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Exit, Stage Uh Oh
Cascade ( [email protected] )
Rated PG (for a rather uplifting performance)
Pairings: J/M
Spoilers: Um, it's a few years too early for that….
Disclaimers: I do not own the characters, nor do I own the vegetables. No actual foodstuffs were harmed during the making of this story.
"Don't… say… anything." Jonathan Kent fixed his wife with a warning look, shoving his hands deeper into his jeans pockets and lowering his head to look at her from under his brow.
"Wha-a-at? I didn't say anything!" Martha couldn't quite meet her husband's eyes; she could barely walk straight, she was working so hard not to burst into laughter.
"Don’t get coy with me, Martha Clark Kent. You're my wife; I know you, and I know what you're thinking, and I'm telling you, just do not say it!"
Martha managed a semblance of a meek nod and waved for him to go before her as they moved to their seats. They'd promised Clark that they would be right there as close as they could get, and the third row seemed good enough--not close enough to bake in the stage lights, but close enough to be easily seen. With her new perm and the bright red silk scarf Clark had begged her to wear tonight, she figured she would be easy enough to spot; and Jonathan, who insisted on wearing his coat in a crowded auditorium on a warm spring day, would stand out all on his own. After all, except for Darren Ross and the new school principal, Jonathan Kent was the tallest person there. That made it rather convenient for her to hide behind his back as her snickers threatened to turn into giggles.
They found their seats and Martha grinned to herself as Jonathan flexed a bit, hot inside his coat but refusing to take it off. The Kents spotted some friends and greeted them, smiling as the Rosses filed over to them; the three older Ross boys appeared to be in various shades of boredom and annoyance at having to be there, and the second oldest was being led by his father's hand on the back of his neck. Darren gave Jon an odd glance but didn't ask about the coat; Martha leaned toward Niya Ross to whisper something to her, but Jonathan stopped her with a knowing glare. Martha grinned and shook her head and told him with her eyes that sooner or later the truth would come out.
They took their seats as the lights went down and the curtain parted, revealing simple scenery and canned music. The young mother smiled as she saw various children she knew appear, dressed in large, dense foam costumes: Greg was a wedge of yellow cheese, Lana was a muffin, Martha couldn't find Pete at all, and there was their own little Clark, a huge piece of broccoli.
Martha reached for her husband's hand when she saw her son, but Jonathan refused to take it out of his pocket. She rolled her eyes and sat back to watch the endearingly sloppy first-grade production about the four food groups; most of the kids forgot their lines, a lima bean got into a fight with a marshmallow over timing, and one poor little egg kept rolling helplessly around the stage, taking down a steak, a fish, and a banana.
The true highlight, though, was their very own little star, wrinkling his little green nose as he recited a line about broccoli being very good. Clark obviously needed to work on his acting skills, but she had to say one thing for him--he was undoubtedly the most thoroughly costumed of the lot. She knew this because, as she'd discovered, when her husband took on a project he left no stone unturned. The parts had been assigned two weeks ago, and the costumes had come in yesterday, at which point Jonathan had bought some green skin paint. This afternoon after a hasty dish of macaroni and cheese, the two Kent males had traipsed out to the barn, where Jonathan had sensibly taken off his own shirt and Clark's shirt and jeans and proceeded to paint their son an eye-popping shade of green. The paint had set quickly, and Jonathan had helped the boy into his costume with little fuss. Everything after that had gone fairly smoothly, if she didn't count Clark's whining about why had to be the yucky old broccoli.
Martha planned to stick Jonathan with bath duty that evening, for more than one reason. Thinking about that started her snickering again, and she felt an irritated but gentle nudge in her ribs from a well-padded elbow. She breathed as deeply and slowly as she could, and had almost managed to stop the laughter, when the most unexpected thing happened.
