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hackthis_archiveNote: To my Everwood people. Damn, y’all rock. I have like twenty icons now.
Main Event: I’ve been trying to stand by my player-hating of Clark, but goddamnit, y’all are some rational people with good points. Plus, you know, you’re smart.
I’m not necessarily wrong, but maybe I’m not right either.
That’s all I’m saying.
Smallville
The Giving Tree
“I know you have other things to do,” Clark begins, before Lex can dismiss him out of hand.
The sound of rubber soles squeaking on hardwood floors pulled Lex out of a reverie several seconds ago, but he’s kept his eyes firmly fixed on an LCD screen until now. A glance will do well enough.
Not that Lex wants to dismiss Clark, and not that he’s feeling hostile, but there are these things weighing on his neck: pink elephants and hostile fathers. There are issues now, bigger than they were before, and it’s a lot to deal with in the light of stained glass windows.
Sixteen suddenly seems very far away, more so than it did before the shooting, and trust keeps coming into play.
How can Lex trust Clark when Clark doesn’t seem to trust Lex?
It’s all very confusing and tiring, and Lex honestly doesn’t want to deal with it today. “Clark, I’m busy,” he says, meaning ‘Clark, things still aren’t right yet, and I think a little time wouldn’t go amiss.’
“I know.” Clark’s tone is insistent so Lex tears his eyes away from spreadsheets that mean nothing now.
Lex Corp was supposed to be his way out.
“I just wanted to drop something off that I got for you.” Clark’s holding a flat package of some sort, and this he places on the desk, keeping his fingertips firmly on top.
What is it, a smoking gun?
“To what do I owe this honor?” Lex inquires as the brown paper bag comes sliding across his desk. What he really wants to say is ‘I didn’t know friendships came with divorce papers.’
His eyes follow the progress of the package as it brings Clark further and further across his desk. When the edge of the parcel meets the end of his desk, Clark stops, and Lex looks up expectantly. “I can’t see what it is until you let go,” he reminds Clark, tapping on the paper, pointedly.
“I just wanted to say,” Clark begins, “that I hope you like it. My mom used to read it to me when I was little.”
The introduction alone has Lex’s undivided attention. The paper rattles audibly in the silent office, and Lex swears he’s not holding his breath. There are millions of things it could possibly be, and when Lex reaches in and slides out the slim green book, he’s not sure what to say.
It’s hard to be disappointed when you’re not expecting much anyway.
“The Giving Tree,” he reads, flipping the book over and around so he can get a good look at the cover. Apples and trees? Is Clark serious? Is this some metaphor for he and his father or Clark’s virginity or what?
“It’s about giving things to people,” Clark explains, as though Lex didn’t actually just read aloud the title.
“I’ve gathered as much.” Lex flips to the first page. “There once was a tree.” Sounds rather unpromising, and he glances up at Clark before putting it aside.
Maybe he’ll read it later. Maybe not.
“Thanks for the book, Clark.” He knows he’s being dismissive, but now honestly isn’t the time. He looks back at the screen that’s been showing the same numbers since he sat down at his desk four hours ago. Nothing has changed; it’s all the same. Lex Corp was supposed to be his, and the projections are so amazing.
It’s a shame they’ll mean nothing.
“It’s a book about giving yourself to someone selflessly because you believe in them and want them to be happy,” Clark blurts out, and Lex has no choice but to look up again. “It’s about a tree that exists just for this boy, and it gives the boy apples and bark and a place to sit. Only he never realizes what he has until it’s gone.”
Oh.
“And I don’t want to be that boy,” Clark stops, and looks as though he wants to say something else, but holds off.
So, Lex is this title tree. Interesting.
“You would highly recommend reading it then, Clark?” Maybe Lex could read the book now. It’s not as though he’s doing anything anyway.
“Yeah,” a pause. “I would.”
“I see. Well, I’m a little tired now.” Which is both the truth and a lie. Lex hasn’t sleep right in days, so technically, he is tired. But he’s also over-tired, which means he’s wired, so he probably couldn’t sleep right now without a horse tranquilizer. “So maybe you could read it to me,” and then there’s that patented Clark smile. The one that Lex hasn’t seen in a very long time.
And after Clark sits down, Lex slides the book across the table towards him at the same time that Clark reaches for it, and their hands touch.
It’s just a simple thing, like a book about a tree.
-finis-
Notes: This is not what I originally set out to write. But you know, c’est la vie.
The Giving Tree is a rather famous (I believe) children’s book in America written by Shel Silverstein, and if you have no idea who I’m talking about, well, lie.
Main Event: I’ve been trying to stand by my player-hating of Clark, but goddamnit, y’all are some rational people with good points. Plus, you know, you’re smart.
I’m not necessarily wrong, but maybe I’m not right either.
