Title: Sent From Above
Pairing: Clark/Julian (Clark Sawyer [-Davis] and Julian Larson-Armstrong)
Warning: Language, underage drinking
Notes: Yes, all right, I ship the weird ones. In "Brother Act", Clark Sawyer is Reed van Kamp's older popstar stepbrother, who works with Julian in TV shows and other things. ...so I shipped them. JUDGE ME.

Julian Larson, Clark Sawyer, and the Daltonverse plotline are from CP Coulter's "Dalton".

As far as Clark Sawyer knew, Julian Larson could hold his liquor. In fact, when the entire cast of Something Damaged proceeded to waste themselves to mindlessness during the end of the third season, Julian was still standing and both of them were the ones who had to call up everyone's people to make sure that they would get out of the set and straight into their homes without any paparazzi snapping compromising shots.

So when Clark saw Julian pressed up against the cushions of the semi-circle couch in the bar, palms pressed to his forehead and Kamikaze glass empty, he got worried that something was really wrong.

"Julian." He sat next to him, trying to use his body to cover Julian from the sight of the rest of the bar. The sight of Julian Larson being drunk was a veritable holy grail in the entertainment industry. "Julian." He shook his shoulder gently.

Julian seemed to rouse himself and raised his head from the couch cushion. His eyes were blurry, but he lifted them and they landed on the sight of Clark, blond and tall, and concerned. And for a moment, Julian thought he saw someone else. He found, after leaving Dalton, that it was very easy to do that in a dark bar full of handsome men. "…Logan?"

"No…" Clark smiled gently, a little curious. "It's Clark." He dipped an arm under Julian's head and carefully pulled him off the couch. "Come on. You're done. Let's go."

"Party's'not ov'r…" Julian slurred as Clark only managed to lean the brunette against him. Around them, the first party of the cast and crew on location for South of Heaven, the predicted blockbuster extravaganza of the next year, continued to go crazy, oblivious to them.

"It is for you, Julian…" Clark smiled a bit more as he patted Julian's pockets for his sunglasses, and slipped it over the other actor's eyes. "Let's go, you've had enough to drink. I'll take you to your condo."

The tone Clark used—one of quiet, unassuming kindness—was foreign to Julian. The brunette said nothing, and just stared up at him half-lidded, unseen behind the dark glasses. Clark carefully slipped Julian's arm over his shoulder and helped him to his feet. "Easy."

"M'not a—a child…" Julian grumbled, awkwardly pushing his glasses back up.

"I know you're not," Clark said agreeably as he began leading Julian to the door. He wasn't one to argue with drunk people; he found that they were actually easy to talk to if you were patient. "But you are, for the first time since I've known you, drunk. Officially. How many drinks have you had?"

Julian just groaned into the crook of Clark's neck in answer. The older boy laughed softly. "All right, I'll take that as a lot." Clark good-naturedly waved to the crewmembers giving them tipsy goodbyes—Alicia Harris, Julian's onscreen wife-to-be was already overboard, being incredibly loud and Clark had the suspicion that this would be making TMZ at least—and brought Julian outside.

The cold wind seemed to wake Julian a little. The actor groaned again and looked around. "What…?"

When the town car arrived, Clark carefully poured Julian into the seat and climbed in next to him. He gave the driver instructions, and leaned back. Julian immediately leaned against him, and Clark turned to him in surprise to find the actor's head on his shoulder.

"I think…I'm going to throw up."

Not exactly Clark's idea of good news. "Please don't." He pulled away Julian's glasses to make him comfortable, and brushed the hair that fell into the other boy's eyes. And for a moment, Clark's felt the strange fluttering in his stomach. Butterflies…?

Julian raised his eyes to him, looking directly into his blue ones. …yes, Clark was positive those were butterflies now.

As Julian blinked, his alcohol-addled mind finally came to focus. His face was very very close to that of Clark's, and it was impossible not to recognize the handsome star next to him. "…oh. Clark."

"Nice to meet you too," the popstar smirked.

A jarring thought blasted into Julian's head so fast that he got a headache just realizing it. "Oh—shit, I thought you were—"

"Logan?" Clark asked with a smile. "That's what you called me earlier."

Julian flushed and it definitely wasn't because of the alcohol, and an uncomfortable twist went into his stomach. Fuck all tall gorgeous blond guys in Hollywood and fuck his screwed psyche that continued to run back to Dalton where he'd left Logan. Well at least it was Clark—Clark wasn't the gossiping type and was almost too sensible for Hollywood standards. "Shit—I'm sorry."

"That's all right," Clark answered, looking rather amused. "Is he…why you've been drinking like that?"