Clark was just finishing shouting out his lines when the audience heard a metallic pop and a creak from somewhere overhead. Before anyone had time to really wonder what was going on, an overhead curtain hook swung down and caught the top of the back of the broccoli costume, lifting and carrying the very surprised walking vegetable up and over the stage, swinging out over the audience and then back over the stage again, where the kids where squealing and scattering. The parents were gasping, and Martha found herself gripping Jonathan's arm and realized they and the Rosses were on their feet. Clark was flailing, starting to cry, and Martha was sure he'd just gone pale and, well, slightly green under the paint. Despite the secret of his arrival--falling out of the sky and into their family--her little boy was terrified of heights and was probably going to start screaming at any moment, and her heart was in her throat because she couldn’t reach him. She knew that Jonathan was every bit as alarmed because he was already on the move, jumping seats and being assisted by the parents in front of them.
Unfortunately, before he could surmount the first row, a rip sound reverberated ominously through the chamber, and then, with a pained cry, their little broccoli dropped. Martha stood frozen, seeing that her son would be hitting the hard surface of the stage and possibly the edge, and knowing that the costume wasn't thick enough to completely protect him from injury. She had her hand over her mouth, but as it turned out, she needn't have worried.
As the little boy came down, his father was still in motion, and at the last second, Jonathan launched himself in a dive over the edge of the stage. Clark never made contact with the hard wood, landing on the bracket of his father's arms. Darren Ross was beside Jonathan just as Clark touched down, and he was the one who turned and found Martha's eyes and announced loudly that Clark was unhurt.
The whole audience sighed with relief and applauded, and Martha was pulled to her husband's side. Jonathan was heaving with the adrenaline and relief, and Clark turned to give his mother a green wave. She reached out and touched his cheek, assuring herself that he was okay, and in her ear she caught the conversation between her husband and his friend.
Darren had boosted himself onto the stage to rescue the rolling egg, who turned out to be none other than his little Pete. As he righted his child and impulsively hugged him through the costume, Darren turned to Jon. "You okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, thanks. I appreciate your coming to help. I think we're fine, although I'm pretty sure we effectively ended the play."
Darren laughed, a sound deep in his cavernous chest. "Yeah, no kidding, but hey, look on the bright side--at least there were no jumping beans in this play!"
Jonathan released some tension in a laugh, curling his arms to roll Clark into his chest. He was looking down at his son, smiling reassuringly, when Darren pointed discreetly and dropped his voice.
"Hey, Jon, what's with your hands? You sure you're okay, man?"
Jonathan glanced down at the hands he'd kept hidden all evening. He blushed and shrugged, realizing he'd been caught.
"Oh, you might as well show him all of it, Jonathan! It's either that, or I show him the pictures when I get them developed!"
Jonathan turned to her. "You wouldn't!" He stared at her for a moment, then backed down. "You would." He turned to his friend and, blushing hard, pushed up his sleeves a bit, then unbuttoned one button on his shirt, making it apparent that he was covered in his son's paint. Darren processed this for a moment, then started laughing hard, falling back against the stage. He only stopped when Pete, laying on his back in his egg costume, whined that he couldn't get up and that he really needed to 'go'. Darren picked himself up, lifted his son, and walked away, patting Jon's shoulder and shaking his head as he passed. He would never tell anyone besides his wife, but Jon knew Darren would be entertained by this for a long time to come.
As the audience and students were dismissed, Jonathan picked up his son and turned to leave. Giddy with relief, Martha managed to make it out to the truck before she half-collapsed in giggles. Jonathan playfully growled at her, trying to look intimidating and, with a huge piece of squirming broccoli in his arms, failing miserably. "Martha, don't say it, okay? I know what you're thinking; just don't say it."
She shook her head, waiting as he piled Clark into the truck and then climbing in after. Jonathan walked around and got in behind the wheel, shutting his door and buckling in to the rhythm of her laughter. Clark turned to her, peering up at her as if trying to identify a new species. "Mom, you're weird!" he announced, then turned his attention to picking apart his costume.
Tears streaming down her face, she stared at her husband's profile till he finally shook his head and gave into his own chuckles. They laughed all the way home, and Jonathan didn't have the breath to protest as Martha finally let loose.
"I may be weird, but at least I know I'll always have the love of two little green men!!"
