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

Entry tags:

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

Clark's only response is, eventually, a faint 'hmm?' as he catches one of those absent distracted looks. Just a headtilt. Something up, Bruce?

"Nothing," he says, tersely. Then he forces himself to try to pay attention to his own work, that is in front of him. He's about half an inch from developing a tic, and this is the worst idea he has ever had in his life. "How much longer do you think this will take you?"

"Honestly, at this point, I'm done," he admitted as he leaned back in the chair, "but I was adding some notation and running a couple of bug fixes."

He tilted his head again.

"Something's bothering you."

It's not a question.

The question is really whether he's going to continue to try and pretend he's not being bothered and see if Clark will let him get away with a bald faced lie, or if he's going to admit that Clark is driving him absolutely, pun intended, batshit nuts.

By existing in his vicinity, while he's trying to get work done.

The obvious answer is that, yes, he's going to lie about it until he can't anymore because he did it for years with loving Clark. The reality is that eventually broke and Clark was just dead so far as Bruce knew, and has been through hell and he deserves better than Bruce getting steadily crankier.

That's not obvious, either, because he's still Bruce.

"I'm not used to working with anyone else." Which is different than 'the sound of you typing makes me want to break the keyboard over your head.

He considered where he was, how much impact he could possibly be making, and then looked at the keyboard thoughtfully. He hadn't thought about it since he had a tendency to simply filter noises out once they became regular enough (with obvious exceptions) but--

"Would it be better if I bring an interface from the Fortress down? Your keyboards are a bit... well, loud to use."

"They aren't actually loud. They're loud when someone else is using them against what would otherwise be near silence." Difference. "Bring the interface down if you want and are willing - or don't since you're nearly finished with the job and while you're fuel efficient it's still a heck of a trip for what amounts to a keyboard."

He was going to be reasonable.

He was not going to tell Clark he should also stop breathing, moving, and possibly existing within 20 feet of him. It wasn't that bad, yet.

for knightbynight: For now and hereafter...

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject