sv fic: spares
Dec. 12th, 2003 04:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
oiranTitle: Spares
Author: velvetglove
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: none
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None, really, but definitely post-Shattered
Notes: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
slodwick's Double Prints challenge. 1000 words exactly. See picture inside the cut tags.
Spares
Smallville Lanes are out Route 8 almost to Grandville. Chloe is excited and maybe a little surprised that Clark agreed to come along; her giddiness doesn't improve her driving.
Shoes in Clark's size are always stiff and new-ish, though at least they don't stink of strange feet. Chloe reads the 14 off Clark's heels. "You know what big feet mean, right?"
"Big shoes," Clark says sharply, preempting the joke.
Chloe frowns and stalks ahead to their assigned lane. The tricolor shoes match her outfit.
Pete comes back from the concession window with an overloaded cardboard tray. He's working against gravity while Clark and Chloe grab for their food, but somehow nothing spills.
Chloe says, "Ladies first," around a mouthful of hotdog and chooses a pearl-pink ball. Her approach is a stagger, her release a dramatic curtsey, and her toe goes over the line, but Clark isn't about to call her on it. Six pins down, the remaining four grouped on the left. When the pink ball returns, she pronounces it "lucky," and sends it into the right gutter with a graceless swan dive. The look on her face makes Clark want to laugh for the first time in days, but he swallows it.
Pete knows what he's doing and clears eight pins, then dispatches the spare with enviable efficiency. He briskly slaps his hands together and says, "Just showin' you how it's done," while trying not to smirk.
Clark chooses a sixteen-pounder, plain black. He could throw it down the lane with force, punching a hole through the floor, pins disappearing in a clatter of splinters and broken machinery. He could get a strike every time without even trying. He could dash down the lane, lay the pins out like a sundial, and be back on the line looking befuddled without anyone knowing what he'd done. Well, Pete would know. Chloe would suspect. And then she'd remember to hate him for having secrets.
Clark knocks down seven pins, careful to keep from toppling them all. The second ball takes out two of the remaining three. The final pin wobbles but won't fall.
He could stare at the pins and incinerate them.
While Clark finishes out the frame, Chloe eats all of his fries. Sometimes he wants to throttle her, but knowing he could really hurt her means he mostly can't stand to touch her at all.
"What?" she demands, wide-eyed and faux-innocent. "What? I'll get you some more."
"It's okay," he says. "Anyway, it's your turn. I'll go."
Waiting in line, Clark recognizes some kids from school, but he doesn't really know them except by sight. The lanes are straight and narrow, and everyone waits their turn, but that's just the game. Metropolis taught him that everyone has secrets, maybe especially people who look perfectly normal. No matter how sordid the things they keep hidden, none of them have a secret like his.
He turns to watch Chloe release her ball, hopping on one foot behind the foul line, arms pinwheeling. Amazingly, she gets a strike. Pete's jaw drops. Chloe bounces and claps, shrieking.
Maybe it's because Pete knows everything, but he doesn't seem to worry about Clark's plans for the future. Chloe does, though. She wants to know if he's staying, doesn't believe that he is. Every time he's clumsy, lets something slip or tells a pathetic lie, she misinterprets his mistake as a taunt. She's one of his best friends, but always expects him to be cruel, which is another thing he needs to fix.
He wanders back to their lane, popping fries into his mouth, absently wiping his greasy fingers on his jeans instead of the napkin tucked in his other hand.
When he saw Chloe at the club in Metropolis, she reminded him of home, made him miss it. He's back because of her, in a way, but he can't tell her because she'll plunge ahead, drawing reckless conclusions, and he'll break her heart again. Despite all the warnings about hurting people physically, he's only now understanding he has the same responsibility to be kind that everyone else has. Somehow, that part's harder.
Pete's pouting about Chloe's freakish strike, she's gloating, and Clark's up again. It's all so normal. Nine pins drop, deliberate miss with his second ball. He's nothing more than competent, a respectable average, and his friends seem willing to forget they know otherwise.
