wisdom won from pain

Clark parked Whitney’s truck near the front porch of the Kent house and gently shook Whitney’s shoulder.

“God, what time is it?” Whitney asked, blinking as he sat up and stretched.

“It’s almost one am,” Clark said. “You’ve been sleeping for about an hour.”

“You still wanna do this?”

Clark fiddled with Whitney’s keys and nodded. “Yeah. I can’t lie to them about this. What if the police come looking for us?”

“You really think those guys will tell the cops? Clark, the police would probably think they were high. Who would believe they saw you get hit with a bullet?”

“I just don’t want to risk it.”

Whitney looked at Clark and placed a comforting hand on his knee. “I’m with you. And by the way, do you think I could get some ice? I think my eye’s closing up.”

Clark flipped on the interior lights and saw that Whitney’s right eye was very swollen and turning a brilliant shade of purple. “Whoa, why didn’t you say anything? I could have stopped at a gas station or something.”

“It didn’t start to hurt until just now. Ow.”

The front door swung open, and Jonathan and Martha Kent stepped onto the porch. They were both still dressed and even wore matching expressions of concern and anger.

Clark and Whitney emerged from the truck and slowly made their way up the steps.

“Where on earth have you two been?” Martha demanded, putting her hands on Clark’s shoulders and giving him a once over. Determining he was okay, she turned to Whitney. “Come inside and let’s get some ice on that eye. Your mother called an hour ago. She’s worried sick.”

“What happened?” Jonathan asked, his voice low as Martha took Whitney inside. “How did Whitney get a black eye?”

“It’s a long story, Dad, and I only want to tell it once,” Clark said. “Whitney knows everything.”

“What exactly do you mean by ‘everything’?”

“Please, let’s just go inside.”

Jonathan pursed his lips, but said nothing. They went in the house and found Whitney being pampered by Martha. She had an ice pack on his face, a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water on the coffee table, and he was lying down on the couch with a pillow under his head.

“Mom, Dad, we need to talk,” Clark said. Whitney sat up and faced them all.

“Maybe we should call Whitney’s parents first. . .” Martha said, heading for the phone.

“Mom, we really need to talk first,” Clark said. He sat down next to Whitney.

He felt like he had a million butterflies dancing inside the walls of his stomach. He closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, then looked at his parents. They were standing casually, but Clark could tell they were nervous and anxious, especially his dad.

“Whitney and I, we, um,” Clark stammered. He rubbed his hands against the legs of his jeans. “We kind of, got together recently and um.”

He hated how he sounded, like a kid who’d just done something wrong. Being with Whitney wasn’t wrong, but he couldn’t get the words to come out the way he wanted.

Whitney covered Clark’s hand with his own and smiled reassuringly at Clark. Then he looked at Martha and Jonathan.

“Mr. Kent, Mrs. Kent,” he said, his voice sounding much stronger than Clark’s, “Clark and I realized we have feelings for each other. We’ve decided to try and be together.”

Martha’s mouth opened in a little “o” and Jonathan’s eyebrows raised slightly.

“Together?” Martha asked. “As in, together?”

“Like boyfriend and girlfriend,” Clark said, blushing a little, “only more like boyfriend and boyfriend.”

“You’re telling us you’re gay?” Jonathan asked, tilting his head slightly. “Is that what you’re saying?”

Clark nodded. “Yeah.”

“Oh.”

Martha sat down in the rocking chair. “This is a new development,” she said. “This isn’t like one of your powers.” Realizing what she’d said, her eyes darted to Jonathan, then Clark, and then Whitney.

“It’s okay, Mom. I told him everything.”

Jonathan sat in one of the armchairs. “I think you’d better explain how and why you told him everything.”

Clark and Whitney launched into their story of running into trouble just before they left Metropolis. Clark explained that he’d had to reveal himself in order to save Whitney from being shot.

“And you’re, ah, okay with keeping this secret?” Jonathan asked Whitney. “It’s a big responsibility.”

“Yes, sir. I care about Clark a lot. I won’t jeopardize his safety in any way,” Whitney answered.

“I guess this explains the sudden friendship,” Martha said softly.

“Mom? Are you okay with this?” Clark asked. This was the big question.

