there was some happy-fic challenge happening. You know I’m all about the multi-tasking action.
The Painting
Lex doesn’t count his fortune on his fingers, but he’s never had much to feel grateful for either. Yes, he has wealth and power and a million other tangible things, but apparently there are other things in life.
It’s taken him 28 years to realize this.
Better later than stood-up his mother used to say when his father missed dinner; and as Lex’s fingers randomly dance along the white cotton bunched around Clark’s waist, he understands what she meant. At least he’s here, at least Clark is here: it could all have turned out differently, and Lex freezes when Clark exhales softly. Lex doesn’t want to wake him up, he just wants to touch and explore and isn’t that his right? On today of all days?
Clark’s breathes in even little gusts of air that remind Lex of clouds. White clouds with blue and lilac definition on an ancient canvas. Yes, that’s what Clark’s breathing is like to Lex; that’s what Clark is like to Lex. Clark’s beautiful like a painting that’s worth millions of dollars, but isn’t available for purchase, and isn’t Lex lucky that way? Clark always says that money isn’t everything, and right now Lex can understand that. Clark is more valuable to Lex than any painting he could ever buy, and when Clark sleeps, he reminds Lex of Edymion, and Lex feels like Selene wishing for eternal life.
Except Lex doesn’t need eternal life, or eternal youth, he just needs to be with Clark, and whatever eternity he’s offered will be enough. It is Lex’ s birthday after all. Stranger things have happened, and if Lex can have Clark with him on his birthday then really he can’t ask for more. Or he shouldn’t ask for more because he’s young, and rich and stupidly in love, and he’s in London on his birthday. What more could any man ask for? But then he glances over at his gift from Clark that’s unfurled against a chair, and he’s not sure anymore.
It’s only a replica. Posterboard and ink, manufactured in Taiwan probably, but it looks like so much more.
Lex couldn’t be happier if Clark had bought him the real painting.
“Do you really like it?” Clark’s voice is drowsy and raspy, as he moves Lex’s roving hand from around his waist and pulls him closer. Clark’s eyes are half-closed, and his hair is a mess, but he’s grinning in that beatific way of his, and Lex can only prop himself on his other elbow and smile back.
“'Like' isn’t really the right word, Clark. No one’s ever…” Lex's voice drifts off because it’s not that no one has ever tried – only that it’s been a very long time since anyone ever cared enough to get it right. His mother did, though, but she's about it; and Lex thinks his mother would have adored Clark. She always said Lex had impeccable taste anyway, and he believes that he gets that from her. After all, she’s the one responsible for his appreciation of the greats anyway: Michelangelo, DaVinci, Picasso. It's her fault Lex has a Van Gogh obsession in the first place. He still remembers when his father bought her ‘Flowers in a Blue Vase' for her birthday. Of course, Lex also recalls that his father bought his mother 'Red Chestnuts in a Public Park' before she went into the hospital, and she never even got to hang it in the gallery.
Lex suspects that the nine million dollar painting might still be in its crate somewhere in the mansion, but that's not his concern; and it doesn’t matter because her favorite painting couldn’t be bought anyway. Lex still remembers the first trip they took to London just so she could take him to the National Gallery and show it to him. Lex remembers spending over two hours in the museum with his mother while she explained to him about brushstrokes and men who cut off their ears because they weren’t understood. She made Lex promise never to cut off his ears, but considering his lack of hair, Lex recalls feeling fairly sure that he was already scarred enough for one lifetime.
He still can’t buy it for her, but that really doesn’t matter. Lex has something more important he can share with her, and Clark’s grip is firm as his thumb rubs the back of Lex’s hand.
“I know you could get the real one, but I thought – you seemed to like it so much.” Clark’s voice drops off, and he glances back at Lex who’s gazing rather intently at the painting on the floor.
When Lex says, “it’s perfect,” he means it as much as he can mean anything.
