Furious Angels
            by Nymph Du Pave
 

            CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: Our Hero of the Day Has Gone a Little, Well, Spotty

            He punctuated every hit with a word.

            "Why! Don't! You! Just! Fucking! Die! Al-! -Ready! You! Stupid! Frozen! Mother! FUCKER!"

            "Lex-"

            "You! Should! Just! Fucking! Die! You! PIECE OF SHIT!"

            "Lex!"

            He was beyond really paying attention to the outside world now.  He was in Lexland and Shawn was the only other resident.  "I! FUCKING!  HURT!  My head!  My hands!  My leg!"

            A hand wrapped around his waist and pulled him back.  Had it not been Clark- meaning had the person back there not been so strong- he would have pushed himself away and back to the body.

            "Lex, shh.  Shhh."

            He shut his mouth obiediently.  Stupid fuck.  Gonna fucking kill you soon as Kent lets me go.  Gonna bash your freak face in, you Grandma hair-colored mother fucker.

           "Lex?"

            Gonna shove this pipe up that frozen ass of yours.  Then my foot along-side it.  See who's the faggot then.

           "Lex?"

            Inbred, my ass.

            "Drop the pipe."

            The pipe fell from his hand.

            That's okay.  I'll just pulvarize you with my fists.  But the foot's still going up your ass.  Pipe or no pipe.

            "Lex?"

            He grunted.

            "It's okay.  He's dead.  Look."

            Lex was already staring.

            "Actually look at him, Lex."

            He shook his head, clearing it, and was suddenly grateful for Clark's soothing voice.  It had pulled him out of his zen-like murder-state.  He looked to Shawn.

            Or what was left of Shawn.  There was no longer a head or arms, or any body part for that matter.  He had completely smashed Shawn to splintery bits all over.  Frozen splintery bits that, now that he really thought about it, was sure to get very disgusting once they melted.

            "Eew…" he whispered.

            "Eew?  I can second that," Clark said, relaxing his grip and just letting his arm sink against Lex's bare flesh.

            "Can I get a third in?"

            Clark turned.  "Dad?"

            Lex tried to step away from Clark, but the boy's grip tightened.

            He wants me to stay?

            Apparently Jonathon was too happy to see his child to notice the physical closeness of the two boys.  He ran down the hill, open armed.

            "Son!"

            "I asked you to stay in the house.  Where it would be safe."

            Jonathon's arms wrapped around Clark and Lex felt like some kind of awkward third wheel on a bicycle, mooching off of the first.  He managed to pull away from Clark and watched with remorse as father and son hugged lovingly.

            He turned towards the mess, his body catching up with him.  His ankle felt like shit from tripping on the puddle-hole, his hands, back, stomach, face, head, neck and leg…  God, he was tired and-

            Cold.  Where the hell are my shirts?

            "I did stay, Clark.  As long as I could.  Your mother and I were going nuts."

            They hugged again.

            Lex popped his neck, crackles sending sparks of relief up his head, down his neck and a little pain down his spine.  He bent down to pick up his shirt and sweater, sighing.  The rips were one thing; they couldn't have been saved no matter what, but at least he could have worn them to keep him warm until he got back inside.

            It was the blood, really, that got to him.  The blood and the single half inch-long piece of Shawn's ear.

            His stomach shook violently and he bent over, ready to upchuck whatever wanted to be set free.

            Great, he thought.  Guess Shawn won't be the only one leaving remains.

            That thought had him gagging.

            "Lex?"

            He held up his hand to keep Clark from coming over.

            Jonathon cleared his throat.  "Are you alright, Lex?"

            The question was a really fucking stupid one, but one that didn't surprise him at all.  After all it was Jonathon.  Still, it should be a general rule that when you see frozen itty bits of what used to be a person on the ground and there are people around who witnessed the demolition, they are obviously not going to be okay.

            It was the care in Jonathon's voice that had him responding.  "Fine, sir.  Just a little, you know, shaken up."

            He heard the crunch of footsteps and felt the feel of flannel and warm skin against his back.  Automatically recognizing this as Jonathon, it surprised him that he didn't flinch from the touch.  He flinched from everyone's touch.

            Everyone but his Clark's.

            Jonathon let out a low whistle and took his hand off Lex.  He started to unbutton his shirt.  "You're mighty cold there, son."

            Son?

            He shook his head.  "No, I'm-"

            He toppled over.  Shaking his head had not been the best of thoughtless actions to perform.

            Clark was there in a flash, catching him.  He leaned back against the strong chest, slumping.  Through half-hooded eyes, he saw the stunned look that Jonathon gave Clark.

            Clark, ignored it and instead reached out a hand, touching his father's and stopping the man from unbuttoning the flannel overshirt.  "I'll take care of it dad.  Did you call the police?"

            "Yeah.  They should be here any minute."

            "Thanks.  Can you hurry in and tell everyone that we're alright?  I don't want Mom to worry."

            Lex could translate.  Go ahead, Dad.  I want to be with Lex.

            "Uh, are you sure you don't want to go.  I could take care of him."

            Now he was surprised.  You're faster and I'd like to talk to him.

            "That's alright.  I've got it."

            He smiled.  He's my best friend, I'm stronger, and I want the extra time.

            Of course, with him being as light-headed as he was, all translations were subject to biased interpretations.

            "It's probably best if we wait out here for the ambulance."

            Lex particularly liked that one.  If we don't come in at all, don't worry.

            "Alright."

            "How are Lana and Whitney?"

            Lex breathed in sharply at the sound of the girl's name ushered forth from his lover's lips.

            Bitch, he thought sleepily.  Stupid little bimbo doesn't deserve his attention.  We're out here fighting for our lives and he cares what the hell she's going through?  He's too good for the little slut.

            Biased interpretations.

            "They're fine.  Worried about you, but otherwise fine."

            He nodded.  "Thanks."

            Jonathon rubbed Lex on the shoulder lightly and started to walk away.  Once he'd climbed the hill and moved away from them, Clark turned Lex effortlessly in his hands.

            He felt like somebody's cat.  Coochie-Coo, my wittle Pussy-Kat.  Wanna kiss?

            "Actually, yes."

            Clark raised an amused eyebrow in Lex's direction.  "And what would you be agreeing to?"

            "Kissing you," nodded Lex matter-of-factly.

            "Ahh…"

            "So hows about it?"

            Clark laughed and kissed Lex quickly on the mouth.  "Can you stand?"

            "It wasn't that good of a kiss, Clark."

            Clark gave him a look.  'Don't be a smart-ass'.

            Lex rolled his eyes melodramatically.  "Okay, yeah, fine.  I can stand."

            "Just a moment."  He let Lex go and took off his jacket, swinging it around Lex's shoulders.  He hooked an arm loosely around Lex's waist and started to pull him carefully up the hill.

            "Let's go wait for the ambulance, huh? "

            "Okie, dokie, blokie."  Clark gave him a weird look, but the warmth enveloping Lex was making him sleepy and he really didn't care.
 
 
 
 
 
 

            TBC Tomorrow...