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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The look of abject surprise is easy enough to read before he picks up his own phone to start typing.

"You're busy. I get that. And I probably should have called ahead. I just figured... get there. See what I could do."

Is Jason all right? How close? How did that even happen?

"We're working on him regaining control and setting boundaries. We were in the middle of a sparring session when you arrived. Once we've worked it out between us, I think it'll be your turn."

He just kept talking and typing at once, though not with as much ease as he would have managed without the drugs he had onboard.

Jason was angry and went after him. He grabbed Jason by the throat and pinned him to the wall. Not bad, from anyone except Clark.

I'll talk to Jay. What sets him off? Standard PTSD ramped to Superman?

"Well, it's been a while since Clark helped me with my sparring," he said easily enough, "so I guess I can return the favor. Red sun room or just..."

Am I swinging without a net?

Because he's fine with that. His eyes met Bruce's to make sure he knew he was fine with that. Clark needed help, he was there.

"No. He's trying to learn to control his reaction and set boundaries for himself and to work within them. Being taken down to human norm defeats that."

Dick would have a net, though. Bruce would take risks with himself and he knew he took risks with his kids, but that didn't mean they were the same risks or same level of risk. He'd be around, with Kryptonite at the ready. A bit more than Alfred was around, now.

Yes.

And the drugs are because I'm acting as a walking white noise machine and focal point. No one can afford for him to respond to my adrenaline responses, too.

"Makes sense," Dick agreed with a nod as they got closer to the main room. "I can do that. He still rocking that weird Kryptonian martial arts thing?"

What're you on? Just the usual horse tranqs Alfred uses when you're being difficult or something special?

"His fighting style hasn't changed much, in and of itself, but we've only just started. It will be a bit before we're ready to bring you in, but we should have a better idea by the time we do."

Bruce stretched himself out, rolled his neck and shoulders before he answered.

Lower doses of what Alfred uses. Hawkins offered to come up with an alternative. If I develop too much tolerance to these, I'll consider taking him up on it.

Let's hope it doesn't go on that long. Then again, I'm amazed you haven't already gotten a tolerance to them.

That came with a faint smirk. He knew how often Alfred had to, er... make recommendations regarding to Master Wayne's plans.

"That's cool. You mind if I go see Jay and Alfred while you guys are finishing up?"

I have. What I'm taking now is... excessive for what I'm using it for. That worries me less than the inevitable withdrawal from sustained use.

There was a look to go with that, which said that it was very, very likely that he both wasn't an idiot and would be forced into a situation of making Dick pick up some slack at some point. And all that he was going to hate it and resist it.

So, um, at least the head's up was there?

"I think going upstairs to check in with Alfred and Jason is a good idea. Otherwise, they're both going to come after you for not doing it."

He inclined his head toward the entrance to the house but stopped short of going inside or being visible until Dick had a chance to read his last message and pocket the phone.

Edited 2015-12-13 18:26 (UTC)

He read it and reached over to give Bruce a pat to the back.

"Of course," which was an answer to the text since he was slipping his own phone back into his pocket smoothly, "and no one smart pisses off Alfred."

Which was a very very mild dig at Bruce, the kind that was just part and parcel to their patter. It was an 'all clear' sign for Bruce. An 'I know how to do this' along side an 'I know my responsibilities here'. Bruce would know. Clark wasn't the only one who knew how to talk Bruce.

Then he was trotting up towards the main house.

"Tell Clark I'll see him a little later. Looking forward to it too." He paused. "I'm just... really glad he's not dead. No matter what else is going on."

Then he was through the doors.

Bruce glared at Dick in exchange for either the pat on the back, or the mild dig, or possibly even the 'I know what I'm doing' and all clear. It was really fairly hard to tell, but at least doped up his glare wasn't quite as impressive as usual.

"I will," he said, and then wandered back into the cave to find Clark.

"Are you down yet, or should I get a stepladder for Dick?"

"I haven't been up for a while," came a soft answer from the floor of the sparring area they'd been using. Clark's laying on the ground, staring up at the ceiling.

"How's Dick looking?"

Since he'd heard the conversation.

Bruce went and sat down beside Clark, one leg folded under himself and the other knee uplifted. "Mm. Fine, I suppose, though continually startlingly like an adult."

Because he was, you know, an adult. "He'll be down to see you when he's finished being fussed over by Alfred and ...whatever Jason does."