Julian pulled away from that smile that offered nothing but warmth. No one was that kind around here. "…whatever, man."

Clark looked away for a moment, wondering how to phrase his words in the most un-accusatory way possible. He'd known Julian long enough on Something Damaged for them to be considered as 'friends', and he knew that Julian, for all his carefully-crafted Tinsel Town-standard behavior, was something quite different inwardly. He knew he was dealing with someone who would retreat if he hit the topic the wrong way.

"Is he…someone from school?" Clark asked carefully. "A friend, maybe, or…classmate?"

Julian glanced back at him. He sensed something else in Clark's words. It was envy. Julian glanced away. He knew that Clark bled showbiz twenty-four-seven and had the furthest thing to a normal life. As popstar and member of a boy group, and with recordings, concerts, promotions, interviews and shoots, life was hectic enough. And when he landed his first role and people discovered that he could not only act but also act well, things went crazy and Clark couldn't go and have a normal life even if he wanted to. Julian still had Dalton.

Though…not anymore. He ran. Away from the boy with hypnotic green eyes.

The two of them sighed as though so tired. It was a terrible thing, to be so tired at seventeen. At least it was in Julian's case—Clark was nineteen. But they were both so very tired.

"Yeah…" Julian murmured after a pause, staring out the car window. It was snowing. "A…a friend." Always had been. Not anymore. Now he was no one. Logan will be no one to him. Dalton was closed off to him now, and everyone in it. Julian will now always and forever be Julian Larson, actor, and not Julian, the Stuart House student.

Clark knew the sound of someone wounded when he heard it. And it didn't take a genius to figure things out after seeing Julian spiral down in the bar from complete sobriety to full drunk in under three hours, and then Clark being called that particular name in the stupor. He gazed at the actor at the other end of the backseat, the slender but strong form that had caught his eye more than once and made things far more awkward in Clark's head than he'd wanted to.

As far as he knew, he was straight and that was for sure. But his eyes kept going back to Julian all the same. Julian, on the other hand…

He had seen Julian in a bar with another guy before. Julian hadn't seen him, but Clark had seen him making out with the guy, and then he was sure of two things: That Julian wasn't as straight arrow as the publicists and tabloids claimed, and that he seemed to be fond of blonds. Both of which did not help the confused fluttering in Clark's gut.

Julian was falling asleep by the window, and he shouldn't be, it was too cold there. Clark sighed and pulled him away from it. "C'mere."

"No…" Julian grumbled, liking the cold window on his forehead, the headache setting in.

"It's too cold."Julian was so pliant that he flopped onto Clark, who was a little started as he managed to put an arm around him. "Come on. You'll glue your forehead to the window like that."

"You're a lot—" Julian coughed, "—you're a lot more demanding than your stepbrother," he complained.

Clark had almost forgotten that Julian went to the same school that his stepfather Winston's son Reed went to. It made him smile. "Well Reed isn't a very forceful person and ends up going with the flow…"

"…awesome painter, though…" Julian mumbled into Clark's shirt.

"Yes he is," Clark agreed with a smile. "Unusual of you to compliment someone out of nowhere."

"Call things as I see them…" Julian grumbled. "Shut up, Sawyer, my head hurts."

Clark smiled and kept his arm around him. Sure Julian was drunk and it made this possible, but Clark was willing to take it. Julian's hair fell over his eyes again, and Clark carefully tucked it away once more behind his ear. Julian was asleep and Clark was very close. It would've been so easy to do the shitty thing and become that little bit closer and for once give into that strange desire to find out exactly what it was like to kiss him.

But he just wasn't that kind of person. He merely laid his palm onto Julian's cheek and let him rest against him as he turned back to the road. But he felt his heart race when Julian's hand slipped upwards and covered his, pressing his palm more firmly to his face.

Julian was definitely drunk.

Clark tipped Julian down and the actor plunged like a stone into the downy bed of the large condo. If stones groaned. "Geez…" Julian grumbled facedown onto the exquisite coverlet. "Take it easy on me."

"You slipped," Clark said with a smile.

"Why—why're you not drunk anyway?" Julian mumbled as he rolled over. "You can't be that much of a saint."

"I don't drink."

"Bullshit."

"I can't drink." Clark clarified simply. "I'm intolerant to alcohol. I've told you before, but I don't expect you to remember right now anyway."

Julian laughed, sounding hysterical. "Shit you must be the last saint in Hollywood, man."

"Trust me…" Clark murmured, closing the curtains of the bedroom and glancing back to Julian, splayed on the bed. "I am not a saint." He walked out of the room and into the bathroom for a moment.