“I know it’s only a poster, but I know how you get about your birthday,” Clark offers by way of explaination.
“It’s the thought that counts, Clark.” Lex’s birthdays have always tended to be maudlin, debauchery-laden occasions, but this year it’s different. This year he received something he wanted and didn’t even know he was looking for it. Clark bought Lex a copy of ‘Wheat Field with Cypresses’ based on nothing more than a longing glance and Lex’s fifteen minute preoccupation with the painting.
No one has given that much thought to Lex’s birthday gift for a very long time. It’s just a copy, but the love behind it says more than a million presents and original copies ever could. Lying in bed with Clark on his birthday, with a copy of the painting his mother loved is happiness. Lex is sure of it.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
*Notes:
Wheat Field with Cypresses was painted in 1889 by Vincent Van Gogh.
Flowers in a Blue Vase was painted between 1886-87 and Red Chestnuts in the Public Park at Arles was painted in 1889.
All three paintings are oil on canvas.
isilya sent me this manip, and I heard there was some happy-fic challenge happening. You know I’m all about the multi-tasking action. The Painting
Lex doesn’t count his fortune on his fingers, but he’s never had much to feel grateful for either. Yes, he has wealth and power and a million other tangible things, but apparently there are other things in life.
It’s taken him 28 years to realize this.
Better later than stood-up his mother used to say when his father missed dinner; and as Lex’s fingers randomly dance along the white cotton bunched around Clark’s waist, he understands what she meant. At least he’s here, at least Clark is here: it could all have turned out differently, and Lex freezes when Clark exhales softly. Lex doesn’t want to wake him up, he just wants to touch and explore and isn’t that his right? On today of all days?
Clark’s breathes in even little gusts of air that remind Lex of clouds. White clouds with blue and lilac definition on an ancient canvas. Yes, that’s what Clark’s breathing is like to Lex; that’s what Clark is like to Lex. Clark’s beautiful like a painting that’s worth millions of dollars, but isn’t available for purchase, and isn’t Lex lucky that way? Clark always says that money isn’t everything, and right now Lex can understand that. Clark is more valuable to Lex than any painting he could ever buy, and when Clark sleeps, he reminds Lex of Edymion, and Lex feels like Selene wishing for eternal life.
Except Lex doesn’t need eternal life, or eternal youth, he just needs to be with Clark, and whatever eternity he’s offered will be enough. It is Lex’ s birthday after all. Stranger things have happened, and if Lex can have Clark with him on his birthday then really he can’t ask for more. Or he shouldn’t ask for more because he’s young, and rich and stupidly in love, and he’s in London on his birthday. What more could any man ask for? But then he glances over at his gift from Clark that’s unfurled against a chair, and he’s not sure anymore.
It’s only a replica. Posterboard and ink, manufactured in Taiwan probably, but it looks like so much more.
Lex couldn’t be happier if Clark had bought him the real painting.
“Do you really like it?” Clark’s voice is drowsy and raspy, as he moves Lex’s roving hand from around his waist and pulls him closer. Clark’s eyes are half-closed, and his hair is a mess, but he’s grinning in that beatific way of his, and Lex can only prop himself on his other elbow and smile back.
“'Like' isn’t really the right word, Clark. No one’s ever…” Lex's voice drifts off because it’s not that no one has ever tried – only that it’s been a very long time since anyone ever cared enough to get it right. His mother did, though, but she's about it; and Lex thinks his mother would have adored Clark. She always said Lex had impeccable taste anyway, and he believes that he gets that from her. After all, she’s the one responsible for his appreciation of the greats anyway: Michelangelo, DaVinci, Picasso. It's her fault Lex has a Van Gogh obsession in the first place. He still remembers when his father bought her ‘Flowers in a Blue Vase' for her birthday. Of course, Lex also recalls that his father bought his mother 'Red Chestnuts in a Public Park' before she went into the hospital, and she never even got to hang it in the gallery.