Cascade ( [email protected] )
Rated PG (for a rather uplifting performance)
Pairings: J/M
Spoilers: Um, it's a few years too early for that….
Disclaimers: I do not own the characters, nor do I own the vegetables. No actual foodstuffs were harmed during the making of this story.
"Don't… say… anything." Jonathan Kent fixed his wife with a warning look, shoving his hands deeper into his jeans pockets and lowering his head to look at her from under his brow.
"Wha-a-at? I didn't say anything!" Martha couldn't quite meet her husband's eyes; she could barely walk straight, she was working so hard not to burst into laughter.
"Don’t get coy with me, Martha Clark Kent. You're my wife; I know you, and I know what you're thinking, and I'm telling you, just do not say it!"
Martha managed a semblance of a meek nod and waved for him to go before her as they moved to their seats. They'd promised Clark that they would be right there as close as they could get, and the third row seemed good enough--not close enough to bake in the stage lights, but close enough to be easily seen. With her new perm and the bright red silk scarf Clark had begged her to wear tonight, she figured she would be easy enough to spot; and Jonathan, who insisted on wearing his coat in a crowded auditorium on a warm spring day, would stand out all on his own. After all, except for Darren Ross and the new school principal, Jonathan Kent was the tallest person there. That made it rather convenient for her to hide behind his back as her snickers threatened to turn into giggles.
They found their seats and Martha grinned to herself as Jonathan flexed a bit, hot inside his coat but refusing to take it off. The Kents spotted some friends and greeted them, smiling as the Rosses filed over to them; the three older Ross boys appeared to be in various shades of boredom and annoyance at having to be there, and the second oldest was being led by his father's hand on the back of his neck. Darren gave Jon an odd glance but didn't ask about the coat; Martha leaned toward Niya Ross to whisper something to her, but Jonathan stopped her with a knowing glare. Martha grinned and shook her head and told him with her eyes that sooner or later the truth would come out.
They took their seats as the lights went down and the curtain parted, revealing simple scenery and canned music. The young mother smiled as she saw various children she knew appear, dressed in large, dense foam costumes: Greg was a wedge of yellow cheese, Lana was a muffin, Martha couldn't find Pete at all, and there was their own little Clark, a huge piece of broccoli.
Martha reached for her husband's hand when she saw her son, but Jonathan refused to take it out of his pocket. She rolled her eyes and sat back to watch the endearingly sloppy first-grade production about the four food groups; most of the kids forgot their lines, a lima bean got into a fight with a marshmallow over timing, and one poor little egg kept rolling helplessly around the stage, taking down a steak, a fish, and a banana.
The true highlight, though, was their very own little star, wrinkling his little green nose as he recited a line about broccoli being very good. Clark obviously needed to work on his acting skills, but she had to say one thing for him--he was undoubtedly the most thoroughly costumed of the lot. She knew this because, as she'd discovered, when her husband took on a project he left no stone unturned. The parts had been assigned two weeks ago, and the costumes had come in yesterday, at which point Jonathan had bought some green skin paint. This afternoon after a hasty dish of macaroni and cheese, the two Kent males had traipsed out to the barn, where Jonathan had sensibly taken off his own shirt and Clark's shirt and jeans and proceeded to paint their son an eye-popping shade of green. The paint had set quickly, and Jonathan had helped the boy into his costume with little fuss. Everything after that had gone fairly smoothly, if she didn't count Clark's whining about why had to be the yucky old broccoli.
Martha planned to stick Jonathan with bath duty that evening, for more than one reason. Thinking about that started her snickering again, and she felt an irritated but gentle nudge in her ribs from a well-padded elbow. She breathed as deeply and slowly as she could, and had almost managed to stop the laughter, when the most unexpected thing happened.
