At Home with Clark and Jim

[stands_for_hope]

[continued from here]

They'd fallen into a routine pretty easily.

Clark had managed to write up something about the church bust without incriminating either of them, which meant that his Perry had been pleased enough with his work for the day and had only yelled at him for five minutes about his failure to show up in the office the whole day. Lois had ribbed him a little, which had been remarked upon as she usually gave the new guy hell if he did anything remotely out of the line, and then she'd ribbed him a lot. He hadn't minded too terribly much since he had visited her afterwards at her apartment and she'd done plenty of kissing to make it better.

With a second person in the apartment, he'd started to fix it up a little, bringing home new linens, keeping the fridge stocked more regularly, and he'd even managed to find a new couch for them through a very kindly older woman and Craigslist.

True to his word, he'd gotten some rudimentary identification for Jim and he walked through the door with a spring in his step, closing the door behind him and plopping it down on the kitchen table with a smile.

Comments

[kolodnoykovki]

He shrugged slightly, provoking a quiet whir from his arm. "I think I used to do this a lot. Make sure there was food. Make sure it would last. I know I lived through the Depression, even if I don't really remember."

And that meant that food had been important. Ensuring that there was some sort of meal, at least one a day, had been all some people could do. Jim wondered if he'd been one of them.

[stands_for_hope]

"Anything else that feels comfortable?" he asks.

Not 'what do you remember?' or even 'do you want to remember?' because to Clark, that was up to Jim. He could build or recall as he liked.

Clark just wanted him to have a home, a genuine home, where he could figure that all out for himself.

[kolodnoykovki]

"Physical work. This apartment. It's... It's actually comfortable, being not in perfect repair," he said quietly, thoughtfully, his mind elsewhere. "I'm not sure about clothes yet."

T-shirts still seemed like underclothes to him. Like people should put on shirts with sleeves to go outside. It was why he kept his coat handy, besides hiding his arm.

[stands_for_hope]

"You'll find construction work aplenty at the moment. There's not a building in this city that didn't take a bit of a beating."

And yes, Clark feels guilty for the whole thing. No matter what Lois said or what his mother said, the whole thing really WAS because of him, whether that was his choice or not. All those people, all the damage, all that loss...

"Though the rate you're going, this place is going to be almost as good as new soon enough."

[kolodnoykovki]

"Not unless I get a bucket of plaster and some paint. Unless the landlord wouldn't let me paint." But the thought of getting construction work was welcome. It was something he knew he could do, though he knew he would have to hold himself back to a normal person's capabilities. Anything more than that would make him a target.

His eyes strayed toward the newspaper Clark had brought. After supper, he decided. He'd look at the classified ads after supper.

[stands_for_hope]

"I'll ask him next time I hand in the rent check," Clark promises as he stands up to get a glass of water. He feels a little bit bad that the dishes had all been done, as if he's not contributing, but Jim seems to enjoy it, so he's not about to say anything.

"He'll probably just insist he's not paying you for it."

[kolodnoykovki]

"He could hire me to repair the whole building, but then rent would go up." Things like that, he just knew. As if it had happened before. For all he knew, it had.

While Clark got water, he stood and lifted the lid on the crock pot, picking up a fork to test the potatoes. And surely enough, they were almost done. "Just a while longer."

[stands_for_hope]

"More than likely. Maybe once I've gotten a few more good columns under me, I'd say go for it."

He took another sip before leaning against the counter.

"Don't worry. I can wait. I should probably set the table, though."

He started assembling the plates and the silverware.

[kolodnoykovki]

Jim nodded. "I'll watch for stories for you while I look for work."

And he did need work, even with all the precautions he was going to have to take to keep from being discovered. Metropolis was recovering. Who knew what they would - possibly accurately - think of him if they discovered him.

[stands_for_hope]

"That'll be good," he says as he lays out the table and ducked into one of the drawers for napkins.

"Most of the unassigned folks keep getting put on 'Superman' stories and that's just awkward."

[kolodnoykovki]

Jim paused as he looked into the lid again, then back at Clark. "Starting from your story about the Food Mission, you could do a series on the charities helping people get back on their feet again."

[stands_for_hope]

"Not a bad idea at all," he admits, "though it might be a tough sell to Perry."

He leans against the counter.

"I got the job on the strength of my freelance work, which was largely covering conflicts, natural disasters..." but he tips his head up thoughtfully as he runs over a few scenarios. As long as he kept himself valuable, he could supplement it. And he likes the idea of promoting the humanitarian efforts in Metropolis. It's exactly the kind of thing he believes in promoting.

"If I make sure to keep a few other things in the mix, I think I can pull it off. It'll just mean a few trips here or there."

[kolodnoykovki]

After a quiet moment, Jim said, "I can offer you details about the downed helicarriers in DC. Not many, but I can tell you how they were brought down." It was insider information. Stuff that few reporters could have access to. And though he'd only been on one helicarrier himself, he had seen what Captain America had done.