Martha looked at him with loving eyes. “Sweetheart, all I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy. If Whitney makes you happy, then I’m more than okay with this.”

Clark jumped up and hugged his mother. When he felt strong hands on his shoulders, he realized his father had also joined in on the hug.

“Dad?”

“We love you, Clark. What your mother said is true for me as well.”

Clark beamed. Martha looked up and saw Whitney standing alone, holding the ice pack to his eye. She smiled at him and motioned for him to move closer. He took a step forward and Clark took his hand.

“Welcome to the family,” Jonathan said.

Whitney nodded and squeezed Clark’s hand.

They decided their official story was that while driving back to Smallville, Whitney’s truck had suffered a flat tire. They were changing it and had some trouble getting the spare on. Clark had accidentally hit Whitney in the eye with his elbow while they were trying to change it. Whitney’s stomach was bruised from being kicked, and he would be sore in the morning, but he wasn’t going to say anything about it to his parents.

“I’m used to dealing with football injuries,” he said with a smile. “This won’t be a problem.”

Martha had called Whitney’s mother to tell her what had happened, and Whitney drove home alone.

Clark watched him leave, eyeing the trail of dust the truck left behind. He realized Whitney hadn’t kissed him goodbye, so Clark ran at top speed and made it to the Fordman house before Whitney did.

Whitney was very surprised to find Clark leaning lazily against the tree in their front yard.

“Whoa, this is weird,” Whitney said.

Clark grinned and pulled him to the side of the house, away from the porch light.

“I didn’t get a goodnight kiss,” he said. “And I didn’t thank you for a wonderful evening.”

“Wonderful. I wish it could have been better,” Whitney sighed.

“It was wonderful. Except for the whole attempted robbery thing. But hey, we got past that. I’d like to try again.”

“Oh definitely.”

Whitney kissed Clark, a fiery tongue clashing kiss that made both of them weak-kneed.

The moon and the stars were their only witnesses.

~*~*~

When Clark joined the football team, Whitney was thrilled. It meant they’d be able to spend more time together. Whitney knew Clark’s dad wasn’t happy with the decision because he feared someone could get hurt, but Whitney had full confidence that Clark would be careful. From what Whitney had seen during practice so far, Clark knew exactly when to pull back.

“Nice catch,” Whitney said, pulling off his helmet and patting Clark on the back.

“Thanks.” Clark pulled off his own helmet and shook the hair from his eyes. “How did I look out there?”

Whitney lowered his voice and said, “Pretty damn hot.”

“You know how I mean,” Clark said, trying not to smile.

“You were great. I wish your dad was more supportive.”

“He’ll come around.”

Coach Walt Arnold pushed past them as they entered the locker room.

“Something’s not right about that guy,” Clark said. “He’s got a temper.”

“He knows what he’s doing. Don’t worry about him, Clark.”

They undressed and hit the showers. Whitney tried not to openly stare as Clark stepped under the hot spray of water. It sluiced down rippled muscles and left tiny trails along smooth skin.

Whitney gulped and turned his water to cold. It wouldn’t do to get a hard on in front of the entire football team.

The cold water helped a little. He still felt hot just from looking at Clark. So far, they had moved past making out to minor groping. Whitney couldn’t believe that body belonged to a sixteen-year-old boy. If Whitney didn’t know Clark’s secret, he would have thought it was attributed to the farm work Clark did. As it was, Whitney wondered if it had more to do with his origins.

Though neither of them had mentioned it yet, the question of whether or not they’d be able to have sex lingered just on the edges of their minds. Did Clark’s body work the same way as everyone else’s?

“Hey, Whitney, you’re shivering,“ Clark said. He’d finished his shower and was now toweling off.

Whitney jerked and fumbled to turn off the shower. He grabbed his towel and wrapped it around his waist. Water dripped down into his eyes.

“I’ll catch you outside,” he said, and took off.

Clark stifled the giggle that formed in his throat and went to get dressed.

Whitney was leaning against his truck when Clark came out of the school. His hair was still wet, and it looked like he’d thrown his clothes on in seconds.

“Want a ride home?” Whitney asked.

“Sure.”