"I suppose if you have the life you lead, you couldn't be," Julian conceded, bracing himself up on his elbows and groaning almost immediately in pain. "My head…feels like someone just shoved a spike into it, fuck what the hell did I even drink…?"

As though on cue, Clark walked into the room again, carrying a crystal glass of cold water and an aspirin in his wide palm. As he sat on the bed, it creaked at the weight of the six-foot-five popstar who now leaned towards Julian. "Here," he said, holding out the medication.

Julian looked at him through veiling lashes as though deeply considering him. Clark only smiled a little in answer. Julian took the aspirin from his palm and took the glass of water, swallowing the medication down and emptying the glass. Clark took the glass and set it down on the side table, having to reach past Julian as he did so. When he did, Julian murmured to his ear, "What are you doing here, Sawyer?"

Clark stopped mid-reach and glanced to him. "Making sure that you don't do anything stupid."

Julian leaned close—very close for his breath to bloom over Clark's cheek. "…does kissing you count as stupid, Sawyer…?" he whispered.

Clark closed his eyes. There were very few moments in his life when he felt that he had to take several deep breaths in order to make a decision which could very well change how everything was going in his life. He wondered why he felt the need to do this at this moment, with a drunken Julian Larson nearly right up against him, asking about kissing him.

And for the first time, Clark Sawyer hated the fact that he was such a fucking saint.

"Yes," Clark answered at last, eyes looking intently into Julian's. Julian stared back at him, eyes still glazed with the alcohol, and Clark continued softly, "It would be…a very stupid thing to do…"

Julian seemed to smirk slowly at this. He could see it Clark's eyes that he wants to. He really wanted to. And that was already a whole lot more than Julian hoped for from his handsome co-star. Still smirking, he leaned forward to kiss him, but Clark's warm hand stopped him from the shoulder. Surprised, Julian looked up at him.

Clark looked hurt—as though it hurt him to stop him this way. His hands were shaking with restraint. "Julian…" Clark leaned his forehead onto the other actor's. "Julian, you're drunk. And…and…shit, you have no idea how much I…" Clark swallowed. Julian wasn't going to remember even a quarter of this in the morning. He put a hand on the crook of Julian's neck as the younger actor stared at him. "But you won't remember this…any of this… And I…" Clark took a breath and looked back at him. "…and I just…I want you to remember when I kiss you."

Julian's brow furrowed. Clark smiled faintly. "It's not me you're going to kiss right now… it'll be him. The guy whose name you whispered to me, the guy you mistook me for. I want you to look at me when you kiss me, Julian, not him. Look at me."

At those words, a strange expression came into Julian's face. A realization, a painful one, almost horrified, as though it had just dawned onto him what he was doing. Clark smiled bitterly in response. He knew Julian didn't really want to kiss him. Why would he? And now he's just realized that he nearly did something so stupid as to even try to.

Clark was wrong. Julian's hand flew to his mouth, and to Clark's surprise, those eyes started to well up. "Oh god…" Julian hissed as though in shock. Why was he crying?

"What—what's wrong?" Clark asked, concerned, moving a bit closer. "Julian, what is it…? Why are you—"

"I—I'm doing it to you," Julian choked, staring at him with wide eyes. "The thing that's happening to me, I—I'm doing it to you right back…"

"What are you talking about?" Clark asked, almost smiling as he moved his hands comfortingly through Julian's soft hair. Why was he crying? Julian Larson—crying? Was this even real? "It's all right, you haven't done anything wrong."

"Like hell I'm not! I…I'm looking at someone else and…you…all this time you…"

Clark felt a little confused. How could he be blaming himself in this situation? He shook his head, holding Julian's face in his hands softly. "No, no, Julian—calm down. You haven't done anything—"

"No, you moron, you're wrong," Julian coughed, staring up at him, tears falling free and everything uninhibited. He was trying to catch his breath. "This—this shitty thing that's happened to me…" he coughed again. "For three years…this thing I have with that guy… And now I've done it to you…"

"What do you mean?"

Julian stared at him, hands tightening over Clark's. "The guy from school, Logan… I'm…I'm in love with him…like an idiot. All this time since I began coming to Dalton. And…and he kept looking at people other than me. He wouldn't look at me. Never has—never will. And now I find out that you…you… shit, Clark—how long?"

Clark wondered who exactly this Logan character was that he could bypass Julian who was perpetually in his vicinity and only had eyes for him. Hell, Clark was straight and didn't even see Julian all that often but he couldn't stop looking. He pushed the thought aside and looked at Julian. "Look. This isn't your fault. All right?" He smiled. "You're perfect."

