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

"Disgusted might be a better word," Bruce conceded, almost entirely without emotion. "He finally woke up and realized I wasn't what he thought I was. He had his communicator on."

Devastated was a good word for it, though for anyone else he was - mildly blank and possibly depressed. "You shouldn't have trouble tracking him."

Oh, and also he should care: "How was your... talk with Jason?"

"That's not what happened," and the second it pops out of his mouth, Dick realizes two things: one, that what he's saying is absolutely true and two, that it's going to redirect some of the inevitable anger towards him. And honestly, he's all right with that.

"I talked to Clark after you two got together. I don't know what the hell you guys were talking about, but short of eating babies for breakfast, there's nothing you could do to convince that guy you're not the best thing since sliced bread."

And he figures he might be able to save his own bacon if he switches topics so that's where he goes. Because no matter what he says, Clark's going to have to be the one to fix that. He can only do so much for the two of them, though honestly, he's glad to do it. He's watched them both most of his life, seen how much they mean to each other. He knows how intensely they care about one another and he cannot believe, cannot believe that there was anything Bruce could do that could ruin things to that extent.

"And Jay's just fine. Worried about the both of you, not happy you're drugging yourself but join the party, we have free booze here, so what else is new?" Beat. "Did he really kick your ass in Mario Kart?"

"Fortunately, this is both on par with eating babies for breakfast, and not something you and I are going to discuss," he says, with a bit more snap in his voice.

He lets it go, though, which is honestly more a result of the sedatives than it is the result of good sense. Those sedatives are relatively near wearing off and he knows almost immediately and without having to think that no matter where Clark is or how he feels about Bruce (and it's so justified) that he'll keep using them for as long as it takes, because Clark needs... something steady and stable in the world and this is the only way Bruce will ever be able to be either.

"Booze and drugs probably shouldn't be mixed," he says, moving along, "and yes, he kicked my ass at Mario Kart. You should play with him so he can kick yours."

He follows along, pulling out his cellphone to start the tracing program for the League communicators. He can't help making a triumphant little noise as he locates Superman.

"Bruce, seriously."

He runs up to show him the screen.

"He hasn't even left the house. He's in the room across from yours."

He turns around and goes back down into the cave, so he can take another damned tranquilizer dose - dry, because he's goddamn Batman and he does not need water - before he says anything.

"Good, then I don't have to let you touch the plane. Go talk to him."

Yes, Dick, clearly that's the answer. "You're good with people. Go be good with people at him."

This is the face of someone who's getting you a goddamn cheese wheel for Father's Day, Bruce. And the growl of a someone who's turning around and heading for the room across from Bruce's to see if Clark makes any more goddamn sense.

He likes cheese. He hates Father's Day. It's sort of a wash on the punishment/reward front, but as long as Dick is going, Bruce isn't going to complain. He is going to go right back to one of the workstations, hold his head in his hands and wait for drugs to kick in.

And time precisely how long it takes, so there's no risk of gaps, and minimal overlap.

Also because it means counting seconds and watching the passage of time, rather than going to eavesdrop.

It takes roughly 10 minutes.

"You're both stupid and I'm not playing courier after this," is the first thing Dick says, as soon as he's within the cave itself. The acoustics in this place are amazing, so the words travel well enough.

"Go upstairs. He doesn't think you're disgusting. In fact," he trots down a couple more steps, "he seems to think you rejected him." A couple more steps before he pauses just short of the main platform.

"I told him that was ridiculous. I hope I wasn't lying to the poor man. He looks... well, about as rough as you do."

Ten minutes is roughly long enough for those drugs to start kicking in, and maybe he should have waited a bit longer because he swears there are two of Dick and he can't properly feel his fingers.

He's careful when he gets up but then snorts. "I expect to see you back here more often." Is he going to be able to work out what's going on with Clark like this? Sure. He can do anything, any time, anywhere. He's fucking Batman.

Who is disgusting and what the hell Clark thought-

Wait, no, that needs to happen upstairs. Which might actually take him a little longer than usual to manage. "What do you mean I rejected you?"

He can do anything, any time, anywhere. Like simultaneously bring about the desire to set him on fire while also making Dick want to give him a big hug that he knows will only make Bruce feel awkward. Fucking Batman.

"You didn't reject-- dammit. No. No way," and he was there then, looking at the drugs that Bruce was using and checking the dosage amounts and-- "You dosed up. You seriously dosed up while I went to go talk to Clark and now you're not even understanding basic English. Goddammit, Bruce--"

He runs a hand through his hair, then two.

"Okay, I'm going to talk really slow and make things really really clear: Clark does not think you're disgusting. Whatever you told him, he was fully prepared to agree to it before you pulled away and he thought you were rejecting him. He's terrified that he's never going to get better and even I can tell he thinks he's being a burden to everyone at the best and a danger to everyone at the worst. He's freaking out because he thinks you saw how much that place mangled him and you don't want him anymore."

Sigh.

"Did you get any of that?"

Bruce lifts both of his eyebrows at Dick and, yeah, the eyes below them are pretty goddamn glassy, but:

"Whatever I told Clark, he was fully prepared to agree to it before I pulled away and he thought I was rejecting him. He's terrified that he's never going to get better, and even you can tell he thinks he's being a burden to everyone at best and a danger to everyone at worst. He's freaking out because he thinks I saw how much that place mangled him and I don't want him anymore."