Whitney started the truck and the radio blasted a song about “gettin’ it on, hot and heavy.” He punched the off button.

“So,“ Clark said, once they were cruising along. “Big game tomorrow night.”

“Yeah.”

“Big, big, big, game.”

Whitney raised a brow.

“Huge in fact,” Clark continued, staring straight ahead. “Do you think you can handle it?”

The truck swerved a little, and Whitney fought to remain calm. “You’re so not fair, Kent,” he growled.

Clark blinked at him innocently. “What’d I do?”

Whitney rolled his eyes and laughed.

~*~*~

The stands were packed, the energy was high, and Smallville High was ahead by two touchdowns. Whitney should have felt exhilarated. Instead, there was uneasiness in his chest.

Clark wasn’t on the field.

He was nowhere to be seen, and this worried Whitney. Clark’s parents were sitting in the bleachers with Chloe and Lana. When Jonathan came down to speak to Coach Walt, he didn’t look happy. The coach ordered him to get back in the stands. Whitney watched Coach glare at Jonathan’s back, then storm off the field himself.

“Fordman, wake up!” someone yelled at him.

He spun around and caught the ball, then took off running towards the goalposts. He scored a touchdown and looked again towards the bench. Jonathan was talking with Martha, concern etched on their faces, and Coach Walt was practically running in the direction of the locker room.

Whitney tore off his helmet and ran after the coach. All around him, teammates and refs yelled at him, but he didn’t hear any of it. Something was wrong. Clark had told him about the Coach’s strange power of fire.

Whitney was breathing hard as he followed the Coach. Coach Walt was going through the hallway that ran next to the gym. Whitney cut straight through the gym and got to the locker room first. He called out Clark’s name, flashbacks of that night at the Talon coming to mind. Were meteor rocks involved in the coach’s power?

Steam was coming from the private steam room. This struck Whitney as odd. Why would anyone be in there? No one but Coach Walt used it.

A green meteor rock crashed through the tiny glass window in the door. Whitney raced over and peered inside. Clark was on the floor, surrounded by glowing rocks.

He kicked at the door, once, twice, until it popped open, the wooden door splintering. He hauled Clark out of the steam room just as Coach Walt came running at them. His face was red and he was screaming. Whitney dropped Clark and fell backwards as Coach Walt tried to punch him.

His football gear protected his chest from the coach’s fists. Then Clark picked up the coach and hurled him into a bank of lockers.

“You’re okay?” Clark asked.

Whitney nodded. “Yeah, I’m-”

He was cut off as Coach Walt got to his feet and squeezed his eyes shut. Flames burst up around him. Whitney watched, his heart skipping, as Clark stepped through the wall of fire.

“Clark!” he screamed.

Just then, Jonathan Kent came running in and pulled Whitney away.

“Clark’s in there,” Whitney said.

Jonathan looked around for a fire extinguisher. Coach Walt screamed as he was tossed like a toy over the flames. He hit a wall and lay still. The fire died and Clark stood there, completely unhurt. His clothes were just barely singed around the edges.

Whitney was once again in shock over Clark’s abilities. He wrapped his arms around Clark and said, “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

But Clark couldn’t make that promise.

~*~*~

Clark lay in bed, staring at the ceiling of his bedroom. He knew it was late, and he had to be up in a few hours, but sleep just would not come to him. He realized he hadn’t slept well in days, not since seeing the fear on Whitney’s face after the incident with Coach Walt.

He’d really freaked Whitney out by walking through the fire, and Whitney had been acting different lately. Clark worried that he was having second thoughts about being with him, and that hurt. They still spent time together, and had even made another trip into Metropolis, this one going off without a problem.

And yet, Clark couldn’t shake the feeling that Whitney was pulling away from him. Whitney seemed more tired as well.

“Aarrrgh!” Clark groaned, throwing back the blankets. He got up and quietly made his way down to the kitchen. He knew there was leftover apple pie in the fridge.

He cut himself a piece and went to sit on the porch to eat. He sat down on the swing and looked out into the night. He had just taken a bite when he noticed the back end of a truck peeking out from behind the barn. It looked a lot like Whitney’s truck.