Clark was just finishing shouting out his lines when the audience heard a metallic pop and a creak from somewhere overhead. Before anyone had time to really wonder what was going on, an overhead curtain hook swung down and caught the top of the back of the broccoli costume, lifting and carrying the very surprised walking vegetable up and over the stage, swinging out over the audience and then back over the stage again, where the kids where squealing and scattering. The parents were gasping, and Martha found herself gripping Jonathan's arm and realized they and the Rosses were on their feet. Clark was flailing, starting to cry, and Martha was sure he'd just gone pale and, well, slightly green under the paint. Despite the secret of his arrival--falling out of the sky and into their family--her little boy was terrified of heights and was probably going to start screaming at any moment, and her heart was in her throat because she couldn’t reach him. She knew that Jonathan was every bit as alarmed because he was already on the move, jumping seats and being assisted by the parents in front of them.
Unfortunately, before he could surmount the first row, a rip sound reverberated ominously through the chamber, and then, with a pained cry, their little broccoli dropped. Martha stood frozen, seeing that her son would be hitting the hard surface of the stage and possibly the edge, and knowing that the costume wasn't thick enough to completely protect him from injury. She had her hand over her mouth, but as it turned out, she needn't have worried.
As the little boy came down, his father was still in motion, and at the last second, Jonathan launched himself in a dive over the edge of the stage. Clark never made contact with the hard wood, landing on the bracket of his father's arms. Darren Ross was beside Jonathan just as Clark touched down, and he was the one who turned and found Martha's eyes and announced loudly that Clark was unhurt.
The whole audience sighed with relief and applauded, and Martha was pulled to her husband's side. Jonathan was heaving with the adrenaline and relief, and Clark turned to give his mother a green wave. She reached out and touched his cheek, assuring herself that he was okay, and in her ear she caught the conversation between her husband and his friend.
Darren had boosted himself onto the stage to rescue the rolling egg, who turned out to be none other than his little Pete. As he righted his child and impulsively hugged him through the costume, Darren turned to Jon. "You okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, thanks. I appreciate your coming to help. I think we're fine, although I'm pretty sure we effectively ended the play."
Darren laughed, a sound deep in his cavernous chest. "Yeah, no kidding, but hey, look on the bright side--at least there were no jumping beans in this play!"
Jonathan released some tension in a laugh, curling his arms to roll Clark into his chest. He was looking down at his son, smiling reassuringly, when Darren pointed discreetly and dropped his voice.
"Hey, Jon, what's with your hands? You sure you're okay, man?"
Jonathan glanced down at the hands he'd kept hidden all evening. He blushed and shrugged, realizing he'd been caught.
"Oh, you might as well show him all of it, Jonathan! It's either that, or I show him the pictures when I get them developed!"
Jonathan turned to her. "You wouldn't!" He stared at her for a moment, then backed down. "You would." He turned to his friend and, blushing hard, pushed up his sleeves a bit, then unbuttoned one button on his shirt, making it apparent that he was covered in his son's paint. Darren processed this for a moment, then started laughing hard, falling back against the stage. He only stopped when Pete, laying on his back in his egg costume, whined that he couldn't get up and that he really needed to 'go'. Darren picked himself up, lifted his son, and walked away, patting Jon's shoulder and shaking his head as he passed. He would never tell anyone besides his wife, but Jon knew Darren would be entertained by this for a long time to come.
As the audience and students were dismissed, Jonathan picked up his son and turned to leave. Giddy with relief, Martha managed to make it out to the truck before she half-collapsed in giggles. Jonathan playfully growled at her, trying to look intimidating and, with a huge piece of squirming broccoli in his arms, failing miserably. "Martha, don't say it, okay? I know what you're thinking; just don't say it."
She shook her head, waiting as he piled Clark into the truck and then climbing in after. Jonathan walked around and got in behind the wheel, shutting his door and buckling in to the rhythm of her laughter. Clark turned to her, peering up at her as if trying to identify a new species. "Mom, you're weird!" he announced, then turned his attention to picking apart his costume.
Tears streaming down her face, she stared at her husband's profile till he finally shook his head and gave into his own chuckles. They laughed all the way home, and Jonathan didn't have the breath to protest as Martha finally let loose.
"I may be weird, but at least I know I'll always have the love of two little green men!!"
Poor wittle Clarkie! 
Since we know he hates those! (Zero) Aww and poor Pete too... rolling around lil egg awww....
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