Lex suspects that the nine million dollar painting might still be in its crate somewhere in the mansion, but that's not his concern; and it doesn’t matter because her favorite painting couldn’t be bought anyway. Lex still remembers the first trip they took to London just so she could take him to the National Gallery and show it to him. Lex remembers spending over two hours in the museum with his mother while she explained to him about brushstrokes and men who cut off their ears because they weren’t understood. She made Lex promise never to cut off his ears, but considering his lack of hair, Lex recalls feeling fairly sure that he was already scarred enough for one lifetime.
He still can’t buy it for her, but that really doesn’t matter. Lex has something more important he can share with her, and Clark’s grip is firm as his thumb rubs the back of Lex’s hand.
“I know you could get the real one, but I thought – you seemed to like it so much.” Clark’s voice drops off, and he glances back at Lex who’s gazing rather intently at the painting on the floor.
When Lex says, “it’s perfect,” he means it as much as he can mean anything.
“I know it’s only a poster, but I know how you get about your birthday,” Clark offers by way of explaination.
“It’s the thought that counts, Clark.” Lex’s birthdays have always tended to be maudlin, debauchery-laden occasions, but this year it’s different. This year he received something he wanted and didn’t even know he was looking for it. Clark bought Lex a copy of ‘Wheat Field with Cypresses’ based on nothing more than a longing glance and Lex’s fifteen minute preoccupation with the painting.
No one has given that much thought to Lex’s birthday gift for a very long time. It’s just a copy, but the love behind it says more than a million presents and original copies ever could. Lying in bed with Clark on his birthday, with a copy of the painting his mother loved is happiness. Lex is sure of it.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
*Notes:
Wheat Field with Cypresses was painted in 1889 by Vincent Van Gogh.
Flowers in a Blue Vase was painted between 1886-87 and Red Chestnuts in the Public Park at Arles was painted in 1889.
All three paintings are oil on canvas.
no subject
You did *amazingly* well. Thank you.
no subject
no subject
No one has given that much thought to Lex’s birthday gift for a very long time. It’s just a copy, but the love behind it says more than a million presents and original copies ever could. Lying in bed with his Clark on his birthday, with a copy of the painting his mother loved is happiness. Lex is sure of it.
:::sniffle::: Oh, damn Zahra. This is beautiful and sweet. Thanks for bringing Lex "The Happy." He doesn't get it enough!
no subject
You're right, he doesn't get enough of the happy. Poor Lex. I'm glad you liked this.
Re:
no subject
this is wonderful
no subject
oh, yes, what? the fic? oh, i am enormous art lover, so yeah.
Re:
no subject
I loved this. Really, the whole thing came together in a sweet, but not cloying light. I wish Caro had birthdays every day.
no subject
I loved this. Really, the whole thing came together in a sweet, but not cloying light. I wish Caro had birthdays every day.
you know it's important to learn something new every day. that's what the kama sutra is for! ;)
Works of Art
It's my birthday this Friday. Can I just pretend this is for me, too? *g*
Re: Works of Art
Darling, why didn't you tell me sooner! What would you like?
Re: Works of Art
Re: Works of Art
::gapes openly:: for me?! oh, well, now i have you write you something ;) pick your poison.
Re: Works of Art
Oh, yes. Trouble is, it's deciding to be a long one, with one of those pesky plot things. Just in time for the insanity of the holiday season, too.
oh, well, now i have you write you something ;) pick your poison.
Oooh, can I have the arsenic please? Oh, wait, that's not what you meant. ;-) Lessee...CLex. Smut. Any flavor, because you do them all beautifully and if I were forced at gunpoint to choose between angsty smut and humorous smut...well, I'd die with a pretty blissful smile on my face, thinking about all the possibilities. *g*
no subject
*sigh*
I must go read again.
no subject
I liked it when I wrote it - I think I was just happy with the art bits - but now all I can think of is, meh. One day! One day I will write something and still be proud of it 24 hours later.