Clark left his snack on the porch and went to check it out. It was Whitney’s truck. Curious now, Clark scanned the barn with his x-ray vision. He spotted Whitney up in the loft.

Being careful not to make any noise, and to skip the squeaky step, Clark went up to see what was going on.

Whitney sat on the steamer truck, his head resting in his hands as he leaned against the telescope. Clark bent to peek through it and saw it was aimed at his bedroom window. Whitney was watching him?

He touched Whitney’s cheek lightly. “Whitney, what are you doing here?” he whispered.

Whitney sighed sleepily and didn’t open his eyes. “Wanted to check on you,” he mumbled.

“Why?”

“Make sure...you’re okay. Don’t wanna lose you.”

Clark blinked several times. “Is this your first night here?”

“Uh uh. Been coming...every night.” Whitney yawned and turned his head.

Clark realized he was still half asleep. “Every night?”

“Since fire. Worried.”

Clark felt a tug at his heart. Whitney had been sneaking into the loft to make sure Clark was all right.

Very carefully, Clark picked up Whitney and carried him to the couch. He pulled the blanket from where it was draped over the back, then lay down beside Whitney and covered them both with it. Whitney snuggled closer, and Clark dropped a kiss on Whitney’s forehead.

“I love you,” he breathed.

He fell asleep soon after.

~*~*~

Whitney yawned and blinked against the sunlight streaming in through the window. He rolled over and buried his face in the blanket, and was startled to have the blanket move.

“Clark?”

“Morning,” he smiled.

“What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?”

Whitney ran a hand through his hair and sat up. “Oh, wow. I, I didn’t mean to still be here.”

“You’ve been coming every night?”

Whitney sighed and looked away. Clark ran a hand down Whitney’s arm.

“It’s nice to know you worry about me, but really, you don’t have to.”

“I can’t help it. I know in my head you’re invincible, it’s just...”

“Still hard to believe, I know. My mom still checks me out after every little incident.”

Whitney leaned down as if to kiss Clark, then paused and covered his hand with is mouth.

“Ew. The kissing will have to wait. I must have some serious morning breath.”

Clark laughed. “I need to get up and get moving anyway. Chores before breakfast.”

“Would you like me to swing back and pick you up?”

“That’s okay. I wanted to ride the bus today with Chloe and Pete. But I’ll see you later?”

“Of course.”

Whitney left, and Clark went to sneak back into the house. Martha was just coming down the stairs into the kitchen and saw Clark brushing dirt from his bare feet onto the porch.

“Clark? What are you doing?”

“Um.” He glanced over his shoulder before coming inside. Whitney was gone, and he really wanted to talk to someone about this. “Whitney was here.”

Martha frowned, hands on her hips. “He was here at 5:30 in the morning?”

“He was here all night.”

“Clark!”

“It’s not what you think. Ever since the fire thing with Coach Walt, Whitney’s been sneaking into the loft at night. He’s scared something will happen to me.”

“He’s watching over you?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, Clark.”

Martha busied herself with starting breakfast. She pulled eggs, bacon and bread from the refrigerator, and Clark noticed her hands were shaking.

“Mom?”

“I know how he feels, sweetie,” she said. “I still check in on you during the night sometimes, just to make sure you’re really there. Your abilities make you immune to regular injuries, but they only make me more anxious. It’s natural for Whitney to feel the same as your father and I do.”

Clark sat down at the table and watched his mother make scrambled eggs.

“Do you think I’m doing the right thing? By being with him? By being with anybody?”

“Honey, I don’t want you to sacrifice your happiness to keep everyone else happy. If Whitney cares about you, he’ll just grow accustomed to your abilities. Now get upstairs and get dressed.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

Clark raced upstairs, dressed, raced outside and did his chores, came back inside, showered and dressed for school. All in under a minute. He ate breakfast with his parents, then went to catch the bus.

Pete and Chloe were seated in their usual seat near the back. They were surprised to see Clark get on the bus and head towards them.

“Whoa, what time did you get up this morning, Clark?” Chloe asked. “Four am?”

“Har har. I was just on track this morning.”

“So how are things with you know who?” Pete asked, keeping his voice low.

“We’re going through normal relationship stuff.”