Clark looked sideways over at Bruce.

"That's all your fault. You raised him. Letting him grow up... how're we ever going to live with that?"

Clark was teasing but he leaned into Bruce's leg, taking some stability and some comfort from the touch.

"They're brothers. They do what brothers do. I don't know what that is, exactly, but I've seen it a few times back home. It usually involves a lot of tussling."

Bruce dropped a hand to Clark's hair and slowly scratched his fingers through, from his forehead back. "I'll take your word for it, but if tussling breaks anything I'm grounding them both."

Because Dick was totally young enough to be grounded.

There's no worry, no anxiety around this. There's just Bruce's hand in his hair and he can let his eyes close peacefully.

"I'm sure they'll be fine," Clark observes almost absently. "Dick knows better than to let the tussling get out of hand. what with him being an adult."

"Dick isn't an adult."

Yes, yes Dick is an adult and Bruce knows it, he's just indulging in bald faced lying around the subject. He gives Clark another moment or two of the hand in his hair and then - "Get back up."

He turns his head to press a kiss to Bruce's hand before turning the rest of his body and pushing himself up. He's trying not to think too much, to make the reaction an instinctual one as opposed to relying on him to realize that he has to stop. It'll be harder to train but more useful ultimately.

"Again?"

But he has to be honest if he wants this to work. If they want this to work.

"Be more erratic. And press harder to start. Break off more. Fresh attacks set me off most."

"We needed a baseline."

It's an explanation, but not an apology. Nor is it any sort of feeling of having not done what he'd intended, or rejection of the information Clark has given him. It just, simply, is.

He's slower in climbing to his feet, in spite of not being entirely down. Oddly, the slightly decreased speed and heaviness give the illusion of him moving with more rather than less grace, but it's very, very illusionary.

Except he didn't finish the conversation, but simply launched hard at Clark as part of him getting to his feet, lower down and a lot harder.

And he is going to be doing what Clark suggested. Faster, harder, more erratic, more retreats, and with every intention of Making Clark lose control.

He would... if it got that far.

Because he hadn't been ready and the first attack was always the most alarming and he was still trying to sort himself out from the last.

It isn't so much a blow as it is Bruce suddenly on the floor with Clark pinning him down, eyes wild and muscles shaking. There's no excess pressure on the wrists being held above his head... but Clark's fingers have gone into the floor to hold him there and it is very very clear that even Clark isn't sure how this happened.

All that meant was, clearly, he didn't need to go nearly as far to get the reaction he was looking for or to find the line.

Bruce hit the ground and was pinned without a sound except a rough exhale on his end, and was otherwise completely, completely calm. The tranquilizers helped that, because his pulse tried to increase and then actually sort of... flopped back down in the slower rhythm.

"Listen to me and breathe with me.."

A swift nod, no words, but he started to breath in and out, in and out. He lowered his head and let it rest on Bruce's forehead and breathed with him. In and out.

Bruce was... in an odd space, honestly.

There was no need to fight panic at being pinned and restrained by Clark's hands on his wrists, however much that could have been a normal response. The drugs were taking care of that.

What they weren't taking care of was the fact that he was under Clark, and... well, while he wasn't thinking about sex at all with Clark in this condition, there was a physical response there that he had to try and fight past drug fog to handle.

He did fairly well with it for a while but then tugged on his wrists and made a decidedly uncomfortable noise in the back of his throat.

There were things about himself that he really hated. Most things, actually, some more than others. This one was up there.

Clark had smelled it from the beginning, so many breathes in and out right against Bruce's skin; he couldn't miss it. He's been all right with it, using the uptick in hormones in the air to remind himself of happier times, better times. Put him in the frame of mind of a Clark who'd been stopping in for a bit of a make out session before patrol instead of what he was right now. But when he heard the noise of distress, he darted away, leaving Bruce on the ground and Clark...

Somewhere in the cave.

"Sorry." echoed through the giant room.

Clark vanishing didn't do a thing to make Bruce feel less like a monumental fuck up of a human being, but then again Bruce... was a monumental fuck-up when it came to trying to be a human being.

He got to his feet, closed his eyes tight for a moment or two.

"You realize, of course, that wasn't your fault."

"I was using you again."

Still not visible.

"You smelled good. And simple. Like.... before. I should have moved before you were... uncomfortable."

for knightbynight: For now and hereafter...

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