Chloe knocks down five pins, followed by a gutter ball. Clark imagines what the world might be like if Chloe had his powers. Her world would have no secrets. Pete would take up a permanent position outside the girls' locker room. Lana would never let anyone leave town.
Clark used to have trouble imagining what Lex would do, believing his friend didn't need special gifts. Now he thinks that Lex would be an orphan, safe in his fortress, and thinking clearly. Or maybe that's just what Clark wants. Lex would probably leave Smallville (and Clark) behind, never looking back.
When they've played ten frames. Pete asks, "Another game?" It's a school night, so Clark shakes his head. It's the responsible thing to do. Chloe shrugs; she just wants the scorecard to show her Dad.
In the car, Chloe turns toward Clark in the back seat and says, "Thanks for coming," squeezing his hand.
"Yeah, it was fun."
She can't leave well enough alone. "I know you miss him, Clark. But you did what you thought was right."
He looks away, pulls his hand from hers. "Yeah, well." As always, and of necessity, she doesn't know the whole story. Truth is, there are no do-overs, no spares, no second chances with anything that matters.
Pete clears his throat. "Clark. Just because someone gets a strike, does that make her Bowling Queen?"
"Yes!" Chloe asserts vehemently, grinding into reverse.
Pete's a good friend. Now, under cover of their cheerful argument, Clark's silence isn't so uncomfortable. While they squabble, he thinks. About Lex, mostly.
There aren't any spares, but this can be reframed.
Author: velvetglove
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: none
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None, really, but definitely post-Shattered
Notes: For
slodwick's Double Prints challenge. 1000 words exactly. See picture inside the cut tags.Spares
Smallville Lanes are out Route 8 almost to Grandville. Chloe is excited and maybe a little surprised that Clark agreed to come along; her giddiness doesn't improve her driving.
Shoes in Clark's size are always stiff and new-ish, though at least they don't stink of strange feet. Chloe reads the 14 off Clark's heels. "You know what big feet mean, right?"
"Big shoes," Clark says sharply, preempting the joke.
Chloe frowns and stalks ahead to their assigned lane. The tricolor shoes match her outfit.
Pete comes back from the concession window with an overloaded cardboard tray. He's working against gravity while Clark and Chloe grab for their food, but somehow nothing spills.
Chloe says, "Ladies first," around a mouthful of hotdog and chooses a pearl-pink ball. Her approach is a stagger, her release a dramatic curtsey, and her toe goes over the line, but Clark isn't about to call her on it. Six pins down, the remaining four grouped on the left. When the pink ball returns, she pronounces it "lucky," and sends it into the right gutter with a graceless swan dive. The look on her face makes Clark want to laugh for the first time in days, but he swallows it.
Pete knows what he's doing and clears eight pins, then dispatches the spare with enviable efficiency. He briskly slaps his hands together and says, "Just showin' you how it's done," while trying not to smirk.
Clark chooses a sixteen-pounder, plain black. He could throw it down the lane with force, punching a hole through the floor, pins disappearing in a clatter of splinters and broken machinery. He could get a strike every time without even trying. He could dash down the lane, lay the pins out like a sundial, and be back on the line looking befuddled without anyone knowing what he'd done. Well, Pete would know. Chloe would suspect. And then she'd remember to hate him for having secrets.
Clark knocks down seven pins, careful to keep from toppling them all. The second ball takes out two of the remaining three. The final pin wobbles but won't fall.
He could stare at the pins and incinerate them.
While Clark finishes out the frame, Chloe eats all of his fries. Sometimes he wants to throttle her, but knowing he could really hurt her means he mostly can't stand to touch her at all.
"What?" she demands, wide-eyed and faux-innocent. "What? I'll get you some more."
"It's okay," he says. "Anyway, it's your turn. I'll go."
Waiting in line, Clark recognizes some kids from school, but he doesn't really know them except by sight. The lanes are straight and narrow, and everyone waits their turn, but that's just the game. Metropolis taught him that everyone has secrets, maybe especially people who look perfectly normal. No matter how sordid the things they keep hidden, none of them have a secret like his.