“I’m still finding it hard to wrap my brain around you and him,” Chloe said, shaking her head. “But as long as he makes you happy.”

“He does.”

“Cool. Because I told him I’d hurt him if he hurt you.”

Clark smiled. “Chloe Sullivan, ass-kicker.”

Chloe struck a pose with both fists clenched and growled. “I will, too.”

Pete reached out and tickled her under the arms, causing her to squeal with laughter. He and Clark shared a look and laughed.

“Yeah,” Pete said. “You’re real tough.”

~*~*~

Whitney fell asleep during Advanced Physics. Thankfully, he sat in the back, and a classmate poked him before he was caught by the teacher. After class, Whitney headed to his locker. He had a free period next, then lunch. As he passed by the trophy case in the hallway, he caught a glimpse of his reflection.

I look like shit, he thought, slowing to study himself. He turned his head left, then right, and leaned closer, squinting. Yes, those were circles under his eyes.

Ever since he’d started camping out in the Kent barn, he hadn’t been getting as much sleep. His homework wasn’t getting done as well as it should have, and he knew this could affect his chances at a football scholarship. He was glad Thanksgiving break was coming up soon. He would use it to catch up on some sleep and get his focus back.

“Hey,” came a soft voice behind him.

He turned around and saw Clark standing there, his red backpack slung over his left shoulder.

“You look tired,” Clark said.

“I’m fine.”

“You really should get some sleep.”

“I know.”

Students milled around them, hurrying to get to their next class. Several of them carried bottles of Mountain Dew or coffee cups from The Beanery.

“Caffeine sounds really good about now,” Whitney said.

“I could go for some.”

They began walking towards the cafeteria where the pop machines were.

“What’s your next class?” Whitney asked.

“I don’t have one.”

“You don’t?”

“I’m supposed to have study hall, but the scheduling office screwed up so I have a free period. Most of the time Chloe catches me and I help her with the paper. Today, I managed to escape her clutches.“

“Hmm. So basically, we have an hour and forty-five minutes to ourselves,” Whitney mused.

“I guess so.”

They reached the cafeteria where students sat clustered around tables, working on homework, studying, or gossiping.

“Wanna blow this joint?”

“What do you mean?” Clark asked, looking alarmed.

“I’m not talking about skipping the rest of the day, Clark. I mean getting a real cup of coffee. We’ll be back in time for 5th period, I promise.”

Clark nodded. “Sure. Let’s go.”

They left school and Whitney drove them to The Beanery. They ordered coffee and cinnamon rolls and picked a small table by the front windows.

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” Clark asked.

“Dinner with the family, crashing on the couch to watch football afterwards. Tradition. Why?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with us.”

“Your family?”

“Yeah. My parents would love to have you.”

Whitney stared into the steam of his coffee. “I’d love to be there, but...”

“What would you tell your parents. Ah.”

“Clark, my dad isn’t as open-minded as your parents are. They wouldn’t understand why I’d want to go to your house.”

“Having an alien son might have helped with that a little,“ Clark said, totally straight faced.

Whitney smiled. “I think they were pretty cool before that, Clark.”

“Your dad, he knows we’re friends though, right?”

“Well, yeah. He thinks you’re all right, Clark.”

“Why can’t you just hang out at a friend’s house then? We could have our own little dinner later that night.”

“Really?”

“Sure!” Clark said, warming to the idea. “It’ll be fun.”

“Okay. I think that’ll work.”

The bell above the door tinkled softly, alerting everyone to another customer’s arrival.

“This is a surprise.”

“Lex, hi,” Clark said, shifting in his seat.

“Clark,” Lex said. He nodded at Whitney, then turned back to Clark. “Haven’t seen you around much lately. Been busy?”

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, Lex. The farm and all.”

“And new friends, I see. That’s great, Clark.” But Lex’s tone of voice indicated that he didn’t really find it all that great.

“How’s business?” Clark asked. Whitney quietly sipped his coffee.

“We’re doing very well, actually. My father won’t admit it, but I think he’s pleased with the results so far.” Lex paused to stop a passing waitress. He ordered a coffee and a croissant to go. “Stop by the mansion sometime, Clark. I just got a new pool table. And tell your mother that the vegetables she sent over were wonderful.”

