Days Up North

by a campbell

Smallville, Clark Kent/Lex Luthor

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He'd been pale, tired, and Clark's advice? "A few days away from it all, Lex."

Clark drove. The weatherbeaten beach cabin was his childhood vacation spot. Mornings, they rode mild waves on plastic rafts, in afternoons meandered on the big dock, peering into fisherman's buckets at the day's catch. Meals: hot dogs grilled black and double-dip Blue-Moon ice cream cones from the dairy in town. Souvenirs: Indian dolls and moccasins from the "Indian Museum" dubbed, by Clark's mom, "Tourist Trap". At night, they slept in each other's arms as the water lapped at the shore.

Sunday dawn found them on the shuffleboard court, not keeping score, just sliding the disks around, laughing when they collided and fell in a heap on the cement.

Nothing fancy, Lex agreed. But as they drove back, he nestled under Clark's arm sleepy, sandy, refreshed.

It had been fun.

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