stands_for_hope | for knightbynight: For now and hereafter...

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for knightbynight: For now and hereafter...

[some time after the events here]

Superman and Batman were partners in more than a work sense. Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent were an adorable (if mildly ridiculous) couple. Kal-El of Krypton and a man who defied any definition outside of the single letter 'B' made time on weekends, worked around world crises and teenage tempers, and occasionally fell into bed together when the stars aligned. Thankfully, they aligned relatively often.

Wayne Manor received a delivery of organic produce and baked goods once a week from a small, independent farm in the heartland. Lois Lane was a little less likely to agree with snide comments about the uselessness of Bruce Wayne, especially after seeing the utter madness that was Clark's desk after a few weeks. The texting habits of a certain blond teenager in Kansas rose sharply... and in parallel to that of a certain former street punk in Gotham.

Life was... well, it was good, even if it was also Life. Until it wasn't. Until everything changed.

They all had enemies, of course. But the problem with Superman's enemies was that they were coherent enough to decide to team up. And crazy enough to use the kind of weaponry that could make whole cars just vaporize into nothing.

Crazy enough to point that weapon at a somewhat-pinned Batman and a Wonder Woman who was digging him out from the rock. Crazy enough to point that weapon at Batman.

Bruce.

B.

Clark didn't even make the choice. His heart made it for him. The beam shot out of the Toyman's mechanical monstrosity and Clark flew, the pain of the beam itself nothing on the fact that he was leaving Bruce behind. That his vision of them as old men together would never happen. That he was leaving behind a world that needed him.

The guilt that, if it meant saving them, saving him, he didn't regret a thing.

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"You'll probably have to make arrangements with him for that. Or possibly take it up with Jason - he may be able to tell you more about when Alfred eats, and where."

Bruce was a little bit remote, yep. He also frowned at Clark's pointing. "Those are eggs, Clark." Not a pan.

Clark blinks. Then his eyes go flat. Then they go unflat because otherwise they wouldn't roll.

"One day, you're going to discover you're from Venus or something and I will be utterly unsurprised."

It's not really an accusation so much as fondness.

"I will be. I'm not nearly strong enough to come from a planet with that sort of gravity and I know for a fact that I need oxygen to live."

He didn't even miss a beat, just filled up his plate and sat down to eat a hell of a lot of protein.

Clark gave a huffy sort of grunt before sitting down beside him with his own very-full plate.

The huff said, in no uncertain terms, that Bruce had better stop making Clark want to kiss him if they're supposed to be eating and then entertaining a teenage boy.

Bruce did not smirk or smile just gave Clark a very, very flat look. A flat look that tried to say that he was not impressed by the snorting but was actually really just fond and expressing a desire to kiss back instead.

Then Jason shuffled in and managed to grab a bowl from a cupboard, milk from the fridge and went looking for the cereal.

"On the counter," Bruce told him.

Jason, eloquently, grunted at him.

It's a good thing they're all pretty fluent in grunting. Clark gave Jason a nod in greeting (since one did not get between a man and his breakfast, even with friendly chatter) and nudged Bruce with his leg in a gentle sort of way that was also quite fond.

Then there was food to eat.

Bruce gave Clark a puzzled look at the touch, trying to figure out what it meant he was supposed to be doing and then realizing the answer was nothing.

Then he just ate.

It was a very silent, but not awkward, breakfast. Because Jason was sleepy, Bruce was busy treating his meal like an objective to be accomplished and Clark wasn't stupid.

When they were all mostly done, Clark decided that it was safe enough to brave the minefield and tilt his head towards the entertainment system.

"So... Mario Kart?"

Bruce... was fully capable of engaging in family time, so once he'd picked up the dishes, cleaned them off and loaded them into the dishwasher (see, all the talk about being incompetent and unaware aside he could do this shit) he nodded.

"Lead the way, Kent. Let's see how long either of you can put up with losing."

Clark looked over at Jason to see how he felt about that, saw a grumpy and slightly surly look, and waggled his eyebrows at Bruce in a clear offer of a teamup. Jason had a tremendous capacity for grumpiness, especially when it came to Clark considering, but he'd decided to come down here. Might as well make the most of it. And if he got to jam a red shell up the night's ass, well...

Maybe he could stand Superman. Just a little.

Bruce stayed somewhat tense as they played, too aware of Jason to fully relax, but he did a good job of pretending. He sat cross-legged on the floor, played the game and actually chatted and made a point of being social with Jason as well as Clark, and kept being social no matter the reaction.