He turns to watch Chloe release her ball, hopping on one foot behind the foul line, arms pinwheeling. Amazingly, she gets a strike. Pete's jaw drops. Chloe bounces and claps, shrieking.
Maybe it's because Pete knows everything, but he doesn't seem to worry about Clark's plans for the future. Chloe does, though. She wants to know if he's staying, doesn't believe that he is. Every time he's clumsy, lets something slip or tells a pathetic lie, she misinterprets his mistake as a taunt. She's one of his best friends, but always expects him to be cruel, which is another thing he needs to fix.
He wanders back to their lane, popping fries into his mouth, absently wiping his greasy fingers on his jeans instead of the napkin tucked in his other hand.
When he saw Chloe at the club in Metropolis, she reminded him of home, made him miss it. He's back because of her, in a way, but he can't tell her because she'll plunge ahead, drawing reckless conclusions, and he'll break her heart again. Despite all the warnings about hurting people physically, he's only now understanding he has the same responsibility to be kind that everyone else has. Somehow, that part's harder.
Pete's pouting about Chloe's freakish strike, she's gloating, and Clark's up again. It's all so normal. Nine pins drop, deliberate miss with his second ball. He's nothing more than competent, a respectable average, and his friends seem willing to forget they know otherwise.
Chloe knocks down five pins, followed by a gutter ball. Clark imagines what the world might be like if Chloe had his powers. Her world would have no secrets. Pete would take up a permanent position outside the girls' locker room. Lana would never let anyone leave town.
Clark used to have trouble imagining what Lex would do, believing his friend didn't need special gifts. Now he thinks that Lex would be an orphan, safe in his fortress, and thinking clearly. Or maybe that's just what Clark wants. Lex would probably leave Smallville (and Clark) behind, never looking back.
When they've played ten frames. Pete asks, "Another game?" It's a school night, so Clark shakes his head. It's the responsible thing to do. Chloe shrugs; she just wants the scorecard to show her Dad.
In the car, Chloe turns toward Clark in the back seat and says, "Thanks for coming," squeezing his hand.
"Yeah, it was fun."
She can't leave well enough alone. "I know you miss him, Clark. But you did what you thought was right."
He looks away, pulls his hand from hers. "Yeah, well." As always, and of necessity, she doesn't know the whole story. Truth is, there are no do-overs, no spares, no second chances with anything that matters.
Pete clears his throat. "Clark. Just because someone gets a strike, does that make her Bowling Queen?"
"Yes!" Chloe asserts vehemently, grinding into reverse.
Pete's a good friend. Now, under cover of their cheerful argument, Clark's silence isn't so uncomfortable. While they squabble, he thinks. About Lex, mostly.
There aren't any spares, but this can be reframed.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-12-12 02:16 pm (UTC)I really, really like this line. It's just...I love it.
No spares, but there might be a fresh start. ::sniff::
As always, I really enjoyed this one. Clark's trying, but there's a sense that the whole farce is about to topple over like the pins, only no one gets points for winning that particular game.
no subject
Date: 2003-12-12 03:13 pm (UTC)I, um, changed the last line. I posted the wrong one. But I hope you'll still like it ;)
no subject
Date: 2003-12-12 03:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-12 02:21 pm (UTC)Thanks, this was the warm wuzzy I needed today.
no subject
Date: 2003-12-12 03:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-12 02:34 pm (UTC)The heart-breaking simplicity of this story is what really got to me, but there are a lot of other good parts. Your characterization is perfect, and the language is wonderful. And then the end:
Pete's a good friend. Now, under cover of their cheerful argument, Clark's silence isn't so uncomfortable. While they squabble, he thinks. About Lex, mostly.
No spares, but there might be a fresh start.
It's another ouch, but there's a little hope there, and that's good. Great job, as always.
no subject
Date: 2003-12-12 03:34 pm (UTC)Great job, as always.