[stands_for_hope]

"That would be cheating," he says with a laugh.

"I cheat enough with my own advantages. But I appreciate the offer. I know how careful you are about that stuff."

And he couldn't imagine how he'd explain that, given the fact that he'd been here in Metropolis dealing with things while the helicarrier incident had gone down.

"I'd be interested to hear just to know, though. It'll be good for the other job."

The one where he was wearing a cape.

[kolodnoykovki]

"They switched out the targetting blades," he said, the memory replaying as if it was yesterday. "Without all three switched, they had remaining redundancies. All of them being switched out changed the helicarrier targets to themselves instead of the Hydra-chosen targets."

But another test of the potatoes revealed that they were finally done. With the knife he'd washed not long before, he cut into the roast and served a portion onto each plate.

[stands_for_hope]

"And where did the replacement blades come from, if you don't mind me asking?" because he's more than likely would have just had to smash things until they broke. Inelegant, but it tended to work on most things.

[kolodnoykovki]

"They had them with them. From a leftover SHIELD stronghold, probably. We never located all of them."

He froze when he heard the words in his own voice. 'We never located all of them.' His eyes closed. It was so insidious, those old thoughts.

[stands_for_hope]

"You're welcome to the details about what happened in Metropolis," he offers as he settles back at the table with his beer. Dinner is done and despite his impatience (food smelled GOOD and he's always been a hearty eater) he doesn't grab for the plate. Jim can pass it to him when he's ready.

"I was pretty much directly involved in everything there. They were my people. From the world my parents come from."

Is he mentioning this because he sees Jim's face freeze at 'we'? Possibly, but it's not a conscious decision. He's offering because Jim had offered and Clark feels like Jim is as much an ally as a friend, regardless.

[kolodnoykovki]

"Maybe later." Right now, he handed over the plate, complete with beef, potatoes, carrots, and some green beans that had been cooked on the stove with a touch of bacon grease. It was a meal straight from the 40s. "I think food would be better than--" Than thinking about what he'd been and what he was still fighting against being. "Than war stories."

[stands_for_hope]

Clark agrees with a nod at that and settles into his chair a little further before pulling up his fork. It's a meal straight out of home as far as Clark is concerned, something Martha Kent would have been just fine putting out on the table while he was growing up, and that's why he goes for it with gusto.

"Sounds right to me," he says, gobbling up a few bites.

"Do you follow any sports teams, by the way? Just curious."

[kolodnoykovki]

The answer came swiftly. "The Dodgers." Dodgers. When he scraped up all the money he could and bought tickets for him and Steve--

Finally. A memory that wasn't terrible. One he didn't resent, even with its connection to someone he barely knew.

"They were the home team. Sometimes... Sometimes we'd sneak in when we were boys, staying close to adults as they went in, pretending we were with them. Nobody would ask anything until they caught us unaccompanied later."

He sat as he thought about it, remembering running from the people in charge, laughing when they got back onto the street and stealing time listening to the radio later so they could hear the final score.

[stands_for_hope]

Hearing Jim talk about his memories happily has a smile slowly growing across his face until it almost looks like it might break apart. He ducks his head and shoves some food into his mouth, chewing it up and swallowing before speaking again.

"If you ever want to go see a game, I can get us there without having to deal with the TSA."

[kolodnoykovki]

"To Brooklyn?" he asked, slightly confused, though he understood what it was Clark meant. But to go all the way to Brooklyn from Metropolis just for a game?

But then, it would be nice to see a baseball game again, he thought. He hadn't heard much of it - he hadn't thought to listen or check. The idea of doing it... that actually made him feel better. "All right."

[stands_for_hope]

Now Clark is conflicted. Because damn, but how do you tell a man that the Dodgers are, in fact, located in Los Angeles now when it's the one thing he seems to have any definitive feelings on so far (other than the price of things and the best way to cook a roast).

"They might have a game around here. And I'll never turn down the chance to go to a Monarchs game" as they were in fact Clark's team, as some of the pennants in the apartment show, "but I figure we'll figure out a good day and go from there as needed."

Does he tell him? Oh man, he's not sure what it says about the strange little arrangement they have, but this is literally the first time Clark's felt awkward about something.

"Though... I should let you know. And I am... really really sorry."

Clark breathes in.

"The Dodgers got sold to Los Angeles."

[kolodnoykovki]

He started confused, but after those last words, Jim looked like a kicked puppy. The positive was that he didn't look like Clark had kicked him. "Los Angeles? ...When? What about Ebbets Field?"

He couldn't, he reminded himself, have expected things to be the same forever. He remembered things from different decades, though the year had never mattered before - and seven decades meant seventy years of change. His memories, no matter what they were of, likely wouldn't be accurate.

But after that good memory, he had... hoped.