That’s all I’m saying.
Smallville
The Giving Tree
“I know you have other things to do,” Clark begins, before Lex can dismiss him out of hand.
The sound of rubber soles squeaking on hardwood floors pulled Lex out of a reverie several seconds ago, but he’s kept his eyes firmly fixed on an LCD screen until now. A glance will do well enough.
Not that Lex wants to dismiss Clark, and not that he’s feeling hostile, but there are these things weighing on his neck: pink elephants and hostile fathers. There are issues now, bigger than they were before, and it’s a lot to deal with in the light of stained glass windows.
Sixteen suddenly seems very far away, more so than it did before the shooting, and trust keeps coming into play.
How can Lex trust Clark when Clark doesn’t seem to trust Lex?
It’s all very confusing and tiring, and Lex honestly doesn’t want to deal with it today. “Clark, I’m busy,” he says, meaning ‘Clark, things still aren’t right yet, and I think a little time wouldn’t go amiss.’
“I know.” Clark’s tone is insistent so Lex tears his eyes away from spreadsheets that mean nothing now.
Lex Corp was supposed to be his way out.
“I just wanted to drop something off that I got for you.” Clark’s holding a flat package of some sort, and this he places on the desk, keeping his fingertips firmly on top.
What is it, a smoking gun?
“To what do I owe this honor?” Lex inquires as the brown paper bag comes sliding across his desk. What he really wants to say is ‘I didn’t know friendships came with divorce papers.’
His eyes follow the progress of the package as it brings Clark further and further across his desk. When the edge of the parcel meets the end of his desk, Clark stops, and Lex looks up expectantly. “I can’t see what it is until you let go,” he reminds Clark, tapping on the paper, pointedly.
“I just wanted to say,” Clark begins, “that I hope you like it. My mom used to read it to me when I was little.”
The introduction alone has Lex’s undivided attention. The paper rattles audibly in the silent office, and Lex swears he’s not holding his breath. There are millions of things it could possibly be, and when Lex reaches in and slides out the slim green book, he’s not sure what to say.
It’s hard to be disappointed when you’re not expecting much anyway.
“The Giving Tree,” he reads, flipping the book over and around so he can get a good look at the cover. Apples and trees? Is Clark serious? Is this some metaphor for he and his father or Clark’s virginity or what?
“It’s about giving things to people,” Clark explains, as though Lex didn’t actually just read aloud the title.
“I’ve gathered as much.” Lex flips to the first page. “There once was a tree.” Sounds rather unpromising, and he glances up at Clark before putting it aside.
Maybe he’ll read it later. Maybe not.
“Thanks for the book, Clark.” He knows he’s being dismissive, but now honestly isn’t the time. He looks back at the screen that’s been showing the same numbers since he sat down at his desk four hours ago. Nothing has changed; it’s all the same. Lex Corp was supposed to be his, and the projections are so amazing.
It’s a shame they’ll mean nothing.
“It’s a book about giving yourself to someone selflessly because you believe in them and want them to be happy,” Clark blurts out, and Lex has no choice but to look up again. “It’s about a tree that exists just for this boy, and it gives the boy apples and bark and a place to sit. Only he never realizes what he has until it’s gone.”
Oh.
“And I don’t want to be that boy,” Clark stops, and looks as though he wants to say something else, but holds off.
So, Lex is this title tree. Interesting.
“You would highly recommend reading it then, Clark?” Maybe Lex could read the book now. It’s not as though he’s doing anything anyway.
“Yeah,” a pause. “I would.”
“I see. Well, I’m a little tired now.” Which is both the truth and a lie. Lex hasn’t sleep right in days, so technically, he is tired. But he’s also over-tired, which means he’s wired, so he probably couldn’t sleep right now without a horse tranquilizer. “So maybe you could read it to me,” and then there’s that patented Clark smile. The one that Lex hasn’t seen in a very long time.
And after Clark sits down, Lex slides the book across the table towards him at the same time that Clark reaches for it, and their hands touch.
It’s just a simple thing, like a book about a tree.
-finis-
Notes: This is not what I originally set out to write. But you know, c’est la vie.
The Giving Tree is a rather famous (I believe) children’s book in America written by Shel Silverstein, and if you have no idea who I’m talking about, well, lie.
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no subject
Date: 2003-01-29 03:30 pm (UTC)This is just--right. I adore it. I adore you.
It would be *this* easy to fix them, you network morons.
*clutches you* Best baby girl EVER. Thank you!
Grandfather said I should help my brother out, so you know, that's what I did. Plus, he - Grandfather - promised me a new car and tickets to the New Line after-Oscars party so I could molest hobbits. Couldn't say no to that.
Re:
Date: 2003-01-29 04:29 pm (UTC)Hee. See? Spring a man from the institution and life is good.