You just feed the Maria Callas-level diva who festers inside me.
no subject
Date: 2003-12-12 05:12 pm (UTC)You just feed the Maria Callas-level diva who festers inside me.
That's what I'm here for. *throw roses at your feet*
no subject
Date: 2003-12-12 02:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-12 03:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-13 07:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-12 02:48 pm (UTC)*gets misty eyed*
I would imagine it would be so, as you write it. Clark trying to strengthen his facade while inside he's on this slow slide of guilt. I like the even tone and predictability with his friends. He thinks that familiarity what he needs yet something important is missing: his heart. All that power and there's nothing he can do.
no subject
Date: 2003-12-12 03:39 pm (UTC)So, thanks.
no subject
Date: 2003-12-12 03:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-12 03:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-12 03:41 pm (UTC)Also, Clark's introspection is painful. He wants to belong, but knows he doesn't fit in anymore. So aware of his ability to hurt people, yet trying to maintain the status quo.
Very nicely done, hon.
no subject
Date: 2003-12-12 03:49 pm (UTC)I couldn't decide if Chloe would be an absolutely excellent bowler or a disaster, a danger to herself and others. Disaster was more fun to write ;)
Even if they have Clark do normal kid-type things on the show in future eps, I can't believe he'll be doing anything more than going through the motions.
no subject
Date: 2003-12-12 04:55 pm (UTC)I'm just going to ask one question: In a bowling context, how precisely would you define the terms 'spare' and 'reframe'? Oh, wait, spare is when you take down all the pins on the second throw, right? See, I'm half-way smart, I can figure these odd Americanisms out. *g* I get it now, so never mind the question.
For some reason, I particularly liked this sentence:
The lanes are straight and narrow, and everyone waits their turn, but that's just the game.
And I loved the way you convey so much rage and frustration on Clark's part though on the surface everything is calm. A perfect story, once again.
On another note - are you doing all right? I've had the feeling you've been far away lately. As always, I'm here if you need someone to talk to.
no subject
Date: 2003-12-12 07:55 pm (UTC)Poor Clark. Obviously, he's never going to have a normal life, and he never was, but it's just seeming so like he shouldn't even pretend any more.
I am doing better (pills!) but I feel absolutely disconnected from everyone and everything I care about. Most jolly. Plus, I hate the holidays. If I say I'll email you, I probably won't, so let's pretend I didn't say it.
no subject
Date: 2003-12-12 05:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-12 08:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-13 03:30 am (UTC)I love this story, especially this part. I think it conveys Clark's guilt brilliantly. Poor Clark.
no subject
Date: 2003-12-15 12:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-13 06:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-15 12:24 pm (UTC)Thanks ;)
no subject
Date: 2003-12-15 01:48 pm (UTC)Hmm, you seem a little defensive, so I checked, and your permission slip is a FORGERY!! You do NOT have permission to write cock-free fic!!
except when it's as lovely as this one
no subject
Date: 2003-12-14 08:50 am (UTC)You know, sometimes i just get in moods where all i want is porn, and that's a big fat mistake, b/c i would've missed an awesome character piece like this one. Great job!!!
p.s. I also really like your velvet fucking glove icon with the cute little prep school boy
no subject
Date: 2003-12-15 12:25 pm (UTC)Yay! I'm glad you liked it!
no subject
Date: 2003-12-14 09:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-15 12:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-14 11:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-15 12:38 pm (UTC)Brava
Date: 2003-12-14 01:17 pm (UTC)Re: Brava
Date: 2003-12-15 12:41 pm (UTC)Again, thank you.
no subject
Date: 2003-12-14 03:34 pm (UTC)I liked this a lot. Clark is so *sad,* but I like the idea that he may be starting to figure things out.
no subject
Date: 2003-12-15 12:44 pm (UTC)Ooh, that stings.
Date: 2003-12-15 02:52 pm (UTC)This episode has had me wanting inside Clark's head more than anything since first season -- thanks so much for this!
Sandy
Re: Ooh, that stings.
Date: 2003-12-16 12:46 pm (UTC)