Pairing: Clark/Whitney; Whitney/Lana
Notes: I did not do this willingly.
Dedication: to the WHOvians for going 1500 strong (maybe we need to take a break). To Kassie for flogging me better than anybody else does and to Lar b/c she understands the power of purple shirts.

Her aluminum and rhinestone crown keeps catching the footlights and blinding him, but he grins and plays on. Keeps the pretense up.

The perfect boyfriend to the perfect girlfriend. Except. He's not so perfect. He's a bit tarnished. A bit dirty. And her? She's too bright. Too perfect. Up too high on the horse.

She deserves better. She deserves someone who actually wants her. Not someone who wants to hide behind her. What she represents. But. He can appreciate her. And he can always use her. Appearances are important.

She looks beautiful tonight, like the fairy his mother puts on the tree at Christmas. The fairy is a family heirloom - just like an only child. Something to be treasured, nurtured and protected to ensure the next generation.

Generation begets generation.

Man and woman. Husband and wife. Adam and Eve - not - Adam and Steve. That's not the way to become Homecoming King.

And this Christmas fairy //Fairy// correction: angel, it looks perfect. Funny how looks do that.

Someday it will belong to his family. His wife will put it on their tree. His wife. Doesn't matter if that sounds a bit off to him now, he's got time.

Perhaps it will be Lana, she's been a good sport. Or. Perhaps not. Perhaps it will be some other girl he has yet to meet. Someone else who will clean him up and dust him off. Make him presentable. Make him straighten up his act.

Acting straight.

Such a slippery slope between who he is supposed to be and who he is. It gets harder every day. All the stress. The struggle. What's inside really wants out.

But for tonight Lana is his antigen. His cover. For some reason he thinks dancing with her is going to make it better. To make him better. That she will assuage his guilt. Offer him communion without hearing his confession.

//Hail Mary, full of grace//

It hasn't worked yet, but the night is still young. Plenty of time for him to forget about freshmen crucified in the cornfields. Led like a lamb to the slaughter. Why didn't he fight harder?

Maybe he wanted it. Wanted him. Maybe he was asking for it. Maybe Whitney is deluded and should have a bit more compassion. But it's not that cold tonight. At least it didn't feel that cold inside his truck. Maybe it is. Maybe it's not.

Funny how he drove with the windows down and felt nothing but heat. Blood coursing everywhere except to his brain. Making a determined effort not to get aroused. To not think about Clark tied up, stripped, almost naked. Bondage isn't just a white bread sport anymore.

And to think when he finally picked up Lana she thought he was flushed because of her. Because he was nervous. That's laughable. He was experiencing stage fright of a different kind entirely.

He can't think about that right now so it's a shame that he can't think of anything else.

Guilt. Remorse.

//Absolve me of my sins///

Resolve. It had to be someone... And he can honestly say he has never seen a better looking scarecrow in his entire life. It's a wonder he didn't blow something while he painted that 'S' on Clark's chest.

He was striking. Beautiful.

His English teacher told his class that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. That everyone appreciates it in different ways. Pays homage differently.

He said that some people choose to revel in it. To bathe in its light and protect it. Some choose to dissect it, some to emulate it. And others. Others hate it. Loathe it and spend every waking hour attempting to destroy it.

Whitney isn't quite sure what category he's in right now. After all, he can appreciate the sentiments. Every last one of them. He understands the need to destroy something beautiful. Especially when it's so flawless. So golden. When it so glaringly signifies temptation and a forbidden road. It's all his fault.

//Clark//

He was just begging for it. He coveted the wrong thing.

The clothing, the truck, the trophy girlfriend - all the things that accentuate his attributes - Clark lusts after. He knows he does. All the things that make him more of a man. That display his alpha maleness. That make him attractive - beautiful. All his rewards for giving up other things.

Clark wants them but he doesn't want him because that's not how this story is supposed to go. But it bugs Whitney, just that little bit, and that makes him angry. He should be proud. Satisfied. Look at all that he has. Football. Lana. Varsity jackets and scouts at games. Things that make him like everyone else. Better than everyone else. Like every other boy. Every other man. Like his dad.

It's important to be like his dad. His dad is the man. A man. Ramrod-straight. Archie Bunker/Mr. Brady straight.

He forgets that Mr. Brady died from AIDS. From keeping secrets.

He's doing his best to forget a lot of things. Like freshmen up in fields hanging on crosses. His sacrificial lamb for God. An offering for absolution of his sins. His sinful thoughts. His lust.

///Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil///

He had to do it. It's his only path to righteousness. Redemption.

Letting him go was never going to be a viable option. He couldn't. He can't - because then everyone will know.

He doesn't just want her - he wants him too and if he can't have them both then no one can, and they certainly can't have each other.

Clark has to understand that. Whitney has to make him understand that. It's the price they have to pay. That he has to pay for being who he is. What he is. So beautiful.

It's a shame but that's just the way it is. Sometimes you have to make a sacrifice.

-finis-