He paused. "Do I need to go further back or are you willing to accept that being drugged doesn't actually mean stupid?" NO, he was stupid on his own.

Message received but he still - He still didn't know if he could do this. Maybe. He'd try, but the rest of it. God. Clark.

Yes, Bruce, he knows you have an eidetic memory.

"Now did you actually comprehend any of that or can I go see if Alfred made cookies for me?"

No, that was too cold. He was here for the both of them, and he'd be here until they got whatever shit was between them figured out.

"He looked heartbroken, okay? Almost as heartbroken as you do."

Yes, the both of you are literally the saddest thing he's ever seen. Why do you ask?

Dick, prepare to get an education about just why you don't ask Bruce questions while he's on drugs, particularly after he's given you an answer and he's had a really emotional... not even night, but how long now? Since he thought Clark was dead?

"I comprehended it just fine. We had a discussion about sex. My sexual habits are twisted. I'd prefer to keep him away from that. Apparently he decided that meant I didn't trust him. Go. Eat. Cookies. Dick."

And with that he is headed back up to find and talk to Clark.

Seriously. Truth can be a weapon.

Everything can.

Including truth.

And that, as they say, is that.

"All right," he says dubiously, clearly not pleased about being unable to assure himself that the old people aren't being stupid at one another.

"I'll probably be in with Jay. Have to take him down a peg on Mario Kart or I'll never hear the end of it."

He heads for the door before turning back, just the once.

"Go easy on yourself, Bruce. And if you need me, you know where to find me."

Then he's gone, not with super speed but fast enough.

In his room, Clark has been pacing in between looking at his bed and wanting to punch something. Dick had come up and he'd kept it together then, but when they'd actually started talking... well, if it what Dick was saying was true, it certainly cast the conversation in a different light.

And he was here. He hadn't left. Bruce would appreciate that, hopefully.

Bruce appreciated that Clark was there - though it had originally surprised him. He knocked lightly at the door but knew Clark knew he was there and didn't wait for permission, just walked in.

"I trust you. I have always trusted you. I will always trust you."

The second Bruce entered, Clark just... froze. Paused. Swallowed for a moment before turning his head to look at Bruce.

"I never said you didn't."

Though he could hardly imagine anyone trusting him right now. He was a step up from a caged animal. If that.

That isn't the reaction he expected and he's silent for a long moment, then: "Why do you think I rejected you?" He stopped. No, not quite. "What is the reason you think I rejected you for?"

"You pulled away from me," he said quietly, and it was hard to say if the tremor was in his voice or just in him. "I wanted to give you those things. I wanted to make us both feel... fulfilled. And you pulled away."

There was something shattered in his eyes.

"I figured I'd finally proved to you that I wasn't the man you fell in love with. I figured you saw... you saw this." And he gestured to himself, up and down himself. "And you figured out that I'm not... him anymore. I'm just... a liability with the face of someone you used to love, taking up your time and your energy and... giving nothing back."

He was not entirely sure he has the mental capacity he needs for this, but he damned well knew he wasn't going to not do it, either.

"You aren't the same. You won't ever be the same," he said, his voice neither cruel nor excessively gentle. "You are the only one in this room who is having trouble with that. You aren't a liability, and you aren't taking without giving. The fact that you're worried about that and needed my permission to shut out the world to recover tells me that what I fell in love with," and yeah, he nearly tripped over those words, anyway, because he was him, "is still very much there."

He leaned against the door, rather than sit. This was a conversation he wanted to have standing up, even if he had to lean to do it. "I pulled away from you because I fully expected you to be completely disgusted with me. I wanted to create the distance before you did. That wasn't fair to you, and I obviously underestimated you." But - of course there was a but. "It isn't something I like about myself. It disgusts me. "

The realization in there was that, at least, maybe Clark had really changed enough that it wouldn't be damaging to Clark to do.

When he saw Bruce lean against the door, everything flew out of his head, all the bullshit, and he was there, his hands reaching out to help Bruce stand, supporting him, taking his weight onto his hands.

"It doesn't disgust me," Clark said finally, once he was touching Bruce, once he was close enough for Bruce to look him in the face and know. "You don't disgust me."

Bruce wasn't quite sure how he went from leaning into a door to being steadied by Clark, but it wasn't a point he felt a particular need to figure out at the moment, either.

"And I don't think you're a liability masquerading as someone I love," he said, voice both wry and warm. "Does that actually change the way you feel about it?"

"A little," he admitted with something almost like a smile. It was a little too tired and drawn to quite manage it, but it wasn't a sad expression. "It's slowly hacking away at it. After all, Batman's never wrong."

And he leaned over and kissed Bruce's cheek, all delicate sweetness and care.

"Come to bed? Just... nothing else. Just come to bed?"

"I'm not sure I'm capable of anything more than coming to bed," he admitted, self-depreciating and amused.

Except he gave Clark a gentle kiss, before he slid away from him. Only, though, to head for the bed. "And you're right. Batman is never wrong."

About other people.

"About other people," Clark noted as he made his way to the bed himself. It's not that he read the narration. He just needed to make that point because he's not the only person soon to be in his bed who has issues with self-worth.

Clark stripped off his shirt and tossed it in a corner before slipping under the covers and opening his arms.

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