"I'm the fucking devil," Julian laughed bitterly. He looked up at him.

"This is just the alcohol talking," Clark smiled. "Because you, Julian Larson, are aware of just how perfect you are."

This won Clark a laugh at least. Julian looked at him with a small grin. "You know me well."

"Of course I do." Clark's smile grew wider. "We're all we've got out here, this side of the bright lights."

Julian stared at him with a strange, twisted kind of smile. "Clark…?" he began, sounding, for the very first time in years, completely vulnerable, and afraid.

At such a tone, coming from the usually more powerful personality between them, Clark just shook his head and pulled him close, holding him tightly. Julian clung onto him tightly, coughing as he let the tears flow. He was crying onto him, because he could see him. All this time, Julian thought no one could see him as he was. But Clark saw him—and only him.

"It's all right…" Clark murmured, leaning his head against Julian's. "Just let it out. …it'll be better in the morning." He smiled a little. "…you won't remember."

The clutch on his shirt tightened as Julian looked up. "I want to remember," Julian said, looking up at him. The alcohol still had him, but he was pushing it down. "I want to remember you in the morning."

Clark laughed a little. "Why? Half this conversation…it would normally horrify you."

"Trust me, it would take a whole lot to horrify me…" Julian grumbled, remembering the battles on school grounds due to relationships gone wrong. But he lifted his eyes to Clark. "You…don't horrify me. Contrary."

"That's always good news," Clark said sensibly, smiling down at him. Julian laughed, leaning against him as Clark put his arms around him.

It felt strangely comfortable, too comfortable, to be around each other this way. Julian felt as though he were safe, and it was a feeling he didn't normally get. He could trust the last angel in Hollywood, who had, for some reason, decided to look after him, the little spitfire who didn't ever want any taking care of. It was the weirdest thing he'd ever heard of.

Julian lifted his head, cold cheek leaning on Clark's warm one. As their proximity became just that bit closer, Clark's laugh faded away and they looked at each other through their lashes, breaths close. Julian had been back and forth about leaving Dalton, leaving Logan, leaving everything that felt worth coming back for, ever since he took the flight out of Ohio. And it was only now did he ever feel like it might be okay to keep distance, holding Clark's hands.

"…Clark…" Julian murmured the moment they realized that they were staring at each other's lips. "Kiss me already."

Clark raised his eyes to him again. The wanting was there, and always had been, but even as Clark cradled Julian's head with his hand, he hesitated. "…are you sure…?"

"I'll remember." Julian murmured, putting a hand on Clark's face, and the taller boy leaned into it. "I promise."

"…all right." Slow, careful, they both moved to each other, coming so close that they could feel frantic beating in each other's chests—so many bad ideas, so many good, both torn between wanting and not, never sure but willing to take the chance. Clark felt Julian's breath ghost over his lips—so close—

And then—

"I have to throw up."

Julian was flying off the bed and he flung himself into the bathroom. Clark stared, stunned in his wake, as Julian proceeded to regurgitate what must've been every alcoholic drink he'd ingested in the past few hours. And at such a sudden turn of events, a terrible burst of laughter rose up from Clark. He tried his hardest to stifle it but there was just no helping it anymore: he burst into peals of laughter, falling over into the bed.

"Shut up, Sawyer!" Julian yelled from the bathroom before continuing his disgusting errand.

Clark couldn't stop if he wanted to, he was laughing too hard. "Oh this is going to be the best story ever…"

"Don't you even try, I'm warning you—I can ruin you!" and then more sounds of throwing up.

"Ah, but who was the one who said 'kiss me already'?" Clark snickered from the coverlet. He stared at the ceiling with a blissful smile. "On the upside, you're definitely going to remember this."

"Damn it…!"

Clark pushed himself up as Julian finally finished what he had to do and finished rinsing his mouth off. He flumped to the side of the bathroom doorway, wiping his mouth, hair wet, and glared at Clark. He received Clark's charming smile in response, and in spite of himself, his face flushed. It was a smile of someone who looked with boundless affection, if not love (which, Julian was certain, would get there).

So his heart was still wounded after three years of being beaten. It'll take awhile before he'd overcome the poison of green eyes that had captivated him for so long. But, Julian decided, as he sat back down on the bed, hand falling on top of Clark's, weren't angels known for healing? The taller boy wrapped an arm around his waist, the same way those same messengers from above did when they clasped those who were falling into the abyss.

"We'll try again in the morning…" Clark whispered to him. "If you let me."

Julian leaned his face to the side of Clark's neck. "I'll remember to."