TITLE: Sugar Rush
DISTRIBUTION: List archives OK, anyone else just ask. Archived on Elegant Slumming http://www.obsessedmuch.net/elegant_slumming/
SPOILERS: None, to speak of.
SUMMARY: Clark needs something to make him forget about worrying.
FEEDBACK: Is almost as sweet as pie.
DISCLAIMER: They belong to Gough and Millar blah, blah, blah.
DEDICATION: Thanks to Yvette for the beta, Z for her "pudding-talk" g and to Thamiris for giving me a whole new appreciation of cherries. eg
IMPROV # 20: Saturate - Occur - Blend - Distract.
Clark's starting to worry, although he's having a little trouble deciding what's the most important thing to worry about.
If he was more efficient, like Lex, he'd probably be able to come up with some rating system to rank everything in order of importance; plotted out on a spreadsheet with graphs. And if he was more like Chloe he'd probably be inclined to start a 'wall of worry'.
He's pretty sure that today's problem would be pretty incidental on his 'wall' but that doesn't make him think about it any less.
At breakfast he pours syrup onto the mountain of pancakes his mother's made for him. He keeps pouring until her voice shocks him. She's scolding him for using too much and when he looks down at his plate he's sure this is what Lex's castle would look like if it had a moat.
Syrup cascading off the stack of pancakes, pooling around the base of the plate until it threatens to flood the crisp tablecloth his mother replaced earlier this morning. The pancakes are saturated in it.
He has the decency to look slightly ashamed when his mother tells him off for wasting food.
Clark has no intention of wasting it.
Instead he uses his fingers to scoop the extra syrup up, licks around his mouth and lips until all the sticky, sugary residue is gone. It takes a few moments before he's able to wipe his mouth clean again. Then he has more. Clark ends up using the already soaked pancakes to absorb as much of the syrup as he can.
His mother shakes her head at him when he wipes his plate clean. His mouth and lips are still sticky.
Clark's starting to worry.
It doesn't seem to matter how much syrup he puts on; it still doesn't taste sweet at all.
The middle of the day and Clark's still worried. He kept zoning out all the way through trig this morning. Not an entirely unheard of occurrence but he didn't even seem capable of covering it up when Mrs Jacobsen called him out on it.
The loud noises, snatches of conversation in the cafeteria seem to go almost unheard as Clark sits at a table with Pete and Chloe. He's eaten the cookies and the cupcake that his mother had packed for his lunch this morning along with two cans of pop, but his tuna salad is untouched.
Clark unconsciously licks his lips and before he even thinks about it he's asking Chloe if she wants to swap her Jello for his salad.
Pete and Chloe are laughing at him; he dips his head as Chloe tells him that if he doesn't watch out his teeth will rot out with all that sugar. He ignores Pete saying he'll be the only student from Smallville High to graduate with false teeth and focuses on the green Jello, probably lime.
When Chloe rolls her eyes and says yes he pushes the plastic container of salad across the table at her. Says thanks through the mouthful of Jello he's already swallowing. Sticky as it slides down his throat.
Clark for a moment thinks it might taste sweet but he's pretty sure he's only fooling himself. He quickly finishes another tasteless mouthful.
Clark stirs the sugar he's pouring through the thick layer of foam on his latte. The sugar dribbles through the surface in tiny crystals that slowly dissolve in the heat of the liquid.
He keeps pouring.
The spoon traces patterns in the dark colour of his cup, blending the lighter coloured foam into the coffee. A swirl of multi-coloured rings that quickly become darker. Clark only stops pouring sugar when he notices Lana standing opposite him. She looks at him, kind of strangely and he flashes her a smile. All she does is shake her head and move over to serve the person standing next to him.
Clark takes a seat at the bar, raises the cup to his mouth and takes a drink of the thick hot liquid. It's bitter on his tongue, slightly too hot and burns all the way down his throat. He thinks about adding more sugar but he's sure even that won't make it taste sweet.
Clark loads up the back of the truck with the boxes his mother hands him. He's careful to make sure they won't move too much once he starts driving. Four boxes stacked with cherry pies his mother has made for Lex.
He vaguely remembers Lex mentioning something about catering a small party, something for the management staff at the plant. Clark can't remember any of the details; all he'd thought about at the time was how he hadn't been invited. He'd chided himself for thinking that, considering the situation, but Clark's been having trouble lately. It's almost like he has to remind himself that there are times when Lex won't want him around.
He only vaguely listens to his mother; his mind is full of images of sweet pastry, thick crust full to the brim with sticky cherries. Of licking the sweet filling off his fingers after he devours piece after piece.
His mother says she's worried about the pies; she tends to always think there's something wrong with her baking, that her pie isn't as perfect as everybody says. This time she's worried about them being too sweet. Richness of the cherries mixing with the fine sugar.
Clark thinks they probably won't be very sweet at all.
Clark stacks the boxes of pie in Lex's kitchen, next to the large metal refrigerator. He'd been careful on the drive over, hadn't rushed like he normally would because he hadn't wanted to damage the pies. The last thing he wanted was for them to get knocked, or for them to move and have the pastry shell split. Filling leaking out, escaping.
When Lex comes into the kitchen, Clark finds himself smiling, even before he's thought about it. Lex is dressed more casually than usual; he's wearing a button down shirt, slightly open at the throat. When Lex isn't watching, Clark traces the length of Lex's neck with his eyes, follows the column of pale flesh until it disappears behind purple material.
Clark wonders if Lex ever notices him looking.
Lex's fingers look long as he opens the lid of the first box. Clark's still resting his own hand against the top of the box underneath and he can't help but think how close their hands are.
Lex is bending his head down, almost dipping it under the lid he holds open with one hand. Light from the window reflects off the back of his head. Clark's so distracted by it that he barely registers that Lex is talking. Telling him how great the pies smell, how sweet.
Clark licks his lips, traces around them with his tongue.
The next time Lex speaks, Clark hears him clearly.
"If you're not busy, Clark, you're more than welcome to stay for the party? I think there'll be more than enough cherry pie left if you want a slice?"
And he does.
Clark moves his hand, cups the back of Lex's smooth head with his slightly trembling fingers. Lex's skin is warm and Clark swears when they touch he can feel Lex leaning back against his hand. Clark doesn't think about anything except moving closer. About touching Lex.
He presses his lips to the rich warmth of Lex's mouth. After only a moment he can feel Lex's tongue push against his lips, warm and slick as it snakes into his mouth.
Lex's mouth is pressed to his own. It's hot and wet and Clark's sucking against Lex's tongue. He can hear himself moaning and when Lex moans Clark's name back to him, mouths pressed together, Clark swallows Lex's moans, and they taste like honey.
Sweet and thick. Words that dribble down the back of his throat, so sweet that Clark's almost shocked. And he wants more, wants to taste that sweetness and it seems like Lex wants him to take it.
Clark has better things to do now, than worry.
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