He didn't let anyone win, actually played the game to the best of his ability, but he was so, so doing something important here and so aware that he was that the slightest bit of edge stayed.

Jason - mattered, a lot.

They got to the point where Clark and Jason were actually trashtalking during races before Clark tossed the controller and let himself flop back onto the ground.

"Okay, I'm going to put that down before I push the button so hard it goes in permanently."

"Pu--" he glanced over at Bruce before changing it over to, "--ansy."

Clark threw a sock at him. Jason flailed at it like a normal kid his age before throwing it back.

Bruce shot Jason a sideways look, but it wasn't quite a glare and it stopped from getting any closer to one the second he corrected.

And he leaned back and almost, almost smiled and truly relaxed at the sock throwing. "I think that means the teenager wins?"

"Don't tell Luthor," Clark said with a scrub to his face. "He hasn't tried Mario Kart against me yet."

Which got a low snort out of Jason as he pushed himself to his feet. Clark looked up with a raised eyebrow, but Jason waved him off. Then he turned to Bruce, the question in his eyes and his nerves resolutely hidden away. No showing weakness now.

"We going out for patrol later?"

Bruce didn't answer immediately, but instead stopped to consider and to study Jason. Studied his expression, studied the way he was standing, eyes flicked down to his throat where Clark had grabbed him and just assessed the situation.

He came damned close to asking if Jason intended to push anyone off a roof if they did, but caught himself before he did. He was incompetent with his kids, but he wasn't completely stupid.

"Yes." There was something just a little bit warning in his tone, in spite of himself, though. "Unless you have other plans."

Jason bounced on his heels for a moment before clearing his throat and nodding.

"No other plans. I'll be down at the normal time."

Clark gave him a little wave then, sending him off cheerfully. Jason didn't seem to know what to do with that before his kid made his way out.

Clark watched him go and made sure he was out of earshot before looking to Bruce.

"I think that went well."

Bruce made an entirely unconvinced sound at the back of the throat. "Maybe. We'll see how tonight goes."

He unfolded himself slowly from the floor, and his knees both cracked and then grated on the way up. He could take a lot but that position for hours was apparently pushing his limits of endurance.

"Even if tonight isn't great," Clark pointed out gently, "today was still good. I'm pretty sure they say it's a process."

Pushing himself to his feet with much less fanfare, he can't help a soft yawn.

"Any other plans for today? I mean, I don't think I finished everything that needed work on the batmobile computer, if you need ideas."

"If tonight isn't great, then today being good won't make it any better." He actually - snapped that one, though it was somewhat moderated in deference to the fact that Clark had just come through literal hell.

"The rest of my plans today are paperwork. If you want to work on the computer I can take my work down there. If you would rather do it alone I can work in my office."

Clark didn't look like he minded the fight in Bruce's tone. He just (clearly) disagreed.

"I'd rather you come down with me," he decided, leaving the first part alone other than his unspoken agreement. "Especially since that way, I can ask you if I have a question of preferences while I'm programming."

If they didn't disagree about things at least three times a day, they wouldn't be them.

"Then I'll gather my things up and join you down there, shortly. I'll even try not to give you my opinion before you ask for it."

"Please don't," he said absently as he started pulling himself together to head down, "I've learned the rhythm of your interruptions. If you break it, you'll just throw me off."

Was he kidding? Was he messing with him? Hard to say. He was smiling either way.

For some reason seeing Clark smiling at the moment gave Bruce pause. Or maybe it was the 'joke' that might or might not have been, but either way he stopped and studied Clark. He looked at him intensely, and in a way that was blatantly assessing.

Whatever he saw seemed to be good enough.

"Unfortunately for you, I have enough work to get done that I may actually be too distracted to keep a steady rhythm for you." He didn't. He was a hell of a multi-tasker.

And control freak.

"I'll believe it when I see it," was all he said to that before making his way down towards the entrance to the cave. He knew his way around now; he could get there easily enough. And he was in a pretty good mood, grumpy paranoid (aka situation normal) partner aside.

Bruce would come down to see him typing almost too fast to see on one of the consoles.

Bruce came down and spent a second or two staring at Clark typing with a faintly pained expression. He recovered soon enough, and moved on to take a position at another station entirely, set up his laptop - the business one - and tried to get to work.

He kept being distracted by Clark - and wanting to know what he was doing as he did it, and that was made worse by not being able to follow the typing at that speed.

Also the noise.

for knightbynight: For now and hereafter...

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