Those Mornings

by Medie

written for the Whitney Fordman Ficathon for hyperfocused

When they'd picked the loft, one of the primary reasons they'd done so was because of the fantastic view afforded by the loft's many windows. Floor to ceiling in most cases, everywhere you looked they offered a breathtaking view of the Metropolis skyline and they loved it. Still did...At night, it was absolutely gorgeous.

But it wasn't night. It was one of those mornings...mornings when Clark forgot and left the bedroom curtains open when he left to go on his morning flyabout. Those...those mornings were the ones where Whitney hated those damn windows with as much passion as any man woken by bright, disgustingly cheerful sunlight could ever manage. So, that, clearly, was a lot.

If he'd had the energy, he'd throw something but...morning, sleep. No energy. Groaning in protest, the most he could manage, he rolled away from the intrusive sunlight and hid his head beneath a pillow. This had to be how women felt with the whole toilet seat thing. If he'd told Clark about the curtains once, he'd told him a hundred times...

Working his way beneath the covers again, Whitney contemplated getting out of bed and closing the curtains but he'd have to wake up to do that and, well, he didn't wanna. Waking up meant having to be conscious and responsible and after the night he'd had, he was too busy being sated and lazy to consider anything else. When Superman had a good day, Clark was particularly amorous and of course, Superman's day had been pretty damn good. He'd saved the world, well a small part of it at least, from a deadly mudslide and had flown in completely covered in mud. Head to toe. Whitney'd taken one look at him and threatened to go for the hose.

Clark, of course, had a much better idea. Once they'd managed to peel the mud-caked costume from his body they'd fallen into the shower and, from there, bed.

Whitney...Whitney loved it when Superman had good days.

Even if they did leave him completely exhausted. Completely exhausted seemed to go hand in hand with utterly sated for him so he didn't have a whole lot to complain about.

Neither could he complain about getting out of bed for coffee which, his nose informed him happily, was now perking in the kitchen. Whitney had, during his time in the Marines, developed a healthy love of coffee. Then he'd come home and found that the sludge he'd been drinking...did not compare to the real deal. Chloe Sullivan, soon to be West, had solemnly undertaken the duty of teaching him to be a coffee connoisseur as, she'd sadly informed him, his significant other drank something that made the sludge Whitney had been drinking look like Taster's Choice.

Chloe had become coffee dealer to her fellow coffee nut and, together, they commiserated over the fact that Clark, while pretty, had absolutely no taste in caffeinated beverages. If they called it coffee, he drank it. Which, apparently, was what Chloe's fiance did as well.

Clearly, they'd decided, the men in their lives were in dire need of an education in coffee and were very lucky they had them. Otherwise, they would live out their lives without ever knowing the true beauty that was their significant others' beloved beverage.

Rolling out of bed, Whitney ran a hand through his rumpled hair then rubbed a hand over his cheek. Yup, needed to shave. But

He shuffled out into the kitchen, squinting at yet more light. He'd forgotten to close the curtains in the main room. Damn. More light. The coffee helped. Taking a generous swallow, he saw the mail resting on the counter along with a box of pastries from the bakery down the street.

Clark'd been and gone apparently and left bribes in his wake.

Whitney was good with bribes.

Picking up one of the pastries from the box, he began shuffling through the mail, stopping when he reached an envelope with a familiar crest.

Smallville High?

His impromptu breakfast was forgotten as Whitney sank down on one of the stools at the kitchen island to open the letter.

"Ten Year Reunion?" His eyebrows rose. When had ten years passed? Huh. Funny how that worked. Time passed when you weren't looking. Reading over the invitation, he made note of the dates and times the reunion would take place and tried to remember if he and Clark had made any plans that would conflict with them. Nothing immediately came to mind but who knew what Superman had up his lycra sleeve. One of the downsides of being the significant other of the most well known superhero in the world was having to share him with the world when the world didn't much ask first.

It'd taken time for Whitney to become okay with it but he loved Clark, knew Clark loved him, they'd found a way to deal. Wasn't the first time they'd had to. They'd had to figure out who they were with each other without red Kryptonite in the equation, they'd had to figure out how to keep things going when Whitney did a stint in the Marines after college and Clark decided to travel the world, they'd had to figure out a lot of things. They'd done pretty good thus far.

Tapping the invitation against his chin as he thought about it, Whitney grinned. They'd come a very long way since the days when they'd fought over Lana and he'd nominated Clark to be the Scarecrow. Lately, they fought over closing curtains in the mornings, who got to be on top, and who got control of the remote at night. The only scarecrows in their lives now where the ones Clark liked to buzz in cornfields for a laugh. Whitney's laugh to be precise. There was something immensely funny to him about Superman buzzing unsuspecting farmers.

He had a feeling they didn't much mind either.

With a laugh, he let the memory slide as he turned his attention back to the invitation. It would be nice to see everyone again, to see home again, it seemed even with most everyone living in or near Metropolis, they could never really find the time. Pete was busy being Mayor and Lana was busy expecting their first child and opening her art school, Chloe was...well Chloe and Lex...

Whitney's head lowered and he sighed.


It was a good thing Lex had never attended Smallville High for any reason. Clark had enough memories of the failed friendship without that added reminder. Superman's true identity was the unspoken secret of the friends from Smallville and one they all worked very hard to keep from Lex. The animosity that their former friend displayed toward the city's beloved protector surprised them all, almost more than the distance he'd put between himself and his old friends. Especially Clark. No one could have seen how things would go, it was a constant source of pain to Clark and what hurt Clark hurt Whitney. Made his heart ache. There weren't a lot of things in their life that brought hurt but Lex more than made up for that.

They all missed their friend.

Whitney shook off the thoughts with another sigh. They couldn't change things. Everyone hoped time would but... no one dared say so. No one wanted to jinx it. Stranger things had happened and when you lived in the city home to a man who could fly...hope was something that wasn't in short supply. If gravity could be defied...

Then so could fate.

Getting up, he grabbed a pen and went to the kitchen calendar, scribbling in the dates. Couldn't miss that.

Mission accomplished, Whitney went to get the morning paper and grinned widely at the headline splashed across the Daily Planet's front page.

And The Fastest Man Alive Is...?
Superman/Flash Race For Charity!

He'd forgotten that was today. Clark and Wally had been sweet-talked, quite easily it should be noted, into racing around the world for a children's charity. Supposedly it was to settle the question once and for all. Who was faster, Superman, or the Flash? Officially, Clark and Wally were doing it for the charity.

Whitney and Chloe knew better. They'd been gleefully watching their significant others preparing for the race and were convinced neither one could name a single charity involved if they tried. It appeared, male ego was as universal as the speed force as Clark was bound and determined to prove himself faster while Wally maintained that was absolutely impossible. He was fond, read fanatical, about pointing out the Speed Force was a universal phenomenon thus...faster! The whole thing was absolutely crazy but neither Whitney nor Chloe was about to complain. They'd been enjoying it to the full. Even had a few bets on the whole thing.

Tossing the newspaper onto the counter, Whitney went to pull on some clothes and make an attempt at a quick shave. Everyone was supposed to be heading over to Chloe's to watch the race coverage on the big screen TV where. She'd promised munchies and plenty of room. Since they couldn't really watch from the sidelines, on account of the fact there weren't any and the fact that secret identities couldn't be secret with your mom or aunt hollering your name in encouragement, Wally and Clark's respective families had decided to watch together. Couldn't miss that either.

After all...

Clark was totally gonna win.

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