“Sure. See ya, Lex.”

Lex picked up his order and left, waving at Clark. Whitney watched him climb into his silver Porsche and speed away.

“He really hates me, doesn’t he?”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“He barely acknowledges my presence. He’s still pissed about Homecoming. Maybe I should have apologized to him instead of you.”

“He’s really protective of me, that’s all. If he got to know you better, I think he’d like you.”

Whitney raised a brow. “Suuuure. More like, he’d really love the opportunity to string me up in a field somewhere and make sure no one ever found me.”

“Okay, maybe you’re right.”

Whitney rolled his eyes and picked at his cinnamon roll, licking frosting from his fingers. “Mmm, this is really good.”

Clark stared. “Uh huh.”

Whitney heard the sudden lust in Clark’s voice and dipped his index finger in the frosting again.

“You want it?” he asked.

Clark looked around the crowded coffee shop. “Well, yeah, but.”

“Then take it. I dare you.” Whitney wagged his finger invitingly.

“Whitney-”

“I dare you, Clark,” Whitney growled.

Clark pursed his lips, threw one last glance around the room, then dipped his head and sucked the thick, sweet frosting from Whitney’s finger - in a lightning quick motion.

Whitney blinked and stared at his finger. He had felt it, but barely.

“Hey, no fair!” he exclaimed, laughing.

“You didn’t say I had to do it normally,“ Clark reasoned, his eyes twinkling.

“You’re very tricky, Kent.”

“And you love it.”

I do, Whitney thought. I really do.

~*~*~

Thanksgiving morning was clear and bright. The sun was practically beaming as Clark pulled off his work gloves and rinsed the mud from his work boots with the hose. He took a long gulp of water, then turned off the faucet.

“Clark, were you going to help me with the stuffing?” Martha called from the house.

“Sure thing, Mom.”

He jogged inside, kicked off his shoes at the door and kissed his mother on the cheek as he zipped upstairs to shower.

“Give me two minutes,” he said.

“Two, huh? What’s with the extra minute?” she teased, chopping celery and onions.

Clark showered and dressed in new khaki pants, a crisp blue shirt and a tie. Even though it was only the three Kents at Thanksgiving dinner, Martha insisted they dress nicely.

“I love to see my men looking their best,” she always said.

Clark carefully combed his hair and checked to make sure it wasn’t sticking up anywhere. Then he slapped on just a bit of cologne. When he went back downstairs, Jonathan was setting the table with the china they’d gotten for a wedding present.

“Whitney’s stopping by later?” Jonathan asked.

“Yeah. Probably for supper.” Clark took over chopping vegetables from his mother.

“I smell cologne,” Martha said with a smile. “I think I’ve known you to wear cologne exactly twice before this.”

“Oh?” Clark asked, ducking his head.

“Martha, leave him alone,” Jonathan said, shaking his head.

“What, I think it’s sweet.”

Clark concentrated on cutting the celery into small pieces.

“He’s sixteen, Martha, you’re embarrassing him.”

“Our son has his very first boyfriend; I’m his mother, and I have a right to embarrass him.”

All three paused for a moment, taking in that first statement.

“Our son as his very first boyfriend,” Jonathan murmured. He continued to set the table, placing the crystal glasses at each setting.

“It sounds a little funny, doesn’t it?” Martha asked.

Clark dumped the celery and onions into a saucepan filled with bread crumbs. “Are you guys weirded out by this at all?”

“Weirded out by what, son?” Jonathan asked.

“Oh come on. This whole, thing,” Clark said, waving his cutting knife around. Martha took hold of his wrist and gently pried the knife from his fingers.

“Clark, we like Whitney,” she said. “He obviously cares about you.”

“You’re okay with him now, because no one else in town knows,” Clark said. “What happens when everyone knows? People will stare. They may do worse than that.”

“And we’ll deal with it when that time comes,” Jonathan said. “Frankly, to me, people finding out you’re gay isn’t nearly as scary as people finding out you dropped out of the sky in a spaceship.”

“I’m going to agree with your father on that one,” Martha said.

