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crack_van2008-10-25 08:46 am
xenokattz.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2008-10-25 08:46 am
Entry tags:
Vast by Amelia Kay (M)
Fandom: SMALLVILLE
Pairing: Chloe/Whitney
Length: ~ 30, 000
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
amelia_kay
Author Website: FF.net
Why this must be read:
I didn't even know this pairing existed until I found this in September. This fic takes place in Season 1. Like I said before, I like Whitney. He could be a tool, yes, but he wasn't a complete tool and he had a three-dimensional quality to his actions.
Amelia doesn't make Chloe and Whitney fall in love quickly. How could she when, from all indications, they had nothing in common? Well, actually, there was one thing-- they were both the second-raters. The bugs on the windshield in the emotional rollercoaster that was Lana/Clark. The writer doesn't concentrate on that either. She weaves off-screen personalities and motivations for both characters that touch everyone who's ever felt like the extra in Life's Drama. And she does this is a fun way.
She paused and, without turning--"I know you're not still here, Fordman."
He let out a breath of exasperation and approached her in two great strides. "Look, you've gotta help me, OK?"
Chloe giggled, sincerely amused. "And why, pray tell, do I gotta' do that?"
"Because!" Whitney exclaimed, and bit his lip. She found him even more absurd for it. "Because if you don't help me, I'm off the team for the rest of the season, and I have a suspension on my record, and-- no college is going to take me with those strikes against me, and--and that's going to screw up my whole life, OK? And frankly this is the only thing I could think of doing in my spare time that didn't make me sick to my stomach."
"Flattery will get you everywhere." Chloe tapped her pencil against her arm rail. "Look, that's very tragic and everything, I'm sure, but you really should have thought about this before you fed one of your teammates a knuckle sandwich."
"Spare me." But his too-squared shoulders slumped ever so slightly, and he perched himself on the nearest chair, looking somewhat forlorn. "Believe me, he had it coming."
"Oh, yeah?" Chloe leaned in mischievously towards him, and her eyes widened in conspiracy as she asked, "What was the fight about?"
"None of your business! Are you going to let me work for you or not?"
She rolled her eyes incredulously "No! Join the glee club!"
"I can't sing."
"So?? Go be a prop for the debate club."
"Come on!"
"What? I don't care! Why should I care?" she cried, then softened. "Why should I help you? You've been pretty rotten to my friends and you've pretended I'm completely transparent for the better part of a semester. And this is your way of buttering me up? You've got a ways to learn in salesmanship, I've gotta be honest."
"You need me."
"Ha!"
He rushed on before she could retort. "I know Scott Rainier quit doing the sports column two weeks ago when he took on that job at the supermarket." Whitney cocked an eyebrow at her. "He's a friend of mine. And ever since then--well, your sports columns just--just suck. Uh. No offense. I mean... You must have better things to do than go to all the games, and besides, I could do better. I know I could."
She twisted her mouth in resentment and defeat. He was, hatefully enough, right. "God. Can you even write?"
He glared at her.
"I meant write for a paper," she said, exasperated. "How do I know you're not a typical dumb jock, coasting by with C-minuses in English and stuff like that? Huh? I'm gonna have to see some writing samples."
His whole face brightened, and he looked utterly like a different person for a split second. "Hey, thanks!"
"Don't thank me yet, Fordman," she threw up her hands in defense. "I haven't said yes yet. I'm saying... maybe. A very, very cautious, tentative maybe."
Vast
Pairing: Chloe/Whitney
Length: ~ 30, 000
Author on LJ:
amelia_kayAuthor Website: FF.net
Why this must be read:
I didn't even know this pairing existed until I found this in September. This fic takes place in Season 1. Like I said before, I like Whitney. He could be a tool, yes, but he wasn't a complete tool and he had a three-dimensional quality to his actions.
Amelia doesn't make Chloe and Whitney fall in love quickly. How could she when, from all indications, they had nothing in common? Well, actually, there was one thing-- they were both the second-raters. The bugs on the windshield in the emotional rollercoaster that was Lana/Clark. The writer doesn't concentrate on that either. She weaves off-screen personalities and motivations for both characters that touch everyone who's ever felt like the extra in Life's Drama. And she does this is a fun way.
She paused and, without turning--"I know you're not still here, Fordman."
He let out a breath of exasperation and approached her in two great strides. "Look, you've gotta help me, OK?"
Chloe giggled, sincerely amused. "And why, pray tell, do I gotta' do that?"
"Because!" Whitney exclaimed, and bit his lip. She found him even more absurd for it. "Because if you don't help me, I'm off the team for the rest of the season, and I have a suspension on my record, and-- no college is going to take me with those strikes against me, and--and that's going to screw up my whole life, OK? And frankly this is the only thing I could think of doing in my spare time that didn't make me sick to my stomach."
"Flattery will get you everywhere." Chloe tapped her pencil against her arm rail. "Look, that's very tragic and everything, I'm sure, but you really should have thought about this before you fed one of your teammates a knuckle sandwich."
"Spare me." But his too-squared shoulders slumped ever so slightly, and he perched himself on the nearest chair, looking somewhat forlorn. "Believe me, he had it coming."
"Oh, yeah?" Chloe leaned in mischievously towards him, and her eyes widened in conspiracy as she asked, "What was the fight about?"
"None of your business! Are you going to let me work for you or not?"
She rolled her eyes incredulously "No! Join the glee club!"
"I can't sing."
"So?? Go be a prop for the debate club."
"Come on!"
"What? I don't care! Why should I care?" she cried, then softened. "Why should I help you? You've been pretty rotten to my friends and you've pretended I'm completely transparent for the better part of a semester. And this is your way of buttering me up? You've got a ways to learn in salesmanship, I've gotta be honest."
"You need me."
"Ha!"
He rushed on before she could retort. "I know Scott Rainier quit doing the sports column two weeks ago when he took on that job at the supermarket." Whitney cocked an eyebrow at her. "He's a friend of mine. And ever since then--well, your sports columns just--just suck. Uh. No offense. I mean... You must have better things to do than go to all the games, and besides, I could do better. I know I could."
She twisted her mouth in resentment and defeat. He was, hatefully enough, right. "God. Can you even write?"
He glared at her.
"I meant write for a paper," she said, exasperated. "How do I know you're not a typical dumb jock, coasting by with C-minuses in English and stuff like that? Huh? I'm gonna have to see some writing samples."
His whole face brightened, and he looked utterly like a different person for a split second. "Hey, thanks!"
"Don't thank me yet, Fordman," she threw up her hands in defense. "I haven't said yes yet. I'm saying... maybe. A very, very cautious, tentative maybe."
Vast