Title: Favorite Things
Author: MidKnight
Email: MidKnightslair@juno.com
Disclaimer: I own them. Every night I handcuff Lex and Clark to my bed and do things to them they can’t show you on triple X websites. They occasionally wear French maid outfits, too. Wait; what am I thinking? I don’t own them; poor me. I make no money off of this, don’t sue.
Feedback: Feedback looks very becoming on me, in fact, if you were on me like this feedback… ^_^
Notes: Me First and the Gimmie Gimmies are gods unto themselves. Covers of every tender, heart wrenching, oldie we all love in hyper punk. God bless them.
Notes 2: If you are normal you wanted to be one of two things as a child (we’re ignoring Astronaut for the sake of me sounding cool) either a Rock Star or a Super Hero. Guess which one Clark wants to be? ^_^
Cue the guitars, Clark thinks, hitting play on his stereo in the fortress of solitude. He’s got his wireless headphones on and the cd is in the player. Some days it’s so good to come home and play with the music…
Even if he doesn’t really have a real guitar. An ‘air guitar’ materializes suddenly as the green light clicks on, signifying the beginning of the song and he closes his eyes.
He’s on a stage in a dark ampatheator, the crowd howling his name, except it won’t be Clark. Clark isn’t a rock star name. If he didn’t already know a Lex, he might have picked that. It’s defiantly a rock star name, and Lex looks every inch the part. Maybe if he was just a little more grunge looking, black rubber band bracelets or eyeliner or something.
The crowd goes even wilder as the guitars snarl and drums clang loudly.
“Like the dog bite! Like the bee sting! I don’t feel so fucking bad!” He sings out loud, without realizing it as he plays lead guitar. He knows the song is from that awful movie about the nun and the children, but the band makes it sound so rock star-ish. And Clark desperately wants to be a rock star.
“Rain drops on roses, and whiskers on kittens, bright copper kettles, and warm woolen mittens, brown paper packages tied up with string, these are a few of my favorite things!” By now he’s head banging, singing, and playing guitar. He’s also hopping around the barn loft hard enough to be making noise, and if he didn’t have his headphones on he’d know it.
“Cream colored ponies, and crisp apple strudel, door knobs with sleigh bells, and schnitzel with noodle, wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings, these are a few of my favorite things!” God. They made it sound like something dark and wicked, something you had to listen to with headphones on so your parents wouldn’t take the cd away from you for sake of virgin ears.
“When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I’m feeling sad, I simply remember my favorite things and then I don’t feel so bad!” Imagined his band for a moment; Lex would be the other singer/guitarist, so they could sing on the same microphone and grind against each other. Lex would wear vinyl pants. Some vaguely indistinguishable, but hot, guy would head bang and play drums for them. Maybe someone who looked like that guy from Cruxshaddows. Couldn’t remember his name and would have to ask Chloe; she had a closet addiction to death metal.
“Girls in white dresses and blue satin sashes, snow flakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes, snow covered white winters that melt into spring, these are a few of my favorite things!” And suddenly the music cut out, making him stop with the act of being s rock-god and he turned around to see Lex leaning against the stereo cabinet, slim hand on the button and a morally questionable smile on his face. Something rock-star Lex would wear.
That and nothing but a pair of black leather pants.
Clark blushes as soon as the thought comes to mind, even before he realizes he must have had an audience for most of the song; he’s had his eyes shut with the fantasy.
“I never knew you liked Me First and the Gimmie Gimmies.” Lex says, still smiling. Like he’d liked what he’d seen, and that thought gets Clark’s hopes up too much. He tries to joke his way out of it as he walks towards the stereo, and incidentally the rollout bed/sofa. He blushes at that too.
“They’re one of my favorite things.” Clark admits and as he reaches for the knob Lex had turned off, the older man grabs for him, latching onto the front of his tee in two fistfuls.
“How about I show you some of my favorite things, hmm?” And before he can respond to that Lex has turned and pushed him so that he tumbles back onto the couch, sprawling unceremoniously. Clark gets an extra dose of that Rock-Star Lex grin as the older man unplugs the headphones and the song continues, echoing through the barn. Despite the severe looking suit Lex still manages to look just as sultry as a Victoria’s Secret model as he climbs up Clark’s body, straddling him.
Clark fisted the front of Lex’s shirt, getting a good handful of purple silk and another lecherous smile.
“You are one of my favorite things.” He whispers into Lex’s mouth and then they’re quiet, except for the occasional moan or whimper or exclamation. While a Punk Cover Band plays deep into the Kansas night.