“You guys really are abnormal, you know that?” Clark said, smiling broadly.

“Well, that’s good to know,” Jonathan said.

~*~*~

Clark jumped off the porch swing the second he saw Whitney’s silver truck turn into the driveway. He was excited and nervous at the same time, and he didn’t know why. This wasn’t a first date, and Whitney had been there several times.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Clark,” Whitney said, coming up the steps. “You look nice.” He glanced down at his own clothes, jeans and a Kansas State sweatshirt. “I should have dressed up.”

“Don’t worry about it. You look fine.” He kissed Whitney’s cheek, then took his hand and pulled him into the house. “Mom, Dad, Whitney’s here.”

Clark’s parents were curled up on the couch watching an old black and white movie.

“Hello,” Martha said. “I hope you’re hungry. We have tons of leftovers.”

“I am kind of hungry. My mom overcooked the turkey this year,” Whitney said.

“Help yourself then.”

Whitney was confused. “We’re not eating together?”

Jonathan exchanged a look with his wife. “Well, Clark has asked us to, what was it, son? ’Stay by the tv, and don’t embarrass me.’ We’ll do our best.” He gave Clark a mock salute and smiled.

Clark groaned and shook his head. “Thanks, Dad.”

He took Whitney into the kitchen and opened the fridge. “What would you like? We have turkey, stuffing, green bean casserole, fresh rolls, corn, sliced ham, scalloped potatoes, mashed potatoes, gravy, fruit salad, and pecan pie, pumpkin pie, and cherry pie for dessert.”

“Did you have a lot of family over or something?” Whitney asked, amazed at the array of food packed into the fridge. “All we had was turkey and a couple of sides.”

“Nope, just us. My mom loves Thanksgiving dinner.”

“I don’t even know where to start!”

Clark began pulling out covered containers and setting them on the counter. “Grab a plate and help yourself. Microwave’s over there. Drinks are in the fridge.”

“Where are we eating?” Whitney asked.

“The loft.”

“Isn’t it kind of cold out there?”

“Surprisingly, no. All the hay makes great insulation.”

Whitney and Clark loaded their plates with food. While Whitney heated them in the microwave, Clark darted out to the barn and back. His cheeks were flushed.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah, ooh, these plates are hot,” Whitney said, recoiling from the heat of the microwave.

Clark took them both and headed for the door.

“Bring the silverware and drinks, okay?” he said.

Whitney followed him, wondering if and when he’d ever get used to Clark’s abilities.

The loft was glowing slightly from the candles Clark had lit. The couch had been pushed back, along with the steamer trunk. A round card table, covered with a white tablecloth, and two chairs had been set up in the middle. A red pillar candle sat in the center of the table.

“Ta da,” Clark said. “Happy Thanksgiving, Whitney.”

“Wow, Clark, this is really beautiful.”

Clark shifted from one foot to the other. “You don’t think it’s too mushy?”

Whitney placed the drinks and silverware on the table and pulled Clark into a hug. “I think it’s wonderful. You’re wonderful.”

They kissed softly.

“Food’s getting cold,” Clark whispered. “I thought you were hungry.”

“I am.”

“For food, silly.”

Whitney reluctantly let go and they sat down to their Thanksgiving meal.

“Your mom is an awesome cook,” Whitney said, savoring the turkey.

“Yeah, we like her. Hey look, the sun’s setting.”

Clark got up from his chair and moved to stand by the window. Whitney joined him.

“It’s perfect,” he said.

“Yeah. I love watching the sunsets out here,” Clark said, studying the vibrant oranges and purples in the sky.

“That’s not what I was talking about,” Whitney said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Clark turned to look at him, just as Whitney placed his hands on Clark’s face and kissed him.

“I love you, Kent,” he said.

“I love you, too.”

“You do? I mean, wow,” Whitney said.

“Are you surprised?”

“I guess I am, a little. I never thought I could feel this way about anyone.”

“And who ever thought it’d be over a scrawny freshman?” Clark teased.

“Trust me, you are anything but scrawny.”

“Whitney?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me again.”

Whitney grinned. “Sure thing.”

Neither of them knew they were being quietly observed from below.

~end Part Three

onto Part Four